Document B-5290

January 20 - I got a present from the higher-ups today, they let me keep one of the successful runs from the 5000 test group. Paper says his name is Thomas Blake, designation #5290, and he's quite the catch. A shady past, a request for a specific kind of amnesiac at the end of the tests, beautiful reaction to the vodka test. Oh yes, I'm glad I'll get to personally oversee one of these without the MPD breathing down my neck every step of the way.

January 21 - Mild letdown today, I'm required to have a co-administrator for these tests. Doctor Engels shouldn't be too much of a wet blanket, but I was really looking forward to organizing this personally.

January 22 - Administered the amnesiac today. Nothing of note happened and everything went beautifully. Patient lost everything before 10 years of age and everything from the last month or so. I think we'll continue observing him for a few more weeks or so here at the hospital.

February 2, 2011 - Finally getting used to writing the correct year on these things. I also think we've found a solution to the little housing problem. Blake seems to have taken quite a shining to his nurse, so maybe we can use that to our advantage.

February 4, 2011 - Decided against inducting the nurse as a new Doctor. Instead, we'll administer a mild series of drugs, and hope that everything falls the way we want it to.

February 7, 2011 - Luck is with us here, everything went swimmingly. We're discharging Blake this afternoon, and he's going to live with his favorite nurse. This should make it a lot easier to keep tabs on him than we originally planned for. Testing should begin soon, once Engels and I can get a decent hold on the various aspects of the real world test.

March 6, 2011 - All the variables are under control, and we're finally ready to start the tests. Going to work on the alcohol facet first, since that has given us the most consistent results so far. To begin, we're going to have him invited to a little soiree his boss is throwing. Hopefully there will only be just enough there to get him buzzed, and not full-on drunk.

March 11, 2011 - Results were consistent with previous lab runs. He showed signs of mild obfuscation, it seems like individual words or phrases may have been changed, but apparently not enough to set him off. We're going to count this as a successful run, but we really need to find a way to better document the exact obfuscation that's happening.

April 3, 2011 - Doctor Anderson tells me that Blake's becoming more irritable lately. I'm not sure whether that is related to the Choir, or if that's just normal life problems.

April 13, 2011 - Submitted a series of test requests today, hoping to move this test forward faster. I think we can skip a lot of the intermediate tests if we can find a way to pinpoint exactly what's being changed.

May 23, 2011 - FINALLY got a response about the request I sent in more than a month ago. Most of the requests were denied, which I expected, but they approved quite a few strange tests. Including a few possibilities for documenting the obfuscation. Going to run this by Anderson and Engels and see what we're going to try first.

June 1, 2011 - We've narrowed down the list to a few contenders. Might try combining the direct oversight idea with the blog. Not entirely sure, yet.

June 4, 2011 - Time's drawing near to implement the July plan, and we still can't decide on the right observation method. We may have to go forward briefly on a temporary solution.

June 15, 2011 - Decided that the July plan will go forward on direct oversight while we work out the details for future projects. This would be so much easier if I didn't have to go through Engels and the higher ups.

July 1, 2011 - Still haven't made a solid decision regarding how we're going forward yet. This is getting very, very frustrating. The July plan is going forward as planned, and I've got a tech out there keeping an eye on everything for me.

July 5, 2011 - My tech tells me that everything went as well as we hoped. Blake got drunk out of his mind, got into a fight, ignored his friends, and even turned on them at one point before passing out and waking up this morning acting normally. We now have solid evidence that heavy inebriation does not lead to a full possession, and we even collected a few snippets that help support our case for continuing inebriation runs. Resubmitting some of my ideas for approval and working on wearing down Engels and Anderson so we can get past this damned roadblock.

July 17, 2011 - Anderson agreed to bend to my direct oversight plan, but Engels is still holding up on his stupid blog plan.

August 19, 2011 - It's become painfully obvious that Engels will not back down, so I've bent to his compromise. The next few months will be spent preparing Blake for Engels' ridiculous plan. Joy.

November 13, 2011 - The preparations are finally over, just in time for the December plan, too. Anderson will go through with Engels' retarded idea, while keeping a direct eye on Blake and anything he might say. God, this is annoying.

January 1, 2011 - We finally have proof of the extent of the Choir's influence on Blake while heavily inebriated. We have a direct changing of words, as well as a general obfuscation of a situation in general. After a year of this shit, we're finally getting some results.

January 15, 2011 2012 - This is bad, we're getting evidence of a lingering obfuscation. I've advised Anderson to prescribe some CH-139 to try and counteract the influence. Hopefully it'll be enough to squeeze out a few more tests.

January 25, 2012 - Anderson screwed up royally this time. Not only has he put this project in jeopardy, he's also endangered our agreement with Dereck. Blake was unintentionally given one of the Timberwolves' seed bottles instead of the commercial bottles, and he seems to have an aversion to it. We should be fine so long as he can be persuaded to just take the medicine. Thankfully Doctor Engels had an emergency meeting at the Northe Facility to attend, so I have full control of the project now.

February 1, 2012 - The time has come to cut our losses, I believe. I can't contact Engels, so I'm going ahead and authorizing the use of an MPD product from the very same test group Blake was a part of. He will succumb to the Choir, his blog will end, and maybe we can minimize the backlash this has caused us.

February 3, 2012 - Northe Facility was destroyed. Wiped completely off the map. Almost 200 servants of the Good Doctor along with innumerable pieces of technology and information were taken by upwards of fifteen simultaneous instances of the Manufactured Newborn. Engels is dead, and this seems too big to be a random Newborn attack. For once, I'm thankful that the Midwest facilities operate under complete secrecy.

February 14, 2012 - Anderson tells me that the MPD product was successfully administered. Hopefully we can rest a little easier in a few weeks.

February 20, 2012 - Blake is still alive. This isn't right, not at all. And now that Anderson has pointed it out to me, this anonymous commenter on Blake's blog is certainly saying some strange things. I think I'm going to keep a closer eye on this thing.

March 5, 2012 - I think I know who this Advisor is. I hope I'm wrong, and I can't really take it to my higher-ups without some solid proof. [REDACTED]

March 7, 2012 - I've lost contact with Anderson's building. I know how this person works, and I know there's probably not much time for me, with him as rushed as he is. I'm going to try and warn the higher-ups of this. I'm sending this document to my immediate higher-up and I'm revising my will to send to any of my colleagues that are still out there. [REDACTED]

- Dr. Alexander Birchman

Blood on my hands

It's been so long since I've sullied a uniform like this. I remember the days when I could go through a coat a week like this. And when I would have to go back to base to turn in a sweaty brown mess of a coat for a clean, white uniform. Must have been only a year or two ago, but it still seems so far back. Has it really been that long since my last truly messy operation?

But this is different, isn't it? Different coat, different colors, different textures. I used to relish the feel of a well-used uniform, but this just feels disgusting and sad. I've ruined a perfectly nice uniform running around like the angel of fucking death. I need to reign myself in, this is unacceptable. This is not what I should be doing for Thomas, but if I'm going to do it, then I should do it cleanly, mercifully. But that isn't exactly an option anymore, I don't think. I've missed my last chance at a humane operation today.

There is one building left. We know where you are, you know where we've been, and what we're sitting on. We both know the odds, and we both know how this must end. No loose ends.

I'm going to get a fresh uniform, and then we will go through one last mess of a facility before turning our attention on you, Dereck.

Enjoy your last hours of life, and

- Have a Nice Day

Audio Log: 1/25/12 10:43 am

Phone call received from known source #122, transcription is as follows:

Sender: Umm… Dr. Birchman?

Receiver: Dr. Anderson! How nice to hear from you. How is our patient doing?

S: He’s fine, Doctor Birchman. But... We... We might have a problem.

R: Oh? What sort of problem might we have?

S: Oh. Uhh… You remember those pills you told us to give the patient?

R: Yes, I distinctly remember telling you to give the patient a bottle of CH-139... Please don't tell me you gave him the wrong medicine.

S: No, no, no, Doctor Birchman. He got the CH-139. It’s just… We may have given him a seed bottle.

R: You had a seed in your office? That’s not exactly allowed, Dr. Anderson.

S: Forgive me, Dr. Birchman. I like to keep a seed of every medication we have. For emergencies, you know? It was a fresh box, and it just slipped my mind to separate the seed from the rest of the bottles.

R: I fail to see the problem here. So he has a seed bottle. It should work just as efficiently as the others.

S: That’s not quite it, Dr. Birchman…

R: Well get on with it! I don’t exactly have all day!

S: Well, the patient didn’t like the pills. He seemed to be scared of them, he acted adversely to them when we gave him the bottle. We worry that he might inspect the bottle before taking any of the medication, and he might find the stamp on the inside of the seed and make it public somehow.

R: Why wouldn't he just ignore it?

S: Our evaluations lead us to believe that he'd... umm... ask for help from the people following his blog.

R: Oh right, his blog. I almost forgot about that thing. Who's he attracted to that online diary, anyway? Anybody we should worry about?

S: Umm, well, there's proxiehunter and a few others, but I'm worrying that there are some other psychiatrists watching his blog as well.

R: So you’re worried he will find the stamp, put it on his little blog, and then everybody will know your associations with the Good Doctor.

S: Well, yeah. I don't want to be put out of a job, you know.

R: You don’t see any other possible implications here to worry about?

S: Umm… No?

R: Not like, say, having our little agreement with the Timberwolves being made public? Do you realize that if that stamp gets out, there will inevitably be a paper trail leading right to us? And even if we evade the more perceptive runners, we’ll most certainly lose the support of Dereck’s little band of drug dealers?

S: What, you're worried about those ruffians?! Listen, I don’t know what you and Doctor Engels see in them, but I don’t think it would be that hard to synthesize the damn drugs without their seeds! Why you choose to rely on them is beyond me. I don’t trust their dirty gang as far as I could throw them!

R: We’ve been over this before, Mister Anderson. Trade with Dereck is beneficial to the both of us.

S: Yeah, we get their drugs, and they get our machines to manufacture new compounds. Whoop-de-doo. Why can’t we just take a few bottles of seed and figure out how to make them ourselves, instead of wasting the seeds on their ridiculous ideas!

R: I don’t expect you to understand the nuances of the agreement, Anderson. But you have been told time and time again that Doctor Engels and I hold the interests of our group foremost in our minds. We do only what is best for-

S: Best for who? You, us, the Good Doctor? You’re lining your pockets with the Timberwolves’ cash, and using the rest of us as a meat shield when the shit hits the fan.

R: Mister Anderson, there are more important things than your petty wants. Furthermore, you will have more to worry about than the supposed psychiatrists watching the blog if that stamp makes it onto that blog. I will personally see to it that you will work cleanup on whatever mess forms, and then I will make sure that you contract a particularly bad strain of mono when this all blows over. Do you understand me, Anderson?

S: ... Yes, Doctor Birchman.

R: Good. Then go back to your job. And contact me if anything happens, I want to be the first to know if this turns sour.

Connection terminated by receiver.

Day 8

I have a mantra (a lot of mantras, actually), but the one applicable for today is "Always stay busy."

I am unlike most people in that I don't mind busy Mondays, and in fact, I believe that a hectic Monday will make the rest of the week go by smoothly. I haven't been proven wrong yet, except in the few cases where shit hit the fan, and I tend to overlook those as a rule. don't want outliers ruining the spread, and all that.

But dear me, was today busy. I daresay my prey may be learning a little, or maybe they're just paranoid. Or crazy, who knows. Anyway my initial push wasn't as effective as my last siege. Last time, the entire facility was down after a few minutes of gas. This time, I had to deal with nutjobs wearing gas masks. Thankfully, none of them were really bad, and most of them were already down anyway.

In retrospect they were probably just crazy. But I'm going to assume that the rest of them are reading this and will make that a rule. No problems with me, I was getting tired of beheading sleeping people anyway.

But yeah, another building down, another dozen or two killed. Thankfully it should get much easier after this point, since we now have the spread to track any stragglers out on the streets. So keep your eyes open and

- Have a Nice Day

And on the seventh day

I rested.

I am by no means implying that the last few days were busy, as I haven't really left this building. But this facility is quite a bit bigger than the shack I took over last, and as such it has a lot of machines and documents. Oh dear, all these documents, all this information. It's such a shame that most of them are invalid now, with their authors and intended parties dead. And it's an even bigger shame that most of them are bland, unhelpful, and just plain stupid.

To be fair, I wasn't expecting anything on the level of the Doctors, but seriously, some of these are just illegible. You should feel ashamed of yourselves.

Anyway, we've cleared out the building and confiscated the machinery, and I'm just having some fun prancing around the building in my gas mask like I originally wanted to. I'm sure by now you've tried escaping the city, so I'm just going to assume that by this point you've got it into your tiny brains how screwed you really are. Enjoy your last seven days, and pray often to your god.

You're going to be meeting him soon enough.

- Have a Nice Day

Document CTE-5-2-B

Tests #5288-5295 were all successful on the meta level, and the Patients were all admitted to the next level of screening.

Tests #5288B-5295B represent the attempts to isolate the effects of various drugs and stimulations on the "borderline possessed."

#5288B: Patient showed no unique signs after administration of various stimulants, including caffeine, nicotine, methamphetamine, and methylenedioxymethamphetamine. Patient terminated through an overdose of benzoylmethylecgonine. Individual records terminated.

#5289B: Patient given enough ethyl alcohol to elicit a normal reaction, and tested positive for a heightened level of possession. Further tests with stronger depressants elicited stronger reactions. However, after a medium dose of diacetylmorphine patient lapsed into a full possession. Individual records terminated.

#5290B: Patient repeated the reaction of #5289 to ethyl alcohol. Patient then set aside for further testing. See Document B-5290 for further results and comments.

#5291B: Patient issued a mild hallucinogen and immediately lapsed into a full possession. Individual records terminated.

#5292B: Patient was sent to the MPD for torture testing. Results came back negative on all levels. Individual records terminated.

#5293B-5295B: Patients tested for various emotional responses. All tested normal psychologically, but nothing of note was observed. After several unspecific and unproductive tests, MPD requested use of the patients. MPD requested and granted access to #5293, #5294, and #5295.

Document CTE-5-2

Experimental group #5

FOR RESEARCHERS

All individuals involved with the test are hereby labeled #XYYY, X being the group number, and YYY being the individual's place in the group. At no time are the individuals to be called by their names, instead refer to them as "Patient XYYY" or "Number XYYY."

Group 5 is first and foremost a MPD assignment, do not forget this. There will be MPD representatives present at all times and overseeing every test. If they wish for the results or specifics of any one or any group of tests, you are to comply fully. The representatives have authority over all techs and researchers while in the facility, and any problems should be taken up with the head Doctor of your group [Dr. Birchman].

RESULTS AND REFERENCES

Tests #5001-5005 are controls, designed to compare with the future tests.

#5001: Given a large pill (~125 mg) stuffed with fungus. Patient spent 24 hours in a stable state, and afterwards rapidly declined mentally. By hour 36, patient had reached a full possession. Patient terminated self 60 hours into the test.

5002: Given an injection of a 25% solution by mass of liquified fungus. Patient mirrored the symptoms of Subject #5001, reaching a full possession at hour 36. Patient terminated self 72 hours into the test. MPD requested and granted all information related to #5002.

5003: Sprayed on the back of the neck with an aerosolized fungus, 50% by mass. Patient spent 24 hours stable, but the infection began to spread rapidly after hour 12. At hour 18, patient had the full appearance of a Carrier, but was still in full control of his mental faculties. Patient spent hours 18-24 showing signs of major distress, including clawing at both arms in an attempt to remove the fungus. After 24 hours, the patient fell silent and began to act as a Carrier. MPD requested and granted all information related to #5003.

[Note: Despite what the MPD claims, I do not approve of test #5003 being used as a method of torture. While it places a great amount of distress on the individual, the process is rather irreversible.]

5004: Inhaled 100 grams of aerosolized fungus. Patient spent 2 hours stable, but expired after the fungus coated the inside of the patient's lungs. MPD requested and granted all information related to #5004.

5005: Left in room thoroughly contaminated with fungus. Patient spent 48 hours in the room before succumbing to a full possession. After 120 hours, patient terminated self.

Tests #5201-5299 are designed to test the effectiveness of a direct injection.

#5201-5254: All Patients terminated quicker that #5005, with #5254 matching the control almost exactly. Individual records terminated.

#5255-5287: All patients exhibited possession of a degree less than that of #5005, but all eventually succumbed to a full possession. Individual records terminated.

#5288-5295: Patients showed no initial signs of possession, but tested positive after some form of excitement. See Document CTE-5-2-B for further results.

#5296-5299: Patients showed no signs of possession under any circumstances, and tests came up negative under all scrutiny. Individual records terminated.

So I've been thinking

Because after slaughtering a building full of people you really have to just sit back and think. First, I've been dwelling on how I'm feeling recently. I'm kind of down since I had to make an improvisation to my uniform. I may be crazy, but I'm not suicidal enough to go prancing about a cultist hideout dressed like their god. Had to settle for a rag across the face instead of the heavier gear. It's a pity, but the fact that that's all I feel is a bit more than disturbing. I mean, my best friend just died, and I'm angry that he decided to give himself to the Archangel, and sad that I couldn't wear my old mask. Shouldn't there be more deeper emotions involved with this?

Anyway, after ending the lives of 14 more people I wondered if this was the right way to honor my friend's death. I'm not going to stop the slaughter, of course, but it doesn't feel right to have his last memory honored with blood. I'm fairly certain he'd want me to come clean about everything, since he never did care for secrets. But sadly I can't do that for obvious reasons, most of them being "I don't want to die."

So here's the deal. For every day I go out and continue this mad rampage, I'm going to copy onto this blog a document from the bundle that I would have given Thomas once I caught him, with any harmful information removed, of course.

I'm sure some of you are asking why I don't just scan the documents and post the images, so I'll go ahead and say that I know your types, and I doubt that my black ink will hide everything I want it to. So instead, I'm going to type up the documents word for word and you're just going to have to take my word that they're legitimate. Or you can not believe me. I don't care, this is for Thomas, not you meatbags.

So this will mean I've got two documents to put up. And there might be a few more in the future if things go as swimmingly as this.

- Have a Nice Day

Day 2

It's been so long that I've forgotten how comfortable my old uniform was. I mean, the one I have now is subtle and stylish, but my god, this almost makes me miss the old days. Almost.

By the way, this is your 2:30 wake up call. Shame on you all for sleeping in.

- Have a Nice Day

Day 0

Okay, I may have lied. It was not QUITE two weeks, more like two weeks and three days. But seriously, it's all semantics, since I wasn't exactly expecting to do anything until I was fully prepared. I mean, it's not like I asked to have all my supplies close at hand, it just happened that way. Also, I certainly didn't ask to be attacked first. I made it quite clear that I would make the first move, and while I appreciate the initiative you showed, it wasn't exactly the most tactical decision you could have made.

First of all, I'm not sure what that first group was supposed to be. A scouting party? A preemptive strike? Random gang activity? Second of all, you really should teach them to never run back to base, it is far from the best decision in this world. I'm currently sitting on ten casualties and a meth lab in this shed, with three more bodies back at my previous location, and a cleanup crew trying their hardest to mobilize early. Not exactly the best beginning for you, I'm afraid.

- Have a Nice Day

I found this with the rest of his stuff

A laptop, asleep and on his blog, on the latest entry, a bloody makeshift sack containing a few food items, and a knife. The assortment was hidden under a tarp with the symbol of my associates tagged on it. He left it here for me to find, and I hate him for it.

I don't know how much he knew, but it's evident that he knew a lot more than I wanted him to. So now that he's dead, I guess I can take a little relief in the knowledge that whatever he knew is safe from prying eyes.

I'm still pissed at him, though. And I think a side trip is perhaps in order. I have two weeks before my next job begins, so maybe I should get warmed up.

This is your only warning.

- Have a Nice Day

Epiphany

I've been thinking a lot as I've been running. Mostly about the things chasing me, but also about some other stuff that's been bothering me.

First off, there's the Choir. They've been with me since before this mess started, and they have only gotten louder since appearing. I started thinking about what they want, and I think I know what that is. I think they want me to kill myself. I thought earlier that they just wanted me to die, but they can just do that on their own, blow out my eardrums, scramble my brain, and leave me dying in a random alleyway. But no, for some reason they want me to do the job myself. As if they get something out of it. I know what happens to the voices of those they take, but if that's what they want, they could have taken it months ago by force. There has to be something else, something I'm not seeing, or something I'm not supposed to see, but it's not something I want to part with, especially not at the cost of taking my life for their amusement.

Then there's CRITIC. It simply wants me to burn for my sins, like the god of old. It wants me to face my crimes and pay for them with body, blood, soul, and being. But I wonder how much I can even do that. The Choir has such a grip on my mind that I don't think my sanity is mine to control anymore. I remember what I did to that child, I remember every detail, and I know what I did was wrong, but I cannot make myself regret what I did. CRITIC may make me burn, but it can't make me regret these crimes, and I think it knows that. I think it knows that nobody can truly regret their actions, and so all it can ever offer is eternal hellfire. And unlike the Choir, it has no qualms with taking what it wants by force. It is the Devil incarnate, and I will never let myself give into the Devil.

FERMATA chases me for what I've become. I haven't known a friendly touch in many months, my last contact with humanity hung herself at the behest of my demons, and so I am left all alone. Too scared to ask for help lest I drive more people into the clutches of Hell, and too far gone to even want help. The man who seeks my help will either fall by his own hand or will force mine own against him. And since I refuse to aid the devils that way, this devil completes the Catch 22 sealing my doom. He'll catch me before too long, I know that. He's faster than me and can travel farther than me, and as soon as he bores of this chase he will strike like any other predator.

This is the situation I believe myself to be in. And if that was it, then I would be completely and utterly defeated. Luckily for me, that isn't entirely the case. I still have one more option, one more chance for a safe haven, one that I've only recently discovered the merits of.

So I believe this shall be my last post here. I'm going to deny all my aggressors what they desire and end this stupid hunt once and for all. And I'd advise you all to do the same.

Embrace the Archangel.

Judgement

I hid, as stupid and useless as the idea might seem. I hid and waited. I could only see what was in front of me, whether it was real or not was something I had to decide for myself. I tried to use the sense of paranoia to tell how close Judgement was, until eventually he appeared in my little box of vision.

He knew where I was, of course, but I also knew where HE was. I'd like to say I was prepared for him, but that would be a bit of a lie. I remember reading about what happens to the people CRITIC possesses, and for the most part, that's what I got. The little neighbor kid had hair and skin singed and falling off in places, but what made me cringe was the state his face was in. His eyes had fallen out, or maybe he plucked them out, but either way when he appeared I found myself looking into two holes, empty yet full of hellfire. I could see the depths of my sins, past and future, and I could see how much I would pay as Judgement is passed on my arrested soul, after CRITIC frees it from my body.

Of course, that didn't happen. The visions made me hesitate, I admit, but I've heard many times before about the torture to come, no matter what I do, no matter who I fall to. The Alighierian torment of FERMATA, the fires of Judgement, the eternal servitude of the Lord of the Dead. The Choir lovingly explained how there was no hope for safety, not for me, and not for anybody. Seeing it from Judgement was only so much worse than hearing it in detail and imagining the rest.

So I'd like to think that Judgement was surprised when I attacked him with a large shard of glass. He may be an unknowable eldritch being, but he was inhabiting a human body. And human bodies break rather easily. I managed to stick the glass in one of his shoulders before making an attempt at his knife. However, despite being human, Judgement still isn't quite normal, as evident from the lack of blood that should have been pouring from his shoulder, and he had one hell of a grip. I wasn't able to get the knife then, and nor was I able to prevent being stabbed and thrown at a wall. As he was walking towards me, the wound in his arm glowing with the internal fire eating him away, the light making the shard of glass glow a reddish yellow, I kicked out wildly, catching the glass with the sole of my foot and pushing it all the way into his arm.

Apparently that was all his shoulder could take, as his arm fell off, knife and all. Judgement stumbled backwards, and paused just long enough for me to wrench the knife from the dead grip of his severed arm. I took no chances this time, and slashed the neck of the boy-demon. It was a deep, but bloodless wound, so I thrust forward again and again, until the thing fell on its back. One last plunge, and I severed the head from the beast, its eyes closed and the stump covered in charred flesh and blood.

I briefly wondered if Judgement was dead, but decided that it was better to be sure. I severed both legs and the remaining arm from the corpse, so that there was no possible way the body could be used again. And just to ensure inactivity beyond a shadow of a doubt, I cut into its chest and removed the heart from the body. I looked down on the bloody remains of Judgement, and finally felt that I had scored a point against these things.

The arms I left there, in the dim alleyway where a man stood against Judgement and survived. The legs I carried to the center of the city, where I buried them in an inconspicuous dumpster behind some sort of shop or restaurant. I pondered over the chest cavity for a while, wondering how something so small could cause me so much trouble, so in the end it went in the trash of a toy store somewhere on the north end of town. I walked the head down to the creek near the park, where I used to play as a child, and threw the head in the waters, to lay the boy to rest with my brother. Even though I know that child will know nothing close to rest now. The Choir had an interesting idea for the heart I still had, and as disgusted by it as I was, I couldn't think of a place to put it, so I just went with their plan.

I hold no fantasies about being free from CRITIC's glare. In fact I'm sure that it's only a matter of time before Judgement returns, this time in a body less prone to breaking, and with one more sin on his tongue to attack me for. And I can feel the untimely chills that herald FERMATA's appearance. He will not be pleased, either. The Choir screams these facts even louder now, assuring me that their Hell is the one I should assign myself to. And then there's the distant, wordless pull of the REQUIEM. I feel him now more than I see him, and more strongly than I've ever felt him before. His presence is the fear of death itself, and as I finally have exhausted every sane plan and route of action, he is making himself known.

All I can do now is run, and hope that in running, I extend what life I have left. Whatever game they're playing with me is over now. The Fears are finally out to kill me.

It was only a matter of time

I can feel CRITICs of Judgement on me again. Apparently I'm not fast enough to outrun an unknowable demon. Who would have thought...

The trouble is that I can only feel his presence, I still haven't seen him. And with the Choir being the obnoxious assholes that they always are, I'm probably going to have a hell of a time hearing him, too.

I've been trying to keep REQUIEM in my field of vision whenever I can, but I guess I'll have to look around sometime. Guess it all boils down to whether I feel safer with my back to the Lord of the Dead or to the Harbinger of Judgement.

At least I don't have FERMATA making this any harder than it already is.

Details

I see The Advisor finally made good on his promise to visit. Too little, too late, I’m not telling you where I am.

However, I can tell you that I’m free of that house. I thought it would be easier to run from CRITIC if it had entered a host, and let me tell you, I was right. Thankfully the gas in my car hadn’t frozen, so all I had to do was break through the garage door and I would be free. Well, relatively free. The Choir is still hanging over me, and has much more sound to play off of and turn into jeers and threats. I’m not sure why they don’t just blow my eardrums out or kill me with an enormous soundwave, but I guess I should be thankful I’m still alive.

The REQUIEM is still around, too, somewhere. It seems to like following me around, but so far hasn’t done much of anything. I guess since Chelsea’s voice didn’t show up on the video it wasn’t REQUIEM bringing her back to life, so I’m not sure what he’s trying to accomplish by just standing there doing nothing. Didn’t stop me from flipping him off as I drove away, though. Best two seconds of my life there.

No sign of FERMATA or CRITIC yet. And I’m hoping that stays like that for a while longer. I like being able to enjoy the warm weather for a bit.

Good Morning

I’m not exactly sure why you’d leave this up on your computer, and logged in as well, but opportunities are opportunities, I guess. Forgive me for this, but you'll never know when this information might come in handy.

Now that that formality’s out of the way, where the fuck are you? Your house is an abandoned warzone and there’s a decaying body in your bedroom. I can literally FEEL the shit that’s gone on in this place, that’s how bad it is.

You lived here, under the presence of at least four of the Undying, and then somehow escaped? If you’re still alive and telling the truth, then I must say, I’m impressed. Of course, if you’re someone posing as Thomas Blake, then may some god have mercy on your soul and grant you asylum before I find you.

Anyway, I’m late to the party, as usual. Care to let me know where you are so I can find you and save/kill you before the Undying do?

- Have a Nice Day

I was able to get a little proof on my phone before the inevitable happened.

I'm safe now. Details to come soon.