- Front
- Argon
- Power Structure
- The guard
- Test Code:"Last Bird"
- "Event 8990"
- RuntimeErr
- Painting in the dark
- Frying Glasses
- Gaze your future
- Dragon Priest
- Marley
- One Buck Deals
- Bones, all the way down
- Mindprogramming
- Rebuilding a knight
- Waters deep
- over Slime
- Character Maintenance
- Bloody Wings Rebuild
- A Doc with cane
- MiKey
- The tunnel under 21 Pilvertstreet
- The art to anti-heal
- The Storm of 16
- White Sniper
- A cursed Existence
First i wanted to create the page neo-chaos but than I thought it would sound incredibly dated one year down the line. Next thought was Neon Chaos, but Neon gets to much spot light as it is.
So I randomly chose the next best thing, and than I stumbled onto these gems:
The name "argon" is derived from the Greek word ἀργόν, neuter singular form of ἀργός meaning "lazy" or "inactive", as a reference to the fact that the element undergoes almost no chemical reactions.
The bulk of argon applications arise simply because it is inert and relatively cheap.
Wikipedia 2018
This is almost to the core what the Insurgency is these days (November 2018). This is our greatest weakness and our greatest strength. This fits into our bright future, under Argon light.
A random choice, for a petty reason, with a satisfying result. Something will work…once you try.
Also it is nice that Chaos usually more depicted as active can find full strength in inactivity.
Logic out of illogic at its finest.
When you are asked how things should be managed you will argue from your position. This is inevitable as humans like to rule and usually wont be ruled against there best interest.
Those with power must rule or nothing will ever get done.
Those at the bottom must rebel to get treated the way they deserve.
The Insurgency with its top-down structure has lost a lot of leaders through rebellion.
We overthrow our captains, our site leaders, all in the name of chaos, which just so happens to align with the current goals of those that lead the charge.
The Department of General Administration
Those with Alpha and Beta clearance rule there areas. If you thing high command, you are thinking DGA. They run and rule the Insurgency as they see fit, but there is one thing that keeps them from complete control, and keeps there heads on there shoulders.
The Department of Personnel Management
The People that defend those at the bottom. No Missions that just kill CI personnel without accomplishing anything. No involuntary cage fights between Sigma operatives for the fun of a board Doctor.
It is almost like a small and slow rebellion, always brewing always melting away the top. It is fare better to have a volcano that you can see wreathe than a magma chamber that builds pressure unnoticed, under your house.
Can yu not trust your boss? Co-workers are vanishing? The Cafeteria is hunted? The DPM got your back.
There is a third… These don't show up in normal operation, but when you have two departments who would really like to wipe each other out there has to be something, someone to keep them from doing exactly that.
Before the Creation of DGA and DPM there always was this other department that did what these two do these days.
The Department of Internal Affairs
You plan a rebellion? They will kill you.
You stomp on your underlings or misuse CI resources? They will kill you.
You are working against the Insurgency? They will kill you.
Once upon a time this worked. Nowadays they are just around to keep the Insurgency from tearing themself apart.
They lost power and authority until they finally were removed from the records. A closed department. Nothing but old paper gathering dust. Not a single soul works in the DIA. It dose not exist. All functions that it once had have been taken up by other departments.
But sometimes, notes appearer after people that made trouble vanish. It is like a ghost of the past still runes the closed department to this day or it was some kind of anomaly that never got shut down when the department was closed.
In any case, no matter what they tell you, there is a reason the DGA and the DPM do not fight in an open war over power within the organisation.
All people involved know that once they go to fare of course, something in the deep will grab them and they will vanish, without anything leaved, but a note containing a "DIA Action Report".
Have you ever thought about why you are here?
You could go anywhere, but you are here.
Do you ever think about what you are doing?
I am guarding a pile of gold. A pile that will never fully belong to me. I am just its guard.
From time to time i can get some of my coins onto the pile, sometimes they even stay there. They would most likely fall once the owners of the pile return.
All i can do is try to get enough of my own gold onto the pile that i can claim the pile by sere volume.
But even then, technically the once owning the pile could just take it and leave, leaving me without a job and a pile of fools gold.
So what i do is this…
I guard. I guard a treasure for someone better than me. Someone who can truly take over my post or even claim the gold as his own. Yet they all disappointed me. Non matched me.
Where are they? I know there are people just outside of my vision that would really like to take the pile.
Some might try top corrupt it, or take away from it, those i shall fight until the gold they add to the pile is worthy of being a part of it.
And so i sit and rust, guarding a forgotten pile of gold.
"Are you sure you want to do this one? It is said to be one of the hardest test we have."
"It is a prerequisite to getting that promotion, so i will take it. If i don't get promoted they are going to separate me and Enry at the end of the month. She will be moved to base 25 while i sit here in outpost 688 until i am moved to some desert to die."
"That is not even certain. If you take the test and fail…"
"You cant fail tests from the hell level. That is why i am picking it. Everything else i can fail, but the hell tests are build to be non-failable."
"Than why would they call them the hell level? No one who ever took these test talks about them. Remember Dave from unit 6? He took the "Hellsman" test. They had to put him in a straight jacket afterwards. Last i heard he still sits in cell 144, screaming."
"But i am not taking the "Hellsman"test now am I?"
Research Birk leaved his concerned college outside of the door. He had tried to talk him out of the hell level test up until the last minute before it was do to start. He had his mind set on this.
The room was almost empty and only slightly lid by a single lightbulb hanging from the sealing. What was one week ago storage room 4 had turned into something that looked more like an execution chamber than a room for a promotional test. The room had been emptied out there was just a chair with restrains, a clock and a table with a briefcase on it.
"Mr. Birk?"
Birk involuntarily flinched as the man that had sat on a chair behind the door had raised his voice.
The man rose out of his chair. He looked like he had not eaten in days. His black suit hung down from him like he had lost a few kilos since he had gotten it.
"That is me, sir." Birk had tried not to stutter and he thought h had managed to hide his nervousness quite well.
The man in black nicked. "I am Christoph Revil, and i will give you the information necessary to get through this test. The legends people are telling about the so called Hell Level tests… are true for the most part. You cant fail them, but some lose there head in the process."
Mr Revil walked over to the briefcase and opened it. It contained 5 viles, each filled with a different coloured liquid.
"So, which one will it be. You should have received a note containing the names of the tests. This is the last point were you can change your mind."
"Last Bird"
The man sight as he picked up the outer left vile, which was filled with a white liquid.
"More people than you think pic this one expecting it to be easier than "Poison Dip" or "Hellsman", just need to tell you this."
Mr. Revil fingered a paper out of his pocked and unfolded it. "The events that you are about to experience are based on real events, but may not be entirely accurate. Certain parts were added that have never transpired. While undergoing the test fictional segments are not marked as such."
Mr. Revil looked up from his paper.
"Have you seen or at least heard of the matrix movies?"
"The ones where computers enslaved humanity which now is living in a virtual world?"
"Those once. This is basicly the same. We send you into some memories and you just have to sit back relax and enjoy the show. This will go on for an hour or so, than you will wake up here. Any questions you may still have will be answered in the test."
Mr. Revil placed the white vile into a slot on the chair and than opened the restrains.
"This is for your own safety. Some people get spasms from this stuff so we tie everyone down so that you don't run into walls for an hour."
Birk took his seat and Mr. Revil tied him down. When all was set up Mr. Revil moved back to his chair and sat down and opened up a book. "You will know when it starts, that stuff can take up to 20 minutes to kick in so just rel…."
Birk woke up on cold, hard stone. He tried to get the noise out of his ears. The piping was unbearable and he had a massive headache. While the piping got quieter he could here sirens going off. He forced himself to open one eye.
He was lying in a stone corridor, that had partly collapsed. The only light came from red emergency lights.
The sirens went silent again as Birks lost continuousness once more.
Silence. He could still feel the cold stone under him. He did no longer have a headache. There were no sirens, no light. Birk looked around his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He was still in the same corridor.The air smelled like dust. There was no movement in this air. He knew that this was still the test but he suddenly feared that he could just asphyxiate in here. He remembered another detail from the matrix movies. You die in the Matrix, your body dies for real.
You wipe dust of a chair, perhaps someone should be sitting there. You clear the desk get it ready to work see the face of someone doing there job, than they stand up and leave. You repair more and more. The figures stay longer, still not noticing you. They begin to bring objects you have not found in the base, at first your hand goes through them, you build further, than you can move these objects too. The people that are not really there notice you, they see glimpses of you. Than you are ether forgotten or studied like an anomaly, all while your mind can not shack the feeling that you are still alone. They put you in a cell, you walk through the door, you talk with them about tests for administration, they look at you puzzled and afraid. They ascribe you a usage and you are of use to them, as you continue to rebuild them and there base, without them noticing. They don't know that this hallway was collapsed, they don't know this lab was a crater. The reason for you being there fades more and more, you think they are real and you just imaged being anything other than an anomaly. You finish with the cleanup, but the test does not end, wont let you leave. The last step is to ether accept that your past life was false and your self-made hell is real, in which case you awaking leaves you stranded in a world you think is false, and weeks later it will still surprise you that there are walls you can not go through. Or you accept the illusion as false, ignore them, be the only real thing in the fixed base. Once you accept being the last insurgent you wake up, and the company of people brings you more joy than before, but you always second guess if they are real. That or you never start to rebuild the insurgency, in which case the test goes on until you die of old age as the only person leaved in the world as you realizes that humanity is not dead, but had simply leaved without them. Also the die in there, die out here is just a lie. You can not fail this test.
We have encountered something like this before. We think it might have appeared during WW1.
The conjuring of this phenomena might just have been triggered by our research into the similar events 100 years ago.
We encountered 18th century pirates with gas masks shortly after we researched a number of reports about this phenomena showing up in 1916. We think it is triggered somehow.
We lost a few man defending our vessel, so it is save to assume that what ever this is, it can b e weaponised.
First records about this phenomena predate a military report mentioning the phenomena by several months.
The first records are from several soldiers mentioning a stinking mist just of the cost. Some even mention seing a pirate ship in the mist.
Reacting to these reports the local commander ordered the deployment of gas masks, to prevent a possible attack under cover of chlorine gas.
The attack that actually hit them was something they had not expected.
The local medical station records show that there are little to no chlorine victims in the following days, but a lot of wounded were brought in with cutting wounds.
The officers noted that valuables came up missing from camp following a week in dense fog.
What happens when you tell a kid pirate stories to distract them from the incoming mist, but the kid knows what chlorine gas is? This kid was a minor reality bender. But the pirates appearing made them a part of the world, a recurring phenomena, tied to mist rolling in, pirate stories and fear of gas.
I can now better understand why so many leave after one good shot. How can you followup success? It is not even so bad for me. My success is tiny when compared to others. You would think that success is motivation, but for someone it might be a roadblock.
I wished i had more stories and items ready to go, but i do have poor judgment about that.
Once i would have celebrated success with loads of new content, but today nothing is ready and i don't have the creative flame to finish something now.
Guess that this is just some form of curse for someone like me: "Bad Timing".
We don't really know what it looks like. We know that as soon as someone sees the thing there head gets removed from existence. We cant even put it in a box since as soon as someone knows its exact diameters there eyes hand and throat vanish. It also seems that it might grow and shrink.
For all we know it could just be a very fast mold with a specific taste. We have at least some idea what is on the picture. It seems to be a painting of a yellow flower that dose not resemble a known species.
When i asked how we got that information they mentioned something about a "Quantum Crystal Ball".
If that source is to be trusted we even know who painted the thing, René Magritte.
The "This is not a pipe" guy.
A pan filled with goggles boiling in oil.
We also think it is stupid but this tastes really good. Apparently once fried in this pan an object usually used for sight enhancement, monocle, glasses, telescopes, etc become edible by normal humans. We would have never even tried this if the guy selling the agent the pan had not served him his reading glasses first.
He said the pan had this fed ever since his grandma had dropped her glasses into the pan on accident for the sixth time.
We think it has something to do with a spirit of some sort since the pan only works on seeing aids, so the pan must have a way to scan its surroundings and interpret that. Not sure if we should call it sentient thou.
The present and the future and everything in between.
We found a glass ball that when looked into shows that person 5 minutes of there life in the future.
In the real world these 5 minutes don't pass, instead 1/3th of a second passes.
Usually the ball can be configured, via mystical phrases, to a specific point in time and than lets the person stay there for as long as there real body gazes into the ball.
The events shown by the ball do not necessarily happen but are the most likely result of what would have had happened to that person if they never saw there future.
The ball has been a useful tool since it can be configured to put a person extremely close to there own death.
Using this aspect of the item we could change certain events and therefore change our agents life (and our bottom line) to a more desirable outcome.
We than decoded the mystic phrases and developed a phrase that would constantly rotated through a persons future, whilst creating futures within futures, since with every new cycle the ball takes into account that the viewer saw the last vision.
Used with this phrase the time a subject remains in one of there futures has been shortened to 57 seconds or lengthened to 35 minutes or a random length in between.
With the use of this phrase and the above described modifications, most subjects are scared by the event after about 60 seconds of exposure to there future loops.
The longest a subject has resisted the item in this form was a Buddhist monk who held on to his sanity for 11min 35 seconds.
A real world "Random Fates Generator", a kind of lottery that makes an order on what to do with the subject after the treatment every 3 seconds, was developed to accelerated the posses. The last order of the machine must be executed as if given by a beta commander.
Using this strategy complete insanity as a result of multiple future hopping, became achievable in under 2 minutes.
The amount of futures a subject has seen by than is calculable with this formula:
Amount of Possible orders from the RFG X Drawrate RFG/s X Seconds of Exposure X 3 (amount of futures seen/sec for 1 sec)
Given
- our most extensive order Set of 600 possible orders
- our highest draw rate of the RFG (once every 1/3 sec or 3 draws a second)
- our given time limit of 120 seconds
600 X 3/s X 120s X 3 = 648000 Futures
representing between 36936000 sec (14 Months, rounded down) or 1360800000 sec (517 Months, 43 Years) of time lift by a subject in 120 sec Real Time.
It is to be noted that the generator can make repeated and needs at least 600/3 or 200 seconds to produce
each order once. A selection of orders without repeats would need 120 sec X 3/sec or 360 orders.
Leading to this result:
360 X 3/s X 120s X 3 = 388800 Futures
representing between 22161600 sec (amount when each future visit only takes 57 sec: 8 Months, rounded down) or 816480000 sec (amount when each future visit takes 35 min or 2100 sec: 310 Months or 25 Years, rounded down) of time lifted by a subject in 120 sec Real Time.
The item might be used to run people through a prison sentence at an accelerated speed. In this case a subject must be set for a future in an isolated cell.
Also the phrase activating the machine must be modified to precisely set the amount of time a convict has to be imprisons as the method with random lengths per visited future can lead to extremely varying times a subject actually is imprisoned in there future.
Originally a manifestation of the mountains surrounding a town in Switzerland , the dragon known under the Alias Altsberg (translates to old mountain) was originally worshiped as a minor deity before the catholic church attacked him in 1334. He withdrew to the mounters as to not endanger civilians where he continued to fight the army of Catholics that tried to "slay a demon" to get into paradise. One of these was an Italian king who had the bright idea of attacking the villagers to lure the dragon out. The Dragon took this as so despicable that after he had wiped out the king and all of his man rose from his mountains and flew directly to the Vatican. A 17 meter long reptile on his roof the pope was eager to get ride of him, but after the dragon had wiped out every man in the Vatican carrying a weapon the pope reluctantly agreed to meet the dragon. For this occasion the dragon transformed into the village elder of his hometown. No longer seeing the danger a cardinal tried assaulting the man just to be blasted with the dragons fire breath and die burning before the seat of god on earth. Fearing for his life more than his soul the pope agreed to the dragons plan to bless him and accept him as a preacher for as long as he did not do anything to besmirch that title. Altsberg returned home and was the local church authority from than on. He even held his deal of the barging and was for all intent and purposes a proper priest.
He stained in his human form even after the village elder had died.
Altsberg continued to protect his home town until he presumably died after several explosions during WW2 had devastated the mountains he represented.
Records are unclear from there on, some claiming that he was still hiding in the mountains, in a damaged dragon form.
We can maybe lure him out by burning the place down. Some dragon DNA might be worth a few 1000 people.
The Mouth in the hall of chains
When we bought the old warehouse in London we just wanted a place to stash away a few things you better not have on your porch or tax list. The place only served that purposes, before we looked where the pipes lead.
The entire basement was covered in chains that all seemed to converge within a hole in a hall almost 20 meters underground.
We smelled that something was wrong here after the chain cutter just went through the chain without damaging them.
Not one to let an accidental discovery go to wast we set up an expedition camp in the upper parts of the warehouse. We thought we could find out how to make non-cutable chains without ever having to face what ever was in the hall.
Of course we failed with our endeavors. No progress for a few months. We were even considering to just sell the building of as a curiosity, before we meet what was down there.
A stressed out researcher went down to the hall to get seriously drunk. While he was down there he allegedly heard a voice making him an offer. The 3 other researchers for a serous jump forwards.
He could not recall the days following this event, but records of the other researchers indicate that he lured his colleges into the hall and shoved them into the hole.
When the station went completely silent we send a strike team.
We found the camp completely cleaned out of valuables and the last remaining researcher tied to the ceiling by new chains of the kind we wished to produce.
It was noted, by the strike team, that the last remaining researcher could move with great effort, always being dragged back to the ceiling. The last researcher claimed that he could now produce these chains, but he would require large amounts of funds. 10% of which would be needed to be thrown into the hole in the hall of chains.
As he said this the chains began to drag him into a new direction, towards the hole. He resisted the pull for about 7 minutes before being dragged into the hole.
It was noted, by the strike team, that the hole had shrunk from a seemingly bottomless pit to a 4 meter drop.
The Strike team described the sinking of the researcher into the chains first as a slow quicksand like descend, before a gray mouth with yellow teeth snapped shut above the last researcher. The mouth vanished as soon as it had appeared, instead a chained up humanoid figure rose from the depths of the chains, whilst remaining in the hole. The humanoid was laying on his back, 94 % of "him" completely invisible under the chains.
The remaining 6% were "his" mouth and a few pieces of gray skin all over "his" figure.
"A shame he could not keep up his end of the arrangement, but who tries to get out off the rent pays in other ways. 70% not a penny less." The voice of the humanoid was described as that of an old man.
We believe the being to be some kind of evil spirit, but his way of containment might be worth some considerable amount of investment. It seems that, if the chains are paid for, they become a great way to keep something looked up. The chains are completely heat, cold and radiation resisted. The chains are also immune to physical force as they seem to bind a creature on a spiritual level rather than a physical one.
Releasing the chains is even free of charge. Paying the creature in living humans, preferably young once, seems to be a lot more cost effective than paying "his" absurdly high rates. Kidnapping efforts as well as several "child welfare charities" are underway to ensure a steady supply for our new "landlord".
When asked how he would liked to be referred to the humanoid answered "J. Marley." Investigations are ongoing as to how this name is significance to the humanoid, its character and its power.
In this world few things are as dangerous as "pricing". From the water that might save a family to a bullet that can end someones life, everything can be priced out. Luckily for us most things are priced right. You can not buy the destruction of a life for 5 cents. You can buy loyalty for about 20000 a year or best offer. While other things, like paying a farther to slaughter his family are firmly out of the price range of most people or organizations.
When someone says he would not do something for all the money in the world, he just means that you insulted his intelligence with your current offer. Most people change there mind if a truck full of green paper is parked on there lawn and a new identity is included in the offer.
Now imagine what one can do in a world were money is no longer paper, but zeros and ones in a computer?
Change a zero to a one and you can create a mountain of money, larger than all hard money in the world, out of thin air. This puts pricing into a difficult position.
So, if there is no value in zeros and ones, why not trade it against something real, something worthless in comparison? Someone is willing to make that deal, as that human still sees value in zeros and ones.
There are beings that can change zeros and ones, have an interest in maximizing human suffering and have access to a large pull of people that if given the chance would make this world worse off. There business was going way better in times of misery and death.
Modern devils don't want your soul, one buck is enough. The suffering that fulfilling your wish will create, will lead to a thousand people wishing for a deal.
Take 10% of there souls and give them all what they want. More souls for the devils, more suffering in the world.
A sustainable business.
This is why you don't make deals with a devil, even if it is just for a buck.
If you are not the customer, you are the product.
A product with a price-tag. Someones getting something for creating you, and what that someone gets, is worth more then the price of production, more than one buck.
I knew the day would go bad fast when I saw the police car drive up my road.
We don't get many visitors out here. The Rance is secluded and self sustaining and all the comings and goings of the personnel were documented an no one had leaved the farm in days, do to the ongoing heavy rain.
Now 2 days after the sun had returned, the police showed up.
I was not surprised. some of the roads that lead up here are completely impassible once soaked for a few days.
Mudpits, sometimes more river than road.
Two policeman stepped out of the car and walked over to me. We seat down on my veranda and they informed me that some people had found a human skeleton on my property. The rain was the most likely cause why it surfaced now. I was angry that people were wandering my property without me being aware of that. This day was bad, and perhaps it would just be the start of a bad week, but i was sure that this had nothing to do with me or the Rance.
Than the police informed me that there were more skeletons. When i asked them how many more they looked at each other not sure how to answer.
One of them stood up and walked about 3 steps from my veranda and without a word started digging.
I was pretty angry and asked his college what the meaning of this was. He said something along the lines of, one would have to see it to believe it.
I walked over to the policeman digging up my driveway.
He had dug a hole 2 hands deep, and down there, not 2 hands deep under my driveway, was a pile of bone.
The policeman i had leaved on my veranda put his hand on my shoulder.
"Everywhere on your property where we dug a hole, we found bones. And when we called for a scan with supersonic we found that there is at least 200 meters worth of human bones. We measured on three different locations. Results all the same. This Rance is a graveyard with a body count in the millions and that is the low estimate."
I knew this day was bad. Two days later some organization ceased my entire property and put me and all my employees under arrest. We got no trail, no re-compensation and no explanation. They completely isolated us.
I only got out when your people came in and trashed the place.
In the time it took me to finally get a hold of your organization i was running from law enforcement and government agencies. My family owns this land since 8 generations where ever these piles of corpses came from, they were not there 4 years ago. I know that for sure, I helped the workers to put up new fences. These things go way deeper than where they found the skeletons.
I need to you to help me get my staff out of this and if possible give me back what is rightfully mine.
I now know that this is nothing special. You guys probably have hundreds like me.
But i will explain the specifics as asked.
My power to influence minds if fare weaker than what my results show.
I can do a simple one sentence command every 7 minutes. This goes from a change of mind about something to full unwilling body control. When i tell someone to stab themselves i can do it in two ways. First i can leave there mind intact, using the command to make there body move without there consent or control. This would be accomplished with the phrase "Stab yourself". If i want them to do it voluntarily, of there own will i would use "You should stab yourself". The word should, would and could decide the difference between me taking away there body or me making them do what i say.
Your captain has shown the difference quite effectively. When his tropes moved in to arrest me i said "Shot them."
The captains body was taken over but he had enough control left to shot all of his man in the feet instead of the head as i had intended.
Had i said "You should shot them", and he had thought this to be the right course of action, you can be sure that he would have killed them all.
This is what the data says about my power, but my way to deploy it leads to the results you are looking for.
I cant pull a stunt like that one i used to escape your first capture attempt whenever i want.
All thous people were set up. I have spend days preparing this.
With the phrases "Ignore these thoughts", and "don't do it now" i can set up blocks of simple commands over days of preparation. These blocks of instructions are dormant and i still have to trigger them myself as i cant use "if" and "when" or my sentence wont go through.
I still have to say "Stop to ignore" and "do it now" to set them off. That is why i had to shout that giving my position up. But i had spend weeks to prime everyone that frequented that area. I know that these commands do something to the once that i had not primed. The small scale rebellion that you had to deal with was not my doing. My command simply triggered it. When you tell someone to stop ignoring or to just act, most people will do something they had held back. This is what i can do. Not more, not less. That makes me useful.
You should believe it.
A knight from yesteryear (continuation).
This tank is quite helpful. I am still trying to decode my situation.
This is the war of 2016. That much i know.
But seeing as i was not rebuild into my form i held during the war i am pretty sure that something is wrong.
The fact that there is a computer currently trying to break into my mind is concerning as is the fact that there is a bronze knight in front of the tank.
I am not sure where this medical facility is, but the fact that someone using overwrite codes has not been reported to a knight of progress or at least a white knight narrows it down to THOSE guys.
This is a ZETA facility. This is a problem. I don't know at which point in the war this is. Have i openly betrayed them yet? I am missing to much of my powers and my body to combat a Zeta facility on high alert.
Best if i play along for now…
>Mental Blockade circumvented…
>Warning, fatal error occurred, metal blockade indicates multi-time-brain-function with non compatible formatting
>"I am afraid I cant let you do that"
>Warning suppressed, Fatal Flaw still active with system shutdown "terminated"
Starting Combat Simulation
Loading Scenario "Combat test: Last Flight of the Antirock"
The Star Spear Ship Antirock is heavenly damaged. The Stars have leaved in pursued of the enemy while the ship is leaved to its own devices. While the crew evacuates a patrol ship of the Machinery Alliance attacks the vessel.
So, this is the Test they chose.
The machine alliance was a small fraction of what it is portrait as here. A few sentient machines tried to use the war to there advantage and become stronger, but after the sentient stars were created normal machinery lost so much of there relevance that earth technology was removed from almost all combat encounters. But seeing as they still use this test i can confirm that i have only broken away from Zeta, without opposing them. They would have used what my demon army had made out of the machine alliance instead of this highly fictionalized version.
My "fellow men" are already fighting the machines and seeing as this simulation has given me a Basic Space Armor Mark 2 they expect me to lose, while fighting.
I ignite my chain laser sword. Time to show them what this knight can do when he has 4 limps, 2 eyes and a weapon.
"Are we sure this is one of them?" The bronze knight had retracted his birdlike helm into back of his armor his eyes switching between a monitor showing the events in the simulation and the tank containing the almost completely unrecognizable remains of a humanoid floating in the blue liquid of the heal-tank.
The events on the monitor depicted that broken creature tearing through an army worth of machinery.
The last flight of the Antirock was a losing scenario. Outgunned, out-maned, outnumbered and out-planed.
"Yes. This is a knight mark 1. His fighting still is antic and completely outdated. This is one of the first artificial humans of that generation i have seen in a while." The man in the lab coat was visibly exited.
"This is one of Mr. Wonderrats designs. See how he targets where he expects the enemy to be whether than his actual position? He is clearly lacking the skill to predict his enemy, but he combats that varying maneuvers. The fact that the machine alliance cant read him is do to a random sequence generator."
"So, what you are saying is that this pile of Meat and bones in there is an outdated Mark 1 with how knows how many years of combat experience?" The knight turned to the pile of meat in the heal-tank.
"Explains the codes and the botched attempted at self repair. Who knows how many modification cycles he did, of course those plans would backfire."
"I think the mark 1 knows it is beyond repair at this point. But the mark 1s were build to fight until they drop. They are incapable of suicide or surrender." The man in the lab coat shivered visibly as he recalled why the mark 1 was discontinued.
"The fighting cancer of sector 9. They were damaged and outdated but held sector 9 against the mark 2 and mark 3. These models were clearly the better fighters, but the mark 1 just refused to accepted there end of support date. Nevermetrix swallowed sector 9 and almost every mark 1 ever created."
"Hasn't that started the rumor?" "Yes, Nevermetrix is supposed to have inhabited its non compromising will to fight this war from the mark 1s from sector 9. Completely ridicules, but finding a mark 1 after all this time, that is a category 4 miracle."
"Can you rebuild him?" "If i had the plans, but like this the best i could do is shrink the tank and put armor around it. If his self-healing kicks in after all this it would completely restore or kill him. 50/50 chance."
"Do that. I want that thing armed and ready in two days." The bronze knight looked back to the monitor showing the simulation."We could really use that fighting power, doc." "As you wish, captain."
We knew what it would do. We all knew. The main force of the war of 16, were all Meta. Creating an army of myself was the safest bet to victory. But to defeat Nevermetrix i had to make sure that if Nevermetrix ever got a hold of one of us, it would not instantaneously cost us the war. That is the reason why most Metas that fought in the war were based on an updated Banker Design. These were Metas no question, but they were never allowed there full potential. I could have easily created a much more effective army if i had accepted the "If one falls all fall" flaw of a perfect army. But as the one part that fell to bring down the Clockwork, me and by extension all other Metas knew that this had lead to us and the creation of Nevermetrix. If one of us decided that he would kill us all, he could have archived that as the flaw in the perfect army.
When the new Metas were created i saw that i was right to doubt myself. 1 in 1000 would have betrayed us. Maybe because knew how the war would end or how they would end.
I created a lot of Metas for the war and with them also an army of those that would work against us. I had to do something i never did before and hope i will never have to do again. My efforts to redeem myself failed, even thou i managed to concentrate and contain the rebellion that wanted to end the war. But more and more Metas had to be created and with them more and more mes that would work against me. So i did what i did. I gave the GOC a sure fire way to kill me. The water i created extinguished all things anomalous. From water that boiled at -4 degrees to Realty benders. I helped them to produce it in mass and than i send them the rebels. I had taken there voice and there movement by than. These are all steps to kill a god, but i had survived in the past through these steps.
So the GOC and I drowned Metas. To give you a sens of scale there are planets that look like earth from space, but when you get close you see that the water is always at least a meter deep. When you look into that water you will see my face stare back at you. These planets are piles of corpses. These Metas wont come back. When you pull them out of the water and dry them they will wake up, but there will be major malfunctions in them as a Banker is down to his very building-blocks an anomaly. What you can draw out of the water on these planets are the closest thing you can get to a truly wiped out god. Piles of metal, rotten bio components and neutralized magic.
Millions of these planets are out there and even more were eaten by Nevermetrix. Most of them drift in space fare away from galaxies that might interfere with them. I handled the situation poorly.
To this day these blocks of Ice and death drift through space. I touched that water in my current form.
My on site avatar lost a finger that i had to recreate from scratch new for him.
This water has not killed Nevermetrix, so it wont kill me as i am now.
I have the ability to make this right, to delete this water and my failure from existence. I could have simply kept quiet about it and no one would have ever known. But here i am. Telling you about my graves.
Some might say that they were right all along and that i should save them, but than i would have gotten away with what i did. Every Meta who fought with me, was me. Those that are extinguished now are me.
The only reason my actions have consequences is that i chose to make choices with consequences. Could i just have produced perfect, obedient soldiers without outliers? Sure, but i chose not to. Could i have handled those outliers better? Yes, but i chose not to. This is part of my curse.
Progress needs its past. I cant just smile and make it go away. It would change me. Without this, maybe next time it wont be Metas i wipe out in mass. Only in retrospective we can see that things were bad. This will hopefully prevent this from happening in the future. And to all those Metas in the War of 2016, remember this:
How the war ends is only important at its end. To reach that end, we all have to do what we have to do.
You want to change it? I have just detailed what happened to those that tried. Maybe you are better. Maybe you can change it, but history happened and it says "try to change it and die trying".
"Letter of Resignation" of an unknown member of the Foundation, in possession of the Insurgency since 1995. A portion from the beginning was missing when the Insurgency received the document.
[…]
There were puddles throughout the facility. Puddles that looked like someone had cooked cola and had poured the syrup onto the floor.
The facility immediately went on high alert after the first puddle showed up and was still on lock down now almost 2 weeks later. The puddles continued to show up, but taking samples had been impossible as everything that entered the slime ether stuck to it or was completely absorbed. Staff had suspended all other testing and was desperately trying to find out where this goo was coming from.
This stuff seamed harmless enough as long as no one touched it. Some had tried to stick there fingers in, sufficed to say that that stopped after one of the junior staff lost 1 cm of his finger to it.
Then one of the security camps caught something. A man with dark hair in a lab-coat started coughing in the corridors. It looked rather painful. He coughed up the syrup and stumbled out of view of the security cams.
Security and administration decided that they could not simply capture and contain every male doctor with dark hair in the facility. The facility simply was not build to handle that amount of prisoners.
Than a few hours ago they found there suspect. The doctor was found 80 percent de-solved in a puddle of slime equivalent to the amount of his bodymass that was missing.
New puddles stopped to appear, but fearing that the anomaly had simply changed hosts security and administration still kept the facility on lock down.
I document this now, since if it is true that that thing can kill us one by one, I want there to be a record not written by the people that trapped us in a box to die.
I can almost see there version of events being printed out black on white. "We had no choice. For the good of humanity. Necessary losses." If it is found out that we all could have been saved if they just had opened the doors, I wish for this to be given to them, as I am sure that those who can, already plan on leaving us behind. They don't care for humanity. I do. That is why i wont join the open rebellion that will break out if that slime starts to kill us one by one. They will kill us all, one way or the other, but if i die, I would much rather die the death of the innocent that got shot, rather than the death of the failed traitor or the pray of some thing that eats human flash.
If we survive this, I ask that my memory is deleted and I am retired.
Consider this my resignation.
P.S. I know that the Foundation has to check letters of resignation for anomalous interference, the possibility that I wish to betray the Foundation or whether the resignation is a possible blackmail result. Letters of resignation are also saved forever as part of a personnel file and every little piece that is redacted will be checked periodically on whether or not it can be declassified. So once you kill me and sweep this under the rug, this letter will be the time bomb to bring you down, a little parting gift.
You will bring this bomb to the personnel department, for if this thing is not there it might show up later, were you don't expect it and then there will be some unpleasant questions coming your way.
P.P.S: If i have not resigned my position with this, when the thing blows up, you will have the "Other Financial Department" to deal with. I am not sure what I would rather see. You know they make a huge difference on whether or not an active member got killed or a resigned one. You will pay the difference and it wont be money.
Attached to the "Resignation" were multiple item reports. Even thou the content of these files could not be used against the Foundation it is certain that the Foundation would be able to use these files to identify the author of the "Resignation" as well as the "You" the author keeps revering to.
No decision about how to this resignation is to be used has been reached (2015)
Meta Wonderrat sat in the corner of the brightly illuminated room. >His white Suit lay folded on a wooden chair in the opposite corner.
This was another type of maintenance to that time were he had briefly turned to stone, because there he never had to put down his armor. This issue needed personal exemption. Without his suit or his powers it was clear that Meta was mostly hollow. A few copper colored bones, a few blinking lights and some joints were just some of the things he had under his human disguise. He removed the wired construct usually used to hide his extremely thin form.
At least that was what was supposed to hidden by it.
Meta's metallic bones had accumulated something else. The biological components that were integrated into his design had grown and completely cover his bones. "This is progress." Meta drew out his knife and stabbed it into his exposed arm. "In other words, a problem to be solved." Meta's body recoiled. His automatic defenses starting up, as well as his healing abilities. Meta cut away a large chunk of the bio-matter.The purple and green spots on the piece flared to life as it became independent of the machine. Green eyes scanned the room as the creature started to crawl. Meta carved away the excesses he had accumulated over the past 2 years. Before the war, everything within his system that had started to go out of line on him had leaved to join Red Gen. Now that Red Gen was gone, the corruption just was stuck on him, without there pull, Red Gen's pull, away from the body they were deserting.
So much about him was out of line, damaged or rotten.These parts were all part of him, but he of all people knew that a small error could topple the largest force in the world. This was painful and a battle he would ultimately lose.
All over the ground, walls and sealing were the creatures, each one a sizable chunk of Meta's corruption. Centimeter by Centimeter Meta carved his bones free. Since he regenerated this was a process that produced more and more corruption.The room started to fill with creatures. Almost half of the room was filed with purple, green and yellow flesh. Slime and liquids dripping of Meta. Meta continued to carve away without hesitation. There still was a shiny core to him. Something good under this. The room was now almost so full that meta could no longer freely move.
He was soaked, but almost finished. On last stab, one last chip.
A skeleton of metal was flung out of the room, into an ocean. The room pulsed. A white block in the middle of the beach.The metal skeleton without a face rose out of the water and walked onto the beach to a pile of sugar. The skeleton still drenched in saltwater leaned down and garbed the sugar. The sugar melted between his fingers and flew up his arm. Within seconds Meta had a new face and sugar suit.
He dug a little in the sand but did not find what he was looking for. "I cant let go of my past. Its me, all of it."
There was a crack coming from the cube. A door had formed. Meta stood there awaiting what would come through that door. The door opened and out came Meta, fully clothed in his white suit. Seemingly to both of there surprise non of them had what they had expect the other to have. Non of them had the red tie.
Meta knew that he had it when he went into the room and was flung out without it as well as not finding it in the room.
"My past is not me." Said both of them simultaneously. Meta was not the ghost of progress that had stepped out of the bank in a box, the skeleton of metal, here to watch over the riches of others. Meta was not the sum of errors he had accumulated ever since then. They knew that they both were aspects of Meta's past. Each of them had thought to become meta after getting rid of the defective part and when they had not found the tie they had thought that they were the defective part, therefore the part that was not them must be Meta, the flawless version, ready for the future. Both steeped closer to each other. "Stop with the humanization, please. I am not a drug addict with a want to be human." said the metal skeleton. "Stop with the Problems for problem's sake. I have not killed myself millions of times just to show of that i can make an imperfect process with a machine like solution." said the walking pile of flesh.
"Progress?" they asked simultaneously. "Progress." they answered simultaneously.
The Pile of Flesh and the metal skeleton went back into the cube and closed the door. They did not merge. They did not consumed each other. The block crumbled to dust and dispersed in the wind.
There was now just a wooden chair standing on the beach and on that chair sat 1 Meta with a red tie, with no second Meta for miles.
Meta rolled up one of his sleeves.
There was no metal skeleton, no purple and green flesh, just fine simulated human skin.
"Maintenance Complete."
And with a blink Meta was gone and the chair crumbled and vanished with the next gust of wind.
Item: | Bloody Wings |
Type: | Holy, Ritual, Contagious |
Living: | Yes |
Sentient: | Undetermined |
Potential/Current Hazards | Death, Reanimation |
Required Wear/Weaponry | during storage: LV 1 hazard suit, during deployment: normal weather resistant ware and watertight face masks Liquid Resistance suit Mark I or higher |
Location: | Bathtub-05 |
Reported Anomaly: | Blood Manipulation, Self-replicating |
Usage
The item is to be stored in standard metal-glass containers, with glass on the inside and metal on the outside.
All contact to the item whether direct or indirect is to be prevented until a deployment scenario has been chosen and confirmed by 1 Alpha, 2 Beta or 3 Gamma operatives (see "See of Angles Incident").
Normal clothing is no longer deemed fit to ensure protection (see "Bloodsabbath Incident").
The item is activated by direct contact to a subjects tissue. The size of the point of contact is irrelevant.
Deployment Scenario "Bloodbath":
Deployment as a secondary weapon via Water sprayers/sprinklers and smoke bombs. This form of deployment may trigger a "Bloody Sunday" scenario. It is therefore not to be used in cases were a "Bloody Sunday" scenario would be unacceptable.
Deployment Scenario "Bloodshot":
Deployment as an emergency containment measure against humanoid anomalies. This form of deployment may trigger a "Bloodbath" or "Bloody Sunday" scenario if executed improperly. "Bloodshot" scenarios are to be carried out with minimal amounts of item sample. "Bloodshot" is only to be used when all other messieurs of containment are exhausted. "Bloodshot" will damage the anomaly once successfully diploid. It is very likely that a anomaly damaged by "Bloodshot" will be destroyed.
Deployment Scenario "Bloody Sunday":
Deployment as a terror weapon, capable of wipe out large mammal and/or human populations.
Every full breach of containment is to be considered a "Bloody Sunday" scenario. All personnel as well as civilians and/or mammals that are not supposed to be affected are to be evacuated immediately, as them remaining within the high risk zone will lead to an even wider outbreak.
Report
The item consists of human/mammal blood with the following abnormal properties:
- If a sample of the blood with these properties comes into contact with organic tissue all blood within the tissue will gain the anomalous properties of the original sample. This makes the anomaly self replicating
- No other anomalies remain in invested human/mammal blood other than the effect of the item. This effectively destroyed other anomalies an infected subject might have had prior to contact with the sample.
- Two to three minutes after a subjects blood has become the item, the blood will force open two exit-wounds at the back of the subject and will proceed to leave the body. During this process the subject will die from rapid blood lose, thou it is not certain whether the blood in the body compromise brain and muscle functions prior to activation.
- Outside of the body the blood will form a pattern similar to spread wings on the ground or wall(s) near the corps. Defying gravity and wind in the process.
- Once all of the subjects blood has leaved the body the blood will cease to show further activity.
- Dried blood loses its anomalous properties and only partly regains them once re-hydrated.
- Samples that were dehydrated showed a rapid decrease in infection rates and a lengthened time before the outburst. This is the case with all samples created out of dyed blood or anomalous blood that had a dried up sample as an "ancestor". The reason why the anomaly seemingly never recovers from being dried up is currently still not determined.
- The blood may change its properties if mixed with blood of other subjects. Current Research has been inconclusive about this part of the anomaly.
- Tests with other species (Reptiles, Fish, Insects, etc.) returned mixed results. These results are still being categorized and will be added to this list once a consistent pattern could be identified.
- Age has a varying effect on the anomalous properties of the blood, ranging from discoloration to violent explosions. Most age related effects appear between day 29 and 50. All samples had lost there anomalous properties after 70 days.
Samples of the item are to be stored in four containers, two on site (Blood-moon: a1, a2) and two off site (Blood reserve: b1, b2).
The containers a1 and b1 have to contain at least one liquid liter of the anomalous blood (of only one subject as to not taint the blood). These containers have to be emptied and restocked every month. These containers need to be kept at a constant 6° C.
The containers a2 and b2 have to contain at least 200 gram of dried item samples each. These samples can be stored indefinitely without them needing to be renewed.
The item was discovered by the Foundation in 1923 and was stolen by an unknown party in 1928. The item entered the Insurgency possession in the same year through not documented means.
Clarence accepted
The Article was altered as to not reveal the true destructive potential of the item.
In addition to the above mentioned properties the item has the following additional properties:
- Anomalous blood that has reached the open air it will not dry like normal blood instead remaining liquid indefinitely.
- If the blood of three infested subjects mix, the item will enter a second activation phase.
Second Activation Phase:
Blood in this phase will form a large humanoid with wings, designated as "Bloodangel".
The Insurgency will deny the existence of these entities when possible as to not discourage the use of the item as a combat weapon.
Instances of "Bloodangel" have been proven to be extremely depended on the kinds of blood used during there creation, with human blood being the most consisted, if used as a majority part.
Entities made entirely out of human blood will engage in direct combat with any other humanoid in there near vicinity.
Tests with snakes and other reptiles mixed with human blood have shown a high instability in there respective "Bloodangle" behavior, ranging from heightened aggression to partial deactivation during darkness.
Entities entirely out of cold blooded animals blood have shown a complete deactivation if not probably heated. These Instances of a "Bloodangle" also lose there humanoid appearance whilst still displaying wings.
The destructive capability of a "Bloodangel" out of anomalies blood is currently only speculated. It is to be noted that the item's ability to cancel other anomalies is not perfect. But tests about its limitations are currently still ongoing.
There are no further records on tests regarding the "Bloodangel" that are not classified under the "Hell's Gate Protocol".
Tests regarding possible instances of "Bloodangel" are strongly encouraged, but any documents regarding these tests are to be classified under the "Hell's Gate Protocol".
Researchers willing to further these experimentation will gain access to all test documents classified under the "Hell's Gate Protocol". Should a researcher's tests show further potential the researcher is ordered to join the"Hell' Gate Protocol Special Section" to further conduct there experiments.
Personnel is prohibited to cite the existence of "Bloodangle" as a reason to deny a "Bloodbath" Scenario.
Staff is hereby ordered to deny the existence of "Bloodangle" when confronted about them by there subordinates.
He is with us since 1978. Dr. "Wellman" Strickebeck had an unfortunate accident in 1979. It had something to do with personalty splicing, multiple mirrors and an anomalous paperweight. The good doc took massive damage to his head and his left leg. As a welcome side effect he became very compassionate. Some say that is because a lot of him is actually trapped within the mirrors involved in that accident. He is something we look to if we wonder if humanity is worth saving. He truly is a perfectionist when it comes to human health. The staff of his facility is healthy in mind, body and soul, even if the worst of the CIs experiments are conducted at that facility. No suicides, no depression, no mental distress. "Wellman" is a truly great doctor, but he despises what the Insurgency is putting his patients through. If he knew that this stuff only happens at his facility because his patients can conduct these kind of experiments only because he can get them back on there feet afterwards, he would be displeased to the point were he might become a problem to the CI. Always nice to his patients with little regard for authority the Doc might become a serious concern if he decided that he wants to control the facility.
The only reason that he was never promoted lays in his inability to make human sacrifices. He even nursed subjects back to health that were scheduled for disposal.
He is also not a bad fighter. In 1984 he disarmed and immobilized 6 members of a GOC raid while armed with nothing, but his cane.
If he continues his service as he did in the past he will be retired in 2016. We will lose a good doctor on that day.
No personal currently or formally employed in Base 14b is allowed access to this file or must ever be made aware of Base 14a.
Personnel with knowledge about this file or knowledge of Base 14a are prohibited to have any contact with Base 14b and its employees.
Item: | A good Doctor |
Size: | 1,65 meter |
Type: | Humanoid |
Living: | Yes |
Sentient: | Yes |
Potential/Current Hazards | Non-Compliance, Treason, Rebellion |
Required Wear/Weaponry | Non |
Location: | Base 14b |
Reported Anomaly: | Mind-Affecting |
Usage
The anomaly assumes the role of a doctor of medicine and psychiatry in Base 14b.
If presented with a living insured or distressed humanoid the anomaly will attempt to cure its patient of all injuries, including, but not limited to physical wounds, mutation, stress, suicidal tendencies, delusion and general discontent.
To preserve good will with the anomaly the anomaly may not be addressed as such in documents entering the facility. To prevent a possible rebellion no information about other bases of operation may enter the facility.
The anomaly is to be provided with access to a fake "Chaos Insurgency Clearance: Gamma" that will act like a real "Chaos Insurgency Clearance: Gamma" until revoked from outside of Base 14b. This false Clearance may be revoked by anyone possessing a "Chaos Insurgency Clearance".
To use the anomaly to its maximal effect Insurgency experiments with a high mental/physical tole on subjects and staff and/or extremely unscrupulous procedures are to be performed at Base 14b. The anomaly will enable Base 14b to conduct these experiments, even if such experiments would not be feasible when attempted in other Bases.
The anomaly is not aware that he should have retired by now and remains under the impression that he will retire next January. "Dr. Wellman" is being medicated to keep him in this assumption indefinitely.
Report
For information about the anomaly between the years of 1978 and 2016 revere to "Insurgency Personal File of Dr. Casper Strickebeck (Section B)".
"Dr. Wellman" (Strickebeck) was reclassified as an anomaly on January 1th 2016, the day of his retirement. This classification goes back to to an incident in 1979. During a mirror test with "Shimmering Paperweight", Doctor Strickebeck sustained a scull fracture, severe head trauma and damage to his spine, paralyzing his left leg.
Following the event "Dr. Wellman" developed an unnatural level of compassion for other human beings. This combined with his changed demeanor were not immediately classified as anomalous following the accident. "Dr. Wellman"'s ability to rapidly increase his patients life expectancy, as well as his ability to combat major waves of stress induced mania made him an asset to valuable to let go and deemed anomalous, but not classified as such until "Dr. Wellman"'s retirement.
The 1980 "14c Boogieman Experiments"
To measure "Dr. Wellman"'s effect on test-subjects as well as staff the same set of tests were conducted at Base 14b and 14c. For a complete list of conducted experiments see "14c Boogieman Experiments". The "14c Boogieman Experiments" were purposefully designed to be as inhumane and cruel as possible with little to no justification for the experiments. 2 days into the experiments Base 14c was rendered inoperable by three independent rebellions, one bombing, seven suicides and concluded in the complete mental breakdown of onside staff. Base 14c had to be closed permanently as a direct result from the "14c Boogieman Experiments", the effects of which persisted even after staff had been completely switched out (see "Base 14c Ghost-sightings"). Base 14b finished the "14c Boogieman Experiments" under heavy protests of "Dr. Wellman", but no rebellions, suicides or mental breakdowns took place at Base 14b. Base 14b suffered no lasting effects after the conclusion of the "14c Boogieman Experiments".
When questioned about the event staff of Base 14b almost unanimously agreed that the sheer humanity and compassion emitting from "Dr. Wellman" had helped them through the event.
They heralded "Dr. Wellman" as one of the reason humanity was worth saving. The doctor was further cited as a reason why they wished to save humanity at all cost.
"Dr. Wellman" is not aware of these thoughts his coworkers have towards him. He is not to be made aware that his good will makes Base 14b the sole candidate for otherwise impossibly cruel experiments.
Addendum
Base 14a
Base 14a currently houses the item created in the "1979 shimmering paperweight incident". A mirror containing the remains of Dr. Casper Strickebeck. The reflection still shows the damaged laboratory after the incident. The version of Dr. Strickebeck reflected in the mirror has not aged or changed from its heavenly injured form since 1979. As his medical status has not changed since 1979 Dr. Strickback is considered immortal, although it is not certain that he is not still linked to "Dr. Wellman". The only part of this version of the doctor that is able to move is the leg corresponding to "Dr. Wellmans" injured leg.
Dr. Strickebeck seems to have lost all of his morals as well as his compassion towards all creatures (including humans). His loyalty towards the Insurgency however is completely unquestioned as he served the Insurgency even more effectively ever since his accident. Dr. Strickebeck communicates via movements of his leg and has personally developed a system to increase his words per minute. He can hear and see events from sources the mirror is facing. As the phenomenon was studied in 1979 this doctor ordered that his other version be kept out of the research. Dr. Strickbeck successfully completed his "14c Boogieman Experiments" to confirm his suspicions towards a possible anomaly of "Dr Wellman". He was a major asset in the following years, becoming a medical expert in unorthodox and cruel use-cases for medicine. Dr. Strickebeck developed several highly effective pain-induction-agents, as well as body-modifications for uncooperative anomalies and was given a Beta Clearance in 1990. Dr. Strickbeck than developed the medication to keep the other version of him in Insurgency service.
Mega Intelligence Key
We don't know who build Mikey, but we are sure that it ether happened a long time ago or fare in the future.His tech is remarkable. It is like someone created a three state bit based computer out of paradoxes. Each part that makes him up is constantly within a flux of possibility, impossibility and nonexistence. When we found him we thought we had found a stone that could travel to the underworld or something along those lines.
Seeing a stone that sparkles in all colors of the electromagnetic spectrum and than disappearing and reappearing dose that to us humans. That the stone shouted utter nonsense all over radio waves and spoke in a wired light based Morse-code dependent on an understanding of extremely high counter-intuitive mathematics did not help his case. It took him to days to figure out our language from bits of the stuff our miners mumbled while they dug him out of the ground. Our miners did not even spook our language. When the Phase Stone started talking gibberish that sounded like a language spoken by mortals we were not happy. Building walls out of something sentient was way harder than to build them with dead stuff.
Mikey proved us right quite fast. Radiation Burns for Days. than something strange happened. I think he pitied us. That was when he talked clear for the first time.
"Humans? Normal Humans? This is not right. Something is wrong."
We made our introduction and Mikey was not at all surprised. He side he was once created to take over all of earths defense mechanisms in times of crisis and this included the Insurgency. He was sure that he had been activated and than promptly taken offline. Considering that we found him in a dense jungle with not even a wooden house for miles or an impact crater of sorts we think he is lying to us. We don't really know what to do with him so we just let him solve for x in an equasion without an X, until we can find out if and how we can use a machine like MiKey.
The old home
It was not much that uncle Paul had leaved her, a little money an old car and his house. 21 Pilvertstreet.
Helga had not known her uncle very much. He was the strange Uncle that would show up every few years for Christmas or an anniversary when she was little. That was almost 30 years ago. He and his sister, her mother had lost contact after she moved to another continent. Now she was here, in-front of the house of a man who she had not spoken to for almost 30 years. 21 Pilvertstreet was located in a sub-urb. The house was almost falling apart seemingly only held together by wooden pliers pressing against all 4 grey walls whose crumbling paint littered the sickly looking grass around the house. The house was truly ghastly, but she had felled it it necessary to at least see the place once before she ordered it demolished to increases the value of the property for the sale.
She had seen pictures of the house, but this was truly a sight to behold. As she walked towards the door she noticed some sort of runes carved into the pillars, she paid them no mind and unlocked the door.
The house had been cleaned out to pay of the debt his uncle had accumulated.
She took a look around the ground floor, than the first floor, which seemed to have been a renovated attic.
She was surprised that the first floor had not been as stripped bare as the ground floor. This place looked more as if it had been a fully furnished guestroom. There where three pictures on the wall. One of the pictures showed an old man in fine old time clothes sitting on a chair in a white room. This picture showed her uncle and accordion to the signing in the corner was taken a week before he had his fatal heart attack. The second picture showed a group of 5 holding up a black flag with a red Z inside of a red circle. All 5 smiled as if they had just won a sport event.
Her uncle in this group picture looked like she remembered him, a young man in his early thirties.
But the date of the photo must have been wrong or it was a recent copy of the old original, because it was signed as taken in 2016. She had not seen her uncle in almost 30 years and she was very certain that he had not just recently aged 30 years. Under the date was another note reading "Zeta Cell 355". Her attention wondered over to the next picture. It was a family photo showing her uncle, her pregnant mother and her grandparents in-front of the house where she was right now. The house looked 60 years younger.
She walked back down the stairs only taking the picture of her family with her. She had the door handle in hand when she remembered that this house had a basement.
With newly tiled walls, and sledgehammer
She walked down the small staircase. The power had already been cut so she did not expect to see much when she entered the basement. More as a reflex she tried the light-switch. To her surprise the light bulb actually turned on after a few seconds. The light blinded her for a second before she saw the cellar. It was just one big, windowless room almost 2 meters high. The tiled walls, floor and ceiling reminded her of a butcher shop for some reason.
The tiles looked new, almost as if her uncle had installed them only days before his death.
The room was completely empty. Her eye was caught on the star-pattern at the back wall. In green, red and the natural white of the tiles someone had drawn a star, 1 meter in diameter, onto the tiles.
She could imagine the old Paul sitting here and painting this for days. He could not have hired a painter, he did not have the money, so he must had drawn it himself.
She turned to leave, but than she heard the noise of something wooden hitting the tiled floor.
She turned around again to see what had made the noise. There, before the star painting was a sledgehammer. This was not there when she had entered. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped 20 degrees.
The light bulb flickered and went dark.
The only thing she could see in the sudden darkness was the star-painting. The star seemed to expand, now covering the entire back-wall. She stumbled backwards but instead of finding the stairs she felled the cold tiled back-wall. This basement had become a room with no exit. She screamed and hammered at the wall.
The now blue glowing star had spreed to now take up half of the rooms walls floor and ceiling.
She stopped to scream. As if an invisible force had taken control of her body she moved forward.
She picked up the sledge hammer and swung with a force she had not felled for 20 years directly into the centre of the star. The light was back on. The star was gone, instead the cellar wall opened up to a tunnel that had been hidden behind the tiles.
She ran. Only when she had shut the front door behind her, she took a second to breath. She still held the sledge hammer. What was that, uncle Paul?
A parcel from the past
The door behind her made a noise. It sounded as if someone had turned the key from the inside, unlocking the door once again. Helga held the sledgehammer ready to swing at what ever would come out of that door. She must have stood like this for a solid minute before she lead the hammer down. She had felled like a beast in the cellar, bashing that wall in, but now she was once again an old woman that was not used to whilding large hammers. Something was strange. Had the grass gotten greener, the door less withered? She turned to go to her car, leave this place and never come back, but as she turned she saw the fog. It was impossible to have come so quickly. She could not even see her car at the end of the short driveway. She had no intention of going into this fog. She had never faced an oncoming train or a large predator ready to pounce on her, but this fog gave her that feeling. It starred at her, as with the eyes of a monster, not a bunch of water. The choice was just to clear. Spooky house or terrifying fog. She went through the door, back into the house. The door had indeed been unlocked from the inside. As the door closed on the fog, she felled relieve. Than she noticed why her instincts had lost so much tension. The rooms were all brightly lit and fully furnished with cupboards, bookshelf and large leather chairs. She took a step into the house, recalling that it had been empty moments prior when she had left the house in a panic. Her eyes were drawn to a letter that set on a cupboard under a large mirror. Her name was written on it in a thin red ink.
Helga took the letter and opened it. At this point she was not sure where in the house she must have lost continuousness, but she was sure to be dreaming. This was all to surreal.
"Helga, my little princess. Sorry for giving you this out of the blue, but I could not let my work fall into the wrong hands. Yes, that includes your mother. First of, please think back to your 8th birthday. Think hard, this is important. What did I give you?"
Helga looked up puzzeled. Her 8th birthday. It had been so long, 32 years. She remembered the man from the photo in his blue suit with the red doted yellow bow-tie. He had looked so ridiculous. Any other day she would have forgotten, but that day was special. He had given her a smartphone, much to the protest of her mother which immediately had taken it away. Her uncle said he thought this might happen and had brought a PC with him, with a pink painted case. That too was quickly ceased by her mother, finally he drew out his last gift. She remembered the box, 30 dolls with accessories in a shoebox. He said they were the backup backup, not new, but well cleaned and ready to serve there purpose once more. Than something clicked in Helgas mind. 32 years ago, there would not have been smartphones. What year was her 8th birthday? She tried to recall the number without counting back by 32 from today. 2014. Helga was quit surprised how confusing this dream had gotten. According to this dream logic she was currently 11.
Her eyes went back to the letter.
"Things have been strange since then. 2016 was both the best and worst year of my life. I meet some incredible friends, saw wonders you would not believe existed even if i send you a video of them. The year was even weirder than I can tell you here. Fact is I won and lost nearly everything. But nearly is not everything. I still have my starting capital. I put it in a wall somewhere. I left you a clue and a tool. I am not sure whether i can do this from beyond the grave in a letter, but I will do it anyway. Welcome to the Chaos Insurgency, Cell Zeta 355, princess. I cant leave you the world, but I can leave you the keys to it. Don't tell my sister, she would not want you to have them."
Helga was feeling incredibly sick. She currently tried to recall the past 30 years. There was nothing. Her past was a big black hole of nothing. She sank down in one of the leather chairs. Was this madness? Was she having a stroke? Another thought crossed her mind. What if uncle Paul did not die from a heard attack but from something in the crumbling walls? It would come to her. Her past was there, in her head, she just needed fresh air. Than she heard the hauling outside. The fog had closed in on the house and was now directly against the windows. "Keys to the world? I hope you meant exit uncle." With her hard pounding hard she once again went into the cellar. Behind the hole in the wall was a tunnel, maybe an exit, maybe something else.
The stash of 355
Plastic African mask
Life sustains itself by consuming other life. Through this we learned to farm the land to create the life we wish to consume.
The practice of Necromancy is to infuse falls life into what is dead. The wish to escape death once again constructed life. The religion of man grew from the wish to live after there life had ended.
We learned to select life, in categories of good and evil. We called that selection poison. The result of a sharp mind with a goal. Those who had the mind and the goal flourished for there mind kept them alive.
The farm up north looks barren, but let me tell you why.
Old Master Heliser owned that farm for almost 50 years. He had a hand for wheat, but he always refused to go with the times. He had no helpers, no machines and no regular trade partners.
Year after year, winter after winter, his fields would stand full. Even in the coldest winter or driest summer, his crops would be plenty. A bunch of townsfolk cam together to ask him for his secret to grow so much wheat all alone and in his age. He asked to only tell the priest, the scientist and the most insistent of farmers his secrets first.
The others waited outside of his farmhouse as he had exclaimed that he would share his secret with the others once the 3 man had seen his work.
Old Master Heliser kept his secret, as he died that very night. The town was sure that he had been murdered by the 3 man that he invited to see the secret.
The priest leaved town that very night, leaving all his possessions and his church behind. Apparently he went straight into a monastery and locked himself in profusely praying and fasting until he died of starvation.
The farmer went home and burned down his fields and salted the earth so that the ground would never sprout anything again. Than he brook into the closed tavern and drank all the alcohol he could get his hands on. He was found dead later that night, having drowned himself in a wine barrel.
Just the scientist survived that night, he took up the role of the towns priest and he did quit well in his new occupation, but he never spoke of the events of that night.
But even after this night the fields of Master Heliser flourished.
On his deathbed the new priest confessed the events of that night.
Master Heliser had infused his plants with falls death and real death. His crops were dead all year, only going through the motions of living. His plants were ripping the life of everything around them. His plants were poisonous from being stuffed full with the souls of the dead. Consuming humanity to extend there own existence. Since they were already dead, they needed no sustenance, light or sun. They consumed without having to consume.
Life kills to survive. This plants killed without the need to do so.
Life believe in there life after death. These plants show what that life would be.
Life selects for its own benefit. These plants don't distinguish and act without intention or direction.
And the worst of all, they were spreading and if told the secret how to make these undying crops, humanity would spread them, until humanity one day would be consumed by its own unholy creation.
Evils greatest success was to convince humanity that it did not exist.
No one looks at wheat and thinks, that stuff is evil and will kill us all if given the chance.
I might remove the top and the bottom and every mention of Zombie Plants and never reveal the secret.
A hollow story or a story with a rotten (as in not sufficiently satisfactory) core, i don't know which is worse.
Codename: Nevermetrix 2
This file is not to be accessed, as per paragraph 12 of the "Jellywam Agreement".
Should data from this document show similarities to freely available documents of organizations that signed the "Jellywam Agreement" a separate investigation is to be initiated to confirm or disprove connections to this file.
This is Investigation is the only way paragraph 12b may be invoked without invoking paragraph 13.
Should paragraph 13 be triggered this file is to be replicated and made publicly available and all involved parties are to re-arme themselves immediately.
Item: | Nevermetrix (File 2) |
Size: | smallest instance: could not be confirmed (smallest confirmed instance: single Hydrogen Atom), largest insistence: currently unknown (largest confirmed instance: multiple galaxy clusters) |
Type: | Pre-Universe Language |
Living: | Yes (extended Definition) |
Sentient: | Yes |
Potential/Current Hazards | Total Universe annihilation (comparable to vacuum decay) |
Location: | Unknown |
Usage
Required Wear/Weaponry | Reported Anomaly: |
Earthquake Gauntlet | General Retreat after repeated punches |
Lazy Stone | Holds anomaly in place for 2 to 6 min |
Timecrusher | Blocks time-travel of the anomaly for limited area |
Bird suit Mark I | Resists anomaly for 24 seconds of direct and continued contact |
Mind Wiper CAT 5 | Holds anomaly in place for 17 seconds |
There are a multitude of weapons effective against the anomaly some of them listed above. Do to there being no known weapon more effective than "Earthquake Gauntlet" combat against the anomaly is usually very close to the anomaly. Several other weapons are being developed but can currently not be tested.
Several arsenals were defunct by the "Jallywam Agreement" but they may still be usable in case of a re-emergence of the anomaly within the next 20 years.
How do you use the item? How do you activate it, if applicable? What safety measure do you have to do? What are the potential uses of the item? The Usage portion should describe how we use the item, how careful we should be, how to take care of it, etc.
Report
What is the item? What does it look like? What's the size? What does it do? Is there something we should be aware of? What are its anomalous properties? How'd we find it? When? How do we store the item safely? How do we protect it?
The Report portion should describe the item, provide the protocols for storing it, etc.
There are a few things that will never get anywhere. This is why i can freely experiment. It is useless from the start so there is absolutely nothing that can go wrong. If someone thinks less of me because they found one or more of my experiments they are entitled to there opinion. I wont shot them for it.
With unlimited power things get boring from time to time, so i have tried different things to limit myself. Let us just say that these things usually never hold long. Being limited is only fun until it suddenly is not.
There is actually nothing that can stop me from throwing down the controller and picking up a keyboard to cheat myself out of a tight spot.
But this might actually be my kind of fun.
I found the tool of destruction humans carry around to be quite entertaining. The skill with a gun is coupled to the human ability to suppress there own biology while performing complex calculations.
They wished they could be a machine, from the moment they start to aim to the moment they pull the trigger.
The insurgency has so many ways to get ride of people they want death that the approach of just shooting them has been put in the back for a long time. Nowadays when the insurgency uses guns it means that the mission is ether under-equipped or not funded well.
The insurgency could never attract the best of the best. Those that can chose go to the bigger organizations.
I am the exception to this. I chose to be here. Maybe at first i did not have the choice to go to the bigger sea, but nowadays i don't want to go.
I just want to sit here with a rifle on a roof and shot random inanimate objects.
The human reaction is the most difficult thing to track or me. Since i can not see or here the team of special ops on the stairway two floors down it makes it rather hard to predict what Thomas the special ops leader's wife made for diner tonight.
I think it is meatballs, but she still has the option to go for a tomato based dish.
Knowing everything around you and beyond is quite helpful to shooting soda bottles and chess pieces on the ground from the 31th floor.
I will disappear now. In not even 1 second they will kick down the door. The White Phantom Sniper got away unseen yet again.
What is a dragon? When asked this question people give different answers, but they usually share a theme, Power.
Dragons where ever they are mentioned are associated with power, ether with brutal beast like power or intellectual power often exceeding the power of a mortal human. If a dragon has no power, that often is a defining feature for that dragon.
There is another side to power however. A side that is rarely discussed, the upkeep of power.
Creatures that gain there power from controlling others need to keep there underlings in line, ether through fear or positive reinforcements. As a usually lonely creature as the dragon, they have to defend there territory or keep those they allowed in there territory in line.
Dragons emerge naturally as spirits of there places. In times before the earth went cold and fire was everywhere, dragons were everywhere. A spirit dose not fear fire or the darkness. In a world were the light comes from below and the sky was one toxic cloud, the dragons thrived of the energy from below. This thought the spirits emotions.
They were the first beings not divine or created by the divine to learn to feel. They could feel 2 things, Hunger and the absence of hunger. This is what they share with every being coming after them.
Than they learned what arose from these 2 feelings. The fear to be hungry and the satisfaction to take what they needed from those that could not defend themselves.
These old dragons were mostly forgotten after the world cooled down, starving the dragons. They had to get smaller to account for there dwindling food. And with there shrinking form the fear grew.
They went underground or into deep waters, but the earth cooled down without mercy.
There armor dwindled, there legs became impractical, there heads ineffective.
Eventually the first dragons disappeared. Those that still survived to this day are to deep down for most to notice.
They might even be mistaken for worms these days, but they are not the insects that feed the world above.
What i did was not bring back the fallen whose ancestors i had observed ruling the fiery deserts.
I took what created the first dragons and created the species a new. I am not divine, my creation is not divine. I took a artificial force and gave it an artificial spirit. The creatures i created are not spirits or dragons, thou they might be confused for them. Sugar and electricity and a dose of "magic".
These creatures have served me through the war, because one of there weaknesses can not follow them into space. If they let down there armor the water of this planet would de-solve them as if they had never existed.
They only have armor as long as they are feed and the feed they need exists in nature only in close proximity to water. They eat electricity, other than there ancient blueprints who could feast on heat or the dragons that ate meat or souls to stay alive.
These new Dragons are creatures of war. They thrive in space or the artificial environments humans drag with hem were ever they may venture. In times of piece there number has dwindled and those that still exist on earth are small and hidden. They could not follow the warmth. Those that tried to fight humanity lost. They might get that power-plant under control which keeps them feed for a few days but than, without human maintenance they start to starve again. Than they have to move to the next city.
A few of the largest of them can keep this up for a time but eventually they will come to me, to there creator.
And here they will join the largest hidden dragon of the surface of this planet.
Dig 2 meters down outside of base six, and you will find that most of the ground here is not sand. It is sugar and human remains. On my word and with my power, there will once again be a creature worthy of the title World-eater.