That's right, it's Two Times Tuesday!
My apologies to anyone whose looking for having missed last Thursday's installment. I've been wearing myself too thin to keep up with the kids and etc etc blah blah yadda yadda you know what I mean, right?
Anyway, I've got to have at least nine prts to this thing, right? So, Witrh a little extra coffee and determination I pounded out one late last night and the other this morning. So I guess the last one will be ... Let's call it Friday just to be safe, but hope that it come "early" on Thursday.
Also, I haven't been commenting on anyone else's stories because I just haven't been at the computer long enough to read them, but I'll catch up on that too. I'm dying to know what's going on in some of these! Best of luck to all (and myself), see you on the other side! (Of the project)
28.7.09
The Investigation of Prof. Elwood Gerrits: Part VIII
Mathews isn’t done yet. He’s gonna call every one of those damnable abominations to the gate he opened using the Spire of Sobek. There’s no knowing how many there are, but if they can alter physics just be looking at it then it wouldn’t take many to completely warp our reality to their blasphemous whim. Why would anyone want to worship these things? I’ll never understand cultists.
I’m banking he’s still got everything set up at the museum. I better head there immediately. They told me Gerrits never worked there, and they haven’t received any new inventory in years, but they’re all liars. Somehow Mathews has got everyone lying to me to cover this up. My old partner, Karson, was one of the truest and most loyal people I’ve ever known, but even he’s full of sh—wait, is he?
Oh god. The planar wraiths can alter reality. Maybe it’s all been changed. I’m not crazy, and there’s no cover up or conspiracy. All my memories are real, but none of them ever happened to me. Mathews and that creature have made it all true so that I look crazy. Or, if my memories are all based on a reality that no longer exists, then am I crazy?
That would mean Karson’s not a traitor. He’s the same as he’s always been, and he’s going to come after me. He’s going to go for blood, because I really am a murderous lunatic. Do I even have any right to stop him?
Stop it! That’s nonsense! Even if all that’s true, I’m still justified, because I know the truth. Hmm, I know …. If that thing used its mind to alter my reality, then maybe it left some extra stuff in my mind. That would explain all the strange things that have been popping into my head.
Hey! If I really am still CIA, then maybe my old house is still there! It was in my brother’s name, so there’d be no reason to sell it when I “went crazy.” He never used it either, it'd be just the way I left it! I’m making a stop before the museum. This could be very helpful.
Ah, home sweet home. Now let’s see, a spare key should be … taped inside the door above the mail slot … YES! Wow, I had a lot of cheesy 80’s stuff. No time for nostalgia. The equipment room should still have all my old gear.
::COUGH! COUGH!:: Ech, I’ve never seen dust like this.
Okay, I gotta remember this: Set the radio to AM 1066 … reverse the window blinds … and pull on this hanging lamp …
::K-TUNG! Cree-eek::
Hidden room revealed! What have I got in here? 9mm, flak vest, radio jammer … alright, I’m as ready as I’m gonna be now. It’s time to high-tail it to the museum and stop an apocalypse … I do sound crazy. But then if I wasn’t, I might give up.
I’m banking he’s still got everything set up at the museum. I better head there immediately. They told me Gerrits never worked there, and they haven’t received any new inventory in years, but they’re all liars. Somehow Mathews has got everyone lying to me to cover this up. My old partner, Karson, was one of the truest and most loyal people I’ve ever known, but even he’s full of sh—wait, is he?
Oh god. The planar wraiths can alter reality. Maybe it’s all been changed. I’m not crazy, and there’s no cover up or conspiracy. All my memories are real, but none of them ever happened to me. Mathews and that creature have made it all true so that I look crazy. Or, if my memories are all based on a reality that no longer exists, then am I crazy?
That would mean Karson’s not a traitor. He’s the same as he’s always been, and he’s going to come after me. He’s going to go for blood, because I really am a murderous lunatic. Do I even have any right to stop him?
Stop it! That’s nonsense! Even if all that’s true, I’m still justified, because I know the truth. Hmm, I know …. If that thing used its mind to alter my reality, then maybe it left some extra stuff in my mind. That would explain all the strange things that have been popping into my head.
Hey! If I really am still CIA, then maybe my old house is still there! It was in my brother’s name, so there’d be no reason to sell it when I “went crazy.” He never used it either, it'd be just the way I left it! I’m making a stop before the museum. This could be very helpful.
Ah, home sweet home. Now let’s see, a spare key should be … taped inside the door above the mail slot … YES! Wow, I had a lot of cheesy 80’s stuff. No time for nostalgia. The equipment room should still have all my old gear.
::COUGH! COUGH!:: Ech, I’ve never seen dust like this.
Okay, I gotta remember this: Set the radio to AM 1066 … reverse the window blinds … and pull on this hanging lamp …
::K-TUNG! Cree-eek::
Hidden room revealed! What have I got in here? 9mm, flak vest, radio jammer … alright, I’m as ready as I’m gonna be now. It’s time to high-tail it to the museum and stop an apocalypse … I do sound crazy. But then if I wasn’t, I might give up.
The investigation of Pro. Elwood Gerrits: Part VII
Options: museum, university.
If I’m right about the body-morph, then Mathews may still be living at ‘Professor Gerrits’s’ home, which should be in the university’s records.
If that … entity is still around, then it might use the museum as a base, if it even thinks that way. Mathews might be with it. Although, if I can avoid confronting the planar wraith, I’d prefer—whoa, where did I get ‘planar wraith?’
“Planar wraith: a conglomerate of displaced spirits merged through anmitosis in limbo, taking uncertain abstract physical form or possessing a mortal, and adept with reverse perception in the prior,” UGH, my head! Why do I know all this? I’m not sure what’s worse: what the thing is or the fact that I know. What is ‘reverse perception?’
“…” oh, sure, now I can’t have random information.
I think I’ll start at the university, after dark.
I couldn’t find any real burgling tools while waiting for nightfall. I’ll have to go in the old fashioned way, which will probably set off an alarm. Fortunately, I noticed where the records are when I was in Dean Crowley’s office. Let’s see them explain that with me in an asylum.
This looks like a good spot; it’s well obscured and near the office. Alright, time to … notice an open window? That’s … disturbingly helpful, but I’ll take it. I’m in. The office should be this way.
What? Come on, Crowley! What do you need with a network linked electric door lock? I’ll have to log into his secretary’s PC. Let’s try the WarGames method. Not the cabinet … or under the desk … ah! Her password post-it is inside the drawer. I love human flaws.
Log in … security admin … entries … office …
::click::
Files on left, employee records: A, B, C, D, E, F, H, I—eeexcuse me? Somebody took the whole G section. They were either in a hurry, or extremely cavalier. It’s probably pointless, but I’ll check the computer. Yup, someone actually deleted the entire file tree.
I wonder if Google knows about “reverse perception” or “anmitosis”… nope. As long as I’m here, I’ll see if their infamous occult library can help. I can unlock it from here.
Even the hallways are creepy. Here. There’s occult science. These ought to be covered in Tobin’s edition of the necronomicon … this random knowledge is starting to bother me.
There it is, “Anmitosis: an involuntary process by which multiple objects are forced by the absence of relative spacial dimensions to combine into a singular form; common amongst spirits trapped between planes.”
That’s disturbing. How about, “Reverse perception: possessed by humans at such a low degree as to be generally uncredited; the altering of physical laws through forcefully re-interpretive observation; sends information out to reality as opposed to receiving it; a defining characteristic of planar wraiths.”
Whoa, there’s a ritual to form a “summoning beacon” which brings all planar-wraiths to an open plane-gate … which is torn out.
If I’m right about the body-morph, then Mathews may still be living at ‘Professor Gerrits’s’ home, which should be in the university’s records.
If that … entity is still around, then it might use the museum as a base, if it even thinks that way. Mathews might be with it. Although, if I can avoid confronting the planar wraith, I’d prefer—whoa, where did I get ‘planar wraith?’
“Planar wraith: a conglomerate of displaced spirits merged through anmitosis in limbo, taking uncertain abstract physical form or possessing a mortal, and adept with reverse perception in the prior,” UGH, my head! Why do I know all this? I’m not sure what’s worse: what the thing is or the fact that I know. What is ‘reverse perception?’
“…” oh, sure, now I can’t have random information.
I think I’ll start at the university, after dark.
I couldn’t find any real burgling tools while waiting for nightfall. I’ll have to go in the old fashioned way, which will probably set off an alarm. Fortunately, I noticed where the records are when I was in Dean Crowley’s office. Let’s see them explain that with me in an asylum.
This looks like a good spot; it’s well obscured and near the office. Alright, time to … notice an open window? That’s … disturbingly helpful, but I’ll take it. I’m in. The office should be this way.
What? Come on, Crowley! What do you need with a network linked electric door lock? I’ll have to log into his secretary’s PC. Let’s try the WarGames method. Not the cabinet … or under the desk … ah! Her password post-it is inside the drawer. I love human flaws.
Log in … security admin … entries … office …
::click::
Files on left, employee records: A, B, C, D, E, F, H, I—eeexcuse me? Somebody took the whole G section. They were either in a hurry, or extremely cavalier. It’s probably pointless, but I’ll check the computer. Yup, someone actually deleted the entire file tree.
I wonder if Google knows about “reverse perception” or “anmitosis”… nope. As long as I’m here, I’ll see if their infamous occult library can help. I can unlock it from here.
Even the hallways are creepy. Here. There’s occult science. These ought to be covered in Tobin’s edition of the necronomicon … this random knowledge is starting to bother me.
There it is, “Anmitosis: an involuntary process by which multiple objects are forced by the absence of relative spacial dimensions to combine into a singular form; common amongst spirits trapped between planes.”
That’s disturbing. How about, “Reverse perception: possessed by humans at such a low degree as to be generally uncredited; the altering of physical laws through forcefully re-interpretive observation; sends information out to reality as opposed to receiving it; a defining characteristic of planar wraiths.”
Whoa, there’s a ritual to form a “summoning beacon” which brings all planar-wraiths to an open plane-gate … which is torn out.
22.7.09
The Investigation of Prof. Elwood Gerrits: Part VI
It’s 02:57 hours. The night check should be coming soon. I can’t wait any longer. I have to make my move now. I wish I understood more about what’s going on though.
The more I talk with Karson and my doctor, the less sense either version of my past makes. Now they’re telling me the museum hasn’t received new inventory in over a decade. So why was Professor Gerrits even there? If I’ve been committed and incoherent all this time, how did I manage to track down a professor who specializes in Derrick Mathews’ same interests then plan and execute his murder all in one day? Even their story is falling apart. OH! Here he comes, time to play crazy.
“AHHH! IT’S HERE! IT’S COME BACK FOR ME! HELP! IT’S A MONSTER!” Add in some shadow boxing with the ‘thing,’ and we have a complete hallucination scene.
“Gary! Bring a sedative! This guy’s losing it!” This is the wrong line of work for him. He’s in panic, which is going to make overtaking them much easier.
“Okay, Dueller, hold still!” Fat chance, pal. First the needle needs to go. Dislocate the shoulder.
::CRACK-POP!:: “GAH!”
Your turn, I can’t have you picking it up. Hard strike at the base of the skull.
::THWAK!:: “AH—…”
Now finish Gary, before he regains composure and calls back-up.
“I’m using a sleeper hold on you instead of a quick knock-out because I need you to listen but not scream. I’m not crazy, but I am former CIA. I haven’t killed anyone, but I will if I have to. Tell doctor Petrov everyone will be better off if you all forget I was ever here. Goodnight.”
A little struggle was expected, so the rest of the noises will be written off by anyone who heard. Time is short to take advantage of that. Get the keys and the sedative … head to the end of the hall … and use a service entrance. This is too easy. I’m out.
Go to the back streets. Find a bum, “Hey, I’ll give you what’s in this syringe for your pants and coat.”
“What is it?” He looks pathetic, but there’s no time for pity.
“Does it matter?” I’m glad he’s accepted that. A little extra sleep won’t hurt him anyway.
I’ve got some time to think while I find a hideout and re-organize. I figure either I am crazy now and I’ve been perceiving things wrong since the museum, or there’s a conspiracy against me that involves my own partner. That’s an unfortunate pair to have to distinguish, since any good CIA cover-up will have hidden the evidence to tell them apart. I can assume that if I ever was a private investigator, I’m not now. There’s only one thing that can solve all my problems now. I have to find Derrick Mathews, and he has to be alive. But if he finally got what he wanted, then where do I start looking?
The more I talk with Karson and my doctor, the less sense either version of my past makes. Now they’re telling me the museum hasn’t received new inventory in over a decade. So why was Professor Gerrits even there? If I’ve been committed and incoherent all this time, how did I manage to track down a professor who specializes in Derrick Mathews’ same interests then plan and execute his murder all in one day? Even their story is falling apart. OH! Here he comes, time to play crazy.
“AHHH! IT’S HERE! IT’S COME BACK FOR ME! HELP! IT’S A MONSTER!” Add in some shadow boxing with the ‘thing,’ and we have a complete hallucination scene.
“Gary! Bring a sedative! This guy’s losing it!” This is the wrong line of work for him. He’s in panic, which is going to make overtaking them much easier.
“Okay, Dueller, hold still!” Fat chance, pal. First the needle needs to go. Dislocate the shoulder.
::CRACK-POP!:: “GAH!”
Your turn, I can’t have you picking it up. Hard strike at the base of the skull.
::THWAK!:: “AH—…”
Now finish Gary, before he regains composure and calls back-up.
“I’m using a sleeper hold on you instead of a quick knock-out because I need you to listen but not scream. I’m not crazy, but I am former CIA. I haven’t killed anyone, but I will if I have to. Tell doctor Petrov everyone will be better off if you all forget I was ever here. Goodnight.”
A little struggle was expected, so the rest of the noises will be written off by anyone who heard. Time is short to take advantage of that. Get the keys and the sedative … head to the end of the hall … and use a service entrance. This is too easy. I’m out.
Go to the back streets. Find a bum, “Hey, I’ll give you what’s in this syringe for your pants and coat.”
“What is it?” He looks pathetic, but there’s no time for pity.
“Does it matter?” I’m glad he’s accepted that. A little extra sleep won’t hurt him anyway.
I’ve got some time to think while I find a hideout and re-organize. I figure either I am crazy now and I’ve been perceiving things wrong since the museum, or there’s a conspiracy against me that involves my own partner. That’s an unfortunate pair to have to distinguish, since any good CIA cover-up will have hidden the evidence to tell them apart. I can assume that if I ever was a private investigator, I’m not now. There’s only one thing that can solve all my problems now. I have to find Derrick Mathews, and he has to be alive. But if he finally got what he wanted, then where do I start looking?
17.7.09
The Investigation of Prof. Elwood Gerrits: Part V
Karson is coming again today. It’s been almost daily for three weeks. He’s been researching leads for me, and he helped convince the staff to let me read my file. All I’ve found are more questions and a gnawing in my mind that I’m really not crazy, despite evidence to the contrary. That’s what they all say around here, though.
“Good morning, Dueller.” There he is.
I wonder how long he’ll endure me, “Hi, Karson. I’m sorry to do this, but I gotta take it from the top again. Something’s missing. I know it.”
::sigh:: “Alright, Dueller. We tracked an occultist named Derrick Mathews to Kom Ombo, Egypt. We split up and I found you convulsing and babbling in the temple. Even after you stabilized, you didn’t make any sense, and you were committed here at Arkham. Mathews hasn’t been seen since. That was eighteen years ago.”
If only I could remember what really happened then, “And I stayed that way until three weeks ago?”
“Yes,” I can see he’s getting bored and maybe a little sad too, “You escaped, brutally murdered a Professor from Miskatonic University who was doing research at the Pickman Memorial Museum along with a guard. You were found unconscious and blood soaked in the back ally of the museum and returned here. The next morning you started talking coherently for the first time since Kom Ombo.”
I couldn’t have done that. I shot him and he didn’t bleed, “So the last eighteen years of being a private investigator is all what, a fabrication of my mind?”
“Doctor Petrov believes you concocted it subconsciously the night of the murders as a coping mechanism. I checked with the business bureau. You’ve never held a P.I. license. No one at Miskatonic or the museum remembers ever meeting you, and Professor Gerrits was never missing. There were some odd coincidences with the other cases you mentioned working, but none of the clients you named know who you are,” That doesn’t leave me much to work with, Karson.
“Okay, now let me think …” What’s missing? “Wait a minute! How do they know who I killed?”
“There was enough carrion for two bodies, and Gerrits and the guard are missing.”
That’s it! “There were two guards, Karson! I didn’t kill Gerrits at all!”
He’s not impressed, “Then why hasn’t anyone heard from him?”
“There never was an Elwood Gerrits! It was Mathews! That day at the temple he summoned something into himself and it changed him; that’s how he disappeared!” I’m losing his interest, but I’m figuring it all out, “He finally freed it from himself at the museum, and now he’s changed back, making ‘Gerrits’ disappear!”
“That’s great, Dueller,” he doesn’t believe me, “Unfortunately it’s not a theory that will get you out of here, and now that you’re cognizant they’ll prosecute you for the murders properly.”
It doesn’t matter now. I know who I’m looking for. It’s time for a real escape!
“Good morning, Dueller.” There he is.
I wonder how long he’ll endure me, “Hi, Karson. I’m sorry to do this, but I gotta take it from the top again. Something’s missing. I know it.”
::sigh:: “Alright, Dueller. We tracked an occultist named Derrick Mathews to Kom Ombo, Egypt. We split up and I found you convulsing and babbling in the temple. Even after you stabilized, you didn’t make any sense, and you were committed here at Arkham. Mathews hasn’t been seen since. That was eighteen years ago.”
If only I could remember what really happened then, “And I stayed that way until three weeks ago?”
“Yes,” I can see he’s getting bored and maybe a little sad too, “You escaped, brutally murdered a Professor from Miskatonic University who was doing research at the Pickman Memorial Museum along with a guard. You were found unconscious and blood soaked in the back ally of the museum and returned here. The next morning you started talking coherently for the first time since Kom Ombo.”
I couldn’t have done that. I shot him and he didn’t bleed, “So the last eighteen years of being a private investigator is all what, a fabrication of my mind?”
“Doctor Petrov believes you concocted it subconsciously the night of the murders as a coping mechanism. I checked with the business bureau. You’ve never held a P.I. license. No one at Miskatonic or the museum remembers ever meeting you, and Professor Gerrits was never missing. There were some odd coincidences with the other cases you mentioned working, but none of the clients you named know who you are,” That doesn’t leave me much to work with, Karson.
“Okay, now let me think …” What’s missing? “Wait a minute! How do they know who I killed?”
“There was enough carrion for two bodies, and Gerrits and the guard are missing.”
That’s it! “There were two guards, Karson! I didn’t kill Gerrits at all!”
He’s not impressed, “Then why hasn’t anyone heard from him?”
“There never was an Elwood Gerrits! It was Mathews! That day at the temple he summoned something into himself and it changed him; that’s how he disappeared!” I’m losing his interest, but I’m figuring it all out, “He finally freed it from himself at the museum, and now he’s changed back, making ‘Gerrits’ disappear!”
“That’s great, Dueller,” he doesn’t believe me, “Unfortunately it’s not a theory that will get you out of here, and now that you’re cognizant they’ll prosecute you for the murders properly.”
It doesn’t matter now. I know who I’m looking for. It’s time for a real escape!
14.7.09
The Investigation of Prof. Elwood Gerrits: Part IV
As I groggily awaken, my throbbing head pounds out the question, ‘what happened last night?’ I’m home in bed. That hasn’t happened in awhile. Wait, why is there sound-proofing on my walls? This isn’t my room.
Ohhh, my head! I’m so bleary. Well, it’s certainly spartan in here. There’s just the bed, padded walls, a barred window, and a steel door … locked from outside. No. “No, NO! HELLO?! I’m not a crazy person! You can release me! How did I get here!? Somebody!? Let me out of here, immediately! I am NOT insane!”
“Dueller?” Finally, a guard!
“There’s been a mistake. I need to speak to a doctor about getting out of here.” That was polite. Guards like polite. This should be quick.
“You picked a weird time to start talking. I’ll get doctor Petrov.”
How did this happen? I was looking for Professor Gerrits. I found him working in secret on some ritual. Then … ohhhh … what was that thing that came out of his body? Then he changed into … Derrick Mathews, the man I hunted through Egypt back with the CIA! It must have been him the whole time, but that other creature was … unfathomable!
I hear footsteps. Please be a reasonable minded doctor, “Hello, Dueller. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been kidnapped, no offense. I don’t know how I got here, but I know I’m not insane. Could you explain why I’m here, while filing my release papers…” or we could just skip to the last part, really.
“Hmm. I’m afraid I won’t be allowed to speak with you until Agent Karson arrives. I’ll send for him immediately. Please, try to relax until then.” What? No!
“Whoa, wait! I’m sorry, but that shouldn’t be necessary. Actually, that doesn’t even make sense. In fact, who is this ‘Agent Karson’ of which you speak?” Oh, right, I really ought to deny knowing anything about agents until I know what he knows. It’s been awhile.
“You needn’t be coy, Agent Dueller. The CIA’s involvement in your case has been quite heavy-handed. I’m not permitted to treat you or discuss your case without your partner in the room. He’s been relocated here, so he’ll arrive shortly. I can explain everything then.” He’s acting cool, but he’s clearly afraid of something. Well, looks like more waiting. Huzzah.
“Dueller?” FINALLY! He’s here!
“Karson! Tell them I’m not crazy, so we can get out of here, would ya?”
That’s not a happy face, “It’s not that simple Dueller. You can’t just wake up one day and not be crazy, especially now.”
“What are you talking about? I saw something bizarre last night and I fainted. Now I’m crazy all of a sudden?! Why is the Agency handling my case, anyway? I haven’t had government insurance since I became a P.I.”
Ohhh, my head! I’m so bleary. Well, it’s certainly spartan in here. There’s just the bed, padded walls, a barred window, and a steel door … locked from outside. No. “No, NO! HELLO?! I’m not a crazy person! You can release me! How did I get here!? Somebody!? Let me out of here, immediately! I am NOT insane!”
“Dueller?” Finally, a guard!
“There’s been a mistake. I need to speak to a doctor about getting out of here.” That was polite. Guards like polite. This should be quick.
“You picked a weird time to start talking. I’ll get doctor Petrov.”
How did this happen? I was looking for Professor Gerrits. I found him working in secret on some ritual. Then … ohhhh … what was that thing that came out of his body? Then he changed into … Derrick Mathews, the man I hunted through Egypt back with the CIA! It must have been him the whole time, but that other creature was … unfathomable!
I hear footsteps. Please be a reasonable minded doctor, “Hello, Dueller. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been kidnapped, no offense. I don’t know how I got here, but I know I’m not insane. Could you explain why I’m here, while filing my release papers…” or we could just skip to the last part, really.
“Hmm. I’m afraid I won’t be allowed to speak with you until Agent Karson arrives. I’ll send for him immediately. Please, try to relax until then.” What? No!
“Whoa, wait! I’m sorry, but that shouldn’t be necessary. Actually, that doesn’t even make sense. In fact, who is this ‘Agent Karson’ of which you speak?” Oh, right, I really ought to deny knowing anything about agents until I know what he knows. It’s been awhile.
“You needn’t be coy, Agent Dueller. The CIA’s involvement in your case has been quite heavy-handed. I’m not permitted to treat you or discuss your case without your partner in the room. He’s been relocated here, so he’ll arrive shortly. I can explain everything then.” He’s acting cool, but he’s clearly afraid of something. Well, looks like more waiting. Huzzah.
“Dueller?” FINALLY! He’s here!
“Karson! Tell them I’m not crazy, so we can get out of here, would ya?”
That’s not a happy face, “It’s not that simple Dueller. You can’t just wake up one day and not be crazy, especially now.”
“What are you talking about? I saw something bizarre last night and I fainted. Now I’m crazy all of a sudden?! Why is the Agency handling my case, anyway? I haven’t had government insurance since I became a P.I.”
He looks very disappointed, “Listen to me. You’ve been here at Arkham for the last eighteen years, and you’ve never been a private investigator.”
9.7.09
The Investigation of Prof. Elwood Gerrits: Part III
So, Professor Gerrits wasn't kidnapped. He's just a cult priest using ancient artifacts in a secret ritual, and he has lackeys that’ll wake up in about five minutes. Things could be worse.
From what I know of cults, I'd best find out what his goal is before shutting him down. It’s easier to stop others from following behind him that way. What’s he working with?
A lot of this stuff seemed familiar when I poked around earlier. Almost like I've read about them but not actually seen them. The only time I would've done that was when tracking Derrick Mathews in Kom Ombo. But why would I have read about ALL of this? And what would Gerrits need with such an eclectic set? He's got Marsh's Marceline (labeled 'DO NOT UNVEIL!'), diagrams of planar wraiths, Zahn's violin, an emerald bird-cage, a dozen grotesque statuettes, the Spire of Sobek, the silver key—hold on, Sobek?
The temple in Kom Ombo was dedicated to Sobek. He had a ... crocodile's head! Mathews was there for the Spire and something else. It was a … large disk with a hole, like an oversized Yen coin. I don’t see it, but I’ll bet Gerrits has it on him.
Thinking about the fact that eighteen years of droll existence has lead me back to this leaves me with an uncomfortable feeling. It’s almost as though I never stopped working that case. Like I’ve been hiding out, laying in wait for some certain moment. And this is it, he’s taking out the disk!
Weapon ready, “STOP! Put the disk down, and back away slowly, Gerrits, or I will fire,” he doesn’t look a bit surprised or angry. I don’t like that.
“Agent Dueller, how nice of you to join us. We’ve waited a long time for this reunion,” Agent? Reunion? I’m liking this less and less.
“I’m a bit embarrassed, Professor. I don’t recall meeting you before.”
“The appearance has changed a bit since we’ve been together, but you’ll soon recognize it. We are about to part at last.” What on earth is he babbling about? Where is this ‘we?’
Enough chit-chat, “Put the disk down, now, or I’m going to open fire!”
“Master! Are you alright?” oh great, the guards are awake already.
“Yes. Take care of our guest, please,” sorry Prof., bullets are faster than legs.
::BANG! BANG!::
What?! He’s not even flinching, and the guards are on me, “NO! LET GO!” He’s placing the disk on the spire. I’m too late!
“You interrupted us before, forcing me to co-inhabit this frail flesh. Now, you will see!” He’s changing! His face … it’s Mathews! There’s something … coming out of him?
Dear lord, that’s not possible. I don’t even understand what I’m seeing. How could such a thing exist? It’s terrifying, and just looking at it is so confusing it hurts! I feel like my mind may just—
::snap::
From what I know of cults, I'd best find out what his goal is before shutting him down. It’s easier to stop others from following behind him that way. What’s he working with?
A lot of this stuff seemed familiar when I poked around earlier. Almost like I've read about them but not actually seen them. The only time I would've done that was when tracking Derrick Mathews in Kom Ombo. But why would I have read about ALL of this? And what would Gerrits need with such an eclectic set? He's got Marsh's Marceline (labeled 'DO NOT UNVEIL!'), diagrams of planar wraiths, Zahn's violin, an emerald bird-cage, a dozen grotesque statuettes, the Spire of Sobek, the silver key—hold on, Sobek?
The temple in Kom Ombo was dedicated to Sobek. He had a ... crocodile's head! Mathews was there for the Spire and something else. It was a … large disk with a hole, like an oversized Yen coin. I don’t see it, but I’ll bet Gerrits has it on him.
Thinking about the fact that eighteen years of droll existence has lead me back to this leaves me with an uncomfortable feeling. It’s almost as though I never stopped working that case. Like I’ve been hiding out, laying in wait for some certain moment. And this is it, he’s taking out the disk!
Weapon ready, “STOP! Put the disk down, and back away slowly, Gerrits, or I will fire,” he doesn’t look a bit surprised or angry. I don’t like that.
“Agent Dueller, how nice of you to join us. We’ve waited a long time for this reunion,” Agent? Reunion? I’m liking this less and less.
“I’m a bit embarrassed, Professor. I don’t recall meeting you before.”
“The appearance has changed a bit since we’ve been together, but you’ll soon recognize it. We are about to part at last.” What on earth is he babbling about? Where is this ‘we?’
Enough chit-chat, “Put the disk down, now, or I’m going to open fire!”
“Master! Are you alright?” oh great, the guards are awake already.
“Yes. Take care of our guest, please,” sorry Prof., bullets are faster than legs.
::BANG! BANG!::
What?! He’s not even flinching, and the guards are on me, “NO! LET GO!” He’s placing the disk on the spire. I’m too late!
“You interrupted us before, forcing me to co-inhabit this frail flesh. Now, you will see!” He’s changing! His face … it’s Mathews! There’s something … coming out of him?
Dear lord, that’s not possible. I don’t even understand what I’m seeing. How could such a thing exist? It’s terrifying, and just looking at it is so confusing it hurts! I feel like my mind may just—
::snap::
7.7.09
The Investigation of Prof. Elwood Gerrits: Part II
After leaving Miskatonic University, I go to the Pickman Memorial Museum with nothing but a photo of Professor Gerrits and a vague discomfort. I’m greeted by another wonder of pointlessly cryptic structures. I haven’t seen anything this bizarre since my time in Egypt.
“Hello, I’m Professor Dueller, a colleague of Gerrits. May I speak to the curator?” Or can you tear yourself away from texting. It’s a wonder they don’t lose all sorts of things with such expert security cheerleaders.
“Uhhh, yeah, sorry. You lost a collie?”
I’ve never BEEN so sorry to see pretty girl; my face hurts, “Yes, the curator is holding it for me. Where is he?”
“Did you try his office?”
I have neither the time nor patience, “Can I see this a second? ‘Paging the curator to reception. Curator needed at reception.’ Thanks.” She’s already back to her phone.
“What’s going on here?” He must have been close by. That’s a little creepy … and annoying.
“Curator? Dueller, from Miskatonic. Let’s talk about Gerrits.”
“Oh, good. Come with me.” He’s taking me into the back, finally someone intelligent, “This is it. Open it up, please.”
What? “I don’t understand. Why would I open it?”
He looks unhappy, “You got the key from Professor Gerrits, right?”
What does he think is going on? “I was hired to find Gerrits. Crowley didn’t tell you, did he?”
“No. I believed the professor had simply abandoned his duties here, but he had the key to the warehouse. We only keep one, for security.”
High-school girls are guards, but an extra key is too much? “Well, if he’s been kidnapped then that’s why, but what would anyone want?”
“Professor Gerrits was researching some purely historical items, never meant for display. A few would be of extreme interest to certain off-color religious groups.”
You’re kidding me, “You mean cult groups?”
“Well, yes.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I happen to have a new key.” I love this. I must thank Agent Karson for his under-the-table provisions. Insert stem, pop capsule…
::hissss::
…foam expansion and solidification, “Voila. Don’t ask. Has anyone tried sneaking in lately?”
He’s in shock, “I placed an extra man on the door. There’s been nothing.”
Here comes the boredom, “I’d like to stay overnight and look around, see if anything exciting strikes me. They’ll be back eventually. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Ah… certainly,” perfect! He’s too impressed to say no. Now we wait…
*
I hate waiting. It’s almost 23:00. I’ll just—WAIT! Hello, black-hooded crazy-man. The guards will distract him while I … oh, crap.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
“Ia, ia, vak tahl.”
That’s bad. Plan B: charge!
“HEY! WHO AR—“ ::KNOCK! Thud, thud::
“See what happens when you put your heads together? Sleep tight.” Now, let’s see who’s home. He must’ve been here all week. He’s got a whole stage set up back here, complete with alter and unholy book-stand. If I can sneak around maybe I can see what he’s … oh no. He is professor Gerrits.
“Hello, I’m Professor Dueller, a colleague of Gerrits. May I speak to the curator?” Or can you tear yourself away from texting. It’s a wonder they don’t lose all sorts of things with such expert security cheerleaders.
“Uhhh, yeah, sorry. You lost a collie?”
I’ve never BEEN so sorry to see pretty girl; my face hurts, “Yes, the curator is holding it for me. Where is he?”
“Did you try his office?”
I have neither the time nor patience, “Can I see this a second? ‘Paging the curator to reception. Curator needed at reception.’ Thanks.” She’s already back to her phone.
“What’s going on here?” He must have been close by. That’s a little creepy … and annoying.
“Curator? Dueller, from Miskatonic. Let’s talk about Gerrits.”
“Oh, good. Come with me.” He’s taking me into the back, finally someone intelligent, “This is it. Open it up, please.”
What? “I don’t understand. Why would I open it?”
He looks unhappy, “You got the key from Professor Gerrits, right?”
What does he think is going on? “I was hired to find Gerrits. Crowley didn’t tell you, did he?”
“No. I believed the professor had simply abandoned his duties here, but he had the key to the warehouse. We only keep one, for security.”
High-school girls are guards, but an extra key is too much? “Well, if he’s been kidnapped then that’s why, but what would anyone want?”
“Professor Gerrits was researching some purely historical items, never meant for display. A few would be of extreme interest to certain off-color religious groups.”
You’re kidding me, “You mean cult groups?”
“Well, yes.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I happen to have a new key.” I love this. I must thank Agent Karson for his under-the-table provisions. Insert stem, pop capsule…
::hissss::
…foam expansion and solidification, “Voila. Don’t ask. Has anyone tried sneaking in lately?”
He’s in shock, “I placed an extra man on the door. There’s been nothing.”
Here comes the boredom, “I’d like to stay overnight and look around, see if anything exciting strikes me. They’ll be back eventually. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Ah… certainly,” perfect! He’s too impressed to say no. Now we wait…
*
I hate waiting. It’s almost 23:00. I’ll just—WAIT! Hello, black-hooded crazy-man. The guards will distract him while I … oh, crap.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
“Ia, ia, vak tahl.”
That’s bad. Plan B: charge!
“HEY! WHO AR—“ ::KNOCK! Thud, thud::
“See what happens when you put your heads together? Sleep tight.” Now, let’s see who’s home. He must’ve been here all week. He’s got a whole stage set up back here, complete with alter and unholy book-stand. If I can sneak around maybe I can see what he’s … oh no. He is professor Gerrits.
2.7.09
The Investigation of Prof. Elwood Gerrits: Part I
As I groggily awaken, slumped over my desk after another night of paperwork and Jameson, my throbbing head reminds me I need an assistant. With a little hair of the dog I can begin my long wait for another case. Maybe I’ll spend some of the bountiful pittance Mrs. Shaftsbury bequeathed me for returning her poodle on an office cot.
I’ve been relegated to “dog-catcher!” I use to DO things. Between the Cold War ending and those “sanctions,” I thought I’d get back into the action in private investigations, but apparently I watched too much Rockford Files in college.
It’s been eighteen nightmarish years now, almost as long as I was an agent, and for what?! I spy on adulterers and hunt pets. The most excitement I’ve had was busting a teen drug cartel distributing powdered Altoids. I could have been retiring soon. Now most of my meals come in frozen plastic trays. I’ll just head home for today. That phone’s not likely to ring for at least a week, anyhow.
::RING! RING!::
“What?!” Okay, I can be wrong.
“Harris Dueller, PI. How can I help you?”
“This is Marta Jenkins from Miskatonic University. We’d like to discuss a possible case with you. Could you come to our office?”
She sounds scared. I’m interested already. Plus, universities have money, “I’ll be over this afternoon,” right after a nap and a cold shower.
She sounds scared. I’m interested already. Plus, universities have money, “I’ll be over this afternoon,” right after a nap and a cold shower.
Arriving at Miskatonic, I immediately notice the careful preservation of antiquated, vaguely unnatural looking architecture throughout. It’s over a century old, so I’m sure it’s had renovations. They must take great pride in it not to modernize.
There’s no time for tours, though. I’m heading straight to Crowley and starting on things. There’s reception, “Hello, I’m Detec—“
“Mr. Dueller, we’ve been waiting. Go right in to Dean Crowley’s office there.” So, ix-nay on the tective-Day; it must be serious. That better translate in billing.
“Dean Crowley? I’m Mr. Dueller. Fill me in; discretion is assumed, so tell me everything.” He won’t.
“Well, there’s not much to it,” uh-huh, “We haven’t heard from Professor Elwood Gerrits, our head of Ancient Studies, in over a week. We’d like you to find him and see that he’s alright.” He’s awfully fidgety for such a refined looking older gentleman.
I’ll dig around the side, “What have you told his students?”
“He has none, presently. He’s studying new inventory at Pickman Memorial Museum and helping catalog,” He twitched, “They haven’t seen him either, which is why I’m concerned. It’s probably nothing, but they’re displeased.”
‘Probably nothing?’ He’s down-playing it now, either for money or fear I’ll be scared off. “You call the police?”
Crowley’s composure strained, “No, for worry of media attention. Professor Gerrits has a … reserved personality.” You mean secretive. It’s not money.
This just went from interesting to exciting. “I’ll call you when I find him.” And whatever you’re hiding.
“You’ve no other questions?” He almost seems genuinely disappointed.
“None I expect you’d answer openly.” I’ll answer them myself.
“Mr. Dueller, we’ve been waiting. Go right in to Dean Crowley’s office there.” So, ix-nay on the tective-Day; it must be serious. That better translate in billing.
“Dean Crowley? I’m Mr. Dueller. Fill me in; discretion is assumed, so tell me everything.” He won’t.
“Well, there’s not much to it,” uh-huh, “We haven’t heard from Professor Elwood Gerrits, our head of Ancient Studies, in over a week. We’d like you to find him and see that he’s alright.” He’s awfully fidgety for such a refined looking older gentleman.
I’ll dig around the side, “What have you told his students?”
“He has none, presently. He’s studying new inventory at Pickman Memorial Museum and helping catalog,” He twitched, “They haven’t seen him either, which is why I’m concerned. It’s probably nothing, but they’re displeased.”
‘Probably nothing?’ He’s down-playing it now, either for money or fear I’ll be scared off. “You call the police?”
Crowley’s composure strained, “No, for worry of media attention. Professor Gerrits has a … reserved personality.” You mean secretive. It’s not money.
This just went from interesting to exciting. “I’ll call you when I find him.” And whatever you’re hiding.
“You’ve no other questions?” He almost seems genuinely disappointed.
“None I expect you’d answer openly.” I’ll answer them myself.
1.7.09
I have received my acceptance letter to the S4C; let the games begin! I plan to post my installments on Tuesdays and Thursdays beginning tomorrow.
Here's the intro and a link to the S4C event on wordpress.
The Investigation of Prof. Elwood Gerrits
Former CIA agent Harris Dueller now works as a private investigator.
Former CIA agent Harris Dueller now works as a private investigator.
When hired to find a missing Professor of Ancient Studies,
Harris discovers far more than he could ever have expected.
Suddenly finding himself in a kaleidoscopic journey through madness,
he must prove himself both sane and innocent of murder.
For more about the S4C, go to...
S4C? We'll see...
Tonight I signed up for the S4C on Declarations Editing. It was the last day, and it was around 21:00. It said I would receive further instructions through e-mail, but as of apx. 4 hours later, not so much. This makes me wonder if entries are reviewed before responses are sent rather than an auto-mailer sending said instructions. It also makes me wonder if I was too late to enter, but since it let me do it, I would be quite vexed were that the case. I guess I'll find out tomorrow...
DUN-DUN-DUHHHHN!!!!
PS: When I say, "tomorrow," you should realise that I qualify the date change as being based on when I sleep, not what time it is.
DUN-DUN-DUHHHHN!!!!
PS: When I say, "tomorrow," you should realise that I qualify the date change as being based on when I sleep, not what time it is.
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