#journal logs

[captain--midnight]

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" ... I also think I have dementia. "

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[novaearts]

You pick up the notebook, and flip through the pages. Reading through one specific expedition, there’s a gap in the entries, a few pages blank or torn out… One isn’t written, but seems to be a visual depiction of a previously mentioned entity, along with drawings of unfamiliar script carved into a wall. A small note says “They seem related” at the bottom of the page.

[synaptic-habit]

Journal Logs.

March 3rd. 19--

My name is Dr. Logan Shrike. And this is my journal. The committee board wanted doctors and psychiatrists like me from this specific sanatorium to write about their experiences here. 'to tell this building's history' they said. Well, to start it off. A few days ago, i was assigned to help a woman by the name of Zoe Parker. Who've was assigned to this facility because her family complained of her having night terrors about a shadow girl who taunted, abused, manipulated, and did horrible things to her. Some I won't write here. Of course, her family didn't believe her. But then one night, she killed their dog with a straight razor across it's neck. Because the 'Demon' she called made her do it.

When I arrived in her room, she was looking out a window petting a doll of a orange cat. She said she wanted to go home, but i said to her that she has to be cured first. We talked, and I interviewed her. But it turned from an interview to telling stories about eachother. Her laugh was nice. It wasn't like many laughs i've heard before. Hers sounded soft and adorable. But at the same time, loud and happy. Like a kitten's mewls and meows. She talked about her mother, and i talked about my mother. We have so much in common. But of course, with thoughts like these, to a woman like her. I have sinned against my lord and savior. I will pray for forgiveness tonight before going to bed. As of writing this; I am preparing to go home to my wife. Only one thing i am afraid of however. Zoe said that the grandfather clock by her room hurts her ears. I'll see what i can do to remove it.

Oh. It's time for everyone to leave. I'll keep updating this journal as long as I can. Goodnight.

March 18th 19--

I can't believe this. They experimented on the poor girl! Behind my bloody back. They tortured her, that wasn't even called experimenting if you want to say that! They gave her ears and a tail of a cat. They called her names! They mocked her! And they just, sewed it on her head and rear end! And did so many unspeakable acts to her, that i wish I never arrived here. Or saw it in the first place. This, place. This asylum. This is abuse, this isn't curing. This is hell.

Her eyes. When they returned her to her room, they didn't look alive anymore. Just dead. They ripped this poor girl's sanity out for god's sake! How is this curing? This is no more than just violence and abuse and murder! I'm going to talk with the head doctor of this sanatorium. And give him a piece of my mind! And i swear! They will hear my voice!

March 27th 19--

She isn't responding to any doctor anymore. Everytime the clock strikes twelve, we have to sedate her. A few nights ago she slashed a nurse's chest, and slashed her own wrist open because of those constant chimes from the clock. She almost died, but doctors patched her up. We're having it removed. The only doctor she ever wants to see is me. But I must confess. Ever since I met her, her presence had filled my mind with so many sinful thoughts. I am sure I am going to be banished into the fire of Hell for it. I regret it. Hence why i.

Can't visit her. I just can't. I am a married holy man, and all of these sinful thoughts for this one girl, will surely send me to the devil's door. Next Sunday I will confess to my priest. Hoping for forgiveness. That is all for today, I can't stay for long. They're going to give her therapy again. I need evidence to show the committee board that patients do not deserve this type of abuse and violence.

April 4th. 19--

As of writing in this journal. She escaped. And released every patient there was. Most nurses and doctors are dead. I'm hiding. This will most likely be my final log in this. Hell. In this journal. I must confess.

I was apart of those unspeakable acts towards her. Towards this poor innocent girl. Her eyes, her hellfire like eyes and the other doctors persuaded me to do so. She never saw my face. I was wearing a toy mask of a lamb whilst I.

Oh lord. Forgive me for thy sins. Forgive me for I have sinned in your holy name. And I beg for your forgiveness as you sit with the right hand of the father. I beg of you! I beg of you! Have mercy on every person in this abominations of hell! And please have mercy on my soul. Please. Please.

There's someone knocking at my office door. I must know if it's a doctor or a patient.

I see a smile. A twisted grin and ears of a cat at my door window.

She's here. It's her I'm hiding under my desk. She's here she found have mercy please zoe have mercy

she has a knife.

she found m

[jeff-the-killer]

Journal Entry #2:

Elbow to the head, hook to the ribs. He staggers. Finish off the combo with a well-aimed strong cross. The visor of his helmet cracks and he’s sent reeling against the wall behind him. Add a finishing touch: Before he can recover, I reach for my holster, raise my revolver and aim for the head. It’s pretty much muscle memory at this point. The visor explodes in a shower of polycarbonate and gore and the agent’s body slides against the wall, painting it with a trail of red as it goes down.

I keep my gun trained on him for a moment, just to ensure he’s not getting back up again, before finally allowing myself to relax. I slumped over, leaning on my knees and trying to catch up with my own breath. I didn’t fuck with humans much anymore -- they were far from the challenge they used to be. But SCP Killsquads? Those guys were always a good workout: Strength, ability and determination, all complimented by equipment to match. But not even the best armor in the world can take a close-range shot from Cassius.

Cassius is a bit of an interesting story. Definitively one of the most unique weapons in my kit. I got it as a gift from a tinkerer with a penchant for tense situations and a passion for seeing shit get fucked up, right before a raid to try and change the course of Ghroth away from earth.  

She didn’t let on much about it’s origins, but my best theory is that it’s some sort of re-engineered form of the 500 Linebaugh, with a 4-chamber cylinder designed to take high-powered, custom-made rounds. Damn thing never disappoints: It can shoot straight through an inch-thick steel plate and still kill anyone sitting on the other side. It got me through the raid that day and it’s helped me out of a lot of sticky situations since. These guys certainly didn’t seem to see it coming.

A groan from behind me. Right, I left one alive... kind of. Turning my back on the bloody mess I’d made of my last victim, I shifted my attention to the vaguely-man-shaped pile of bones and flesh on the ground across from me.

“Alright buddy,” I squatted by him, looking into the tinted visor and hoping I was getting where his eyes were right. I would’ve removed the helmet, but I was afraid his head would come off too. 

“Seems like you and your pals underestimated me a bit here. Now, I was supposed to meet up with one of my peeps to sell them this,” I motioned at the coat I had wrapped around my waist. “But instead of finding him, I found you. Where is he?”

He seemed to struggle for a minute, groaning slightly as if talking hurt him, but eventually he managed to utter: “Fuck you.”

I let out a sigh. The SCP really did train these guys, didn’t they?

“Wrong answer,” I muttered before slowly driving two into my fingers into the open wound on what remained of his right arm, where I had snapped the humerus in half. They sunk into his flesh with a nice little ‘squish’ sound, accompanied of course by his wails of pain as he threw every curse in the English language at me. With each word, I drove my hand in deeper.

“Now, let’s make this clear,” I said, twirling my fingers around inside him -- much to his dismay. “You are going to die now. Whether I kill you now or I make you suffer for a little bit is really a matter of how quickly you give me what I want. Now tell me, what happened to Joey?”

He tried to hide his moans of pain through gritted teeth and I heard him cough, chocking on what I can only assume was his own blood. I waited patiently. “H-he’s... he’s with us. He was a plant,” he let out a gurgled laugh, which led to him chocking on his own blood again. Once he was done coughing, he continued. “We played you, you lizardy fuck.”

I found that information a little bit surprising. Joey? A plant? I’d known the guy for a while, and while I couldn’t say I liked him, this wasn’t something I’d been expecting. Still, I didn’t care much. 

“So instead of letting him buy the coat off of me like reasonable human beings... you sent a squad of trained agents to try and take on me,” my fingers searched around his flesh, causing him no small amount of discomfort, until I finally found what I was looking for: A long, flat, string-y piece of meat; the tendon. I pulled at it, and delighted in his screams of pain and involuntary twitches. “How’s that working out for you!?”

No reply this time. He didn’t seem interested in talking anymore and I was okay with that: There wasn’t much left to be said. “I’m not finishing you off,” I informed him. “Try to survive until your reinforcements get here. Once they do, make sure to let your bosses know that I’m a reasonable man and willing to negotiate. Also, if they send anyone else after me, I won’t be as nice as I was to you guys.”

“T-they’ll never work with people like you.”

“But they can’t say I didn’t warn them.” 

He said something else. Something about how I couldn’t run forever, how they’d catch me eventually. I didn’t care. I’d come here to get paid big money for a rare artifact and all I’d gotten for my trouble was some bruises and a good time. Not bad, but far from what I expected.

Someone had tried to get one over me. Now someone had to pay.

(Originally the journals were supposed to be a nice game where I would take weird, abstract drawings and try to write stories about them. Unfortunately that never took off, so I decided to write one just for the hell of it.

I hope you guys enjoy it.)

[captain--midnight]

" November 8th, 1987. "

" Wl blf gsrmp gsvivh nliv gl rg, nrhgvi zuglm? "

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| LOADING DATA.

| LOADING . . .

| LOADING . . .

BOOTING UP

ENTER PASSKEY : *******

WELCOME HENRY EDWARD CREEL.

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" some how... I feel alike to someone, yesterday a rabbit? No... a bunny i think, talked to me, asking questions about "what i do" or "how did I become what I am" i didn't know how to answer thoses questions, nor how I should. "

" I think im gonna like him alot, hes interesting and by the looks of it, he's quite intelligent for a bunny.... "

" is he even a bunny? I'll ask that later tomorrow morning, when I get the chance, also I think I was right about them talking about me. "

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LOGGING OUT . . .

GOOD BYE, HENRY EDWARD CREEL.

[captain--midnight]

" November 7th, 1987. "

" I woke up, and i knew who i was, 001. "

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| LOADING DATA.

| LOADING . . .

| LOADING . . .

BOOTING UP

ENTER PASSKEY : *******

WELCOME HENRY EDWARD CREEL.

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" ... I don't recall what happened the day before, nor later. I feel as if my mind forgot about whatever happened to me.. I don't remember being here, I feel as if they are talking about me rather than anything else, I think I should save my questions for later, rather than now. "

" I will be signing this off, i'll continue later when I have more.. whats the word, deja vu? "

" ... maybe thats the word or not, maybe. "

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//ooc this is my first bdb henry creel rp account!! Also every one of these will be a computer log OR a journal log! Up to your interpretation! Please int if you wanna! Sorry if it's not long btw !! :-)

[journal-logsbt1]

!! OC LORE !!

Log 2. Realms.

"… Finally… The Realms are connected… And now… We get to see our dear creators again… As we were banished by their side… They abandon us with carelessness. But we get to be a family again… With no mortal magic getting in our ways… We will see you again… Our Mothers…." - C

[journal-logsbt1]

!! OC LORE !!

Log I. Shino.

"I have created her… My child… My puppet.. I will make sure you learn… How to be like us. By the end of years going by. You. Will be like us. Killing mortals." - A