I am currently sat at my desk, composing this document now in an attempt to rationalize for myself what I’ve been going through the past couple of weeks. If my thoughts seem a little scattered or disorganized, that’s because they are. What I’ve experienced has fundamentally altered my perception of reality, my conception of who or what I can trust, and the way I navigate my life at a very base level.

As I previously alluded to, things began to take a turn for the fucked up a couple of weeks ago, and naturally, that is where this document will begin. My name is Vivian Matilda Richards, and this is how my life turned from mundane to terrifying, and how I went from a normal working woman, to a ruthless killer of extra dimensional monsters and all those unfortunate enough to serve under them.

I worked odd hours, and was exiting my apartment building and headed toward my car with a lukewarm cup of coffee in hand when I noticed it. It was a frigid early December morning, a light dusting of snow coated the parking lot, and the only illumination came in the form of the dim, flickering street lamps at the end of the lot. Somebody definitely needs to call maintenance about those cheap pieces of shit, but that’s neither here nor there.

If I was an exemplary worker and zoned in solely on getting to my job as quickly as possible, maybe I wouldn’t even have registered the trail of blood in the snow. But I wouldn’t be writing this if I were that person, would I? I shined my phone's flashlight on the red in the snow out of curiosity. The trail wrapped around the building, and I wanted to take a smoke before work anyway, so I figured what the hell. I lit up my cigarette and followed the scarlet trail like a complete dumbass. I rounded the building and gasped aloud, my own blood in my veins running as cool as the winter air itself as I came face to face with what can only be described as an absolute monstrosity.

Stood before me was a wretched coagulation of human flesh, miscellaneous body parts, limbs, noses, mouths and eyes all melded together into one sickly flesh colored mass. Blood oozed from the mouths and down the creature's nonsensical body onto the ground below. There was no doubt about it, this is what had left the trail. But what the hell was it? I must’ve jumped ten feet in the air when I saw the thing, and my aforementioned gasp alerted it to my presence.

The creature turned to face me with its dozens of eyes and all of its mouths warped into a sick grin. I dropped my phone, frozen in place as I looked on in disbelief at the creature in front of me. I quickly came to terms with the fact that I would surely be dying in a matter of moments, and closed my eyes tight as I braced for impact. I was positive I was dying, and didn’t make any attempt to keep it from happening. I’d accepted that if I was to die, being ripped apart by a demented hell-monster was at least a particularly cool way to die. As the creature's monstrous roar reverberated, I’d find myself still standing right where I was. I opened my eyes, to find a woman with I shit you not a fucking katana slicing the creature clean in half from behind, blood spurting all over me.

I looked on in awe, my mouth agape as the bloodsoaked woman's blade effortlessly ran through the creature like it was a microwaved stick of butter. My mouth opened as if to speak, but no words escaped me. The woman landed on the ground after lunging through the creature, exhaling through her nostrils. She looked at me with a gentle smile as she pulled her hair back in a tie, absolutely drenched in the monster's blood herself.

“Hey.” She remarked with a skeptical look, eyeing me up and down. “You uh, you weren’t supposed to see that.” I take a step back, trembling. Still I found myself utterly unable to articulate anything of substance. I must’ve looked like an idiot, stammering and mumbling my words, babbling incoherently.

I was in the midst of formulating an actual sentence, when I was hit over the head with a metal bat from behind. The last thing I saw was the mysterious woman wincing before I blacked out and fell limp onto the concrete.

I awoke what must’ve been hours later, my vision blurred and my body sore. The vague impressions of a couple figures became clear in my line of sight, my head hurt like hell and instinctively, I went to hold my aching head in my hands, only to realize that I was unable. My hands had been tied behind me, and I was sat in a frigid metal chair, I spat up a frightening amount of blood, the red dribbling down my chin. “Shit,” I heard one of the figures remark, rushing to the table at the far end of the room to fetch a towel. “Hold her, won’t you?” The one figure demanded of the other.

With that, the aforementioned figure, who I could now see was clad in a black hood, stepped forward and held my face still as the other prepared to wipe down my chin. As my face was cleaned, I could get a closer look at just who it was who had me tied to this chair. An older gentleman, sort of scruffy looking, who had a pistol in a holster on his hip. So whoever he was, I knew better than to make a fuss just yet.

“We’re not gonna hurt you, we just…we’ve had bad experiences with civilian witnesses. Unpredictable, you know?” He said with a matter-of-fact shrug of his shoulders.

“Where the hell am I?!?!” I shouted at him finally as I began to cry, despite my best efforts to keep it together. The man seemed a bit taken aback by my tone, though I’m not exactly sure what he was expecting given the circumstances. He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales, before nodding his head and putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright.” He begins with an exasperated laugh, “I’m James, this is Michael.” He said, gesturing to the younger, slimmer man in the corner, also clad in a hoodie. He was wearing a thin fabric covering over his mouth and a bulky pair of goggles, which made it difficult to ascertain any of his distinguishing features.

Michael waved over at me, his face mask contorting, betraying his smile. “We’re part of an informal group of folks that work to essentially pacify or exterminate those creatures just like the one you saw before you got hit over the head. Sorry about that, by the way.” James continued, clearing his throat. “But I’m not the one in charge here, that’d be Myra. You know, the lady with the big sword. It’s protocol to incapacitate witnesses, hope you understand.”

“Not really.” I replied, averting my gaze to the floor. “Listen, I have no stake in whatever this is, I have no idea what it is I’ve walked into here. If you could just, let me go right now that’d be wonderful.”

“Uh, sorry. No can do.” James answered, Myra’s still got to talk to you yet.”

Just as James was finished speaking, Myra opened the door to the room. “Is she alright?” Myra inquired, “Yeah, she’s awake.” Michael answers. I crane my neck to face the woman who’d just entered the room. “You.” I said definitively, squirming in my chair. “What do you think you’re doing tying me up like this?! Even if you are all some badass coalition of monster killers, I reserve the right to be treated with some dignity and respect!”

Myra pulled a chair over to sit in front of me, holding a dagger in her hand and offering a wide grin. “I couldn’t agree more. All these theatrics we’ve been ordered to pull, it’s definitely not my favorite part of the job. But the fact of the matter is, you just saw something that has the potential to utterly rip apart the very fabric of reality. We’ve got to be rest assured that the contagion doesn’t spread. You’re already contaminated, there’s nothing we can do about that. We have to keep you in our care from now on. Best case scenario, you can help us out. Worst case, you stay in your quarters all day and do nothing. But bottom line, you’re here now. This ship is home. Zero contact permitted with the outside world. We can’t risk the spread of the contagion.”

I furrowed my brow and attempted to kick my chair over to cause a scene. “I have family, damn it! People I care about, you’re just going to rip that away from me? They’re all I have!” I fell to the floor along with the chair, bashing my face against the concrete flooring. Pretty sure I broke my nose here, but I didn't even care particularly. The pain of the cement against my face was comparatively minimal to the pain of potentially losing my mother, father, and sister all in one fell swoop, unable to talk to the only people I ever loved. The only people I ever cared for. “What the fuck kind of contagion is this anyway? I can’t even talk to my family? What kind of bullshit is that?”

Myra seemed to think over her response for a moment but not before stepping away so that I and the chair didn't hit her on the way down, humming before replying. “You said it yourself: you don’t understand what you’ve gotten yourself into. These things spread through word of mouth, The Amalgam spreads through word of mouth. It’s been waging this war against the human consciousness since before any of us were born, and it’ll persist long after we perish. All we do now is in the interest of harm reduction.”

“Who exactly are you?” I pried, squirming around pathetically on the floor. “We don’t really have one name, our titles differ from iteration to iteration. Our constant is we weave together the fabric of reality, construct a safe haven from the monsters seeping in from The Zone.”

“The Zone?”

“Think of it as the outer limits of reality closest as feasibly possible to the absolute void and you’ve begun to conceive of a close approximation of it.” Myra answered, leaning down to pick the chair back up and place me right side up.

“You really shouldn't do that again, I think you broke your nose.” Myra wiped away the blood from my face gently but with a sigh. “Please don’t make this process any more painful than it has to be. We really don’t want to have to put you in our onboard prison.” The woman spoke sadly, as if recalling some solemn event that occured onboard.

“So basically, you’re asking me to just not make a big deal about this.” I reasoned, “Because my feelings having just been cut off from the outside world completely are just too inconvenient for you. Do I get the picture?”

“If you’re looking at it particularly uncharitably, yes. That’s pretty much exactly the picture.” Myra replied honestly, slipping the dagger back in its sheath.

I opened my mouth to protest once more, when suddenly it dawned on me. All of my life I had felt an abject lack of purpose in all that I did. I was alive, but never truly meaningfully. I’d go through the motions, do what was expected of me. But I never felt particularly attached to any of it. For once, it actually felt like something significant had finally happened to me. If I were to go back to normal after this, I knew deep down I’d be sorely disappointed in the continued mundanity after such a cataclysmic event.

Sure, I’d miss my family. But…well, would I? Would I really? Or was that just what I was told to feel if I were to ever find myself in a situation such as this? "Fine.” I finally muttered, retaining eye contact with the woman in front of me. “I want to help. When do we start?” Myra grinned once again.

“Great. But there’s a couple things we gotta establish before you dive head first into this shit. James, untie the poor woman. She’s got a lot to learn. Don’t worry, Vivian. I won’t be talking your ear off any more than I already have. We’ve found more…hands on, practical experience works wonders in these sorts of situations. It’s sure to be treacherous. But we all know you’re quite the fighter, aren’t you Vivian?”

[END OF LOG]
[AWAITING FURTHER INPUTS FROM TERMINAL A]
[RENDERING CONNECTIVE TISSUE]
[CHOOSE PATH:]

[A] BEGIN REMOTE CONTROL OF TERMINAL A
[B] OPEN NEXT LOG IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER {MichaelLog1.txt}
[C] ABANDON POST