Tag: transcripts

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The Storage Papers is a fiction horror podcast.

Discretion is advised.

Transcript

WRITTEN BY JEREMY ENFINGER

After our last episode, I’ve been contemplating a lot of claims found in those medical documents. I don’t mean to push everything else aside that we learned, but the possibility of knowing who my parents are, the idea that Hydra had some kind of file on me, and the fact that they labeled me as a Maker… it’s all just a little too unbelievable if I’m being completely honest.

You’re all going to laugh at me for telling you this, but do you recall in my journal entries last season how I’d been experiencing things in my dreams, and then seeing them manifest in real life the next day?  Well, last weekend, I thought to myself, “If I’m really a Maker, I should be able to manifest things from nothing.”

So I tried.  I did everything from concentrating really hard in a quiet room to meditating, and I even tried convincing myself that “the Force” was a real thing.  I got nothing!  Well, I take it back; I got an extreme eye roll from my wife, who I’m confident is not listening to this podcast and wouldn’t believe in any of this stuff even if I told her.  I’m not sure if she took my little experiment as just being ridiculous in general or if it actually caused more concern.

So for the time being, I’m still looking through the documents Doctor Patel passed onto me.  I became intrigued when I came across a small plastic bag with some notepad scribblings and a flash drive within it. A good friend of mine who listens to the podcast basically called me crazy for opening a flash drive of unknown origin with unknown contents on my personal computer, citing many good reasons I should probably be avoiding that, so I decided I needed a plan in case I found the need to review anything risky.

I had Detective Anderson introduce me to a computer forensics expert he met through work and had a discussion about what precautionary steps could be taken if I ever needed to download some files or look at a flash drive again.  My goals were to prevent any malware or spyware from being downloaded onto my computer, and to eliminate the possibility of someone tracking my location.  So I bought a used laptop with a dead battery off Craigslist.  It’s four or five years old and only works when the power cable is connected.

Now, I don’t power that laptop on when I’m at home at all.  That’s a hard and fast rule.  When I do power it on, I make sure to go somewhere with free WiFi, and I am going to try not to visit the same place twice, so I asked for help making a list of all of the locations in the L.A., Orange, San Diego, and Riverside Counties where I could easily drop in and connect.  You know, it’s amazing how many places actually do have free WiFi available.

Anyways, I went to one of these locations, powered on the laptop, and plugged in the flash drive.  There were two folders on it.  One of the folders had a readme.txt file and the other had a video file.  

The readme file contained a typed message to me from Doctor Patel, who apparently may have been aware of her impending death.  It reads:

Jeremy,

I have come to fear the worst and I’m afraid I will be unable to deliver this to you in person.  While I realize you have very little reason to trust me, you should know that everything I’ve done on behalf of SCIC for Hydra was to advance the field.  Sometimes we must be willing to accept some necessary evils in the pursuit of our goals to further our scientific understanding of the universe for the betterment of our species.  

It has been a pure pleasure to listen to your podcast while you attempt to solve your little puzzles along the way.  It seems you have gained a following, along with some inside help from people who are risking quite a lot, including myself now.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Ron Hammond, it’s that you should be cautious with how much trust you place in the man.  He can be a great asset, so long as your goals are aligned.  

I believe you’ve seen a portion of the video I placed on this flash drive.  The fact that you covered this video so early in your podcast is what initially put you on my radar, but it’s clear that you have only scratched the surface of the significance of that event.  If I’m able to later, I will try to send you more information, but for now, this is all the sharing I have time for.

You have everything you need.  All the best!

Adhira Patel

Hmmm… A lot to unpack in this note.  She’s right, you know.  I don’t trust her.  But she’s also managed to perfectly describe my feelings about my level of trust in Ron as well.  And is it possible that she really believes everything she’s doing is because she’s trying to help?  Some of what she’s saying is a bit cryptic.  It’s as if she knew she was nearing the end, but at the same time, she had hope that she would still be around to share more information with me.  I guess her luck ran out.  I better take a peek at that video.

I recognized the same starting point of the video with the stamp dated March 11, 2015 and the video starts around 8:02 p.m. and 40 seconds, as it did when I previously viewed it.  I checked my notes, and the previous video I viewed way back when I started the podcast was 4 minutes  and 2 seconds long.  As previously noted, the video was shot in IR mode and the first couple of minutes didn’t show anything.  

At 2 minutes and 56 seconds, a person who I now know to be the Grinner manifests near the right side of the pole and can be seen walking left to right toward one of the hotel windows and peeked in.  

Chills traveled up my spine and down toward my extremities as the hairs on my arms stood at attention in a state of heightened awareness.  I had forgotten how strangely he moved, and it reminded me of being chased in that church, only at a much faster pace then.  That unnatural movement of his, almost gliding with his arms dangling by his sides, and that peculiar appearance.    

I watched as he looked in the hotel room window, then he did the strange motions with his head.  Looking at it this time, it reminds me of how an owl moves.  The neck elevating and receding, going up and down in diagonal directions, different angles with each glance and changing every time. It was definitely not humanly possible.  Perhaps an owl was the closest thing I could relate to what he does next, something I knew was coming, yet intensified the chills I was still experiencing.  The head turns completely around to face the camera as if he knows he’s being watched.  The walking backwards, the staring at the camera, and that weird head-tilt he does… it’s just as creepy as the first time I watched it.  But even moreso, I think the reason it creeps me out so much is because it doesn’t seem like a recording.  It’s almost like he knows you’re watching this.

He stood there for a seriously long time, and I think the original video I saw ended in static with him still standing there, but according to the play head, this video was only about two thirds complete. The Grinner remained motionless for nearly an additional minute.  He was so still, I thought perhaps I paused the video by mistake, but the counter on the video player and the timestamp were both still rolling.  Then, while keeping his head still, his body turned around to face the same direction his head was.  And while still locking eyes with the camera, he casually walks below the frame.

The video was still playing though, and I scanned every corner of the field of view looking for something new.  I half-expected this to be one of those jump-scare videos with the grinner’s face appearing up close to the camera, accompanied by a speaker-distorting scream at maximum volume.  That would imply that Doctor Patel had a sense of humor though, and that’s definitely not something I’ve seen (or expected) from her.

What I saw next was even more confusing.  There were headlights on the ground in the parking lot screen-left, just a little further away from the camera from where the Grinner made his creepy appearance.  They were dim at first, and got brighter, then remained still as if a car, just outside of frame, had come to a quick stop.  The headlights remained on as a man appeared in the frame and began walking in the direction of the hotel room, too far away from the IR light source to see any real details except that he was wearing long pants and a long-sleeved jacket.

As the man approaches the hotel room that the Grinner just left, he gives the door a couple of knocks and waits for a few seconds before I see his right hand reach inside the left side of his jacket, where it remained as he knocked again with his left hand.  I’m assuming the man was armed.  The man starts to look around, as if to check to see if anyone is watching.  Next to the door, the light still isn’t good enough to identify him.  He then goes and looks inside the window for a moment, cautiously peeking around the edge of the glass.  Unfortunately, he’s now facing away from the camera.  Next, he takes his hand out of his pocket and cups both hands around his face and leans against the window to get a better view.

Another second or two goes by, and then the man drops both hands down by his side and takes a step backwards.  I’m guessing he’s seen some details from the crime scene because he raises both hands to his head and brushes his fingers through his hair.  He stands for a moment with his hands still on the top of his head, and then he pulls something out of his pocket and begins wiping down the window, as if he’s trying to get rid of his fingerprints.

The man steps away from the window again and pauses as if he’s taking all of the details in again.  Then he turns away quickly and begins walking quickly back toward his car, just far enough from the light in the window for me to really get a good look at his face.  But as he approaches his car, he is looking in both directions, seemingly checking to make sure there aren’t any witnesses.  When he gets to the edge of the video frame, he glances left over his shoulder, right in the direction of the camera, and the headlights he left on help to provide enough detail to see his face.  A face I know all too well.  The face of Ron Hammond.   

Fuck this guy!  You know, I really wish Ron would level with me.  From Day One his whole involvement in this thing has been a rollercoaster of emotions for me.  One day, he’s on your side and the next, he’s doing something shady.  And the withholding of information is driving me insane!  I feel like I’ve been chasing my tail while this guy just watches!  Fuck him!  I need to make a phone call.

SOUND: The phone is ringing.

ANDERSON: This is Anderson

JEREMY: Hey, it’s Jeremy. I just saw something that you need to see for yourself.

In my heightened emotional state, I hadn’t considered that perhaps Anderson was just as shady as Ron, only better at hiding it.  I paused for a moment to consider the thought, and dismissed it after realizing that Anderson typically shared the same feelings I did when we learned of new details like this.

ANDERSON: Hello?

JEREMY: Yeah, sorry. This needs to be something you see in person.  Can I drop by your office?

ANDERSON: Sure, but it will have to wait until after one P.M.  

JEREMY: No problem.  I’ll be there at 1.

Something inside me still questioned whether or not running right over to Anderson with this was wise.  Considering what I learned at El Campo Cemetery, I suppose it doesn’t really make much difference whether he learns about Ron being there or not.  Still, I’m starting to develop a lack of trust in people, but maybe I’m just being paranoid.  Oh and to the listeners, I’m sorry I haven’t filled you in on El Campo yet.  There’s just one more thing I need to check on before I do.  Thanks for being patient!

I arrived at Detective Anderson’s office at 12:45 p.m. and was informed he was still in a meeting, but also told I could wait in his office.  I was also asked if I wanted a cup of coffee or a water, which I declined.  They were being more friendly than usual to me.  Perhaps I was here often enough that they’ve gotten to know me.

I wouldn’t exactly call Anderson’s desk an “office.”  It’s basically a desk on one side of the room, in a row of 10 desks, mirrored by another 10 on the other side of the room.  There are no walls or doors, or even cubicle dividers.  In fact, the whole room didn’t offer much privacy at all.  I sat in a chair between adjacent desks, and I could see a name plaque on the desk behind me that said, “Collins.” Anderson’s partner.

More than half of the desks were empty, and I counted two other civilians in the room, both in handcuffs.  The man in handcuffs was about three desks down on the same side of the room.  He sat across from a detective with his head down and appeared to be crying.  

I surveyed the room a few times, wondering which direction Anderson was going to come from.  The woman in handcuffs was directly across the room from me.  She was handcuffed to a ring on the chair handle.  She was early 20’s, blonde, and thin.  My first thought was she was a prostitute, though I really don’t have a reason why that came to mind.  Perhaps because that’s what you always see on procedural cop shows on TV and that was about the extent of my experience with seeing people in handcuffs.  

I must have been staring as I sorted all of this out in my head because I hadn’t realized she was staring back at me with sunken eyes and mascara that had run down her cheeks.  I forced a weak smile, and before I could look away, she smiled back, revealing brown-stained teeth that contrasted with everything else about her appearance.  

Methamphetamine.  San Diego was long considered the “meth capital of the United States” and up until the late 1990’s, more than half of the meth in the country that was seized was captured coming up from Mexico. I’m not sure where the new “capital” is, but meth still has a presence here.  

I decided to turn my gaze toward Anderson’s chair across the desk from mine to avoid any more unintentional staring.  I found spinning the flash drive between my fingers as I recalled details about the video I was about to share.  I was started when I felt a firm pat on my shoulder from Anderson as he rounded the desk toward his chair.  

ANDERSON: So what brings you to my neck of the woods?

I looked over at the woman with the meth-mouth, who had perked up in her chair and had been watching and listening to our introduction.  

JEREMY: Is there somewhere we could go with access to a computer and a  little privacy?

ANDERSON: Follow me.

Anderson picked up a laptop from his desk and as I got up to follow him, the room began spinning.  I reached out and clumsily grabbed the back of the chair I had been sitting in to steady myself.  My vision had almost gone dark, but was coming back into view when I felt Anderson’s hand grab my upper arm.

ANDERSON: You okay there?

JEREMY:  Yeah, I just got dizzy for a second.

ANDERSON:  You probably got up too fast or skipped a meal.  You want some coffee?

Why does everyone keep offering me coffee here?

JEREMY:  No, I’m good now.  I think I’m just burning the candle at both ends lately, ya know?

ANDERSON: You’re sure?

JEREMY: Yep… after you!

I followed him to a room used for questioning.  We sat down across from one another as he opened up the laptop.  I pulled out the flash drive and told him to watch the video.  He fumbled around for a moment before double-clicking on the video file.  As it began to play, he asked if I wanted to go to his side of the table to watch the video with him.  I declined.  A few seconds in, he looked over his laptop screen at me.

ANDERSON: Okay, I’ve seen this before.

JEREMY: True, but you haven’t seen this much of the video.  Just keep watching.

Anderson’s eyes returned to the monitor.

ANDERSON: Damn, that guy gives me the creeps.

He continued watching until he saw the Grinner walk off screen.

ANDERSON: Okay, so it shows him leaving the camera view. I don’t recall seeing that the last time I watched this.

JEREMY: Keep watching.

SOUND: Fingernails tap on the table.

ANDERSON: Okay, these look like headlights on a car, and it’s possible they were in a hurry given how much the lights bounce. (pause) Tell me we’re going to see who this guy is who’s knocking on the door.

JEREMY: Keep watching.

ANDERSON: Okay, so he’s obviously armed and sees the crime scene here.  I just can’t make out his face.  And… he’s cleaned up his fingerprints from the window.

JEREMY: Almost there.

ANDERSON: Is that?  Is that Ron?!

I wanted to sit directly across from Anderson to get a better view of his face to gauge his response.  His reaction of surprise seemed genuine.  Anderson was a no-nonsense kind of guy, and I’m confident I would be able to tell if he was only acting surprised.

JEREMY: It looks like him to me.

ANDERSON: I don’t know what to say.  Where did you get this video?

JEREMY: I got it in the mail… from Dr. Patel, along with a bunch of other stuff I’m reviewing right now.

ANDERSON: …and now she’s dead.

JEREMY: And now she’s dead.

ANDERSON: We need to speak with Ron.

I could tell Anderson was uneasy about this new-found involvement in the homicide case from the hotel.  Ron had been aware of the case and all of its developments, and said nothing to Anderson about being at the crime scene, or even being aware of it.  

Anderson must have been pretty put off because he dialed Ron’s phone right away.  Apparently Ron didn’t pick up because Anderson’s voice message was straight and to-the-point.  

ANDERSON: Ron, it’s Mark.  Call me as soon as you get this.

Almost immediately after Anderson hung up his phone, my own rang.  

SOUND: A phone is ringing.

I got confused and Anderson looked at me as if we were sharing the same feeling, as if perhaps Ron was calling me instead of calling him back.  I glanced at my phone.

JEREMY: It’s Brianne.  I’m going to take this.

Anderson nodded as he looked back down at his laptop and began to replay the video.

JEREMY: Hey, Brianne.

BRIANNE: Hey, I just dropped by your house.  Where are you right now?

JEREMY: I’m actually sitting here with Detective Anderson.  Why?

Anderson peered over his laptop at me and shook his head, “no,” implying I should avoid giving Brianne any details about seeing Ron on the video.  I gave him a quick nod to say I understood, and his eyes returned to his laptop.

BRIANNE: Oh, did you find something new?

JEREMY: Well, just getting his opinion about a hunch I have.  Nothing new to share just yet.  What’s up?

BRIANNE: Well, I’ve been digging into the medical documents more and cross-referencing some of the names and information in there with the papers.  Guess what I found!

JEREMY: What is it?  Do you really want me to guess?

BRIANNE: No, but did you watch the news yesterday?  

JEREMY: Uh, no.  Why?

BRIANNE: Well, there was a local story about a 42 year-old man who was an English teacher at–

SOUND: Anderson’s phone rings.

Anderson looks at the caller ID, which must have been a number he didn’t recognize and answered while looking at me.  I admit I stopped paying attention to Brianne as I waited to find out if it was Ron on the other end of the line.  When Anderson said I was with him and he wanted to meet ASAP, I had to let Brianne go.

JEREMY: Um, Brianne?  Can I get back to you?  Something has come up and I kind of need to go right now.

BRIANNE: Seriously?  It must be important.

JEREMY: It is.  Sorry, I really want to learn what you found out.  You can wait at my place if you want.  You know where the key is.

BRIANNE: No, that’s okay.  Just call me when you can talk.

JEREMY: Will do!  Thanks!

ANDERSON: Everything okay?

JEREMY: Yeah, she was about to tell me something about yesterday’s news.  Literally, not metaphorically.  Are we on?

ANDERSON:  Sure are!  Ron’s going to meet us in 30 minutes at a diner in City Heights.  You don’t happen to have your recorder with you, do you?

JEREMY: Well, um.  I’ve been recording this whole time.  Sorry.

ANDERSON: I should have known.  You really do need to get better about asking for peoples’ permission before recording them.  But in the interest of our discussion with Ron, maybe don’t let him know.

JEREMY:  No problem. (pause) So, uh… Do I have your permission to–

ANDERSON: Yes, yes, of course! Let’s go.

Listen

The Storage Papers is a fiction horror podcast.

Discretion is advised.

Transcript

WRITTEN BY JEREMY ENFINGER

SOUND: Brianne is typing again.

BRIANNE:  Jeremy, you’re listed here as a Maker, too.

SOUND: A mouse is double-clicked.

BRIANNE: Your whole life is here, Jeremy.  Your childhood, your birth certificate…your parents’ names!

I can’t seem to take my mind off of this new information.  It’s kept me up at night lately.  I swear, making this podcast has done some serious damage to my sleep patterns… and my relationships.  Or at least it’s putting a strain on them.

When I told my wife that I may have actually learned who my parents are through the research I’m putting into the show, she didn’t seem very impressed.  I don’t remember the exact words she used, but it was one of those single word answers.  The ones like “fine” or “okay” without so much as a glance in my direction.  If you aren’t married or if you’ve never had a life partner for any amount of time, let me clue you in on a little secret.  When you hear these responses, things are definitely not “fine” and you should choose your next words with caution.

We had a long discussion that night after the kids were asleep.  I was so excited to share the news about my parents, the possibilities of actually finding them and getting to know them, imagining that our children might actually have grandparents they could  get to know.  She isn’t close to her parents, so the kids haven’t really known what it’s like to have grandparents, just like me.  Most extended family has always been kind of a disappointment, and I guess I hadn’t realized how alone the world felt until I learned my parents’ names.

What ultimately came out of the discussion was the realization that the whole time I’ve been making this podcast, I’ve really been kind of neglecting my family.  Sure, I’m working my day job and meeting my obligations to provide for them, but after dinner each night, my nose is right back in the papers.  She let me know that the kids had been having problems at school and they were likely seeking attention.  And though I’ve been in my home this whole time, I haven’t really been “present.” In addition, she had concerns about my overall health, saying I looked pale and was losing weight.  Normally that would be welcome, but she said it wasn’t “in a good way.”

Another helpful tip from many years of marriage and a few counseling sessions under my belt: when your partner opens up to you and shares their feelings, even if it makes you angry, take some time to reflect on what they’re saying instead of reacting in the moment.  That’s a problem I have been working on.  The anger came from the assumption that she really didn’t care about what I had learned, and the possibility that my parents are out there. That assumption is the key.  Instead, I took some time to consider my reported lack of presence, and I almost always come to the conclusion that she’s right; that I’m the asshole.  Or at least, I’m contributing to the problem and I can understand why she feels that way.  But more importantly, she’s telling me these things because she values our relationship and wants restoration.  Essentially, I’ve been severing my connection with her and the kids, and the knife is these papers.

Anyways, I’m sorry to take you down this road on the podcast, but someone recently told me I wasn’t injecting enough of my personality into the show.  So there it is… for better or for worse.  I will say, I do have a new therapist I’ve been seeing since the last one I had refused to see me.  Apparently they were all bent out of shape about the nonsense Patel pulled to surprise me at my scheduled session.  It’s just another love/hate aspect of the papers that keeps me conflicted in the pursuit of truth by digging into them.  I promised I would spend more time with the family, even if that meant less time with the papers, and we agreed to a certain level of moderation as long as I could still show up to be husband and father every day.

By the way, I did follow through with that meeting at El Campo Cemetery last Saturday, but I can’t say anything about that just yet.  I promise, I’ll fill you in as soon as I can.

Now, back to the papers:

After learning that both Malcolm and I were labeled as “Makers”, I wanted to learn everything I could about what that means.  My first instincts were to go to the documents that Dr. Patel left me, and a particular folder stood out to me labeled, “M-22.” I’m assuming that folders labeled “S” relate to Shepherds and now folders labeled “M” refer to Makers.

I opened the folder and learned I was right.  The very first document had a cover page with a very brief title saying, “Subject M-22, formerly known as (redacted), Malcolm Foye.”  Malcolm!  Wait, why is the name, Malcolm Foye listed but some other random identifier redacted?  Damn, now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve seen references to “M-22” in other documents in the papers… at least, the papers that I inherited from the auction, which used to be Ron’s.  Those have been Malcolm this whole time, and I’ve just been breezing by them because I didn’t think they were relevant.

As I flipped to the first document behind the cover page, I immediately noted it had the now-familiar seven fingered hand stamp on it, but with a superimposed capital “M.”  I hadn’t seen this before.  The document seemed to establish the reason for the switch in labels from “Shepherd” to “Maker,” and it reads:

Proposal for classification change of (redacted) to M-22

5 February, 1998

With the M-class being relatively new, the subject began exhibiting new abilities over the previous several weeks following a series of Pyramidion Proximity Experiments. Unfortunately, the experiments were limited due to the random nature of the Pyramidion’s appearance and disappearance, and the amount of travel time required to move the subjects to its location this time.

While other subjects experienced marked enhancement of Shepherd abilities as a result of the limited Proximity Experiments, (redacted) went into the experiments with superior Shepherd characteristics, even when compared to other subjects after the experiments.  

Preceding the exposures, he was essentially able to manifest fictitious entities from his dreams into reality (see Appendices A-F).  He was also very skilled in his remote viewing capabilities when subjected to field study analysis (see Appendices G-K).  

As a result of additional exposure, previously unseen abilities began to develop in the subject that are similar in nature to known Makers.  

Examples:

Within twenty-four hours post-exposure, the subject had been in his living quarters reading his literature homework assignment, a chapter in the book, “Lord of the Flies.”  He self-reported to his professor the following morning that he was simply able to “produce” a conch shell by thinking about it while he was awake.  After the professor reported his claim, unscheduled testing ensued.

Within seventy-two hours post-exposure, he was manifesting inanimate objects at-will, during waking hours.  Under testing observation with multiple witnesses and video recording, objects were suggested to him for manifestation.  During a single sixty minute session, the subject was able to produce replicas of objects that were in the room with him that included a pencil, a chair, and a desk.  

Testing was concluded when the subject, himself, suggested he attempt something more challenging.  He then produced a pencil sharpener.  Upon its manifestation, the subject freely tested the pencil sharpener’s functionality by picking up the original pencil that was already in the room (not the one he manifested) and inserted it into the sharpener.  It was completely functional.  

Notes:

Several relevant observations were made following several hours of video review of this session:

1. Each object manifested was somewhat flawed upon manifestation:  It is unclear if the subject was aware of these flaws, but among the noted features were:
   • The conch shell seemed to be made of a porcelain-like material, rather than the calciferous structure of a real shell.
   • The pencil he made, after analysis, had small divots in the wood of an unexplained nature not present in the original pencil.
   • The chair had one leg slightly shorter than the others, which wasn’t initially noted, but was when someone sat in it.
   • The pencil sharpener did not have a power cord or known source of electricity.  This was highly irregular because we witnessed the subject operating it successfully, which was not able to be replicated by our team once the subject was dismissed.  It would appear that the subject may have intentionally or unintentionally aided in the operation when he attempted it.
2. The subject’s mood and demeanor changed dramatically between sessions.  Upon presentation of the conch shell and undergoing a series of questions by our team, the subject appeared to be excited and eager to share results with the team.  After the seventy-two hour session, the subject seemed more hesitant to respond to questions honestly.  His mood shifted to defensive and somewhat cocky.  He began to question the necessity of continuously being kept within the grounds of our facility, and started asking questions about why he wasn’t being allowed to explore beyond. He was provided a sedative when he became agitated. 
3. The video recording malfunctioned during moments of manifestation.  A visual artifact, most likely some kind of static, appeared on the VHS tape during playback making it difficult to visualize.  We can only hypothesize that the manifestation of these objects created some kind of temporary electromagnetic field or distortion as the recordings post-manifestation did not contain the artifact.  

Conclusion:

Further research is going to be required to determine the extent of the subject’s capabilities and the direction our research may take us.  It’s too early to make any evidence-based conclusions outside the observation that additional abilities are present within the subject compared to the previously noted limitation of Shepherd abilities.  Comparison to other Maker test records should be made to determine similarities and to identify any differences.

Recommendations:

Regular testing at forty-eight hour intervals:  At this time, abilities seem to be increasing over time since the Pyramidion exposure tests.  It is unclear if this increase is due to latent effects of proximity or potentially due to the subject’s progressive learning capability to use these new abilities over time.  

Two teams: while these new abilities exist and should be further tested and monitored from the standpoint of Maker classification, we have not yet tested Shepherd abilities to determine any potential change post-exposure.  Each set of abilities would be more efficiently and effectively documented and analyzed by each team focusing on their own specialty areas.  In the interest of time, and due to the rising mood and demeanor challenges of the subject, I recommend testing parameters be discussed prior to each session and testing coincide, instead of doubling the duration of testing sessions for each team.  To accomplish this goal, more collaboration is needed, which will require a significant degree of transparency between departments within Hydra and less compartmentalization.

Additional testing parameters:  This is just a hypothesis, but the likely presence of magnetic distortion that could be the cause for the artifacts on the VHS tape recordings indicates the need to measure it.  I propose a similar setup to the electromagnetic measurements taken during Pyramidion exposure sessions, and if the subject is willing, brainwave pattern analysis.  Both should occur in real-time and be compared to levels present when the Pyramidion is present.  

Precautionary measures:  As we know, several negative short-term and some long-term effects of Pyramidion exposure have been noted in some people.  I would advise increased safety precautions during Maker-testing be implemented to be modeled after Pyramidion testing precautions.  If the subject is producing high levels of electromagnetic radiation during the manifestation process (as the video artifacts might suggest), and (assumed to be) inconsistent with other previously-classified Makers, prolonged exposure must be limited.

In addition, I recommend post-testing therapy sessions for the subject in light of the changes in demeanor following the manifestation of objects.  More information is needed on which drugs and chemicals may suppress these abilities, if any, and in the meantime we would be wise to avoid situations that would result in conflict with the subject, or create any tendencies toward aggression.  We need to consider the fact that some differences exist between this subject and known makers, and extreme caution should be placed to avoid making any assumptions about similarities and differences before further testing can take place. 

Personnel with training and experience in conflict resolution should be present during all testing sessions, and we should remain conservative and take the subject’s willingness to endure testing sessions into consideration for the time being to prevent unnecessary negative outcomes and/or uncontrolled manifestation events.

Well, that was interesting.  To me, this appears like at this time, they had already identified a few people with Maker abilities and they aren’t quite sure yet if Malcolm was actually developing these abilities or if he was turning into something different following exposure to this Pyramidion.

The next document appears to have the same symbol… you guessed it!  The seven fingered hand, still with the capital “M” superimposed.  But it also has a symbol shared by many of the other papers, and one that I’ve shared content from previously.  There’s a pentagram symbol right next to the seven fingered hand.  The pentagram has some smaller symbols within it.  It contains what are likely other pagan symbols, and if I had to guess, it likely represents various occult symbols.  It’s interesting because I think I saw a similar symbol when I was looking into the Order of the Divine Acolytes quite a while ago.

This document looks like it was someone’s notes, strictly observation, from one of these testing sessions.  It reads:

Clinical Observation Notes for Malcolm Foye and Assessment

22 February 1998

I was brought in today as an inter-departmental consultant to observe and analyze testing for M-22.  I have only been briefed on the initial proposal for Maker status and intentionally excluded from two sets of testing results between the initial assessment and today’s session.  I’m not yet certain why they would be seeking consultation from an occult specialist, but I’m forced to assume my lack of access is typical as “need-to-know.”

I have been asked to observe and document from behind a two-way mirror approximately twenty-five meters from the subject as a safety precaution, but I am also monitoring three video feeds which are displaying various points of view including a close-up of the subjects face, a pulled-back view showing the subject’s entire body while sitting at a table with the clinical psychologist in full view, and a video feed from within the room I am in at the twenty-five meter distance.  I also have a fourth monitor displaying the subject’s brainwave patterns.

The first several minutes were seemingly uneventful, and I should note that I do not have an audio feed, so I am not certain what kind of conversation is being conducted.  The subject seems to be at ease, often smiling and seems to be willingly participating in the conversation.  One other thing of note is that he occasionally seems to be glancing toward his left.  On that side of the room, there is another mirror, and I can only assume he is aware he is being observed by another individual or team, which seems like a fair assumption if I were in his shoes.  

Approximately seven minutes into the session, it appears as if the subject is being guided through a meditation exercise.  His eyes are closed and he is sitting with upright, yet relaxed posture.  The psychologist is speaking and the subject is taking deeper breaths in succession.  My eyes were drawn to monitor four as the brainwave patterns began to reduce in amplitude and frequency.  Sharp peaks became short rolling waves as the subject proceeded with the exercise.  

A period of two or three minutes passed without change until I saw a very large spike in the brainwave pattern.  Sharp peaks grew higher in amplitude and frequency.  It was similar to what an earthquake looked like on a Richter scale.  When I turned my glance from the brainwave pattern to the up-close facial video feed, there was a slight static artifact which made me think perhaps the camera was farther away than in the initial proposal document, only zoomed in to minimize the artifact effect.  But that wasn’t what caught my attention.

The subject’s eyes were open, but rolled backwards into his head, revealing only their whites.  It could have been an effect caused by the distortion, but I also observed what appeared to be swirling colors and the emission of a faint glow emanating from his eye sockets and nostrils.  The effect grew slightly when his mouth parted.  

I could read the psychologist’s lips when he asked the subject, “Are you okay, Malcolm?”

At that point, the subject placed his palms flat on the table to steady himself as his body began to exhibit tremors.  This indicated to me that he was fully aware of his body’s disposition and this was not seizure-like behavior, but controlled.  Once glance back at the brainwave patterns, and I could see the peaks disappearing beyond the scale of the equipment.  

The table in front of the subject began to shake, as did the two-way mirror I was observing through.  A low rumble echoed in the room as a smile developed on the subject’s face.  The lights flickered for a moment before completely turning off and the monitors went dark.  Within a second or two, emergency flood lights came on, along with the video feeds.  The monitor with the brainwave pattern remained blank, but the video feeds were back up with diminished visibility due to the lower ambient light in the room, but a greater noticeable light emanating from the subject.  

As the light gradually faded from the subject as he slid down in his chair, he seemed to be experiencing an element of fatigue.  I could more clearly make out what was going on by observing directly instead of through the video monitors.  

At that time, some movement in the corner of the room behind the psychologist caught my eye.  In the dim light, it appeared as if a shadow was growing.  First, it started out just a few feet above the ground and was spherical in shape.  As it grew, it began to morph into something tall with a humanoid shape.  The psychologist somehow became aware of this presence and turned around to face it.  He appeared intrigued and amazed at first, and I wondered if he was able to see something different from his vantage point.

The shadow being walked toward the psychologist, who remained staring at its face.  It towered over the man.  I’d estimate it to be eight to nine feet tall given the ceilings were ten feet.  Then with the speed similar to a scorpion’s sting, the psychologist was thrust from a sitting position in front of the shadow to being slammed head-first into the ceiling above where he sat.  There he remained, pinned to the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity, though it was likely less than ten seconds, as if gravity didn’t exist.  His neck was severely displaced from the impact as his head was flattened.  One of his eyes was dangling by the optic nerve, freed from its socket as blood streamed out of his mouth and nostrils and began pooling on the chair he had just been in, and eventually flowed onto the floor.

In an instant, the lights came back on and gravity got to work as the psychologist’s body fell from the ceiling, landing on the upright chair, and clearly causing more lower spine damage as a result of the fall.  Blood splashed in every direction.  Some landed on the face of the subject, who sat still like a statue throughout most of the encounter.  Then I watched as a gap in the blood on his face grew and revealed an unnatural, exceedingly wide grin.  In that moment, my eyes locked with his, and I can’t explain how, but I knew he was aware of my presence some twenty-five meters away behind a mirror.

I blinked and his grin had all but disappeared as a door into his room flew open and three orderlies ran over to him to place him in restraints while he sat in his chair.  A large syringe was injected into his neck before he went unconscious and was carried out of the room by the orderlies; One for each arm and one at his feet.

This concludes my observations of the event.  As I previously noted, I have been asked here as a consultant from the Occult Studies Department to observe and provide an assessment, or at least offer my opinion, based on my professional expertise.  I am assuming, without much direction given, that I am to comment on the shadow being I witnessed as I have had little exposure to the psychological testing of the Maker group.  I find this ironic because in my rare interactions with the Department of Psychical Research, my line of work had been mocked quite publicly as it was never given any consideration as a serious area of scientific research.  I could say the same about their department.

Either way, at first glance the manifestation of this entity appears to be demonic in nature, but to prove that, I would need to know the identity of the demon and confront it when it shows itself again.  I can think of a couple of demons with this known appearance, and one of them would be considered an eminent threat of positively ID’d.  However, its behavior is not necessarily consistent with any known demonic entities.  

If I were to conjure a guess, it appeared to be doing the will of the subject rather than manipulating the subject to do its own will.  The only known service that demonic entities perform is to the greater evil or to higher-level demons.  I suppose it’s possible, and that’s if this was a real demon, that the goals of the subject could have aligned with the demon’s, but I know of no example of such a partnership.  No, based on my observations, this entity was brought forth by the subject.

How could the subject have manifested this shadow being?  If the subject was strictly a Shepherd, this manifestation would have occurred in a dream state.  I would need to consult the brainwave patterns to make sure this wasn’t the case, but I’m nearly certain it wasn’t based on my physical observations of the subject.  This means the being was manifested while the subject was awake, which would imply the subject meets the Maker criteria despite having documented Shepherd abilities.

To possess both Shepherd and Maker abilities is anomalous.  It’s possible there are individuals who have been documented by the Psychical Research Department who have previously, but I, personally, have never seen it.

Because I fear this may be new territory to the likes of what Hydra has seen before, we must consider several possible scenarios, some outside of our current knowledge.  First, the subject could possess both Shepherd and Maker abilities. Second, there could be new abilities presented as a result of the close proximity of this mysterious Pyramidion and its unknown origin.  Perhaps this object somehow amplifies or distorts abilities already present.  

I fear others in the Occult Studies Department might incorrectly conclude this entity as demonic if shown the footage.  But I could not suggest what exactly this entity might be, if not demonic.  Was it brought here from some parallel dimension?  Is it possible that demons don’t behave the same way in other dimensions?  I would recommend an expert in string theory be questioned about this.  

Of course, it’s always possible that the subject simply imagined this being and manifested it from absolutely nothing.  If this is the case, the objects he would be capable of manifesting would only be limited to his imagination, which could place us all in extreme danger.  We must consider that the murder of the clinical psychologist I witnessed could have been performed by either the subject himself, using the shadow entity to disguise his own actions.  Or, and I’m not sure if this is better or worse, the shadow entity itself murdered the psychologist.  If that possibility is to be considered, what other abilities might this entity possess?  And does it exist and act now with its own free will?  If that is the case, what are its motives?  As you can see, the circle of questions leads down a very dangerous path.  Unfortunately, in order to answer these questions, one must form hypotheses that are deadly, not to mention, incredibly unethical to put to the test.  I fear we may no longer be able to control the outcomes of these experiments, and it is without reservation that I must recommend they cease immediately and the subject be terminated.

I do not make this recommendation lightly, but we must also find out if it was the subject’s imagination that inspired the creation of this being, or if his thoughts were influenced prior to this event.  I wonder, due to the similarity in characteristics of this being with demonic entities (especially known ones), was he provided with some literature or education in occult studies or demonology that preceded this event?  This must be learned, but not at the expense of allowing the subject to regain consciousness again.  

Holy shit!  In a lot of ways, I can’t believe this is the same Malcolm that I’ve met and spoken to… and carved a symbol into with a dull knife.  I was already cautious of him, but what the hell am I supposed to think after all this?

It occurred to me that this kind of makes sense to an extent.  At least the part that talks about this shadow being not necessarily being a demonic entity.  We faced the Grinner in a church, thinking that would somehow weaken him or prevent him from having any authority there.  He dismembered a werewolf-slash-priest and morphed into a creature I could have never imagined in my worst nightmares.  What if he wasn’t a demon at all?  That would mean that Malcolm created him and knows exactly what he’s capable of doing.  He knows what limitations and weaknesses the Grinner had.  And what’s to say he couldn’t just create him again?  Or maybe something worse?

Even still more perplexing to me is why my name is in the medical documents labeled as a Maker.  Am I capable of similar things?  What kinds of things happened in my childhood that I can’t remember?  I need to go through more of Patel’s documents.

Welcome back. I’m sure many of you are as anxious to find out what Ron’s deal is as I am. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him ever since he disappeared from Brianne’s. The first couple times I called him it rang and rang before it hit voicemail. The next time it didn’t even ring and just went straight to voicemail. I tried one last attempt just yesterday to find that the phone number has been disconnected.

I’d reached out to Brianne to see if she’d heard from him the day after we got back from Hellhole Canyon, but she was still half asleep. Probably playing catch up from however long she’d been running on an hour or two at a time. Whatever the case, she didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk about Ron and I didn’t want to press her. I’ll let her reach out when she’s ready. After what she’s been through, she deserves that much. Truthfully, I wish I could get the kind of rest she’s experiencing now, but things haven’t improved much in that department for me. There’s just something about these papers… it just feels too important to me.

I intend to reach out to Detective Anderson next. I’ll keep all of you posted on any updates or new developments on that front. But enough of my rambling about every concern I have. I doubt most of you subscribed for that. I’ll go ahead and jump into another paper. Well, something paper-adjacent, at least.

As you may remember, I’ve been trying a number of things with my dreams lately. There have been the attempts at lucid dreaming, as well as trying to tap into the shared dreams that may be out there as discovered in [1:06]. For those who may not recall, it seems that there are dreams that we all may share, or maybe just some of us. Since typically the only dreams you remember are the ones just before you wake up, I’ve been setting my alarm to go off at various points throughout the night in hopes I’ll be able to not only experience it, but also remember it. I’ve also requested those of you who have been trying this with me to let me know what you’ve dreamt so far. I’ve received a handful of dreams which I appreciate, but so far I haven’t found one that we’ve shared.

As I alluded, today’s episode isn’t exactly a paper. I’m sharing it to relay an experience of my own. You see, while I haven’t had a shared dream yet (that I know of), I did have something that was… more than a dream. I’ve mentioned these before, but this was by far the most vivid to date.

It started much like a movie. One second I didn’t exist, and the next I did. I was lying in bed which led me to believe I had just woken up. I looked over at my alarm clock to see that I had a few minutes before it was set to go off. I reached out to adjust it when it suddenly exploded. There wasn’t any sort of apparent combustion – no flame or anything – but the white plastic casing and black screen suddenly ripped apart and flew into the air, the internal circuit board and wiring following just after. I instinctively closed my eyes and lifted my arms to shield myself from the plastic shrapnel, but it never hit me. In fact, it didn’t hit anything. When I opened my eyes, the broken pieces were frozen in midair.

I cautiously reached out and touched a piece. It moved when I touched it, but remained still once I stopped. I looked around and that’s when I noticed someone else was standing in my room. I tried to look at them, but they were completely out of focus no matter how much I strained my eyes. It looked like whoever this was wore dark outfit and a gas mask, but I couldn’t distinguish anything beyond that. They lowered an arm which had been pointing at my clock.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I asked it.

They didn’t say anything. Instead, they just looked up at the ceiling and pointed. The ceiling over my bed started to rumble, then crack as dust dropped. Paint and plaster fell away before slowing to a halt about two feet above me. Screws untwisted themselves to follow suit, then chunks of sheetrock split away, exposing joists, wiring, and ductwork that were in the process of splitting and spreading upwards as they groaned in resistance.

I peered through what was now a roughly five foot wide hole in the roof directly over my bed that was frozen mid-explosion to see that there were no moon or stars out. Above me where I would expect to see clouds was a dark, turbulent sea. I looked back at the figure before me to see that they were redirecting their gesture to me. I froze in fear as I suddenly felt myself being ripped apart. I closed my eyes in a moment of agony, then it stopped. I looked down to see my body beneath me, still lying in bed with my eyes closed. The figure flicked their blurred hand and suddenly I was flying upwards, past the shingles hovering above my home and into the sea.

I closed my eyes at the sting and panicked as I felt myself submerge in saltwater. My lungs began to burn but, if this were some form of astral projection, I really shouldn’t need to breathe. Oxygen escaped my mouth and I knew I was going to drown.

I blinked when air hit my face and I found a rapidly approaching metal floor below me. I braced myself when I noticed my hands looked different. I didn’t really have time to process it though, because I impacted the floor. It didn’t hurt as much as I expected. I could still feel it and it was mildly painful, but not anything like it should have been based on the speed at which I was falling.

I slowly stood and took in my surroundings. It reminded me of a supermarket: row after row of neatly arranged shelving. Only this wasn’t shelving, it was cabinets full of blinking black boxes. I was in a data center, and a massive one at that. What little light spread throughout the area was red. This place was clearly not meant for regular access. At least, not from humans.

My slow spin finally stopped as I found someone behind me. Her dark hair stopped before the shoulders of her wetsuit, and her oxygen mask was obscuring her face in the darkness. This had been the person in my room. She turned around, glanced back at me, and nodded her head, as if to say “come on.”

Not seeing any other options, I followed her lead. As we walked I raised a hand in front of me. The red light seemed to pass through it. When I looked down I saw my entire body was… translucent. It’s like I wasn’t fully there. I reached out and let my fingers brush against one of the cabinets. I could definitely feel it.

We came to a stop as she unzipped a pocket on her suit and pulled out a sealed back. She opened it and withdrew a small keyboard which she plugged into a terminal. The keyboard, like me, was almost see-through. The woman, however, was as solid as the rest of this place. Some text appeared on the screen in front of her and I won’t pretend that any of it made any sense to me. I found myself looking around again when she broke the silence, making me jump a little and snapping my attention back to her.

“We don’t have much time, Jeremy.”

I tried to respond but found no noise came out when I opened my mouth. She glanced over at me, then returned her focus on whatever she was typing.

“It’s no use. You can’t talk in this state. But you can hear, and you can see, and that’s what’s important. That’s why you’re here.”

She fell silent again and the inability to ask what she meant was maddening. The screen in front of her went blank. She unplugged her keyboard and started moving again, this time faster than before. I found myself half-jogging just to keep up.

“This place isn’t supposed to exist, and the security… it’s almost a miracle I was able to make it in. But I’m the one who did. And that means I was able to get you in, too.” She gave a half chuckle as she added, “I’m pretty much their worst nightmare.”

She took a hard left and plugged her keyboard into another terminal.

“They know that, of course. After all, they’re the ones who made me.”

Despite the fact that I couldn’t talk, I still tried to ask who she was talking about. Then an image appeared on the computer screen. It was made out of letters and special characters, but it was still recognizable. It was a gear with some lines in the middle of it; I’d seen it on a couple of the documents I’d been sorting through. She looked up and saw me staring at it.

“It’s Hydra’s icon they use for all their technology projects – they have others for different types of projects but I don’t know all of them. That’s where we are right now, by the way. I figured you knew that, but just in case. This is one of Hydra’s servers on the floor of the Pacific Ocean. You can get a lot of info if you know where to look on the dark web. Some stuff – the really damning stuff – you have to access on site, though. And, unless you go through the proper channels, getting on site isn’t exactly… easy. You probably noticed that, though.”

An alarm started blaring. She ignored it, remaining entirely focused on her work. I heard a rumble in the distance, followed by a crackling of electricity. There was a brief glow, but it disappeared before I could pinpoint the source.

“Like I said, not much time,” the mystery woman said as she unplugged her keyboard once more. I looked around nervously as I heard the crackling again, this time closer. She was already leaving the aisle when I turned my gaze back to her. I quickly chased after her. There was a steady hum vibrating throughout the floor now.

About a dozen rows down, she stopped and plugged in her keyboard one final time. Less than a minute later, she turned to me. “This next part is tricky and it’s gonna take some time; probably more time than we have right now. So here’s the plan.”

Footsteps echoed in the distance. She took a deep breath and glanced around before continuing more quietly, but still loud enough to be heard over the alarms.

“I have some code compiling that’ll mess with their hydro-cooling system and take this whole datacenter down. Over here I have a script running that is crawling their files. If we’re extremely lucky, I’ll be able to get a bunch of the files out of here, then destroy the place. What’s more likely to happen is that we’ll only have time to screw the cooling system up. But even that is gonna require some stalling.”

The footsteps were getting closer now, and it was more than one set. She glanced back, then motioned for me to follow her. We ran as softly as we could. We were both out of breath by the time we stopped, but the footsteps were further away now.

She continued. “They have really good security, and I don’t just mean cyber security. They’re coming for us. But we have to lead them on a wild goose chase to give my code time to compile and – ideally – time to get the files from them.”

We both jumped as a bright flash illuminated the aisle we were in. At first I thought it was a child that stepped out of the light. As the light blinked out and the dull red glow was once again our only illumination, I realized what was before us wasn’t human at all, though. It was covered from head to toe in eyeballs, all blinking independently. In near unison, each eye turned to focus on us.

The woman pulled me out of my shock and horror with one simple command: “Run!”

I turned and ran after her, turning from one row to the next, creating a complicated path until I had no idea where we had been and where we were going. Every so often we’d be stopped at the end of an aisle as another flash of electric light appeared or some creature would step into our view.

My lungs were burning and I managed to get her attention enough to let her know I needed a second. We paused and doubled over, once again breathing hard. She turned her head to me and whispered in my ear. “If the code compiles and I can’t do it, hit Enter for me.”

I nodded, although I’m not sure if she could see that with how blurry I was. I heard the now-familiar sound of crackling electricity which told us we needed to move. We continued running on legs that felt increasingly like rubber. We rounded another corner to realize too late something was standing on the end of the aisle. It was hard to see in the light available – it’s skin dark and reminding me more of lava rock than actual skin. It wasn’t until a flash of light behind us illuminated him that our situation sunk in. We were trapped.

The woman looked past me at whatever was behind us. I was too exhausted to even bother. Ignoring the encroaching monsters, she turned to the terminal next to her, plugged her keyboard in, and began typing.

“Stop!”

The voice physically brought me to my knees. She remained standing, but only by clinging to the server cabinet. I looked to see the dark creature pointing at her with fingers too long for its body. Its face consisted of a circular mouth full of teeth which rippled as it spoke.

“You keep trying even now? It’s too late. Give up.”

She stood back up and kept typing. Faster than my eyes could register, the creature reached out and grabbed her hands, instantly breaking them. She cried out in pain. I wanted to help, but what could I do?

“You came all this way. For so many years. Just to fail.”

Something like a laugh came out its gaping mouth, but sounded more like a screeching animal than anything. It picked her up by her broken wrists until her feet no longer touched the ground, then turned and shoved her into a cabinet.

“You could have been so much more than this. There’s so much within you.”

She spat at it, then spoke through seething anger, “You’ve all done enough to me as it is. It’s about time you aren’t able to do this to anyone else.”

It slowly wiped the spittle off of its gravely skin, then said, “I don’t think you’re in a position to make those decisions now. Do you?”

Without warning, its other hand shot out and crunched into her jaw. Her eyes closed in anguish for a moment before opening them back up, spitting out teeth and blood, and looking up to meet my gaze. The corner of her mouth that wasn’t already swelling ticked up. If she weren’t in so much pain, I would have said she was smiling. Then she winked at me.

I stood there, confused. The creature looked towards me, then back at her. “What are you looking at?”

It shook her, slamming her back into the cabinet. “Tell me! What is it you are looking at?”

Behind me I heard something making a low, guttural noise. I turned to find a monster on all fours yet standing eight feet tall. It sniffed at the air. I think it was looking for me. I looked back at the black thing, then to the four-legged thing again. That’s when it dawned on me. They couldn’t see me.

I dove to the console, reaching for the blurred keyboard she had plugged in there. I glanced back at her to see a full, half-toothed smile of encouragement. Before I pressed Enter I looked at the screen. No matter how hard I try, I can’t remember everything that was on it. I do remember the gist of at least part of it, though.

The top portion of the screen had a list of filenames. There were a couple I remember like Malcom Foye dot TXT and Lucas Stone dot TXT, but the one that really caught my eye was my own name. I didn’t have time to figure out how to access it, though. The one selected was simply labeled SHE dot TXT.

This is where it really gets fuzzy in my memory. There were descriptions of things that had been done to this person for decades since birth; I remember them being terrible. Dead center in the middle of the screen was a gray box with the direction “Press the Enter key to execute.”

I glanced down at my hands to see one of them appeared as if it was trying to grab something while it moved, seemingly on its own. I looked back up at the woman, fear at the loss of control of my own body hitting my gut. She just looked at me while this creature roared at her and said, “Do it.”

I reached up with my other hand and hit the Enter key.

The alarms stopped and, just before the lights went out, I saw the creatures looking up and around in confusion. There was an eerie silence for a moment, then the groans of straining metal echoed through the darkness. The creatures spoke back and forth in a language I didn’t recognize when they were interrupted by the woman laughing.

“What did you do?” the creature demanded. “What have you done?!”

She just continued to laugh until it was cut short by the sound of bones breaking. She managed to wheeze out, “See you on the other side.”

As soon as she said it, there was a low rumble that quickly grew to a roar. It was the sound of water rushing inside. The creatures shrieked and I suddenly lost my footing as a sudden flood of water swept me away and pulled me under. I tried to swim up but in total darkness, couldn’t tell which direction was which. I once again felt a familiar burning in my lungs. I hadn’t been able to take a deep breath in time and was quickly running out of oxygen.

I involuntarily sucked in, finding only seawater to fill my lungs. I barely registered an arm wrapping around me and pulling me up. I choked and coughed as my head broke the surface. Between my struggle for air and the rushing water, I almost didn’t hear her when she simply said, “Goodbye, Jeremy.”

I felt her let go and slip past me into the water. The next thing I knew, I was in bed, soaking wet, and still coughing up salt water. My alarm clock was in one piece. My roof was fine. If it weren’t for waking up to find myself drowning in my own bed, I’d say it was all a terribly vivid nightmare. Well, that and one other thing. When I woke up, there was a pen in my hand and a piece of paper with my own handwriting on it. I had written, “The password is X973-BRAVO-34RI.”

I’ll put that in the show notes, too, in case anyone has any suggestions on what that might be for.

Thinking back on it I can’t help but wonder if my dream – or whatever it was – really had the consequences the mysterious woman had hoped. Had we really just dealt a blow to Hydra? The downside is that, if we did… well, she had just had both her hands shattered, plus whatever else that monster had done to her. I’m not even sure how she was able to pull me up. But I know there was no way she could have made it out of there.

The stakes in this are high, and it seems that the body count continues to grow. My hope here is that there’s some way I can help to put a stop to that. The frustrating thing here is that I feel like there was something incredibly important on that file that, no matter how hard I try, I just can’t recall. I have to wonder if this message I wrote down, this password, can somehow get me access to it again, though. The question now is, where do I find it?

Again, if anyone has any ideas, please reach out to me. Otherwise, barring an unexpected breakthrough with Ron of course, we’ll continue with another storage paper next time. I won’t hold my breath on that. Either way, until then, stay safe.