the logbook of salamon varga

Dr. Varga’s Logbook

2008-07-[REDACTED]
I have finally arrived at my assigned laboratory. I barely know up from down, but these members of the so-called Technocratic Union assure me that I have been Enlightened to a new world of scientific discovery. The way they said it, I should properly capitalize the ‘e’ in Enlightened. I have never seen laboratory equipment so clean and state of the art before. In this laboratory they even have working cryogenic freezers! Big enough to store a human!

Even still, I have my suspicions. I believe these powers I have come to possess cannot be explained by science alone, and the man who found me after I began to manifest them agreed. He called it magic, and spoke of things known as quintessence and Avatars. Surely, he must have meant the strange looking woman I see and speak to in my dreams, but I cannot be sure. The Union seems averse to any mention of magic, however. In fact, it is curious that I did not see hide nor hair of the man in his own apartment the day before I was found.

To keep my thoughts between myself and myself only, I will be triple-encrypting these logbooks with passwords that only I am capable of accessing. As such, this will be considered my personal logbook, and as such will only be updated as frequently as I have time and privacy to do so.

2008-08-[REDACTED]
I have begun learning the techniques in surgery and biology developed by the branch of the Union known as the Progenitors. They are strangely fixated on manipulating evolution and improving the ground troops sent on missions for the Union, but their collections of study are fascinating. Just today, I watched a group of interns prod at a strange amalgamation of flesh and stitchwork. It looked curiously melted, as if it were a plastic action figure next to a stove. On another table, A group dissected a furred beast that, despite its horrifically maimed and mutated appearance, looked almost disconcertingly familiar, though I cannot place why.

As for my own progress, I have found a certain fascination with blending flesh and steel into an organic fusion. Imagine, to augment your own skin with metal, such that wounds would be that much more difficult to come to! Certain supervisors have taken an interest in my machinations, though I have not produced results yet with the Technocratic protocol. Away from prying eyes, in my own home, I have managed to produce results by sheer willwork with small samples of cancerous tissue that the Union hasn’t yet noticed I’ve taken. Cancerous tissue is ideal for such a procedure because it can be easily kept alive and does not stop growing. Perhaps the idea of ‘magic’ is onto something after all. The effects of low-level psychological conditioning have been observed within days in my fellows, but I have been all too aware of such things for reasons I cannot pinpoint.

2008-09-[REDACTED]
I have managed to disguise my use of willwork to blend flesh and steel by focusing it through the surgical implements I have been provided. Supervisors continue to be interested in my craft, claiming me the first they’ve seen to blend the two seamlessly. They claim that in time I may be invaluable to the Mobile Task Force units dedicated to addressing such threats as ‘shifter-class anomalies’ and ‘individuals powered by Lapis Phosphorum’.

However, there is a much darker undercurrent to the goings-on of the Technocratic Union. Though I did not receive any such threats upon being taken in, another young intern with promise was adopted by the Union, ordered to accept his Enlightened nature on pain of death. One man, whom I believe to be very high on the pecking order of the branch calling themselves Void Engineers, regarded this intern with disgust, and reminded him that he is here forever. No other colleague of mine so much as batted an eyelash at such a clear and blatant threat. I have begun to fear for myself and my private willwork, and as such, have added extra, paranormal levels of security to my logbooks. In the eyes of the others, I have learned to behave as expected, and keep vigilant.

2008-10-[REDACTED]
I have been provided larger samples and different sorts of metal to work with. The other scientists have observed me gold-plating still-beating hearts and covering the skin of an arm amputated by a Task Force member to be replaced by an augment in silver. That arm was attached by me to a member of MTF Omicron-2, my first true augment procedure. My fear for myself and my craft keeps growing. The intern forced under the Union’s care on pain of death was asked to see the O9 Council today. I watched the fear in his eyes as they led him off, as if he knew something I did not. I have not had the misfortune or blessing of witnessing one of the O9 Council, myself, and at first I did not think much of it.

When the intern was returned, he performed tasks as ordered as if he were nothing more than an automaton. Though I kept quiet, I could sense the radiating patterns upon him. He had been forcibly brainwashed, and somehow I knew it better than any other. Yet again, my fellows around me shrugged it off, stating that he must have had a visit with O2 about his unruly behavior. At some times, it was as if I could feel that intern watching me. I could almost feel fingers trying to pry into my head, but nothing ever came of it.

2008-12-[REDACTED]
My achievements in blending flesh and metal have extended to imbuing bone with steel threaded mesh. I have performed a number of procedures now on the Mobile Task Forces, each one ordering curiously specific metals. From Omicron-2, always silver, or more rarely gold. From Omicron-6, they expect me to acquire raw, unforged, blocky iron and manipulate it into skin. I cannot pretend to understand why, but for the protection of my mind, my self and my craft, I proceed forward in such augmentations. The eerie intern has vanished entirely, after having observed my surgeries.

Though I still pay mind to the danger I may well be in for my observations, I cannot complain at the pay. I have been able to afford, along with a life’s savings that may well serve no use provided my death by the hands of my associates, a significantly sized property in central Missouri. It is there that I plan to use my salary to construct a laboratory with which I may practice experimental, mystical techniques away from the prying eyes of the Technocratic Union. I have come to use an assumed identity for such purposes, to cover my trails and point their eyes in another direction. I have witnessed the mystical technique of enchanting doors from a young man I observed in a curio store, and intend to learn it in order to easily go between the laboratories of the Union and my own private property.

2009-03-[REDACTED]
It has been busy. For the most part, I have split my attention between procedures, demonstrating my techniques to those higher-up on the food chain, and overseeing the construction of my private laboratory under my assumed identity. More and more, I see the sinister undercurrents of the Union, but more and more I find myself resilient to their techniques of conditioning. I have noticed the undercurrents of aether in the air, and I have noticed how they seem to subtly penetrate the consciousnesses of my colleagues.

Today I witnessed some members of Omicron-4 return from a mission having taken captive a tired-looking old man. By no rights did he look anything but harmless, yet the Task Force called him a ‘Reality Deviant’. Such is a term I have heard thrown around often in my work for the Task Forces, but I had yet to see one until today. I would not have believed it until the minute the old man took one final stand and blew one of the young ones I had worked on personally, one who now force marched this man forward with a glorified cattle prod, to smithereens with a fireball straight from a high fantasy novel. He was blown to bits by gunfire and weaponry produced by Iteration X within seconds.

In that moment I wondered what, exactly, separated those who call themselves Enlightened from that man. Do we merely disguise our wonder works as a harsh web of science? Is it the Technocratic Union who so rigidly defines reality that I’ve heard whispers of others who willwork in front of those who don’t know and have been blown up by reality biting back? I believe so, and what I have been able to achieve independently supports such a thing. I have learned how to transport myself anywhere through the use of a doorway. I have imbued my own powers and will into those cancerous samples I took so long ago, made tiny, living beings out of them that aid me in my private work.

They took the man’s bloody corpse and gave it to me to experiment with. I do not believe I will be sleeping for the next few weeks.

2009-05-[REDACTED]
So impressed have my supervisors become at my work, despite my relatively short time with the Progenitors, that I have been asked to present my developments to the member of the O9 Council responsible for overseeing our branch. My audience will be none other than O3, a man named Ballas Green. I dread my fate presented with the Council after seeing that intern disappear and return totally reprogrammed. What I plan to demonstrate, to save my own hide, is my recent secret work of imbuing my own power into the steely flesh I’ve developed. I plan to yet again disguise my willwork with further biological augments, using circuits and servos as a sort of magical core from which the sample creature may pull its power. My meeting is scheduled for next week. I pray I leave with my mind intact.

Construction on my private laboratory is going well. I notice more than any other space, as I wander the grounds away from my laboratory, my magic seems stronger, more radiant. As if I were nearby a wellspring. I have heard my fellows call them ‘nodes’, and mention that they are much sought after founts of energy to be used for scientific purposes, should they be pried away from the Reality Deviants who otherwise protect them. I’ve heard whispers of mystics who use them as magical founts, and that many are guarded jealously by ‘fleabitten furbeasts’, whatever that may mean. Whatever the case, being in such a place feels familiar, as if a faded childhood memory is trying to drag its way to the surface. Whatever this strange feeling may be, I know now that my property must be protected, and searched for the source of the wellspring.

2009-06-[REDACTED]
Today, I presented my work to Ballas Green, or Councilman O3. To my relief, he seemed intrigued and impressed by my developments, and informed me that he may have big plans for me in the future. Perhaps the higher up on the food chain I am, the more likely it is that I’ll one day be able to worm my way out of this mess I’ve been dragged into. For now, I can only play along, and keep pulling the metaphorical wool over their eyes.

What a strange man, he was. Biologically altered to the point where he could barely be called human. With dark gray skin and blank, pupil-less eyes, his form unnerved even me. One arm was much longer, and one hand much larger, than the other, and I could not wrap my head around why that may be. In his words, he strived for the perfection of the human form, and often enacted experiments upon himself to accomplish it. In the back of my mind, I simply could not understand what about his current appearance was ‘perfect’. The way he spoke was very charismatic, but it dripped with sinister, poisonous ichor that sent a certain chill up my spine. Even still, I found myself relieved that I did not have that dreaded ‘visit with O2’ anywhere in my future.

Today, I had my first brush with the effect known as Paradox. When performing an experiment, one of the workers building my living space walked in, and the fusion of flesh and steel that had been aiding me exploded violently. Once the worker was gone, I took the opportunity to learn how to knit wounds shut again. I have been taught the importance of secrecy even more so than my time in the Union has instilled in me.

2009-07-[REDACTED]
One year ago today, I was first assigned my laboratory in the Technocratic Union. Today, on my anniversary, I am being reassigned to a new lab, resplendent with projects kept more under wraps, in the facilities of the Progenitors. I’ve come to quite resent that name. It is as if they fancy themselves the overall facilitators of evolution. I know that not to be true. I have never been a religious man, but I harbor faint childhood memories of my mother, who spoke often of an earth goddess who created all life and whose essence was the universe. I have very few memories of her, but they have stuck with me nonetheless. Were I a more religious man, perhaps I would say that that goddess were the one to whom evolution truly belonged.

On the home front, I have begun exploring my grounds on the workers’ day off. The further into the wilds of the Ozarks I venture, the more powerful that familiar feeling becomes. Those few memories of my mother come to mind stronger than they ever have, as I seek the source of the wellspring. I remember being carried around on hikes through woods just like this, while she would sing to me stories of the spirits and songs of the wild. When I’m back in those thickets, I grow to resent the aloofness my father would speak about her with.

Perhaps these private logbooks have become something of a personal diary for me. I have added another layer of security, one year later.

2009-08-[REDACTED]
Today was my first day in the new lab. Though some of the earlier projects were quite vulgar, such as the mutated furbeast and the melted pile of flesh and stitches I witnessed on my first day, the experiments taking place in this lab raise the hairs on the back of my neck. Today I saw before me fluid-filled tubes of bare, naked human clones. Each one the same, to the degree that they were beginning to experience the effects of genetic degradation. They were described to me as shock troops for the disposal of Reality Deviants by the man in charge of the labs, and I was expected to augment them as I previously had with Task Force members. But, despite the blatant murder of that old man that I witnessed, at least the Task Force members were human, with lives and families that they had reason to protect.

Not that that was the only murder I witnessed. Merely the first. I’ve learned of the existence of vampires through trying not to blink at these atrocities. Fanged men, pale as a corpse with no body heat, who nevertheless pleaded for their lives. Some were fed to a beast contained by the Void Engineers. Others rended to dust on the spot. They were not nearly as gorey, perhaps thankfully, else they might have been my problem. I would hear animal-like howls outside the labs as I worked, that ate at my mind, not that I could let it show. That these tube-men are to be used as shock troops for murder feels heinous to me.

2009-11-[REDACTED]
My time in the lab of the tube-men was short, but it is mercifully over. Perhaps it would not have been as bad as it was if the chief of the laboratory did not refer to them as his children. Anyone who disagreed was referred to as a lizard and disregarded. On the one hand, I question why this insane man hasn’t had a visit with O2, but at the same time, I know exactly why. His dedication is borderline fanatical. Working in that lab was oppressive and wrong. I was overworked for my pay grade, but at this time, I know better than to question my superiors.

I am being moved upward, to more secretive projects. I am told that in the future, I will be contacted personally by Ballas Green, but in the mean time I am being placed back in my old, familiar lab. The old sights have never been more wonderful. I dread what those new projects might be, however. My experience has told me that they will not be good ones. In the meantime, my private laboratory and home are nearly finished, and the search continues for the wellspring on the property.

2010-01-[REDACTED]
I have located the source of the wellspring.

My property spans several miles. It is truly an astounding amount of land, and rather unsurprising just how long it took me to locate the node. I have gotten more exercise in trying to find it than I have in a whole five years prior. Deep within the earth, through a wide-open cave, the node rests on an untouched island in the middle of an underground lake. Such is the nature of it that it is covered in luminescent moss and algae, and littered with an abundance of plants that have adapted to the light given off by it. Here, it felt as if I could reach through the air and touch the spirits beyond the veil, just as my mother spoke of.

As I stood there, in awe, I knew that this place must be protected above all else from anything that would prey upon it. From others like me, and certainly from the Union. It fills me with a certain dread to imagine this wondrous place turned into a cold, steely laboratory, even though I find myself thriving in such places. The experience of seeking this node has brought back more hazy memories than I thought I ever had. How curious.

2010-02-[REDACTED]
Ballas Green has contacted me. My unique talents are requested for a personal pet project of the O9 Council. I cannot pinpoint why, but the very prospect fills me with dread. They believe I am nothing more than one of the other Union drones, but I know better. I have begun strengthening my willwork in the matters of the mind, that I might shield my private thoughts from their prying eyes. The better to keep up my facade with.

Today, I witnessed one of my augments slaughter one of the fae-touched. When I saw that being, no more than a confused child, I began to recall a friend I had in childhood. Now that it comes back to mind, it occurs to me that I haven’t thought about him in years, and I never questioned where he disappeared to. He, too, was fae-touched, and wished me to know it as his closest friend. I worry now that there may be more to these suddenly recurring memories, but I have been chalking it up to my own absent-mindedness. Nevertheless, I will remain vigilant as I always have, and closely monitor the goings on of my mind from here out.

2010-03-[REDACTED]
I was given my own, private lab within the facilities and asked to call it my own, for this would be my home now. There are a number of man-sized cryo-pods throughout the room. I pray that this project of theirs doesn’t have anything more to do with the tube-men I was forced to develop for those three months. Dr. Regor is a deranged, unwell man and I want nothing to do with him. I complied to my orders like an obedient drone, and was left alone by Ballas Green to set up my supplies and my station.

The very first thing I chose to do was to set up a door, as I had in what was previously my apartment. If I am to live here, I must have an escape route. I have moved the contents of my apartment to the home on my property, and rerouted my portal to lead directly there from the lab. I have enchanted this portal only to react to my voice, my fingerprints, and my threads of DNA. The first two are easily forged, the latter very very hard. I believe they wish to keep me in observation for their little pet project, so I have also set up mental alarms that alert me as to when they might be approaching. I have set up my portal in the back of a walk-in supply closet, so in the event I am caught I may pass off my privacy as fetching supplies.

2010-03-[REDACTED]
I know now why the rumored ‘visit with O2’ fills me with such dread. Ataxia Blue was brought to my laboratory by Ballas Green, and I still yet do not know what properly she looks like. The whole while, I felt fingers in my mind, as three wildly different individuals who spoke in the same voice investigated my laboratory. I put everything I had into the shielding I had learned, and it seemed to be enough to deflect her gaze. One of those individuals was none other than the intern I witnessed a year ago. I have now fully learned the capabilities of Ataxia Blue. She requests unruly interns, and she reprograms them. Or worse, mind-wipes them completely, and transfers her consciousness into any number of them. It is a terrifying sight to behold. It is unsurprising to me to think that her power is the source of the low-level conditioning magic permeating the laboratories.

I have been informed that, in particular, this is her pet project. A special method of elimination for those Reality Deviants who show what she calls ‘promise’. A next step in the development of soldiers that can eliminate supernatural threats, for the ‘glory of the New World Order’. This, perhaps, may be worse than even the tube-men of Dr. Regor’s design. I believe I am living every conspiracy theorist’s nightmare – I have been enlisted by the true Illuminati, and the cost for not complying is my own life and mind.

2010-04-[REDACTED]
I remember.

Today, I was brought my first subject. A wild and savage-looking beast of dark fur, matted from battle and blood, and of stocky stature, held hostage in silver at the hands of Omicron-2.

In that moment, memory flooded my head. I could feel the binds walling it off finally break. This creature was called Garou, a warrior of Gaia, the World Mother. My mother was Garou. She was a wolf of the gibbous moon, a Galliard of the tribe who called themselves the Children of Gaia. I remember witnessing the spirits, and I remember the area around those woods. I remember a father who was not obsessed with biology, who walked with her bringing life to the forest around him. I now fully remember my friend, the fae-touched. He was taken by unknowable beings and adopted by the tribe known as Fianna. I remember.

I remember the day my father changed, the day my mother disappeared, the day my friend vanished. I remember a battle in which I was stolen away and taken to cold city streets. I remember a further lifetime of being fostered in the knowledge of the sciences. I remember my memories slowly slipping every time my father would look at me, until I no longer remembered them. I remember.

For the first time I projected my magic of the mind into the head of this Garou. I saw the images flashing in his head of litters of pups, of a young cub who was supposed to have his rite of passage tomorrow. I learned the man’s name, Walker-of-Umbra. I felt the same disappointment he felt at the one holding his binds to the left. In his head, I read that this member of Omicron-2 was his son. A kinfolk. I saw a glint of silver beneath the arm of the boy’s uniform. This was the first one I had performed my procedures on. I remember the wonder in his eyes as I infused his flesh with hundred-percent silver. I remember giving him the weapon with which this was possible. I remember.

He assured his father it would be alright. He told the beaten and broken Garou on the ground before me that ‘Dr. Varga would make it okay. Dr. Varga could make him not a Reality Deviant anymore’. Then, shortly afterward, Ataxia Blue entered the room, in yet another of her many forms. The platoon from Omicron-2 seemed to know by their very programming, and saluted her. She forced the Garou to rise despite his own pain, looking me in the eyes as if she knew. In his eyes, I saw the recognition of scent from me. He knew. Behind Ataxia Blue was Ballas Green, who smiled that eerie, knowing smile that I have grown to hate. The Garou asked them not to kill his sons, to let them live. Ataxia Blue and Ballas Green exchanged haunting smiles, and assured him that they would not.

Shortly before the glint in his eyes changed, Ballas Green simply said that he would. The boy to his left was rended into paste, his arm cleanly severed. The Garou realized what he was forced to do. It was the last thing he knew before I watched Ataxia Blue completely remove the man’s consciousness. Every memory, every thought, systematically destroyed, leaving only that final imprint. He was rended unconscious from such a complete wipe of the mind, released from his bonds, and handed to me. Ataxia Blue asked the remaining troops and myself if anybody else had anything like that boy did to hide. To save ourselves, we all answered no.

Dear mother, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me for this?

2010-05-[REDACTED]
I have come to name this first project Umbra, after the realm of spirits, and after the deed name of this man. He has become the first subject in Codename Project Conflict Architecture. Infusing flesh with steel has proven more difficult in this subject than any before, as if the Gnosis within him rejects this very notion. Curiously, infusing his flesh with my power proves easier than previously considered. Arete and Gnosis blend as if they were two halves of the same soul. I have been allowed to choose my own interns for this project. I chose those with something to hide, that we may all suffer this heinous crime and perhaps be safe together.

Umbra has been kept asleep, laced with drugs in a cryo-pod. Looking at what I’ve done to him fills me with disgust. I have turned this man from a warrior into an affront. My only solace now is this log. I cannot go to my own node- no… to my caern. Gaia will witness me, and her wrath will fall on me, for this place is held by Weaver and Wyrm and I am no longer fit to call myself her Child. I must work to correct this, as subtly as I can. I must find a way to restore these minds. I must find a way to grow my own people, as the tube-men, and replace these victims. I have been provided specialized bolts infused with patterns of Mind, that I have been instructed to install on these victims. They intend to transform these people into automatons, perfect warriors for the glory of the Union.

I can feel my own mind breaking. My memories conflict with my deeds.

2010-07-[REDACTED]
Umbra was awakened today, on the anniversary of my two years in this hell. Already, something was terribly wrong. One of my interns lost an arm and his heart. Another’s leg was rended effortlessly. The Rage sleeping within Umbra became apparent as I scanned his mind for any activity aside baser instinct. I found that one memory, of killing his own son, playing on repeat. So it goes that he relives that experience, his every waking moment. It is all he knows anymore. I myself suffered marks across my face. I left them there. I deserve that pain.

All interns were reassembled swiftly, and Umbra was put back under after the overseers were summoned. Umbra was declared a failure from his own Rage, and I was given him to do as I will with. He will be in that pod, asleep, indefinitely, and covered so I no longer have to look at him.

I can feel Gaia watching. I can feel my mother with her. They are judging.

Don’t be foolish, such notions don’t exist. You never had a mother. You are Progenitor.

Please, mother. I’m sorry.

2010-10-[REDACTED]
I have been presented a new subject. A woman. A master of Forces who is fascinated by magnets. Again, her mind was wiped clean in front of me. This time, to complete emptiness. Ataxia Blue and Ballas Green keep looking me in the eye as I work on these monstrosities. They know. They’re trying to keep me in line. How much do they know? How much have they breached my barriers? I have codenamed this one Mag. Her love of magnetism, as well as her name. She was named Magali.

Subject’s innate powers render the need for forced scientific application unnecessary. Such Reality Deviant nonsense must be corrected. I am Progenitor. The subject is my lifeblood. I have opened the skin and infused bone with magnetic iron. I have imbued the viscera with magnetite. The skin is cobalt and stainless steel. I have attached the Transfer Bolt to the back of the brain stem. This one will be a success. Codename Umbra was far more wild. Disgusting.

I have made efforts to keep my interns from suffering the conditioning magics permeating this place. I must. If they are aware, Ataxia Blue will not get them.

O2 will be pleased with this one.

2010-12-[REDACTED]
Codename Mag has been declared a success. I have pleased the O9 Council. I will please the O9 Council further.

Every time I return to my private lab I feel the judging eyes of Gaia. I must fix this. Building a human from scratch is far more difficult than could ever be imagined. She knows. The spirits know. I deserve my pain.

2011-02-[REDACTED]
I have been given two subjects. A specialist of raw levinbolts and a vampire specialized in stealth, who was once a proud Nordic man. I have codenamed them Volt and Loki. I didn’t even get a chance to get their names before they were wiped. The O9 Council certainly knows. I must keep in line.

I have changed the cells of Codename Loki to blend with its surroundings. I have granted it the power to craft illusory decoys. It is possessed with swiftness such to disarm any Reality Deviant. It has been removed of its weakness to sunlight through its metal shielding. I have invested the most advanced techniques to revive the cells and what organs were there to life. I have gifted Codename Volt with the electrical organs of the electric eel, and supplanted conductive metals into its skin. With each change, the Progenitor grows closer to perfection. The Council must be pleased.

I keep blacking out. I wake up mid procedure. I question that it may be a defense mechanism. I’m sorry Gaia. I’m trying to fix it. Please.

2011-05-[REDACTED]
A terrifyingly large vampire and a pair of twins, fire and ice. The vampire went by Rhino, but I was unable to get the names of the twins. I have dubbed them Ember and Frost. Two mirroring names for two mirrors. Boy and girl. Fire and ice. I have listened to my previous logs. I don’t remember saying these horrible things. I must spend time in private evaluating my psyche. Doing everything I can to maintain control. Have I truly shattered so far? I can only be thankful I have become aware of my own fugue. Logs will be kept short. I cannot let that man that I am becoming take over my thoughts any further.

2011-07-[REDACTED]
Three years. All experiments considered successes so far. Still cannot look at covered cryo-pod. I feel the sting of the wounds on my face. I have not let them heal. Ballas Green speaks of perfection. Of making me like him. I don’t know what I have said to him in my blackouts.

2012-07-[REDACTED]
Four years. Struggling with my own consciousness too much to report. Today I remembered this logbook exists. In the year since, I have completed another five of these monstrosities. I intend to record the names and creeds of the victims.
A strange, three-eyed vampire, a follower of the Bible. I named her Trinity.
A Japanese man, a Kinfolk purvey to the ancient secrets of ninja clans. I called him Ash.
A physicist of Iteration X who worked with antimatter and volunteered herself. Her memories, her life, was locked away in a hard drive. Preserved where the others weren’t. Morally, I was able to set aside my hate of this project for Nova. She is the shining light of what this could have been.
A fae-touched man who resembled a goat, who only wished to heal his kind from what was done to them. I have named him Oberon, after the King of the Fairies in Shakespeare, for he had forgotten his own name.
A vampire who strangely resembled a serpent, who regretted everything about herself. She was named Saryn, for reasons unbeknownst to me, so I will call her that. She wished her powers to resemble not corruption, but the poisons of nature. This, at least, is one last wish I can grant her.

More curiously, two things. A number of my interns have vanished in my fugue, and others whisper about a Kickstarter for a new-fangled video game that strangely resembles Project Conflict Architecture. They have called it War Frame. Simple, a mutation of the project. It is well-funded so far. I plan to use this Kickstarter as a cover for these escaped interns. In addition, I have not seen Ataxia Blue in a time, and this is the clearest my head has been since then. I expect her attention is directed toward this Kickstarter.

2012-11-[REDACTED]
Three more have been completed, though I am surprised they gave me another shifter after the failure that was Umbra. This one, a Bastet, fought until the very end. Though she possesses no memory now, Valkyr’s rage lives on enough that I need not meddle with her sheer anger. When she was awoken, she too struggled, but not to the degree that Umbra did. I was ordered to ‘finish her’ by what appears to be a subordinate of Ballas Green rather than anyone carrying the Mind magic of Ataxia Blue. I haven’t felt her again since these were delivered to me. I wonder if she is still busy investigating the War Frame conundrum. The Kickstarter hasn’t yet been wiped from the face of the internet, so I wonder if my alibis have worked.

The others are a Mind mage overpowered, who I have named Nyx, for her mind was wiped in a battle with Ataxia Blue and I could not read her name, and a man with a strong affinity to water. He was a member of the Tradition known as the Sons of Ether, fascinated with hydroelectricity. He had already replaced parts of himself with metal, and he called himself Hydroid.

The other interns whisper of a conflict within the O9 Council, of the execution of the master of Dimensional Science… no. Spirit. The master of Spirit found Gaia again, and suffered for it. She was a woman named Margulis Violet, who smelled faintly of lotus blossoms even in death, and I was delivered her remains this morning. A cold read upon Ballas Green revealed the perverse delight he took in executing her personally. What a beautiful woman, she was. I was ordered to take time off from Project Conflict Architecture to craft her completely into a new being, with parts provided by Iteration X.

2013-03-[REDACTED]
Today, the War Frame game released. It is a shaky start, there are reviewers saying it will fail according to my remaining interns. I have no doubt that this is the result of Technocratic meddling. I wish those escapees all the luck in the world. I wish for their success, I hope Gaia will listen to a sinner like me. It has accordingly launched with the first beings created in this lab as playable.

My head is still mercifully clear with the absence of Ataxia Blue, but the feeling of disgust in the pit of my gut remains after hearing into the head of Ballas Green. Margulis Violet did not deserve to die. A new candidate of the Void Engineers is being chosen for the O9 Council. I suspect they will be neither as beautiful nor as repentant as Margulis Violet was, from everything I have read.

2013-05-[REDACTED]
I was presented more subjects by Ataxia Blue today. She has returned, and so has my instability in the face of more heinous affronts to Gaia. I woke elbow deep in the guts of a barely-sustaining Void Engineer who volunteered for the project after wandering too far into the Umbra and encountering Garou. Vauban’s memories are stored just like Nova’s were. In cryo-pods nearby were a woman who the interns were still in the process of stripping the identifying information from. Her name was Zephyr, so that is what she will be called. Another woman was clearly blind in life, brought in later than the other two. Yet again, Ataxia wiped her in front of me, looking me dead in the eyes. Her mind was awash with music, and she nearly deafened an intern with an attack based in her voice. I called her Banshee, as that’s what she called herself.

Operative Vauban needs no augmentation. Operative Vauban created devices on the spot, so he will continue to do. So is the way of Perfection. These other two though, no no no. I must make them Compleat. This one with failed eyes must be revived with cutting edge science. I have grafted the sensibilities of a bat to her. Perfection compensates for the failings of the flawed flesh. This woman will fly, because Perfection demands it. Because the Prognitor demands it. They are my children. I am Progenitor. Hollow bones, lighter-than-air metal. Yes. Compleat.

I rapidly approach five years of this hell. Locked away in an impenetrable fortress of conspiracies. Please, Gaia. Please, mother. Save my Wyrm-touched soul.

The Council must be pleased.

2013-07-[REDACTED]
Five years.

All will be Compleat.

All I want is to die with my dignity.

2013-12-[REDACTED]
Ballas Green grooms me again. He speaks of turning Margulis Violet into the perfect observation drone. Calls me his pet. I don’t know what I’m saying in my fugues. Months since the last few projects. Wonder if Ataxia Blue grows more discerning. Game still going strong. Still no failure.

2014-04-[REDACTED]
Margulis Project proving difficult. I cannot implement these parts and allow her her former, humanoid form. At this point, I may well have to scrap her up to the torso. The game has picked up steam despite what I suspect to be Technocratic efforts to kill it. I am proud of those interns. I’m proud that someone in this lab continues to feed them the documents. When I am within my own lab, my private property, I am wholly within my own mind. The instability gets worse when Ataxia Blue approaches me. I black out, over and over. It is terrifying to be wholly aware that someone is trying to reprogram you.

The Council is not pleased with the reprogramming of this infidel. I will make you Perfect, my sweet.

2014-07-[REDACTED]
Six.

2014-09-[REDACTED]
Skilled illusionist. Street performer. Performer name Mirage.
A necromancer vampire. Not as Italian as the ones I’ve seen murdered. Named Nekros, for lack of another name.
A Spirit mage like Margulis. Tried to avoid this by escaping past the Gauntlet. Mind-wiped before he could escape. Named Limbo.

All made Perfect.

Heinous.

Compleat.

2015-06-[REDACTED]
Margulis Project finally gaining traction. I don’t remember what I’ve done to her. I don’t remember. She has been warped. Altered. Strange, alien machine with human skin.
A sharpshooter from Iteration X named Mesa. Volunteer.
A fae-touched that resembled a dragon of many colors. Named Chroma for no memory of a name.

This Reality Deviant is particularly disgusting. Remove its skin. Remove it. Make it autonomous. Nothing more than a mockery. Yes.

2015-07-[REDACTED]
Seven.

2015-11-[REDACTED]
I am proud of my interns. They have succeeded. They have overcome the Technocratic Union and told the world about these beings with plausible deniability.
This victim was two beings in one body. One spirit, one human. They were merged into one when they were wiped. I have named them Equinox.
Two were Chinese immigrants. Captured. A Mage and her brother, both skilled in martial arts. I have named them Wukong and Nezha, after the mythology of China.

Don’t these naughty spirits understand that they should not exist? Being forced into a human should be suitable punishment. And these, they were probably illegals anyway.

Kill me. Save me. Please.

2016-03-[REDACTED]
There are murmurs coming from our branch in Seattle. The FBI’s paranormal unit has been looking into strange happenings. Please, someone, save those poor souls.
It’s the anniversary of the game. I never stop being proud.
Ataxia Blue has not broken me yet. I worry. I woke up this morning with one arm far longer than another, the mark of Ballas Green. What have I been saying to him?

My Perfection has been removed. Where is it? I was getting Closer.

An Egyptian man, risen from the dead. This one modeled after the game. In honor of them. Inaros, they called him.
Today, the Margulis Project was completed. Today, she was turned on. A simple drone. An observer.

2016-06-[REDACTED]
They call the Margulis Projct Lotus. It is an abbreviation, but it suits her. I have seen her observe us, observe around the labs, and even be sent out to observe normal humans. I have noticed her acting strangely. Curious.

Yes. She is Perfect. She watches me, she watches us all. C o m p l e a t.

2016-06-[REDACTED]
Lotus has gone missing. Godspeed to her.

My Perfection. MY PERFECTION. Where is she?!

2016-07-[REDACTED]
Eight.
I keep having to reverse things done to myself. I am still myself, all except for the split personality Ataxia has imposed upon me.
More murmurs from Seattle. Nothing truly important. They have detected the presence of two immensely powerful master mages. They don’t know what to make of them.
A truly masterful archer and huntress. Ivara.

Every subject, crafted with care, my Children. My perfect Children. They will surely seek out my Sweet Perfection. My Lotus.

2017-03-[REDACTED]
Four years. They are one of the most popular games out there.
Seattle has come to a head. O1 has had her attention attracted to a little whelp as the city is in a major upheaval. It was perhaps the first time I have ever seen Imogen White. She looks unnatural. Like Ballas Green does. White hair, metallic copper skin. Strange.
I’ve seen the whelp on her tours. Military. Easily brainwashed. A shoe-in for the Void Engineers. Ballas Green would not want her. I will not have to deal with her. Her mind is filled with the thoughts of her family, all supernatural. An innocent werewolf. A vampire of the fleshbending sort who has seen too much, and her Imbued mother. A woman tailed by a spirit who has already been murdered once. This whelp has not learned to fear Ataxia Blue, and given her fascination, she may not have to, not at first.

Whelp is not Perfect. I can fix that. If she’ll let me. I must have another. I must fill the Void.

A bulky man, made of the clay of the earth. Atlas.
Another fae-touched. Light as air. Titania.

2017-07-[REDACTED]
Nine.
I have lost hope of escape. Gaia is right to punish me. Two of Her warriors now. I still cannot look at Umbra. Valkyr is a struggle. Sometimes I hallucinate the spirits whispering to me. I saw a dream. A dream of a vast dragon waking up. Strange.
One of my interns volunteered today. He couldn’t take anymore. Anthony Nidus became a being of disease like the one he was modeled after.

2017-09-[REDACTED]
They are sending agents out to Seattle. There are reports that Lotus has been sighted there. They are interested in the constant upheavals. Gaia have mercy on their souls.

P e r f e c t i o n

This one was a singer named Octavia.

2018-01-[REDACTED]
An autistic boy who manifested the powers of the Imbued and ended up surrounded by a cult. They believed him possessed. He was brought to me. His name was Rell. I have dubbed him Harrow. It was his last request.
I’m so tired. I’m considering dropping the facade.

2018-03-[REDACTED]
Five years they’ve been on the run.
A glass worker this time. Gara.

I can’t take this anymore.

2018-07-[REDACTED]
Ten. Ten years in this hell. Ataxia Blue has been torturing me for eight of them. I know it’s you. And I’m done. Today, you brought me a teenage girl. Today, Omicron-4 and yourself were alerted to a security breach before you could wipe the mind of yet another child. Today, you didn’t have time to overtake the Frames of War before the siege began.

Today, I swear I saw Gaia herself pass this damned lab door.

With Ataxia Blue’s distraction, my mind is clear again for the first time since the War Frame snafu. Today, I once again remember who I am, amid a hail of gunfire and the roars of all manner of creatures. Today, a pack of Garou entered my laboratory and helped me barricade it against Omicron-2. This is my way out. Finally.

I have ushered the child to my private home and told her to hide. The three men who found me are bringing the cryopods through my door, for I cannot let these people die a death of abandonment. Their immortal souls deserve to know that I have hated what I’ve done.

The most fiery wolf child I’ve ever seen called the dragon I saw in my dreams through the Gauntlet to wreak havok. She effortlessly took possession of one of the Frames of War, Mirage, and seemed to comprehend immediately how to use it and activate her powers, and she pursued Ballas Green relentlessly down a hallway as he ran screaming from his and Ataxia Blue’s own brain child.

Perhaps, if I really did see Her, She has taken mercy on me after so long.

I am clear-minded.

I am renewed of hope.

I am Free.