Raine Sullivan's Journal

The Endless Search

Ashes to ashes
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Downtime

Addendum 1A - Torpor

Still reeling from my initial firsthand experience with the supernatural, I wasn't able to do much of note. In fact, I was still coming to terms that all my preparations for my death were for nothing. I was still here; I still had need of my clothes and my phone, I still had to pay rent, I still mattered. It was strange, and that's all I can say for the moment.

 

I did, however, experiment with my sweet Elle's ring some more. I'm not sure how or why it was imbued in such a way - though I may have a tentative theory - but I am now able to become one with it if I give myself to the feelings now eternally roiling within. Being that monstrous centipede creation is adjacent to torture, yet it's also numbing. My senses sharpen, my agility as well. There is potential in this that I want to attempt to unlock.

 

I considered going out and starting my reconnaissance towards making a list of all the Sons in my city, but after some more thinking I decided to postpone that plan. Since they undoubtedly know about me being alive and out of prison, there is a high chance I might be under surveillance. I need to figure that out for sure first, then slip the leash. I needed more power.

 

So, that means only one thing: waiting for another contract.

Passing the Hours
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Downtime

Addendum 2A - Epiphany

Keeping in mind the hunch I'd outlined in Addendum 1A, my freedom for action was limited until a point where I'd confirm or deny enemy surveillance for sure. I didn't have a way to do so now just yet, but I'd hopefully get something useful from my next contract - whenever that will happen. I was somewhat worried about my potential watchers becoming agitated by my new penchant for taking trips to England, but I doubted that they had contacts overseas. If anything, they probably thought I was just trying to 'find myself' on soul-searching journeys.

 

In the relative sanctity of my sullen home, though, I continued my experiments. My grasp over the phantasmal energies that my centipede form was able to command had strengthened - a feeling both tangible yet also indescribable. I felt that my capacity for it had increased somehow, and I am now able to benefit from most of its effects for longer, but that's not the biggest bit of progress for this month: I found a way to seek out the energies' currents all around me and 'ready' them so they'd intercept any incoming damage.

 

This will be a lifesaver, I guarantee it.

Battlebeasts
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Downtime

Addendum 3A - Execution

Boston feels more dangerous nowadays than I remember it being in the past. Or, perhaps, it was always like this, and I was simply blind despite my old job. Either way, I seemed to have gained a greater awareness of the world around me as of my last contract, potentially echoing the strangeness surrounding Amy, so ultimately... I decided to go on a walk. I finally had the ability to do so safely.

 

Because I could now sense both electricity and liquids alike - something akin to local proprioception - I finally had a way to verify if I was being spied on. It turned that no, I wasn't - or, at least, that was the case today. During my stroll through the bustling metropolis I did get tailed by a trio of juvenile thieves, but they did not seem like Sons to me. And though I evaded them easily enough, during my stakeout of a local bar I was then subjected to surveillance of a different sort.

 

Two men in suits, with one carrying a briefcase, set up shop at the bar. They were positioned in a way that let them see me through the window of the pastry shop I was in. There was a laptop inside the case, and the other man even had a pistol with a laser sight hidden inside his suit - I recognized that specific sensation from the armory of the police department I walked past on my way there. I didn't know what they wanted from me, but the longer I stayed the more it became clear that they were, indeed, spying on me. I paid for the meal, headed for the bathroom, and escaped through the small window into the alley beyond as Mirielle.

 

I spotted them a while later, but tailing them didn't yield much. They seemed frustrated, shared some hasty words, and then called for transportation via one of their phones and left. It unnerved me that I was indeed a person of interest to someone - Sons or not - and I resolved to figure that mystery out at a later date. As I began to turn in the direction of the area my apartment was in, though, I finally, finally found what I was looking for all this time: an obvious Son of Salem.

 

Twenty-ish years of age, male, alone, and in a common ensemble of attire for their kind. He was someone that nobody of consequence would mourn, I was certain. Amusingly enough, his apartment building didn't even have cameras as I slipped in, still out of sight.

 

One down; a myriad more to go.

Storage Woes
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Downtime

Addendum 4A - Progress

To ensure that my streak of flawless performance would continue, I redoubled my efforts to stay fit and get better. I started using the apartment complex's pool again, training my underwater agility; I began properly exercising for the first time in over a year, finally holding onto that sliver of newfound motivation. I even made an effort to eat better meals, which would surely contribute to everything else. I'd done so, because I hoped that if Elle were to look upon the me of today, she would say that I wasn't a lost soul just yet.

 

Even in spite of all I'd been through.

 

I also hoped that she would not judge my darker efforts too unfavorably. Realistically, she probably wouldn't - Elle had quite the vengeful streak herself. There was this one time where a classmate accidently spilled their drink on Elle's bag, and Elle waited for an entire year and a half to retaliate by setting up a similar situation without being discovered...

 

I miss her so damn much. But, at least, I can still remember her.

🔞 The Enemy within
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Downtime

Addendum 5A - Betrayal

Ever since my execution of that Son of Salem two months ago, my desire to continue such 'pest control' efforts kept growing. I knew that I had to walk the fine line between being ineffective and too effective, but my powers helped with threading that needle. This time, instead of walking around the city in-person, I chose to travel through the sewers as Mirielle, intent on seeing if another, more popular bar would be a good hunting ground. Lo and behold: it was; there were a number of Sons in the private room in the back.

 

One useful thing about being a centipede is the fact that I didn't need to walk in as a human - instead, I used my mandibles to undo the shoddy coverings of the air ventilation system and skittered inside the building that way. It was uncomfortable, but not too much; I could easily endure it. The thing that irked me, though, was that I was still yet to figure out a way to kill them all.

 

I wanted to engineer some sort of 'natural' hazard, but I didn't want to endanger the unaffiliated civilians.

 

Thankfully, my exploration yielded something I could work with: in the basement, there was a storage machine for the various spirits they had in store, and it was hooked up to some CO2 canisters. I wasn't sure about the specifics of it, but I did know that CO2 poisoning was nothing to scoff at. With some effort, I took two of the spare canisters and dragged them up onto the building's roof - I couldn't put them any closer to the other vent openings because the turns were too narrow, so that was my only option - and replaced one of those rubber hoses in the machine with a shorter one. Then, I connected the long one to one of the canisters I'd appropriated, and pointed the other end in the direction of the private room.

 

Given I'd snuck a bottle of seemingly-renowned wine into the male bathroom beforehand, the group was now getting sloshed. I knew I could rely on human greed to do half the job for me. Hence, the effects of the gas I'd just released into the room were not really picked up on at all - they were drinking, so surely the tipsiness was just the good wine - and, one by one, each of them fell onto the floor. Only one of them got close enough to the exit door.

 

Through my senses, I could feel a person coming to investigate the strange thud, so I quickly put the second canister to action. Instead of pointing it at the private room, though, I raised the hose's other end in such a way to make the gas flow in all rooms instead. By the time the investigating patsy opened the door and alerted the other guests, everyone could already faintly feel the strangeness in the air and rushed to vacate the premises. As I would later learn, six of the nine Sons were killed that day, with the other three stuck, brain-damaged, in a hospital.

 

Good.

 

I was tempted to sneak in to finish the job. It would've been easy - get in, disconnect their life support, get out. However, there were a more pressing matter on my mind nowadays which I couldn't seem to get out of my head: as I'd eavesdropped on the Sons, I discovered that they were planning a trip to the shooting range. I wouldn't have been so surprised by this normally - Sons of Salem were notorious for their 'Jesus, Guns, Babies' obsession - but one detail struck me like a bullet from one of those selfsame guns.

 

Kyle.

 

Kyle Brooks.

 

My estranged cousin, someone I'd thought to be dead alongside everyone else, was the one hosting their gathering. My estranged cousin, who was there that night, and notably less loud than he usually was.

 

I was shocked when I heard his name.

 

And I had to thank the stroke of luck that graced me that day yet again, because it was not even a name Kyle was going by anymore. He was 'Bradley Miller' now, apparently; a whole new person. One of the Sons was just not privy to that change at the time just yet, though he was just as quickly corrected by the others.

 

Too bad that there was a centipede hanging on every word.

 

'Bradley' will soon be getting some very pointed questions lodged in his stomach.

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