The Night's Plutonian Shore

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

I feel like Eric should be banned from ARC.

Or maybe it's standard practice for servant-fighting groups to drag Runners along with them to incredibly shady stores run by Jack of All cultists.

I guess I should clarify that. There's a guy called Jack of All who is essentially the Devil. He wears a glove on his right hand, and he likes to make deals with people that always go horribly wrong. It's unclear whether or not he's a Fear, and as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't really matter.

Jack of All has a cult called the Mountebank Club. After dark, they become the aptly-named Night Shop. Members of the Night Shop want weird things from you in exchange for equipment, food, and the like, such as your true name (if you have a pseudonym) or your darkest secret. They also have personae, which are alter egos that Mountebanks alternate between.

As far as I can tell, the Mountebanks are a bunch of glorified theater kids.

Anyways, Eric and I visited the Night Shop a few hours ago. The person who dealt with us... I think he was called Alan? Alan Roach. Alan asked Eric about his life experiences. Eric went pale.

Alan tilted his head. I guess a mask isn't the best for emoting.
"In that case, how about you don't tell me for free? How about..." Alan trailed off, chuckling. "How about you tell me that juicy information, and I give you what you came here for? Say," he said, sounding surprised, "what did you come here for?"
"I want to know why there are so many Puppets and Timberwolves around, and what the deal is with that... thing I saw the other day. The rotting thing."
"Tut, tut," Alan said, shaking his head. "The Carcass? The Puppets and Timberwolves? Too easy. You're boring. Oh, well, I guess it isn't as if I'm asking for much in return, is it? Just your story. So tell me, what is your story?"
Eric grimaced.
"Fine, fine," Alan said. "Hardass. Just tell me in private. You can even keep your weapon with you, if you're scared. You are smart enough to carry a weapon, right?"
"Why do I get the feeling you absolutely should not trust this guy even a little bit?" I asked Eric pointedly.
"Because I shouldn't."
I looked up at the ceiling. "Okay. So you're making a weird deal with someone you don't know and shouldn't trust because you're mildly curious."
"Yes."
"Didn't you bring me on board to protect me?"
I think Alan glared at me, though the mask made it hard to tell. "Shut up, would you? I'm trying to cut a deal here."

After that whole... debacle, Eric and Alan went into a backroom and emerged a few minutes later. Eric and I said goodbye to the nice people at the Night Shop, and we continued on our way.

I'll start with what Eric told me about the new shard. Essentially, this Dying Man shard is called the Carcass. It has the unique ability to possess dead bodies as well as living ones, hence the name, as well as its tendency to be followed around by rats and insects.

Eric's decision to try and shoot at the Carcass while it was chasing us, evidently, was due to him being totally unfamiliar with it; he wasn't, and still isn't, totally sure whether it's mortal or not. I, for one, am working under the assumption that its body can theoretically be damaged, since it was originally human, but that it's a bad idea to stay near it long enough to try to do so.

So the Carcass is a lovely beastie, though I wouldn't consider my personal experience with them to be evidence of its intelligence. I mean, the old "hide in an alleyway while your pursuer continues in a straight line" trick worked on it when it came after me and Eric, for Christ's sake.

As to the Timberwolves and Puppets, evidently the local ones are in a turf war. The place Eric and I are hanging out lately is a big city, so it's no surprise they'd want to control it. The Timberwolves have always been pretty big here, I've heard, and Eric said the Puppets were the aggressors, so that all checks out.

I've also heard that the Puppets have plans of taking over a particular construction site. Evidently, the Timberwolves claimed it for their own a while back. Eric actually said one of his old coworkers met the Archangel in person in that construction site and... well, apparently he got sent to Bliss, and he hated his job as an ARC agent, so now he's a Timberwolf. From the sounds of it, he's not much happier with his current job.

Anyways, to be frank, I'd rather not get caught in the crossfire of this particular fight. Which, of course, means I will be.

- Poe

The Horror of Blood II

This day we found ourselves completely hemmed in by the ice, and our prospects looked cheerless indeed.
Eric finally made good on his promise.

Other than the food and shelter thing, I mean. He's been quite helpful there. No, what I mean is that he helped me, directly, with a Fear. A Dying Man shard, to be exact. I actually encountered one of them, lucky me.

It was a huge thing, huge and skeletal. There was some meat on its bones, but not much. The rest of it was rotted away. The flesh and bones on its face had slash marks; Eric said it was because the human the shard's body used to be tried to tear out the thing inside them before it took over. Poor bastard.

It showed itself in a remote area. Frankly, I'm surprised such a thing exists in as big a city as this, but apparently miracles do happen, and they result in encounters with flesh-eating revenants.

Anyways.

Eric saved me, like I said. It showed itself when we were all alone. Eric shot at it a few times. I asked why. He said he combatted the anomalous, and if he wasn't sure what properties any particular anomaly had, figuring out firsthand whether it was bulletproof was as good a thing to try out as any. Then he ran, and I followed suit.

It followed us. I guess I can't say I'm surprised. We ducked into a back alley. Apparently I was breathing heavily, because Eric put his hand over my mouth to silence it. It took some time, but a while after the shard finally passed, Eric's judgment saved me. I nearly left the alley too early, but Eric pointed out my mistake, in the whispered tones you might expect.

I still don't like him.

- Poe

King Pest

"Treason!" shouted his Majesty King Pest the First.
Eric is getting on my nerves. On the other hand, I'm sure I'm getting on his too. Ugh.

At least I have a reason to be as annoying as I probably am. Not having much human contact isn't good for one's social skills. I desperately want to be able to have some sort of real, stable friendship, but as it stands, that's not happening.

Maybe Eric could change that.

And maybe the Archangel just wants a hug.

- Poe

Mere Puppets

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low
 And hither and thither fly—
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!
I'd been looking for shelter all day, but the only thing I found was a bench with a statue sitting on it (thanks). I was busy putting up a Runner sign for "no shelter" when I heard footsteps. I drew my knife, quietly as I could, and turned around.

I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I didn't want to get hurt either.

I was expecting it to be some kind of common mugger. Wasn't, of course. I can never get the regular dangerous criminals. But I'll get to that.

The newcomer went for me right away, no hesitation. I shoved him away and brandished my knife. No reaction at all. He just lunged at me again. I briefly set aside my personal distaste for violence, but he still didn't react in the slightest, other than being pushed back and having his would-be attack more or less nullified.

Then I noticed the strings.

They were very thin, almost invisible, but they were there. He was a Puppet, a servant of the Wooden Girl. The fear of control.

I should've known.

I took that as my cue. I aimed above the Puppet's head, hoping to cut the strings on him. He just grabbed at my arm. I grimaced. His grip was tight as a vice. Then he knocked my knife away. I was fully prepared to die, at that point.

In an interesting twist of events, I heard a voice behind me say, "Hands off, jerk." The Puppet turned around, possibly a fortunate remnant of his former humanity.

The next few moments passed even more quickly than the ones preceding them. I saw hands tear away the Puppet's, and then I saw the newcomer push the Puppet away before shooting him several times. I dove for my knife.

"Wait a sec," said my rescuer, who was still eyeing the Puppet. I stood up and dusted myself off.

"Who are you, then?" I asked.
"Eric. Eric Zane."
"Eric Zane."
"Yes."
"Like the Lovecraft story?"
"Like the—? Runners. Nerds, all of you," Eric muttered, running his hand through his hair in irritation. "Anyways, I'd come with me if I were you. And quick," he said, nodding at the Puppet, who was still lying on the ground.
"And you want me to trust you because...?"
"I'm with ARC."
I groaned. "Why?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" He sighed. "Whatever. Point is, I work for Anomaly Research and Combat—"
"I know what ARC stands for—"
"And we need your help."
"What?" I asked, utterly dumbfounded.
"You heard me. You've got a certain... moral core, H—," Eric said, using my real first name. "And you've got firsthand knowledge of Runner culture. The signs, the mythology, all that."
"You know my name?"
"Who doesn't?" Eric replied. "Everyone's heard of you."
"Flattery doesn't work on me, but I appreciate the effort."
"You'd assume someone with your... condition would take whatever he can get."
"It's called anxiety."
"Yeah, yeah," Eric said. "Speaking of which, we can help you."
"What, like therapy?"
"Like food and shelter. You've already seen how tough it is to survive without those things, haven't you?"
"...Yeah."
"Alright. Then come with me. And quick." He shot at the Puppet. "That thing has been trying to stand up again for the past... half a minute?... and you didn't even notice. You're welcome." He then walked over to the Puppet and cut his strings. Now he was just an ordinary corpse.

I guess that proved his point quickly enough.

I'm working with ARC now. Not as a member, as an ally. Not because I want to, because I have to.

If I'm being honest, I feel like I've betrayed my fellow Runners. I mean, ARC is willing to let us die if they think it'll send a message, if the other day was any indication.

At least this particular bad mood is a change of pace.

- Poe

Habiliments of the Grave

Deep in earth my love is lying
And I must weep alone.
I saw it wearing her face. The Archangel was wearing her face. Addie's face.

God, it just looked so real. I almost thought it was her for a second. That she had survived somehow. That I had left her for dead all those years ago.

But no. It was the fear of the afterlife. It wasn't her. It wasn't Addie. Addie would never do anything to try to hurt me.

This thing did.

- Poe