Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My name is Penelope Quinn. Although I was born in Kent, I moved to America when I was rather young, and began work at the Usher Foundation in DC a handful of years ago. I’ve recently returned to London at their behest in order to sift through what little remains of our sister location, the Magnus Institute. 

I’ve done some preliminary research into the history of the place, and I have some idea of what’s happened and who the main players on the board are. Of particular note is one Jonathan Sims, who was Head Archivist at the time of the Institute’s rather abrupt closing. It is his recordings of statements that I am currently sifting through, as all of the tapes in the archive seem to have curiously survived the explosion without a scratch. I’ve gotten through a handful of these before realising the monumental task I have ahead of myself, so I figured I should probably take some notes while I go through each one in order to keep things straight in my head. I have in front of me a large canvas of paper, upon which I’m keeping physical copies of these notes as well. Better to be safe than sorry, after all.

Accompanying me in this investigation are Emma and Sam, two of our contacts in Europe whose abilities have proven useful in similar investigations in the past. I am also in contact with Isabelle back at the Foundation, who will be cross-referencing any information gained here with what we have already catalogued. Additionally, we’ve located a survivor of the explosion, a former employee of the Magnus Institute named James Campbell— although he prefers to go by Jimmy— and taken him under our wing. However it’s very clear he merely worked as a normal library assistant and has no idea of the true purpose of the Institute. It’s no matter— he will learn soon enough.

Jonathan Sims seems to have been a decent enough Archivist, and had kindly labelled and sorted each statement into organised categories. Unfortunately, after the explosion, most of the tapes got mixed up in the debris and the majority of the labels were partially or fully burnt off, with only dates of recording remaining. So I figure I might as well listen to these in chronological order, as there doesn’t seem to be any other pattern we can follow at the moment. 

Let’s begin with Tape 1.

April 22nd, 2012 - Case 0122204

Names mentioned:

Nathan Watts - Statement Giver (survived encounter) - was in 2nd year uni around 2010, but 2 years older than his peers

Michael MacAulay - Mr. Watts’ friend that hosted a party the night of his encounter

John Fellowes - missing person (Mar 2010), was at the same party

Jessica McEwan - missing person (Nov 2005)

Sarah Baldwin - missing person (Aug 2006)

Daniel Rawlings - missing person (Dec 2006)

Ashley Dobson - missing person (May 2008), sister Siobhan Dobson

Megan Shaw - missing person (June 2008)

Places mentioned:

The Albanach on the Royal Mile - pub where the party was held

Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh - location of the encounter

Comments:

I find it highly amusing the amount of vitriol Mr. Sims has toward his predecessor; it’s a shame I wasn’t able to meet him in person before. Thankfully, although it’s highly unlikely any normal person would have survived the explosion, he is so deeply and intrinsically connected to the Eye that there’s a non-zero chance he may have been saved somehow. Isabelle says from what she knows about the current head of the Institute, Mr. Elias Bouchard, he seems like the sort of man to have layers of contingency plans. Nevertheless, we have not had any luck tracking down anyone listed under the Archives employees, nor Mr. Bouchard himself.

As for the statement, I’ll admit I’m not too familiar with the UK avatar scene. My guess would be this is some manifestation of the Stranger, due to the whole “false humanoid” appearance. I could see a case being made for the Spiral, but I don’t believe Mr. Watts suffered enough bizarre effects for this to be the case.

This is merely the first tape, so I wasn’t expecting much to begin with, and just as I thought there doesn’t seem to be anything here that correlates to the explosion or the events that lead up to it. That said, I’ll make sure to tell Emma not to smoke near any odd alleyways. Not that the Stranger is any threat to her, of course, but I’d rather not have an avatar showdown mere days after we’ve arrived in the country. 

End of file.

Chapter Text

November 22nd, 1998 - Case 9982211

Names mentioned:

Joshua Gillespie - Statement Giver - graduate of Cardiff, Architecture

John - hard to describe, “Englishman inside a foreign land” from Liverpool (?), made the deal and paid Mr. Gillespie

Richard - Mr. Gillespie’s friend

Breekon and Hope Deliveries - delivered and retrieved the coffin, operated until 2009 out of Nottingham

Places mentioned:

Central Amsterdam, Elandsstraat - location of the first encounter

Bournemouth, in the Triangle - location of Mr. Gillespie’s flat and of the second and third encounters

Comments:

Multiple things in this statement stand out to me.

The coffin described is very clearly an artefact of the Buried, especially with Mr. Gillespie’s nightmares of struggling to breathe. However, I find it interesting that Mr. Sims mentions there were no other tenants in the building. Perhaps this location was cordoned off by the Lonely? It may have been a joint venture, so to speak. It seems the Entities might be a bit more open to working together here than in America.

I quite like the line “It’s funny how fear can become just as routine as hunger” from Mr. Gillespie. I’d say he even has avatar potential considering how well he adjusted. I sent Emma to do a quick check up on him, but it seems he mysteriously vanished around five years ago with no prior notice of resignation. Either he was marked and taken… or my instincts are correct and we’ll be seeing a lot more of him in the future.

End of file.

Chapter Text

July 1st, 2007 - Case 0070107

Names mentioned:

Amy Patel - Statement Giver - student at Birkbeck University (Criminology), Associate Compliance Analyst at Deloitte, maybe late 20s?

Graham Folger - Ms. Patel’s classmate and neighbour, Oxford graduate (?), maybe late 30s

Desmond and Samantha Folger - Mr. Folger’s parents, died on the M1 near Sheffield, August 4th, 2001

Places mentioned:

Birkbeck University - where Ms. Patel and Mr. Folger first met in class

Clapham - location of Ms. Patel and Mr. Folger’s residences, and the location of the encounter

Comments:

This case is a confusing one. I have a lot of questions: who threw Ms. Patel to the ground? What exactly was Mr. Folger afraid of? Was he aware of the creature stalking him? What purpose did all of those notebooks serve? 

Ms. Patel herself seems to have a predisposition toward the Eye, based on her people-watching hobby and “detached interest in his (Mr. Folger’s) life,” although whether or not that will end up manifesting remains to be seen. The creature in the statement is almost certainly an aspect of the Stranger. And due to the illusory and hypnotic nature of the table described, it sounds possibly like a Spiral artefact. 

Strangely, following up on this statement reveals that Graham Folger is in fact still alive, but his pictures show a dark-haired man with a round face and not the Not-Graham Ms. Patel describes. Upon learning this, I started to get an odd feeling about these tapes. He is apparently in the area and has agreed to a follow-up interview next week thanks to Sam reaching out via email. Ms. Patel on the other hand seems to have moved to Italy and has not responded to any of our inquiries. 

End of file.

Chapter Text

June 28th, 2013 - Case 0132806

Names mentioned:

Dominic Swain - Statement Giver - theatre technician

Katherine Mendes - Mr. Swain’s friend who was performing that day (Saturday, November 10th, 2012)

Jurgen Leitner - well… we’re all aware of who this is.

MacGregor Mathers - former owner of Key of Solomon 1863 Leitner

Mary Keay - owner of Pinhole Books, died in 2008, owner of unnamed Leitner in Sanskrit

Gerard Keay - Mary Keay’s son, Leitner burner, painter (Eye-aligned)

Michael Crew - Mr. Swain’s childhood friend, struck by lightning

grbookworm1818 - Gertrude Robinson?? purchased the Key of Solomon 1863 Leitner off eBay

Places mentioned:

West End - area where Mr. Swain works

The Gate Theatre at Notting Hill - location of the performance Mr. Swain was attending

Oxfam charity shop at Notting Hill - location where Mr. Swain found the Ex Altiora Leitner

Courtyard Theatre - location of Mr. Swain’s performance

Pinhole Books in Morden - location of the untitled Leitner in Sanskrit, and encounter with Mary Keay

Comments:

Good to hear Gerard hasn’t changed at all.

It was upon listening to this tape that I decided to start taking these notes, as there is a lot of information here to get through. From the previous tapes, I’m led to believe that Mr. Sims had no prior knowledge of the Entities. A questionable decision on Mr. Bouchard’s part; every Foundation employee knows exactly what we are serving, even the clerks, and in my opinion we function much more efficiently for it. But dubious hiring practices aside, I find it interesting that Mr. Sims is still highly aware of the dangers of Leitners even without that background knowledge. I suppose it’s hard to contain that sort of thing, but considering how easily he dismissed the other statements he must have had some sort of encounter himself to believe the tale almost immediately.

This Ex Altoria Leitner is almost certainly of the Vast, if the ozone smell and vertigo didn’t give it away. The unnamed Leitner in Sanskrit that Mary Keay displayed is a bit more complicated; the bit about holding it in the shadows made me think it was related to the Dark, but the bones falling out sounds very Flesh-like. 

One other thing. It’s peculiar that Mr. Sims wasn’t able to find any information on Gerard Keay at all. You would think that the Magnus Institute would be keeping tabs on someone as… notorious… as Gerard. To be fair, Mr. Bouchard and his predecessors have all been stubborn, prideful men who refuse to contact any other Eye followers in fear of “tainting” their precious Institute, but still. One does not simply lose a man like Gerard Keay.

We at the Usher Foundation have been tracking his movements for a while, but especially since he moved to America in 2014. Although he and the Foundation are not exactly on good terms, we’ve worked together to find and neutralise a handful of particularly dangerous Leitners. Both Isabelle and I have worked with him in the past, and Gerard is almost exactly how he is described in this statement— very blunt, down to business sort of fellow. Isabelle was not a fan of his boyfriend, however, as it kept asking her riddles and laughing when she got irritated at it. Still, he was of the Spiral, so he was fairly useful for getting in and out of hard to reach places. As long as they’re gallivanting across the country hunting Leitners, we will likely be seeing a lot of them, so Isabelle will just have to deal.

But I digress. The point is, does Mr. Bouchard truly keep all of his employees in the dark, even his own Archivist? And if so, does this have something to do with the explosion that happened? We’ll see if any of the next tapes have evidence to support this theory. 

End of file.

Chapter Text

February 23rd, 2009 - Case 0092302

Names mentioned:

Kieran Woodward - Statement Giver - bin man for Waltham Forest Council

David Atayah - fellow bin man, provided supporting statement

Matthew Wilkinson - fellow bin man, provided supporting statement

Alan Parfitt - fellow bin man, obsessive curiosity than lead to him being fired, last known message sent August 8th 2008

Guy Wardman - new hire, Mr. Parfitt’s replacement

Michael Parfitt - Alan Parfitt’s brother, reported him missing August 20th 2009 (?)

Suresh and Altman - Police Constables that filed the police report

Places mentioned:

93 Lancaster Road, Walthamstow - location of the encounters

Comments:

Who is this Martin, and why does he hate him so much? Please, Mr. Sims, save the workplace drama for the big screen! (Actually, don’t, it’s quite hilarious.)

All jokes aside, this statement is highly confusing and seems to have no relevance to what we’re looking for. With that said I might as well still write down a few notes just in case something comes up later, especially with Mr. Parfitt, who I suspect was taken by the Stranger.

The various bags give me the impression of many different entities, so I wonder if there is a particular person or creature disposing of various items for different groups. The dolls heads are Stranger-esque, the singed paper seems like a remnant of the Desolation— specifically the Cult of the Lightless Flame, which we have a few weaker offshoots of in America— and the teeth and heart seem like something the Flesh would enjoy. 

Not much to go off here, so on to the next tape.

End of file.

Addendum:

The date that Mr. Parfitt’s brother reported him missing does not fit the timeline of the disappearance and the date the statement was made. I will assume this is merely a clerical error and that the actual year was 2008.

Chapter Text

November 12th, 2016 - Transcript of Interview with Graham Folger

Interview conducted by Sam Laurent and Penelope Quinn

Note: 

The interview was intended to be conducted by Emma Koch instead of Sam Laurent, but Mr. Folger refused to answer any questions while she was in the room, stating that something about her made him very uncomfortable.

SAM

Hello, Mr. Folger. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your experience around 10 years ago if that’s alright.

GRAHAM

Y-yeah, that’s why I’m here. Um, and you don’t have to be so polite, just Graham is fine, sir— or, uh, miss?

SAM

Either is fine, don’t worry. Do you remember the last time you saw Amy Patel, one of your former classmates?

GRAHAM

The last time we spoke… I think we were walking in the same direction from the bus stop, and she tripped and fell. I remember there was… a lot of blood. I called the emergency services and they checked her over, said she was fine and only had a concussion. She didn’t… look fine, and they said she shouldn’t be alone for a while, so I offered to let her stay at my flat for a bit.

I’ll admit, my motivations weren’t completely altruistic. N-not that I had any intentions toward her, I’m not that kind of person! It’s just that… for the past year, I felt like there was something, I dunno, watching me. I could f-feel its eyes on me everywhere I went, but especially at home. I tried to keep an eye out, stay alert, but nothing relieved me of its gaze. Except… when there was someone looking directly at me.

For some reason, whenever I was having a conversation with someone, the feeling would go away. So I tried to act a bit odd, keep people’s eyes on me as much as possible. I know, it sounds like a desperate measure, but it worked . I even left the curtains open in my flat in the hope that someone would watch what I was doing. I know someone across the street was definitely invested in seeing what weird thing I was doing each day, although it’s possible it was multiple people, I’m not entirely sure.

Anyway, that night was the last time I saw Amy. I think she was kind of creeped out by my behaviour, to be honest. I just wanted to extend the conversation as much as possible, so I kept trying to think of as many mundane topics as I could. But eventually she left, and that was that.

SAM

Ms. Patel provided a statement to the Magnus Archives which we uncovered recently. I can’t really show you the tape due to privacy reasons, I hope you understand, but it details the night she claims you “disappeared.” She saw a creature crawl in through your window and answer the door as you— ah, are you okay? Should we take a breather?

GRAHAM

M-maybe some water, if that’s alright? (Sam opens a bottle of water for him, and he takes a shaky sip.) Thanks. Um, you’re asking about… that night, right?

SAM

Yes, if you’re able to tell us what happened it would be extremely helpful. Don’t push yourself too hard, though.

GRAHAM

(Takes a deep breath) I’ll… try my best. It all has to do with that damn table. That night, the feeling was stronger than ever. And there was a second sensation too: something pulling at my limbs, tugging toward the table in my flat. It was wood, and it had this sort of… spider web pattern on it? Sometimes I would look at it for what felt like a few seconds, only to discover that hours had gone by. I should have known something was up with it and gotten rid of it, but… I thought it looked neat. 

PEN

Web pattern… shit. (Both of the others jump.)

SAM

Jesus, Pen! How long have you been standing there?

PEN

What do you mean? I’ve been here this whole time. Do go on Graham, I’d like to hear more about this table please.

GRAHAM

O-oh, okay. Uh, well, I bought it from some secondhand shop, can’t remember exactly which one, although I’m pretty sure it was off Walton Street somewhere. I really like antique furniture, and it was fairly cheap, and like I said I thought it looked neat. So of course I bought it. 

I was living with my current boyfriend at the time, but after we broke up I moved into my parents’ old flat and started classes at Birkbeck to pass the time. And the table was mine, so I took it with me.

W…when I felt that tugging , I tried to resist, but it was like my whole body was moving on its own. I stood and stared at the pattern. Moments later, I felt fingers, long ones, touch my back and push. I fell… I don’t really know how to describe it, other than into the table. It felt sort of like falling on a thin, stretchy piece of elastic, the way that it stretched and wrapped around my body. And then… it wasn’t my body anymore. I could feel that thing slipping under my skin, wearing me like a fucking coat. It would speak words, and I could feel the vibration in my throat, but it wasn’t what I wanted to say.

I lived like that for years, blind in the table but feeling everything that the creature did. (A desperate laugh.) I’m honestly lucky that Oliver broke up with me when he did. I don’t think I could have handled feeling him and it together. Eventually it got tired of being Graham and started looking for a new victim. I know because it would stand in the living room and talk to me, taunting me in a voice that was not mine. Telling me that no one remembered who I truly was, and how helpless I was to save the next person. 

At some point, something must have happened to “Graham” because the table was taken out of my flat and moved somewhere new. I’m not entirely sure where it was, but the next thing I know I’m flat on my arse in the middle of some rubble, and the table is in pieces all over the place. No clue where the creature was, but I didn’t want to stick around to find out. I stood up, brushed myself off, and relished the experience of having a body again. 

Apparently I was never reported missing, so I was able to withdraw some funds from the bank and rent a place to stay. That was… er, around two weeks ago, give or take?

(A loud thud. Pen has slammed a glass jar mouth-first against the wall.)

PEN

Apologies. There’s a spider. (She slides a piece of paper under the jar and holds it up to show them the dark brown spider inside. She and Sam exchange looks before she screws the cap on and places the jar on the ground.) Graham, how do you feel now? Do you think that creature is still following you, or…?

GRAHAM

I don’t think it is anymore. I haven’t felt that feeling since I woke up, and honestly I’m not sure it would go for me as a victim again if it was already bored of me before. 

PEN

Hm. In that case, you should be safe, at least from this particular monster. Unfortunately, once you’ve been exposed to this kind of thing there is a good chance something like this will happen again.

SAM

Ah, hey, hey, it’s okay man. Deep breaths, we’re not just gonna leave you to go at it yourself.

PEN

No, we certainly will not. I’ll ask Isabelle to keep an eye on you. (She shakes his hand. Graham straightens as though a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Pen holds out a slip of paper to him.) Here’s our number, call if you need anything. We’ll keep in touch.

SAM

Don’t worry, Graham. You’re in good hands. (They pat him on the shoulder and show him to the door. Upon returning, they sigh and glance at Pen.) 

Damn. The Web, huh?

PEN

Seems like it. Annoying, but it could be worse. I’ll have to strike a few deals with whoever the main Web avatar is here. (She picks up the jar with the spider and holds it up to her face.)

Next Saturday at the Starbucks on the corner, alright? (She smiles, then unscrews the jar and lets the spider crawl out the open window.)

End of Transcript.

Chapter Text

December 9th, 2014 - Case 0140912

Names mentioned:

Timothy Hodge - Statement Giver - freelance designer

Harriet Lee - Mr. Hodge’s sexual partner the night of the incident, deceased. Art student at Roehampton from Salisbury

Jane Prentiss - most likely identity of the woman that attacked Ms. Lee in Archway

Places mentioned:

Camden, Old Street - Mr. Hodge’s preferred drinking/clubbing areas

The Dogstar in Brixton - location where Mr. Hodge met Ms. Lee

Elthorne Road, Archway - location of Ms. Lee’s house and previous encounter where she was “mugged”

Comments:

Ugh. I’ve seen my fair share of the Corruption, but this is a particularly nasty example. Mr. Sims must have a stomach of steel to have such a nonchalant reaction to this statement; I’m drinking a mug of cocoa myself and feeling a slight bit queasy about it. The Corruption and I do not mix well.

This Jane Prentiss must be decently active if Mr. Sims knows of her. I don’t like it, but if she’s open to having an understanding she could make a powerful ally. That said, I think I’ll leave any future tapes involving her to one of the others. No need to give the Corruption a free meal, after all. 

If she’s not open to an understanding… we’ll have to keep an eye out. I don’t think any of us want to be eaten by worms.

End of file.

Addendum :

Sam was very kind and brought me some anti-nausea medicine, which helped immensely. I’ll likely keep a few on me just in case something pops up unexpectedly.

Chapter Text

November 6th, 1922 - Case 9220611

Names mentioned:

Clarence Berry - Statement Giver - Staff Sergeant in WWI, Manchester Regiment, 2nd Battalion

Wilfred Owen - joined the battalion July 1916, probationary Second Lieutenant, poet, returned in July 1918, died the day peace was made

The Piper - “the war”, has three faces

Joseph Rayner - man whose remains Mr. Owen was found in

Places mentioned:

Salford - Mr. Berry’s hometown

Savy Wood - area that the 2nd Battalion was stationed when they attacked the Hindenburg Line, targeting a trench on the west side of St. Quentin. Location where Mr. Owen and Mr. Berry’s heard the Piper

River near Savy Wood - location where Mr. Owen was found post encounter

Craiglockhart, Britain - place Mr. Owen was sent to recuperate post encounter

Hamelin, Germany - setting of the Pied Piper fairy tale 

Joncourt - attack for which Mr. Owen won the Military Cross

Sambre-Oise - place where Mr. Owen died

Comments:

Indeed, this is a bit of an old statement, and not much can be gained from it. The Slaughter was definitely in its prime around the World Wars, but I doubt we’ll be seeing too much of it in London. I suppose one can never be too careful, though. Unpredictability is its MO. 

On another note, I just received a text message from the Starbucks on the corner saying that my iced latte is ready. I did not order anything, but the message is clear: I’m on someone else’s turf, and I don’t make the rules about when and where to meet. A pity they didn’t do a bit more research though— I prefer cold brew.

I’ll leave one of the others to finish up this last tape for the day, and write up a report when I get back. Let’s hope this goes according to plan, although I doubt that will be the case.

End of file.

Chapter Text

March 13th, 2007 - Case 0071304

Names mentioned:

Ivo Lensik - Statement Giver - construction contractor, pulled up the tree in the yard

Sam - Mr. Lensik’s fiancée who was on a trip in Hamburg

Raymond Fielding - previous(?) owner of the house, tan coat, young, white, maybe mid-twenties, clean-shaven with shaggy, chestnut brown hair, acted weird and disappeared leaving scorched floor (Desolation?), churchgoer, kind caretaker of troubled youth. Disappeared, body found in ashes of the house missing a hand. Inherited the house in 1957

Mr. Lensik’s father - died in 1996, had schizophrenia(?), obsessed with fractals (Spiral?). Afraid of a man with “all the bones in his hands”

Anna “Annie” Kasuma - older woman (50s?), Malaysian, lived on Hilltop Road, told Mr. Lensik the backstory of the house

Agnes - Mr. Fielding’s daughter (???), showed up around 11 years old, mousey brown hair. Was 18-19 when Mr. Fielding disappeared.

• Possible connection to Agnes Montague? found dead in Sheffield the same day the tree was uprooted (Nov. 23 2006). Hanged herself, age 26. Severed hand attached to her waist.

Henry White - disappeared in 1974, 5 years old

Father Edwin Burroughs - Catholic priest/exorcist, short, a bit portly, close-cropped hair, deep smile lines

Walter Fielding - bought the house in 1891

Alfred Fielding - inherited the house in 1923

Places mentioned:

105 Hill Top Road, in the Cowley area - location of the encounters. Previous house burned down. 

John Radcliffe Hospital - hospital that Mr. Lensik was admitted for a few days for his head injury, where he met Mrs. Kasuma

Comments:

Hello, Sam here! Sorry in advance about the messy notes, Pen, I wasn’t really sure what information was relevant so I tried to put down anything that seemed important. If you can’t make heads or tails of it, just give me a ring.

I see what you mean about Mr. Sims’ attitude, haha. Scepticism aside, his dedication to the voice acting is really admirable! He grumbles a lot, but I think he really enjoys his job. I mean, who else would put on background music for a statement recording?

Anyway, this house seems to have plenty of ties to the Desolation. From the scorched floor, to Mr. Lensik’s experience with “burning up,” to the tree with scorch marks in the garden, seems like a solid case. Mr. Lensik’s father definitely had some sort of encounter with the Spiral. Also, it might be coincidence, but the fact that you were called away right before a tape that mentions an apple full of spiders? Kind of suspicious, don’t you think?

Oh, a couple of other things. I did some research and the bit Mr. Sims mentions at the end about Agnes Montague seems to be false. I didn’t see anything about her death, no news articles or anything, although it looks like she vanished around 2012. Not sure where this Martin fellow found the report on that, but as an archival assistant he should do better fact-checking!

Mr. Sims also mentions Statement 0218011 as being related, just thought you should know. Maybe it will give some more insight into this case? If you can find the tape, that is.

Okay, that’s all from me! Can you please tell Emma to stop leaving her caramel wrappers on my desk? I know she does it just to annoy me. Thanks!

End of file.

Chapter Text

The Starbucks on the corner is an old thing. The establishment is newer, of course, but the building itself is old, the previous family-run store having been handily bought out by the company. It’s a bit of an eyesore, and the coffee is lacklustre at best, so Pen is unsurprised when she enters to find the place half-empty. It’s certainly less crowded than the cramped booth at the airport in DC. 

Sitting toward the back at a table hidden partially by the cart of creamer and stirring sticks are two people. They look rather ordinary, all things considered, and had Pen only been looking for a single person she would have dismissed them entirely. However, the spider crawling up the side of the woman’s cup gives no doubt as to who they are.

The woman is around Pen’s age, dark-skinned with short-cropped bleached hair. An umbrella is propped up against the wall beside her, and she has an elegant beauty to her movements as she fills out a crossword in the newspaper. The man is a bit older and softer-looking, fair and freckled, and is wearing a colourful knit cardigan. He is currently working on what appears to be another sweater, with the end of the working yarn disappearing into a bag by his feet.

They both glance up when Pen enters and retrieves her half-melted iced latte from the counter. She slips into the seat across from the two of them and props her head up on one hand, eying them with a weary, half-lidded gaze. “Hello. Thanks for the drink.”

“It’s a pleasure. Annabelle Cane.” The woman shakes her hand in a stiff and brisk motion. Pen turns to the man for an introduction and he shakes her hand too.

“Hello, I’m Martin.” His grip is warm and firm, comforting, and his face holds none of the deceptive neutrality that Annabelle’s does. In fact, his expression is almost blandly gentle, with a kind sparkle to his eyes. A newer avatar, perhaps? 

“Penelope Quinn, although I’m sure you’re aware.” Annabelle smiles and tucks her newspaper away.

“Lovely choice of location, by the way. I can just taste the misery in the air here.” 

Pen laughs. “I figured it would be appealing to the Web. Nothing like being a puppet of an all-powerful, billionaire corporation.” Annabelle chuckles and Martin gives an awkward half-smile. “Well then. Let’s get down to business, shall we? I must say, I’m surprised to see two Web avatars in the same area. Your threads aren’t getting too tangled up, so to speak?”

Martin shrugs and takes a sip of his tea. “It’s, er, a bit complicated. I’m new… ish. Annabelle has agreed to help tutor me in exchange for some information.” 

“Mm. I wish you luck on your development. You… wouldn’t happen to be the same Martin that Jonathan Sims is always talking about, would you?” 

“Do you know him?” There is a sudden look of interest in Martin’s eyes that Pen notes. She shakes her head, purposefully not mentioning the tapes.

“Not personally. I work for the Usher Foundation in America; we were sent here to investigate what happened at the Magnus Institute. The timing of your Becoming and the explosion seemed to line up, so I made an educated guess.” She narrows a look at him. “You wouldn’t happen to have had anything to do with that explosion, would you?”

Martin grimaces. “Like I said, it’s complicated.” At Pen’s intense stare his shoulders hike up defensively. “Directly, no, I didn’t do anything! Neither of us did, for that matter.”

“The reason he’s tangentially involved is the same reason we agreed to meet you here,” Annabelle cuts in smoothly. She pulls out a jar and places it on the table. Inside is a spider, desperately scrabbling along the glass sides trying to get out. “Take a look at this, we found it trailing after Martin a few days ago. See anything unusual?” 

Pen takes the jar and holds it up, squinting closer. The energy surrounding the spider is slightly off, somehow, staticky in the way that the other spider on Annabelle’s cup is not. “It’s not yours,” she notes, and Annabelle nods. Then, “Ah—!” She nearly drops the jar as a ninth eye opens on the spider’s forehead and it Looks at her. She stares into its gaze for what feels like an eternity before Annabelle slides a napkin around the jar and tucks it back into Martin’s bag. “What the hell is that? P-pardon my language,” Pen says shakily, still feeling the tendrils of fear twisting their way through her entire body.

“Something not of this world,” Annabelle says gravely. “You said earlier that you were surprised that there’s two Web avatars in the area. Well… there’s actually three: Martin, myself, and whoever this spider belongs to. Martin is a fledgling, which makes sense, but this other person arrived at around the same time yet wields power far beyond both of our scopes. As you can see, this servant of the Web has somehow been tainted by the Eye.”

“And you want help figuring out why that is,” Pen realises. 

“Exactly. The current resources we have have been… unhelpful. And what better way to expose someone hiding behind the veil of secrecy than to turn the full power of the Beholding on them?” Annabelle seems genuinely peeved— not only is someone coming in and trying to steal her limelight, but she also has to stoop so low as to seek out help from another Entity to take it back. It could just be a false display of emotion to get her on their side, but Pen doesn’t think that’s the case. Sometimes the truth is more compelling than a lie.

“You said this person appeared around the same time as the explosion?” A nod. “I suppose we can collaborate then, with a few conditions. I would like to discuss terms with each of you separately, if you don’t mind?” 

After exchanging glances, Martin takes his leave first, heading outside for a moment to “get a breath of fresh air.” Pen stares Annabelle down across the table. “Graham Folger,” she states. “He was possibly marked by a Web artefact. I want you to let him go.”

“Done,” Annabelle says without a second thought, examining her nails. “He was mostly useful as a way to get your attention, anyway. He’ll be a much tastier meal for the Stranger.” At Pen’s huff of exasperation the corner of her mouth quirks up. “Oh, you intend to protect him? Whatever happened to the Eye’s motto of ‘observe and don’t interfere?’” 

“He’s had a unique experience, and it would be a shame to lose that knowledge,” Pen explains coolly. “He’s of much more value to the Eye alive than dead.”

“I suppose that’s fair enough. You have my word that Martin and I won’t target him. I can’t speak for the other Web avatar, however.”

“That’s good enough for me. On that note, what do you know about this other avatar? Anything specific you can tell me?” Pen pulls out a pad of paper, ready to jot things down.

“Dear, I believe that’s your job.” In the face of Pen’s death glare, Annabelle shrugs. “All I can really say is that whoever it is, definitely had something to do with that explosion you’re investigating. I traced the threads back as far as I could, but there’s interference. Professional work, if I do say so myself. I’d suggest checking those tunnels under the Institute, if you have the time.”

Tunnels? Isabelle didn’t say anything about tunnels. Pen makes a note about it. 

“Alright, thank you for the information. Would you be so kind as to send in Martin, please?” Annabelle nods, clearly humouring her, and gets up using the umbrella as a cane. She saunters outside with her cup of spiders in hand, and a minute later Martin walks in.

“Hello again. Um, so what sorts of things do you want from me? I can’t promise I’ll be all that helpful, but I’ll try my best,” he says earnestly. 

“Thank you,” Pen replies. “Mostly I'm looking for information from you. First things first, what do you remember about the day of the explosion? Where were you, where were your coworkers, did you have any advance warning at all, etc.?” 

Martin hums. “It was… a pretty ordinary day, I think? Jon was recording a statement as usual, something about an antique vase I believe. Tim and Sasha were either in the staff room on break or at their desks doing research, I can’t remember exactly which at the time. I was brewing some tea when Elias came down in a hurry. He said something was wrong, and that we had to leave immediately.”

“Now, Jon gets… really into reading his statements, and he usually refuses to stop in the middle of one no matter what. But there was something in Elias’ voice that had all of us panicking. He’s a hard man to rattle, Elias is, and yet something that day had him well and truly spooked. We were about to head outside when we heard loud explosions coming from all around us. Elias yelled something, I think it was ‘Peter?’ Or maybe ‘Peer.’ And, erm… I’m not sure I can tell you the rest, sorry.”

“That’s completely fine, you’ve given me a lot of good information. So everyone is alright, then?”

“Everyone who was working in the archives, yes. I’m… not sure how the rest of the Institute fared.” 

“Not many people survived, unfortunately. You’re quite lucky. Did you find out why Mr. Bouchard was so panicked, or anything about the cause of the explosion?”

Martin tilts his head a bit like a puppy. “Ah, not really? I heard it was two women that snuck in and rigged the place to blow, but I don’t know anything about their names or appearances. Elias also isn’t the most forthcoming person, he’s kind of an arse about telling us things, so I didn’t bother to ask.”

“From what I’ve heard about the man, that lines up. Very well. Is there a way I should contact you both once I’ve discovered the identity of the mystery avatar?”

“Oh, here’s my number. Annabelle dislikes giving her own out, so I doubt she’d be comfortable with me giving it.” He scribbles it down on a napkin and hands it over.  A small shiver runs down Pen’s spine as she remembers the sharp look in the other woman’s eyes. As they get up to leave, she puts a hand on Martin’s shoulder.

“Take care, Martin,” she murmurs. “Spiders eat other spiders, you know.” But to her surprise, a slow grin spreads across his lips, looking completely out of place on such a kind face. 

“I know. Why do you think I chose the Web in the first place?” For the first time, she notices how unnaturally sharp his teeth are. Suddenly she doesn’t feel like he is quite so helpless after all. With a nod and a word of thanks, he heads outside and reconvenes with Annabelle. The two walk together down the street and out of sight.

Pen takes a sip of her now completely watered-down latte. As expected, mediocre. With a soft sigh she takes out her phone and dials a number. “Hello, Isabelle? I have some new leads for you…”

Chapter Text

Some deals have been struck with the resident Web avatars, Annabelle Cane and Martin— Blackwood, if the Institute’s list of employees is to be believed. We did also discover a trapdoor leading to some tunnels below the Institute, exactly as Ms. Cane described. I’ve asked Emma and Sam to take a quick look around, as Isabelle doesn’t seem to be able to See into them for some reason. Apparently there's some evidence of human activity down there, but it'll take a more thorough investigation to find anything useful.

I’ve sent Isabelle a report and asked her to look into some of the leads the Web so kindly provided in exchange for our help, but finding things takes time so I don’t expect an instant response. In the meantime I’ll try to get through a few more of these tapes; something has been pinging me as off about them, especially with Sam’s note about Agnes Montague only being reported missing and not dead as the tape states. 

If she is still around, she’s a decent suspect for one of the two women that were seen considering the forensic report reveals that extremely unusual levels of heat in the gas tanks was what caused the explosion. What her motives would have been and who the other woman could be (another Desolation avatar, maybe?) remains uncertain, so we cannot definitively prove anything at the moment. 

December 3rd, 2002 - Case 0020312

Names mentioned:

Julia Montauk - Statement Giver - daughter of Robert Montauk

Robert Montauk - died in Wakefield Prison Nov. 1st 2002, arrested in 1995, killed 40+ over 5 years. Was a policeman, conducted rituals in the shed involving human hearts

Ray Cowan - wrote No Bodies in the Shed, a book about Robert Montauk

Julia Montauk’s mother - disappeared when Julia was 7 years old, had hand-shaped pendant with closed eye (symbol of the Peoples’ Church of the Divine Host)

Detective Rayner - called the Montauk residence when Julia was around 10, causing Robert Montauk to spend the day in the shed. “German” accent. Most likely Maxwell Rayner

Christopher Lorne - victim, was the only full body found in the shed. Was a member of the Peoples’ Church of the Divine Host cult

Maxwell Rayner - leader of the Peoples’ Church of the Divine Host cult. Disappeared from public view in 1994

Places mentioned:

York Road in Dartford - the Montauk family’s residence. Shed is a point of interest, but was taken down by the current owners

Comments:

This tape definitely has to do with the Dark, with the mentions of blown lightbulbs and brackish water. The Eye and the Dark are natural enemies, so it’s difficult to track them, but there are a few members of the Peoples’ Church in America who have occasionally stirred up trouble and we have done our best to keep tabs on them. 

I did write more notes on this tape, but upon listening to the next one I find it would be easiest to group them together. So for further insights into Julia Montauk, please check the notes for tape 10.

End of file.

~

July 10th, 2010 - Case 0100710

Names mentioned:

Trevor “Trevor the Tramp” Herbert - Statement Giver - vampire killer, homeless, has lung cancer, first kill in 1959 when he was around 16. Second kill in 1968. Heroin addict

Nigel Herbert - 2 years older, was killed by Sylvia McDonald

Sylvia McDonald - vampire that took the two in around autumn 1959. Was killed by Trevor Herbert

Robert Arden - second vampire killed by Trevor Herbert and an unnamed woman

Unnamed woman - victim of Robert Arden that stabbed him and escaped

Alard Dupont - killed by Trevor Herbert in 1982. Presumed vampire, but was human

Places mentioned:

Side street by Kings Arms Hotel - location of the first encounter

Loom Street - location of Sylvia McDonald’s home

Oasis Club in Lloyd Street - location of the second encounter

Comments:

Trevor Herbert, killed by lung cancer? Oh, if only. Clearly he was not, since he and Julia Montauk have been pains in our backsides since 2015. 

We did contact them once when they first arrived to offer an alliance— the Foundation always has a use for talented Hunters, as creatures that threaten us are quite common— but they were stubbornly paranoid about dealing with any governmental figures, and since the Foundation is technically funded by the American government, they ditched our messenger and hightailed it out of there. 

The Hunt has a particularly strong hold in America, where wilderness and wildlife are abundant, and this is clearly reflected in the behavioural changes the two show upon staying in the country for several months. Trevor Herbert claims he made eight kills over the past 50-odd years in the tape, yet over the past year alone he and Julia Montauk have had several run-ins with local law enforcement as suspects in three different murder cases. They seem to be quite impulsive and are not very skilled at handling things under the radar, constantly stirring up trouble wherever they go. We dodged a bullet by not partnering with them— pardon the pun. 

Personal grievances aside, they are clearing out monsters for us, and as far as we can tell they haven’t made a wrong identification yet. They are still on the Foundation’s list of wanted avatars, but not a high enough priority to put any real resources toward. If the Hunt takes over and they start going after things that aren’t vampires, we may have a different situation on our hands.

End of file.

Addendum:

As Sam noted, Martin Blackwood seems to have a track record of misinformation: first with the report on Agnes Montague, and now with this statement of Trevor Herbert’s death. These tapes were recorded before his Becoming, but if these lies were intentional then he is already showing signs of leaning toward the Web. I do believe Mr. Blackwood when he says he was not involved in the explosion at the Institute; however, as a fledgling avatar there is a possibility that the Web has been manipulating him far beyond what his current knowledge would lead him to believe. As of now, I’ll keep this as a tentative lead for our investigation.

Chapter Text

A few miles below 935 Pennsylvania Avenue, the location of the FBI headquarters in Washington DC, a pulsating mass sits in a chair in the middle of a brightly lit room. Wires protrude from every point, connecting to a carpet of screens that cover the walls from head-to-toe. Eyes are scattered across the mass’ surface, but there are two in particular that shine a pretty blue, positioned directly above a large screen in what was once possibly a human face. 

A ping sounds from one of the screens on the left. One of the field agents asking for help…? Ah, a report from Pen! Isabelle lets out a hum of happiness, and a few of the screens above flicker before she calms herself down. Pen writes the most lovely and informative reports, she can’t wait to read it.

Her eyes scan the report ravenously, drinking down every byte of information as it scrolls down. Hmm, yes, quite a few leads here. The name Peter catches her attention, and on a separate screen she pulls up a file on Elias Bouchard. Yes, the man is married… an on-and-off relationship with one Peter Lukas. She opens that file and checks the home address.

Overhead, a giant eye on the ceiling peels open and begins to twitch rapidly, looking at faraway scenes. She Sees into Moorland House, examining each room briefly before determining that there’s no one there. Next, she brings up various shipping logs and finds the port that the Tundra is currently docked at. There are a few sailors packing cargo onto the ship, but her captain is nowhere to be found. Elusive, as expected of an avatar of the Lonely.

With the easy options exhausted, Isabelle opens a map and marks the route that Martin reportedly took after leaving the café. Hacking into the security footage, she traces his movements as best as she is able. There are a suspicious amount of cameras with spiders blocking their view, so she marks those on the map and compares the trail to a map of population density. 

The area where the spiders seem to disappear is an area with a relatively low population density. The eye on the ceiling opens once more and Looks into the buildings there, scanning for signs of the Lonely. A thin layer of curling fog covers the ground around one particular house, and she takes a peek inside. She has no mouth, but if she did she would have grinned.

A man is sitting on the sofa with a book in hand, seemingly frozen in place. He slowly turns his head to meet her gaze directly, and there is terror in his steely grey eyes. His face undeniably matches the one in Elias Bouchard’s file.

Isabelle twitches smugly and a message displays on her face screen. Two words.

FOUND YOU.

~

< Martin >

Wed, Nov 16 at 2:01 PM

I don’t think disclosing our location was part of the deal

What does that mean?

Was that not you looking at Elias just now?

Nope

That was probably Isabelle following up on my report

I can tell her to quit it, if you want?

Probably a good idea

Elias is… a bit fragile right now

And Jon is being overprotective, so he’s not pleased about the situation

Will do, sorry to cause trouble

Isabelle doesn’t mean any harm, she just doesn’t understand the concept of privacy

Ah, all you Eye avatars are the same, no offence

You don’t really act like an Eye avatar though so guess that doesn’t apply to you

Don’t let her and Elias in a room together, they’ll probably drive each other mad 😂

Noted

Just so Isabelle doesn’t get tempted to check again, how are the others? 

Do you all need supplies or any medical attention?

We’re fine really!

Just a bit shaken up is all

Thanks for offering

Of course, don’t be afraid to reach out if there’s anything we can do to help

👍

~

< Isabelle >

Wed, Nov 16 at 2:35 PM

Thanks for finding them, but try not to scare Mr. Bouchard anymore?

Fiiiiine

Did you know the Archivist has this weird aura? Like static hovering around him

He ran into the room after I scared the old man and Looked at me, and I couldn’t See them after that

It’s like the Beholding disconnected me

Really? That’s interesting

According to the tapes he didn’t even know about the Entities half a year ago

That’s some insane development if so

Hmmmmmmm

No

No more Looking at them

We need to stay on their good side, remember? They’re our only real lead

:(

Why don’t you go Watch some corrupt politicians

A good meal will cheer you up

:D

~

< workin boys >

Fri, Nov 18 at 9:47 AM

Pen

I’m going to the convenience store, anyone want anything?

Emma

chips

cheese flavour please

Sam

I think I’m good thanks!

Pen

Jimmy?

Maybe he hasn’t woken up yet

Sam

He was coughing earlier

Suggested getting some hand sanitizer for the office

Think he was bringing in his own for a bit, maybe we can get a bottle to share?

Pen

Sounds good, be back in a bit

Fri, Nov 18 at 7:04 PM

Pen

Has anyone heard from Jimmy today?

Emma

No

Sam

Me either

Pen

Do you think I scared him with the whole Entities talk yesterday?

I tried to simplify it as much as possible

Emma

Jimmy we’re not crazy I swear

do I look like a crazy person to you

Pen

Yes

But there’s no need to be alarmed, we have your back

Let us know when you read this? If you’re not back by tomorrow evening I’ll have someone check up on you. Just in case

~

March 14th, 2015 - Case 0151403

Names mentioned:

Antonio Blake - Statement Giver - graduated from London School of Economics, previously worked at Barclays. Apparently fake name

Graham - Mr. Blake’s ex-boyfriend (Graham Folger?)

Anahita - friend of Mr. Blake that housed him post-breakup, where he had his first dream

John Uzel - Mr. Blake’s old manager

Places mentioned:

Peak of Canary Wharf overlooking Barclays - location of first dream

Oxford Street - location of the dream where Mr. Blake saw his father

The Magnus Institute - location of the dream where Mr. Blake saw Gertrude Robinson

Comments:

Didn’t Graham say his ex’s name was Oliver? If Antonio is indeed a fake name then I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the same man.

Speaking of seeing the future… I can’t help but notice that at the pace Mr. Sims is going through these statements, either he sped through the last 150 or so of them, or there’s something else going on. 

I’ve tried to skip ahead to some of the later tapes, but if I go out of order they just don’t play. I would say they are showing signs of being an End artefact and that maybe the later tapes will detail future events, but some of the details in the tapes have been wrong and I’m not sure what to make of that. Maybe my first instinct was correct and they are tied to the Eye, with their purpose being to point out previous mistakes that were archived? 

Ah, there’s no time to think about it; I just got a concerning message from Sam. If I come up with any other theories, I’ll document it at a later date.

End of file.

~

< workin boys >

Sat, Nov 19 at 8:39 AM

Sam

Guys we have a major problem

Meet at the office asap

Chapter Text

There’s something wrong with him.

Jimmy knows this. Despite numerous doctors telling him that everything looks fine, he knows better. For the last year, there’s been something… inside him. Eating him from the inside out. He has nightmares about it— being pried open to find nothing but plague inside, and having to cut bits and pieces off of what used to be his lungs, his liver, his heart.

But it’s never been a real problem before. There’s never been actual symptoms, just that vague, chronic feeling that something is wrong. Enough of nothing for there to at least be some plausible deniability. Maybe it is really all just in his head?

The past week has completely obliterated that notion, though. He started coughing up midnight black phlegm, and when he tried to schedule another doctor appointment or even walk to their office this intense pain radiated throughout his whole body and he had to turn around. He thinks about telling one of his coworkers, but he does quite like them and isn’t keen on being called crazy. Besides, this is a personal problem. If it gets worse, he decides, he’ll ask one of them to call an ambulance.

That’s when they decide to drop the Entities thing on him. He’s only half-paying attention as they explain each Fear, the squirming, uncomfortable feeling in his gut distracting him. When Sam asks if anything is wrong, he tries to explain but the words get stuck in his throat, and he can’t force them out. He merely nods silently, wanting to cry but unable to.

When he goes home, he collapses on the bed, entirely drained of his energy. He closes his eyes and takes a rattling breath, slipping off into sleep.

This time, the dream is different. Jimmy watches horrified from a point above the bed as a dark mould spreads outward from his body, staining the sheets and blankets as he sleeps. It creeps across every surface in the room, this oozing rot, little black bits peeling off and sending spores thick into the air. He feels the squirming sensation as it forces itself out of his mouth and nose, even seeping out from under his closed eyelids. Everything feels contaminated.

Jimmy fades back to consciousness, slow enough that he’s unsure if he’s awake or still dreaming. Tingling, phantom pain crawls over every inch of his skin as he forces himself to get up. The sun’s early rays are filtering in through the window. He stumbles over to the bathroom, intending to get ready for work.

The shower water is blessedly clear and warm. Despite still feeling unnerved by the dream, Jimmy takes a deep breath and tries to relax. His cough seems to have gone away; maybe all he needed was some rest? Absently, he scratches at the scab on his elbow as he washes himself. It was just a dream, it didn’t mean anything… right?

After his shower, he wipes the steam off a portion of the mirror and examines himself. Same messy blonde hair, round face, sharp nose. He attempts a weak smile. Something, something, silver linings right?

Finishing the rest of his morning routine makes him feel a bit better. Humming to himself, he steps out of the bathroom and thinks about breakfast plans while drying his hair. A strong itching comes from his elbow again, and he scratches it.

His nail catches the scab there and tears it off. Instead of blood, dark mould begins to crawl out of the wound. 

Jimmy screams.

~

Sam is at the office, peering across the street at the crumbled remains of the Magnus Institute while doing some paperwork, when their cell rings. Their heart picks up when they see it’s Jimmy calling; the other man’s been missing for the past day, and Sam’s been worried. 

Their worry shoots to extreme levels once they answer the phone. “Sam?! I, I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call— Something’s wrong, c-can you help me? I—” a sob “— I think I’m dying…”

“What’s wrong?” Sam tries to narrow down the problem. “Are you hurt? Should I call an ambulance?”

“No! No ambulance! I can’t risk…. risk this spreading any more.” Jimmy’s breathing is quick and shallow, panicked. “It’s inside me, and now it’s coming out of me, it’s growing everywhere, Sam w-what do I do?”

Sam quickly picks up on the clues that whatever is happening is not natural. It’s something Fear-related. Instantly they snap into work mode. “Okay. I’ll be right there. I need you to do something for me. Where are you right now?”

“In my bedroom.”

“Alright, go into the bathroom and close the door. Take a towel and block the crack underneath, then turn off all the lights. Make sure it’s pitch black in there. Let me know when you’ve done that.”

There’s some noises over the line, and with the extra time Sam grabs a face mask from a box on the counter before rushing to the janitorial closet. It’s a bit cramped in there, but after pulling the cart of supplies out there’s enough room for them to comfortably move around. They close the door and take the roll of paper towels, plugging the gap at the bottom expertly.

“Okay, the lights are off,” Jimmy says in their ear. “Now what? I can still feel it on my skin, I-I don’t know if this is helping…”

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be alright,” Sam soothes. “Two more things and I’ll be right there.” They flick the light switch off, plunging the closet into darkness. The scent of sanitising spray and chemicals is strong here. “What’s your address?”

Jimmy tells them. It’s a little out of the way, maybe a 15-20 minute walk from the office. Sam pictures the route in their head, forming a solid image of where he wants to go. “Good, good job. Final thing, can you describe to me where the bathroom is in your flat? I need the layout.”

They can hear the confusion in Jimmy’s voice, but the other answers anyway. “Um, when you walk in it’s to the left, like right near the door?”

“Got it. I’m going to hang up now. I want you to count to 10 for me, okay? I’ll be right there, promise.” Without waiting for a response, Sam ends the call. They close their eyes and picture the roads, the flat, the bathroom. 

Darkness envelops them, a deep, silky cool pressure around their whole body. They step through the domain, following the path they planned out blindly. It’s easy to get lost here, and as the seconds pass a flicker of fear pangs through them. What if this time they make a mistake? What if they get trapped here for good, stuck forever in this unending darkness… 

But it’s only a brief moment, and Sam reminds themself that unlike the Spiral or the Lonely, the Dark’s domain doesn’t change. Even blind, they can navigate the paths like it’s the back of their hand. As long as they know the location of their destination, they can find a spot to cross over. And as expected, as they feel around the area where Jimmy’s flat should be, they sense a thinness to the darkness compared to the spots around it. They reach out a hand and tear a hole in the fabric of the domain, then step forward.

“—Seven, eight, nine—”

“Jimmy, I’m here. Turn the lights on?” There’s a sharp movement in the shadows accompanied by a startled yelp.

“You— how?!” The light clicks on, and Sam takes in the state of things. Jimmy is sitting on the floor with his back to the door, face caked in dark, oily tears. Some sort of black mould seems to be dripping from his left elbow, and wherever the drops land a patch of it blooms. The room is hot, the mirrors still fogged up, and there’s a distinct musty and damp smell from the mould. 

Jimmy visibly sags in relief when their eyes meet. Sam kneels down to examine his elbow. “How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

The other shakes his head. “Just a bit nauseous, and I can feel it… spreading…” He makes an uncomfortable face. Sam tears some paper towels from the roll and wraps it around the small wound. 

“Here, hold this there. We’re heading back to the office, is there anything you need from here?” They shoot a quick message to the group chat, then stand and offer Jimmy a hand. They pull him up, and for a moment they have the strongest urge to tenderly wipe the black streaks of tears off of Jimmy’s face for him. Instead, they offer him another set of paper towels. 

“Um, hmm….” Jimmy thinks for a moment as he wipes his face. The tips of his ears are red in embarrassment. “My wallet? It’s on the table by the bed.”

“I’ll go get that then, be right back.” Opening the door, it quickly becomes clear how fast the mould is able to spread. The floor is blanketed in slimy black, with tendrils of it creeping up the walls as well. The air here is grainy with spores. Sam debates opening a window, wondering if it will contaminate the nearby buildings too. For now, they decide to leave it. They snag the cute dog-patterned wallet off the bedside table and retreat to the bathroom, glad that they brought that face mask.

“Here you go. Ready? Hold my hand, and don’t let go,” Sam instructs. They flick the light switch off once more, plunging them back into darkness. As they step forward into their domain once more and pull Jimmy in after them, they can feel Jimmy’s heartbeat pick up as he squeezes their hand tighter. They squeeze back reassuringly. There are dangerous creatures that reside here, but none of them dare to approach Sam.

The walk back to the office is uneventful, and just like before Sam is able to easily locate where the weak point in the domain is and slip back through to the janitor’s closet. That harsh chemical scent greets them as they turn the lights on. Jimmy looks shaky but no worse for wear, which is good.

“Okay, go lie down on the sofa. How’s your elbow?” Peeling the paper towel back reveals that the wound is basically gone, with only a dark spot reminiscent of a birthmark left to show for it. There’s mould on his clothes still, but without the source it seems to have dried up and flakes off with a brisk brush. Sam hands him a bottle of water. “Here, have a drink and take a deep breath.”

“Looks like you’re doing alright.” The two jump as they notice Pen standing by the door to the back office where they keep the tapes, spindly arms crossed. Her beady eyes trace over their forms and land on the remnants of dark mould on Jimmy’s clothes. “I suppose we’ve answered the question of which Entity Jimmy’s going to serve.”

The front door swings open. “What happened?” Emma calls. Her heeled boots click as she crosses the room swiftly. “Hello Jimmy, welcome back. You good?” She moves to ruffle his hair, but he flinches and ducks out of the way.

“I-I don’t want to infect you,” he stammers. “You guys probably shouldn’t touch me, just in case.”

“Infect?” One manicured eyebrow raises. “Oh great, this is more serious than I thought.”

Jimmy explains what has been happening the past year, and when he’s finished the others look more solemn than he’s ever seen them before. 

Pen sighs. “Could be worse. At least he’s no Jane Prentiss.” She sits down carefully next to Jimmy on the sofa. “I doubt you have to worry about infecting us,” she tells him. “Whatever this is has likely been feeding on your fear. But we’re not afraid of you, so it won’t bother trying to latch onto us.”

“So if I can stop being afraid of it, it’ll go away?” Jimmy asks hopefully. The other three shift uncomfortably.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Pen breaks it to him. “This is a manifestation of the Fears we discussed two days ago. Now that you’re aware of what it is, it will likely begin killing you faster than before. Before you panic, there is a way to survive. But you will have to… adapt.”

She sighs heavily. “I really wish we could have put this conversation off, but we’re low on time now. There’s something we haven’t told you about ourselves, although from the looks of it you’ve probably already pieced it together.” Her eyes are dark, and a sudden shiver runs down Jimmy’s spine. “We are not…. normal people, Jimmy. We serve the Entities, and we feed off of fear. If you want to live, you will have to become like us. Something not human.”

A heavy silence falls over the room. Jimmy glances at Sam. “You… do you all serve the same Entity?”

“Nope,” they reply. “Want to guess which one is mine?”

“I don’t know…” Jimmy trails off, realisation in his eyes. “The Dark? That’s how you got to my flat…”

“Correct! Not too hard of a guess, right?” They smile, trying to lighten the mood. Emma, who had been listening quietly, scoffs.

“Listen. If you don’t give in and serve the Corruption, it’ll kill you. Ah,” she holds her hand up to stop Sam from interrupting. “There’s no point in sugarcoating it. Either you become a monster like us, or you don’t. I can understand wanting to die human. I was there once.” She turns away with a frown. “Really think about your choice. But don’t let time decide for you.” Then she walks back out the front door.

Pen watches her go with a pensive look. “This is a bit of a sore subject with her,” she murmurs. “Give her some time, I’ll go get her in a bit. In the meantime, ask as many questions as you want. We’re happy to help as much as needed for you to make an informed and educated decision.” 

Jimmy picks at the spot on his elbow nervously, still looking a bit queasy. Sam sends him a pitying look. Poor guy, they think. The Corruption’s not an easy one to harmonise with. They pat his shoulder consolingly and leave to go fix the mess they left in the janitor’s closet. It’s selfish, but they hope Jimmy chooses to Become instead of dying. It would be nice to have another friendly avatar around.

Chapter Text

February 11th, 2012 - Case 0121102

Names mentioned:

Lesere Saraki - Statement Giver - Nurse at Saint Thomas Hospital, 48 years old. Marked by the Beholding?

Kayleigh Grice - junior doctor at Saint Thomas, assessed the burns on the patients

Unknown patient - tall man, heavy-set, middle-aged, black suit and white shirt. Chanting Asag (Sumerian demon of disease/corruption, boiling rivers), wypalać (cauterise/brand), the lightless flame

Gerard Keay - mid-thirties, long dyed-black hair, long black leather coat, eye tattoos. Looking for a small book bound in red leather and a brass pendant, neither were brought to the hospital. Passed away from a brain tumour last year???

Places mentioned:

Saint Thomas Hospital, down in Lambeth, near Waterloo Station - location of the encounter

Building site near Saint Mary’s churchyard - location where the two patients were found unconscious

Comments:

This is when I start to get VERY concerned about where these tapes came from and what purpose they serve. 

I can excuse Agnes Montague— a random suicide— being mistakenly reported on. I can excuse Trevor Herbert’s supposed death being lied about by Martin, or perhaps misremembered if we give him the benefit of the doubt. But as I said before… you do not lose a man like Gerard Keay.

It is unfathomable to think that such an untrue report could ever have been taken as factual. As stated previously, Gerard’s misadventures across America have been well-documented by the Foundation since 2014, and nowhere has it been stated that he died of something as easily identifiable as a tumour. I suppose I could ask Isabelle to take a peek at him and see if he’s somehow managed to perish overnight, but he’s attuned enough to the Eye that he’ll know if he’s being Watched, and I’d rather not deal with that right now.

However, I am inclined to believe Mr. Sims didn’t intentionally lie in his recording; the Eye benefits the most from truth, and its servants tend towards lies of omission if anything. So what does this mean? These tapes, were they recorded by a Jonathan Sims that experienced different events? The Eye has power, but something like this… Seeing into alternate histories seems like the work of something beyond even the Entities. And that terrifies me.

The tapes, Martin’s Becoming, the mysterious Web avatar, the two women, Graham’s return, the explosion… It feels like I have all the pieces, and yet I can’t seem to put them together in a way that makes sense. They all happened on the same day, but why? What was the catalyst? We’ll continue investigating the tunnels, but I think we need to have a chat with Mr. Bouchard and Mr. Sims if we’re going to get to the bottom of this. I don’t know if they’ll be open to it, but I’ll at least try to reach out to Martin about it.

Something feels so wrong about all of this. I really want to figure things out. I hope they say yes.

End of file.

Chapter Text

Things had not gone according to plan. In fact, Elias has never seen a plan go so horribly off the rails in all 200-something years of his life. He didn’t expect a spider to scuttle across his hand and distract him from Watching Jane Prentiss, allowing her to slip right out from under his nose. He didn’t expect that unassuming assistant of Jon’s to suddenly grow a backbone and force Jon out of his office and into the staff lounge, which was well-equipped with fire extinguishers. And he certainly did not expect a Desolation avatar to come crawling out of the woodwork to blow up his beloved Institute alongside the ghost of Gertrude-fucking-Robinson .

And now, something has changed in his Archivist. Jon is unnervingly quiet, and tracks Elias’ movements with a hawk gaze whenever they’re in the same room. There’s an odd, trembling energy surrounding him, and Elias swears the other man’s eyes didn’t used to be so green. He would be proud of how much Jon’s developed in such a short time, except…

Well, the truth is Elias is utterly terrified. Jon shouldn’t have changed at all until after being marked by Prentiss. And not only that, but Martin has also changed. He tries to hide it, but sometimes he gets this look on his face that makes him look a decade older. Whenever his expression changes like that Elias gets the distinct impression that he’s being sized up somehow, like meat before a meal. 

They feel like avatars. Which is impossible, right? Surely he would have noticed if they found out about the Fears?

He can’t Look into their minds, not in this state, and he’s certainly not going to ask. Without the Institute, he’s basically flying blind. He can still See into the Panopticon, thankfully, but the Eye is so weak here now that his powers are almost nonexistent. Needless to say, he’s the most vulnerable and helpless he’s been in a long, long time. He despises being brought down like this.

Paranoia and terror linger constantly in his mind. Nowhere and no one is safe anymore; even Peter, who whisked them away into the Lonely seconds before the explosion, is a wild card that Elias can’t trust not to take advantage of the situation. The nature of all avatars is that of a solitary predator, circling and waiting for the scent of blood in the water. Both Peter and Elias understood that the day they married. And although Elias has other allies, there are none that wouldn’t take an opportunity to rid the board of a fellow piece. He is utterly on his own.

It feels awful relying so heavily on Peter to sort things, so Elias begins working on a plan to regain some of his power. There are a few locations he had taken interest in in the past, including a rather authoritarian nursing home and a large campus library, but acquiring the necessary fear from those locations is easier said than done. He is skimming through a book and internally debating whether or not to ditch this body entirely when he suddenly becomes aware of a presence not his own.

The room is empty. Dread pools in the pit of his stomach. All of the hairs on his arms raise, and sweat prickles at the back of his neck. He slowly turns to where he feels the gaze coming from with his heart nearly palpitating out of his chest. His head is dizzyingly blank as he stares at the blank spot on the ceiling. He is certain that there is something there Watching him, even though he can’t see it.

There are three possibilities for what this could be, each more horrifying than the last. The Magnus Institute has a certain reputation among followers of the Eye, and any others that are checking to see how low he’s fallen are more than likely bad news. On the other hand, if it’s some sort of manifestation or creature aligned with the Eye, that’s even worse because that means he’s gone from predator to prey and is now expendable.

There’s also the possibility that this is something hitherto unknown entirely, and the idea of that has Elias’s whole body flashing cold in fear. His hands shake slightly as he closes the book. Maybe if he moves rooms the feeling will go away—

The door slams open and Jon steps in with the force of a thousand suns, his eyes glowing an unearthly green. Almost immediately the sensation of being watched vanishes, only to be replaced with the overwhelming feeling of imminent danger. 

“Jon,” Elias greets. His voice only shakes a little.

That green gaze turns to him and he’s hit with the full pressure of the Beholding. Jon steps forward, placing his hand against the back of the sofa and leaning in close in a way that makes eye contact unavoidable. “Jonah.” 

A jolt of alarm entwined with strange excitement courses through him upon hearing the name. “I haven’t been called that in a long time,” he breathes, trembling. “How— who are you? You’ve grown so fast, you can’t possibly be my Archivist…”

Jon frowns at him. “I am. I Know you, Jonah Magnus. I am the monster that you created.” He sounds bitter, and as the glow fades from his eyes his other hand travels to wrap around Jonah’s throat. It squeezes once, threateningly. “As much as I would love to kill you again, I’d prefer to keep my hands at least somewhat clean this time around. Consider yourself lucky.”

Jonah’s heart is pounding, and he knows Jon can feel it from where his thumb is pressed against his jugular. He sharply flings his hand out and fumbles against the sofa cushions for something, anything to defend himself with. A pen, or maybe the candlestick holder sitting on the side table, if only he could reach—

“Jon, what are you doing?” Martin’s shrill voice comes from the doorway. Elias hadn’t even noticed him lingering there. He steps into the room and tugs Jon away with firm yet gentle hands.

“He’s lost his mind,” pants Elias, flinching when Jon glares at him again. Martin turns Jon’s chin so that he is only looking at him and begins speaking to him in hushed, murmured tones. Elias gingerly reaches up and feels his throat, the unfaltering pitter-patter of his heartbeat reassuring him he’s still alive. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in an attempt to regain his composure.

“...Elias? Are you alright?” To his surprise, Martin checks on him. 

“I… Yes, I’m fine Martin. Thank you.” 

That weary look washes over the other man’s face for a split second, and he nods. “Good.” From the other side of the room, Jon huffs

“I felt something Look into the house,” he says. “At Elias. So I stopped it.” Although his eyes have stopped glowing and he looks mostly human again, Elias still shudders when their gazes meet. “Your life is mine ,” Jon enunciates. “And if I don’t get to end it, then neither does anybody else.” 

Those words sink like lead in the pit of Elias’ stomach. Jon stares at him for a moment more before turning and stalking out. Elias sags against the sofa as all of the tension soaks out of his body. “What does he mean, ‘kill you again?’” He asks. “You know something, don’t you?”

Martin sighs. “It’s a long story, and one I’m not entirely comfortable sharing with you if I’m being honest.” He gives Elias a once-over, and then nods as if coming to a conclusion. “You don’t have anything to worry about, though. As long as you’re not a threat, nothing will happen to you.”

“Well that’s not very reassuring,” Elias responds testily. “If you know so much, then you must be aware that I serve the Beholding. Eventually I’ll regain my strength. And what then? Will I be disposed of, lead to slaughter like a hen that’s stopped laying eggs?”

“Not necessarily! I mean, we can all get along, can’t we?” At Elias’ doubtful look Martin shrugs. “You didn’t hear this from me, but Jon could use some guidance with the whole avatar thing. Having a mentor would be quite helpful I think.” He sits down next to Elias and puts his hand on the other man’s shoulder. All at once, Elias is very aware of how much broader Martin’s frame is compared to his own relatively thin form. Without his powers, it would be easy for Martin to simply overpower him. This awkward, soft-hearted assistant with freckles is the last person he should be intimidated by, and yet this sudden confidence he’s showing is sending alarm bells ringing in Elias’ mind.

“I’m not sure Jon will take too kindly to being told what to do,” he responds slowly, “but I suppose I can try dropping a piece of advice or two.” 

Martin smiles, his cheeks dimpling, and a shiver of fear that he’s been played runs down Elias’ spine. “You’d be surprised,” he says lightly. “Thanks, Elias. And please be careful not to orchestrate anything against us. I’d hate to have to label you as an enemy again.” The hand on Elias’ shoulder pats reassuringly. Elias does not feel very reassured. 

The sound of the front door opening breaks the silence, and Sasha’s voice calls out. “We brought takeaway, if anyone wants!” Martin’s face lights up, and he doesn’t bother with a farewell as he leaves. Elias hears them start up a conversation in the next room over.

He has had two centuries to perfect his mastery of mind games, which is what this almost certainly is. Martin knows that dangling secrets and tantalising knowledge in front of him will deter him from killing them far more than any intimidation could. For one petty moment he’s tempted to say “screw it” and come up with a plan to dispose of them anyway. After all, he is not the kind of man that takes kindly to being manipulated. 

But Martin is right, and that grates on him. He simply has to find out what they know. It’s like an itch in the back of his brain, this desperate curiosity— the very same that drove him toward his goal of immortality. Has he really become so predictable? 

Elias leans back and retrieves his book from where it’s fallen to the ground. Fine. He’s suffered through worse for smaller gains. If it means plucking all of those juicy secrets from their brains, he’ll play nice. For now.

Chapter Text

January 13th, 2016 - Case 0161301

Names mentioned:

Naomi Herne - Statement Giver - antisocial tendencies, Leeds graduate in Chemistry 

Evan Lukas - Ms. Herne’s fiancé, met during a UCL Biochemistry lab assistant interview, died of a congenital heart problem (?)

Pastor David - told Ms. Herne that people are creatures of community by nature

The Lukas Family - silent, stern, reproachful (Lonely-aligned)

Michael Getty - person who hit Ms. Herne with a car after her encounter

Places mentioned:

Woking - location of Ms. Herne’s place of work

Moorland House - somewhere in Kent

Wormshill in the Kent Downs - location of the encounter, where there was supposedly a field of fog, a chapel and a graveyard. Also where Ms. Herne was hit by Mr. Getty’s car.

Comments:

Lukas, eh? Isabelle mentioned to me that Mr. Bouchard was once married to a Lukas. The family is noted as a major source of funding for the Archives. Clearly they are agents of the Lonely… and it seems like this was an unfortunate case where Ms. Herne happened to be a perfect target.

I followed up with her. Apparently she’s never submitted a statement to the Archive, and her fiancé is alive and well. She hung up on me after a minute— I think she thought it was a prank call. Add that to the list of inconsistencies between the tapes and this reality. At this point, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

Speaking of fog, the more time I spend around the ruins of the Archives, the foggier my mind becomes. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but I suddenly have trouble recalling memories, as though my past is merely a story that I’ve heard in passing through someone else. It’s not happening to anyone else, which makes me very concerned. Something has its eyes set on me, and whatever it is is not pleased about me investigating the ruins firsthand. 

I’ve attached a note that I wrote while I was under this mind fog, documenting my symptoms to the best of my ability at the time. I wish I could accompany Sam and Emma into the tunnels, but with whatever this is going on I’d rather not take any risks. I’ll leave the fieldwork to them and avoid the Archives as much as possible for the time being.

End of file.

Attached with a staple is a crumpled note with small, neat handwriting on it. It reads:

I can’t remember my childhood best friend.

I can’t remember where I went to uni.

I can’t remember moving to America.

I can’t remember my first day at the Foundation.

I can’t remember becoming an avatar.

I can’t remember my own name.

Who am I?

Chapter Text

May 29th, 2011 - Case 0112905

Names mentioned:

Lee Rentoul - Statement Giver - criminal, vanished early April 2011

Hester - Mr. Rentoul’s friend that recommended he give his statement to the Archives; did not seem to have an encounter with the Fears

Paul Noriega - stabbed to death by Mr. Rentoul

Toby McMullen - was attacked by Paul Noriega; charges were pinned on Mr. Rentoul, narcotics addict, knew someone who used Angela’s services and recommended her

Angela - old lady who was hired to kill Paul Noriega, avatar of the Flesh?

Salesa - paranoid stolen art and curio seller, big Samoan guy with close-cropped hair

Places mentioned:

Lewisham - area where Mr. Noriega was hanging around?

Bexley - location of Angela’s house

The docks - Location of Salesa and Noriega’s meeting, where Mr. Rentoul killed Mr. Noriega

Tottenham Marshes - Location where Mr. Rentoul received the first package

Comments:

Useless ass?! Mr. Sims PLEASE— I’m trying to be a serious professional here, but these tapes are far too entertaining. I can tell the Archivist has a way with statements… the way he channels the voice of the statement-giver, it feels like I’m listening to a radio show rather than the boring evidence I usually have to go through.

Anyway, Mr. Rentoul sounds like a right piece of work. People who don’t believe in the supernatural are one thing— ignorance is bliss, after all— but people who don’t believe yet intentionally meddle with it anyway are a whole other breed. I can’t complain too much about his statement though; criminals tend to be secretive about their dealings, making their experiences a higher quality meal for our god.

Although Angela must seem terrifying to those not in our circles, she seems to be more of a passive avatar and may be unable to use her powers without an item from her victim. We can’t fully ignore someone like her, of course; an avatar of the Flesh can be very dangerous if left unchecked. But as it is I don’t see her causing much trouble unprovoked. Seems like this tape is a bust.

End of file.

Chapter Text

November 9th, 2014 - Case 0140911

Names mentioned:

Laura Popham - Statement Giver - enjoys caving as a hobby, seemed to be at home underground ( affinity for the Buried ?)

Alena Sanderson - sister of Ms. Popham, lost home and job, did not enjoy caving as much as her sister

Alistair (Popham?) - husband of Laura Popham

Places mentioned:

Three Counties System of caves - location of the occurrence. Entered through Death’s Head Hole, through Lost John’s Cave to Gavel Pot

Manchester - location of Ms. Popham’s place of residence

Leck Fell - location of the closest legal parking

White Scar Cave, Yorkshire - Ms. Popham’s first experience with caving

Comments:

A lot of interesting things about this one. That a lot of the facts in Ms. Popham’s statement were false is really throwing me off, but I do think this is very clearly an encounter with the Buried. At first I had the feeling Ms. Popham had an affinity for the Buried and might have avatar potential, but clearly that’s not the case after her experience. I feel quite bad for her; her sister may have been the one taken, but she’s the one the Buried was and is continuing to feed on. Emma brought up the idea that she may have been so traumatized she constructed an alternate narrative of what happen, which would explain the inconsistencies. 

Overall the account is untrustworthy, as neither I nor Mr. Sims can discern what details can be attributed to the Fears and which are merely Ms. Popham’s imagination. Unfortunate, as I’d love to be able to get my hands on some information about the Buried. Truth be told, despite claustrophobia being a relatively common fear, the Buried itself doesn’t manifest very often, and thus the database we have on it is lacking. Our theory is that due to the rather environmental-based power it holds, it is limited in where it can manifest easily. A bit similar in a sense to the Vast, I suppose.

No leads here, moving on.

End of file.

Chapter Text

April 9th, 2015 - Case 0150409

Names mentioned:

Carlos Vittery - Statement Giver - arachnophobe, data analyst

Major Tom - Mr. Vittery’s old tabby cat

Places mentioned:

Boothby Road in Archway - location of Mr. Vittery’s residence and his encounters

Southampton - location of Mr. Vittery’s parents’ residence

New Forest - location of Mr. Vittery’s grandparents’ residence and first encounter with spiders (Autumn 1991)

Comments:  

Honestly, spiders aren’t that bad. They’re good for the environment so I tolerate them, even though I keep finding them in my bathroom. But I can completely understand Mr. Vittery’s avoidance of them, especially with that traumatic childhood incident. This definitely reeks of the Web, what with Mr. Vittery’s descriptions of his movements being “involuntary” and lifted by “unseen strings.” The Web is… honestly quite unpleasant to deal with. Apart from having their spindly little fingers in everything, I hate the thought of losing your free will. It’s… very unsettling.

Apart from that, the mention of worms is very much Jane Prentiss’ calling card, it seems. The mention of Archway is interesting as I believe Harriet Lee from tape 0140912 also lived in the area, and if you’ll recall that was the tape explicitly involving Prentiss. Perhaps that area is her territory, or hunting ground.

I’d elaborate more on my thoughts but something about this tape is giving me a real headache. I’m going to pass the files onto the others for a moment and go out to get a breath of fresh air. Apologies in advance for the disjointed notes that will no doubt follow.

End of file.

Chapter Text

Pen groans, sitting back in her chair and closing her eyes for a moment. There’s a strong pulsing behind them that has been plaguing her since the start of the last tape. Too much blue light from writing her reports, perhaps? Sure, she’s had more fieldwork recently, but she’s spent plenty of long nights searching databases and obscure websites for jobs before with no consequences. Maybe dehydration…

She downs half the glass of water next to her and takes a deep breath. “Sam?” She calls. A moment later, a head of dark blue hair pops into the doorframe of the office. 

“What’s up Pen? What’cha need?” They chirp.

“I think I’m going to go out for a walk, I have this awful headache. Could you and Emma do a couple more of the tapes while I’m out?”

“Sure thing, boss. I’ve been helping Jimmy practice out back, is it okay if he comes in and listens too?”

Pen contemplates for a moment. It’s technically a breach of the case secrecy, but Isabel’s usually pretty lax about these kinds of things, and besides… “If he wants to, then I’m alright with it. He’s already a part of this case, whether he likes it or not. I’ll ask Isabel to add him to the team formally, so don’t worry about it.”

“Perfect, thanks a bunch. Hope you feel better!” They flash a smile and disappear. Pen waves and packs up her things before heading out of the office. The headache is still there, but luckily its intensity has lessened a bit. 

Across the street lies the ruins of the Magnus Archives, crumbled and a shell of its former glory. There’s still the lingering scent of ash and sulfur that permeates throughout the area, making pedestrians walking their dogs past scrunch up their noses and hold their breath. Turning left lies the River Thames, the murky color of the water reflecting the grey, overcast sky above. There’s a couple of shipping boats out today, as there often is. 

Pen goes to sit on one of the river-facing benches, a small smile on her face as she listens to the sound of birds chirping and the wind rustling through the trees. As someone involved with the Fears, being put into harm’s way day after day, she finds it important to take a step back every so often and just enjoy the simple things in life.

Unbeknownst to her, a spider finishes spinning its web on the underside of the bench she’s sitting on.

“Excuse me… mind if I sit here?” A man asks, gesturing at the empty space. Pen glances at him briefly before nodding and scooching over a bit. “Thank you. The river is nice today.”

She hums in faint agreement, not looking to make any small talk. They fall into a comfortable silence. He smells faintly of dirt, as though he’d just come from working in the garden, and as she examines him out of the corner of her eye she could have sworn he was familiar somehow. “Do I… know you?” She finally asks, curious.

He tenses for a moment, then slowly responds, “I think we might have met before, yes.” He turns slightly, allowing her to finally examine his face. He’s older, looks to be maybe in his early 40s, with black hair and stubble dusting his jaw. His eyes are dark and sunken as though he hasn’t slept in many days, and he’s wearing some sort of plain grey uniform. “Does the name Joshua Gillespie mean anything to you?”

Pen narrows her eyes at him. “ You’re Joshua Gillespie?” A slight nod. “Hm. I believe I have heard the statement you submitted to the Magnus Archives, yes.” This one was marked for avatar potential, if she remembers correctly. She subtly shifts in her seat, prepared to get up and flee or fight if need be. “Had any encounters with the supernatural recently? I’m afraid I can’t take statements like the Archivist can, but I can lend an ear if need be.”

“Er, it’s not like that…” He makes an uncomfortable face. “We’ve met once before, seven years ago in April or maybe May. You told me you wouldn’t remember me when we next met, which… I guess you were right. I didn’t really believe it until just now though.”

Pen huffs out an incredulous laugh, faintly curious. “All right, I’ll humor you. Suppose I did meet you seven years ago, and I wasn’t in America that entire year. What did we talk about?

Joshua sinks back into his seat, his slouch becoming more pronounced. “You told me you heard I had recently gotten into the delivery business, which was true,” he says slowly. “You wanted me to deliver a letter to you sometime in the future. I tried to ask for a when or where, but you just shook your head. Said I'd find you when it was the right time and no sooner.” He chuckles. “Honestly after the third year I started to think maybe I'd be carrying around this letter forever. Here.” He takes out an envelope from his satchel and hands it over. “Delivery complete, finally. Glad that's off my shoulders.”

Pen examines the letter and nearly drops it when she sees the green spiderweb-patterned seal plastering it shut. “You were carrying a Web artifact in your mailbag?” She asks, startled and slightly impressed by his guts. 

“Trust me, I've delivered far less agreeable packages. This one didn't even give me nightmares or try to kill me, so it's a step above the rest.” Joshua yawns and gets up from the bench. “I should probably be getting the rest of these deliveries done. See you.”

“I— hm. Thanks, I suppose.” Pen watches as he crosses the street and disappears into the darkness of a stairwell that she knows leads to the locked door of the apartment complex’s basement. A second later, the sound of a distant subway train echoes from the stairwell before abruptly cutting off.

Turning her attention to the letter now sitting innocuously in her left hand, Pen sighs. Well, if the Web wants her to read this, it’s safer for her to go along with it than refuse and risk retaliation. She slides her finger under the flap, breaking the seal, and pulls out the letter…

~

June 10th, 1999 - Case 9991006

Names mentioned:

Sebastian Adekoya - Statement Giver - library employee at Chiswick Library, he was found dead/mangled on April 17, 2006

Ruth Weaver - Head librarian at Chiswick Library

Michael Crew - gave the Leitner to Chiswick Library

Jared Hopworth - became obsessed with the Leitner (Flesh-aligned?) and transformed, childhood friend of Mr. Adekoya

Places mentioned:

Chiswick Library - location the Leitner was originally found and of the encounter with Mr. Hopsworth

Comments:

Sam here again! I honestly can’t believe how many Leitners are out there, it feels like there’s a never-ending supply of them. And they always cause so much trouble… sigh. Looks like all of the follow-up research that was done in this tape is true; Mr. Adekoya was indeed found dead in the circumstances described, poor guy. The Flesh is a nasty one, so we should definitely keep an eye out for this Jared Hopworth fella. Emma and Jimmy look a little ill about it, I feel bad for them.

One more note about this tape: there is an interruption maybe a third of the way through in which Mr. Sims and an ‘Elias’ (Bouchard, I assume) discuss a complaint lodged by a Ms. Herne. Cross-referencing your old files I’m thinking this is most likely Naomi Herne from file 13 (case 0161301). They also mention a Rosie, who after looking at the list of the Archives’ employees could refer to Rosie Zampano, who is listed as a receptionist.

Jimmy also would like to mention that Martin is noted as being out sick with stomach problems, and he suggested the idea that maybe it’s something related to the Corruption? Could be! After all, in this line of work you can never fully dismiss something as natural out of hand. 

End of file.

Chapter Text

December 12th, 2008 - Case 0081212

Names mentioned:

Christof Rudenko - statement guy

Toby Carlisle - lived above Rudenko, dark red mark (cut) on back of his hand?

Places mentioned:

Welbeck House - flats in Wandsworth where all this stuff happened

Sheffield - Rudenko’s mom lived here before she passed

Clapham - Rudenko moved out and now lives here

Comments:  

PLEASE don’t give us any more Flesh related ones it’s soooo gross Quinn please…

Even if you’re doing it just to spite me, think of poor, sweet Jimmy. You don’t want to make him suffer do you? If you do, you’re a cruel, cruel woman.

Sam said that we’ll supervise Jimmy as he does the last one himself but if it’s another Flesh one I don’t care, I’m leaving the room. It’s so gross, Quinn, seriously.

— Emma.

End of file.

~

May 30th, 2011 - Case 0113005

Names mentioned:

Father Edwin Burroughs - exorcist for Diocese of Oxford, had an unconscious alcohol problem, supposedly was arrested for murder and cannibalism

Father Harrogate - fellow exorcist

Father Singh - priest at Saint Aldates who mentioned Ms. O’Connor to Father Burroughs

Bethany O’Connor - student from Saint Hughs

Anne Willett - “Annie”, called Father Burroughs for Ms. O’Connor

Unnamed builder at Hill Top Road - Polish or Czech name, was the one admitted to John Radcliffe and who was treated by Annie

Places mentioned:

89 Bullingdon Road - location where Ms. O’Connor lived

Catholic chaplaincy in Saint Aldates - where Father Burroughs first heard of Ms. O’Connor’s problem

John Radcliffe - hospital where Ms. O’Connor was admitted after attacking her housemates

Hill Top Road - location Ms. Willett asked Father Burroughs to investigate

Comments:  

I tried my best to copy your style of writing, Pen, I hope it’s good enough? Sam said it was fine so…

This one gave me shivers, especially when he said ‘I am marked.’ I guess you guys must be used to this sort of thing, but it still creeped me out a bit. It’s better than the other two we listened to though, those made me kind of sick. 

So here’s my thoughts… Mr. Sims mentions that there’s another statement that matches up, the one by Mr. Lensik. We pulled out the file Sam made for that one and it’s weird that the nurse has a different name in that one? So in that one her name is mentioned as Anna Kasuma, but in this one it’s Anne Willett. Does that mean anything? Sam said they’ll look into it.

Since Father Burroughs mentions some intense, unnatural heat it makes me think of the fire-related Fear… uh, Desolation? The word Mentis and what Ms. O’Connor said before she died (‘It wants your faith’) doesn’t really seem to match that though, so I think maybe it’s two separate Fears? And then when Father Burroughs says ‘I am not for you, I am marked’ at the end, it feels like it’s those two Fears fighting over him. Not really sure what the other Fear is though besides the fire one. 

I also think there might be something up with Martin since it’s mentioned he’s still out sick in this one.

That’s kind of all I have, thanks for giving me a shot at this.

File written by Jimmy Campbell.

End of file.

Chapter Text

May 30th, 2011 - Case 00113005-B

Names mentioned:

Father Edwin Burroughs - exorcist for Diocese of Oxford (see previous file)

Bethany O’Connor - died after a failed exorcism. Archeology student at St Hugh’s College

Father Singh - fellow priest, impersonated by something that confronted Father Burroughs 

Unnamed alter server - pale, tall, thin and bony, dark eyes. May have been the one who actually kidnapped and murdered the two students.

Christopher Bilham - student killed by Father Burroughs

James Mann - student killed by Father Burroughs

Breekon and Hope Deliveries - delivered a pale yellow stole to the Oratory a few days before the incident

Places mentioned:

Hill Top Road - see previous file

Oxford - city where the church is located

The Oratory on Woodstock Road - supposed location of the encounter with the strange church goers and of the cannibalism incident

89 Bullingdon Road - see previous file. follow up indicates Ms. O’Connor did not officially live here. Actual (?) location of the cannibalism incident, where Father Burroughs was found

Wakefield Prison - prison where Father Burroughs is currently incarcerated

Comments:

Sam again! This is the second part of Case 0113005, and it’s a real juicy one! It feels like all the Entities just kind of ganged up on this one poor guy. The false Father Singh feels like the Stranger, the shadowy figures and the winding, confusing roads could be Dark or Spiral related, he describes the church window at the Oratory as an eye, the candles and the encounter at the church are Desolation-coded (something to do with the Cult of the Lightless Flame, maybe?), and of course the whole cannibalism thing ties back to the Flesh. In my opinion overall this feels like something orchestrated by either the Spiral or the Web, as themes of being unable to tell reality from hallucinations and experiencing a loss of control of one’s actions is recurring in Father Burrough’s statements. The Spiral isn’t exactly the planning type though, so I’d put my money on the Web. Very interesting case, this one is!

Now call me paranoid, but I did want to mention that as we were reading back the file for Case 0071304 (the other statement about Hill Top Road), I noticed that you weren’t there for the initial playback of that tape either. My instincts are pretty good about this kind of thing, and I don’t think this is merely a coincidence. Don’t worry though, your dutiful coworkers will keep you informed!

End of file.

~

Sam finishes typing their report and sends it to the printer. The sound of whirring and chugging starts up across the room as the outdated machine slowly starts to spit out paper. Jimmy and Emma have defaulted to playing cards with each other across the desk; although they had initially been unnerved by the content of the tape, they’d shaken it off while Sam worked on their analysis and now seemed to be in decent spirits.

“Done!” Jimmy cries, grinning as he slams his last card down and shows his empty hands. 

Emma curses colorfully. “You move fast, kid,” she sighs, shaking her head and gathering up the two piles of cards. “But you won’t be smiling for long. One more round!” As she starts re-shuffling, Sam gets up from their seat and walks over to the printer, gathering the sheets up and stapling them together before placing them inside a labeled file. They glance at the clock and frown.

“Is it weird that Pen’s not back yet? It’s been a couple of hours already… Wasn’t she just going for a walk?”

“Think something happened?” Emma asks. She peers out of the office door to the front windows as if checking Pen hadn’t somehow managed to sneak back in without them noticing. “Maybe she had a change of heart and decided to go investigate the tunnels under the Institute? I know she was curious about them.”

“Without telling us?” Sam raises an eyebrow. After thinking about it for a moment, Emma nods.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s not like her. Did you already send her a text?”

Sam nods. “No response. I don’t want to overreact, maybe her phone’s just dead, but I feel like we should go look for her.”

“We can go on a walk ourselves?” Jimmy suggests. “It’s nice out, and we’re not sure how many tapes Pen wants us to do today anyway, so we can at least take a break for a little while.”

“Yeah, let’s take a break. You guys go grab your stuff, I’ll lock this up.” Sam takes the box of singed tapes and pops the top back on before placing it next to several other boxes in a large safe at the back of the room. With a wave of their hand the safe vanishes, swallowed by shadows until it is near impossible to see. As they return to the main room, they see Jimmy taping a note to the inside of the front door.

“Just in case she comes back,” he explains, and Sam gives him a thumbs up. 

“Alright, let’s head out,” Emma calls, and the three step out into the afternoon sunlight. Sam locks the door behind them.