Wayne Sutcliffe's Questionnaire

Wayne lives in Lincoln, Montana which is an unincorporated community and census-designated place (CDP) in Lewis and Clark County, Montana, United States. He selected this location because of its legacy and because of its loose property laws and low security of the local areas government buildings. He has since removed himself from the local records, and is untaxed. He has a trailer he hauled up the side of a mountain nearby, with plans to build a cabin, but no clear means to do so because of how difficult it is to access the property. He wants to be as far from the hellish, corporate owned cities as possible and wants nothing more than to not be found.

Right now, I make just enough to get by running a handful of semi-popular conspiracy forums and selling ads on the side—mostly affiliate links to "prepper" gear, supplements they don't want you to know about, and occasionally my own zine, The Croak Files. I get a little extra trimming weed in the fall for a buddy down the road, and I trade homegrown bud for eggs, ammo, or old tech. Most of my money goes into keeping my gear running—solar panels, antennas, Faraday cages, and crypto mining rigs (off-grid, of course). I spend what's left on survival supplies, black-market animal DNA, and powdered cheese.

My ambition is to expose the truth behind the global frog cabal—the cold-blooded shapeshifters pulling strings in every government and corporation. They’re hiding something ancient, something bio-engineered, and I believe becoming an animal-human hybrid is the only way to infiltrate their ranks and understand their true nature. I’m not just chasing secrets—I want transformation, evolution, ascension. I’d risk everything for it. I’d walk into classified labs, breach deepweb vaults, even inject myself with untested mutagens if it brought me closer. Would I kill? Only if they came for me first. But I’d stare death in the face if it meant seeing behind the veil. I don't just mean to prove they exist, but free the people from their clammy grasp.

The most defining event of my life was when I saw one of them—really saw one. I was living in a trailer near Flathead Lake, running RF scans like usual, when the signal hit. Not a voice, not a number station—images. Flashing patterns, subliminals. Then, just outside, in the treeline—I saw a tall figure watching me. Too still. Eyes too wide. Skin... slick. It blinked sideways. That wasn’t a man. That was something else. Since that night, I stopped thinking this was just a theory. It became a mission. I started prepping harder, going off-grid, researching hybridization. That night showed me the truth is real—and it’s watching.

1. Jodie “Red” Mahoney – Red is the person I’m closest to—my on-and-off partner in both life and paranoia. She runs a pirate radio station out of her van and broadcasts truth from abandoned parking lots across the Northwest. She’s smarter than me, sharper, and doesn’t let me drown in my own spirals. Red’s the only person I trust enough to talk about the hybrid project in detail. We’ve saved each other more times than I can count—sometimes from outsiders, sometimes from ourselves. She’s got a crow that follows her around, and I’m not convinced it’s just a crow.

2. Uncle Vic – Taught me how to grow, fix a CB radio, and smell a lie from a mile off. He’s not blood, but he raised me when my parents bailed. He doesn’t believe in frog people, but he believes in me. That counts.

3. Admin_Quazar – An anonymous forum mod who sends me files. I’ve never met them. They might be dead. Or worse.

My childhood was a blur of weird silences, packed bags, and static on late-night TV. My parents weren’t bad, just always chasing something—new spiritual movements, survival retreats, fringe science expos. They dragged me across state lines chasing “truth” until they vanished chasing one last lead in Arizona when I was eleven. CPS never found them. I think they found something. After that, I bounced around until Uncle Vic took me in and taught me how to survive—not just out in the woods, but in a world built on lies.

School? Yeah, I went. Technically. I didn’t fit in. I was the weird kid drawing diagrams of satellites and frog skulls in the back of math class. Teachers said I had "focus issues." Really, I was just focused on things that mattered. They laughed at my reports on mind control chemicals in vending machine snacks. Who's laughing now? Probably still them. But I know better.

Love? Yeah. Once. Her name was Tara, back when I still thought the system could be trusted --back before the awakening. She was wild, sharp, didn’t laugh at my theories. She listened. That’s rare. We lived off-grid together for a while, raised chickens, smoked too much weed, mapped ley lines by moonlight. But eventually, she got spooked. Said I was spiraling. Said the frogs weren’t real. That hurt more than anything. She left one night without a word -- just a sigil burned into the table. I still don’t know what it means. Maybe she knew more than she let on.