As much as the title seems VERY peculiar (Superman? Horror? Gtfo), I had this idea in my head about it. It might be bad because it's a horror movie take on a character that is far from horrifying, but fuck it.
Just for the heck of it, this story is set in canon to Matt Reeves's Batman universe. But here goes:
The events of this movie happen a few months after the events of "The Batman". Bruce Wayne has held a fundraiser to help rebuild the destroyed dam and reinforce it. He decided to earn Gotham's trust and try to control the narrative behind what Riddler said about Martha Wayne. This, however, isn't as big a news as the fact that Bruce decided to show himself to the world. Perry White from "The Daily Planet" sends his top reporter, Lois Lane, who is slightly jaded in personality, but she puts the story above all else, willing to do anything for a story, even bending the law. Perry does, however, send an intern reporter, Clark Kent, with her, so she could "show him the ropes". Cut to the fundraiser. Lois and Clark hang around at the fundraiser, socialising, getting quotes and stories, etc. That's when Lois eventually crosses paths with the man himself: Bruce Wayne. Lois gets not just an eerie vibe from him, the cologne reminds her of fear. She feels her heart rate rising, her pupils start dilating, she starts sweating when around Bruce, but she pushes that fear away and decides to continue on. They chat each other up and hit it off. Eventually, Bruce offers her to join him in a nightcap and charms her enough with the promise of a much more in-depth interview, just the two of them. Lois accepts and Clark is sent home. During this interview, one thing leads to another, and Lois ends up having sex with Bruce and spending the night with him.
Lois is woken up by Alfred and served breakfast, being informed Bruce has left for Wayne Enterprises. Lois decides to leave and reaches the Daily Planet, where after turning the report in to Perry, heads to the roof for a quick smoke. That's where she sees a man waiting for her, floating in the air. He has blue eyes, he looks straightened and confident, and has straightened hair, with a widow's peak. He's also wearing a blue suit with a weird S on his symbol and a cape. He's floating in the air, petting a stray cat, while giving a warm smile to Lois. Lois is genuinely confused and, weirdly, intimidated by the aura he gives out. Almost like he has the power of a god. She thinks, "Is there yet another freak on this planet? First the monster from Gotham, and now...whoever, no. Whatever, this is?". She has to get a story out of him. She shakes her head out of disbelief, but just like that...he's gone. As if he was never there.
Over the next few days, Lois goes around town, thinking about that man and, at every turn, he's there. Sometimes looking at her from the sky. Sometimes floating, helping a few schoolchildren pass the street. Despite the good she sees him doing, she suspects the man of having an agenda. She starts coining the name: Superman. She tries to ask Perry to give her permission to write a piece on this "Superman", but Perry doesn't let her, claiming no one even knows who this Superman is, and it might all be a hoax. Clark is concerned for Lois and her obsession with this "Superman" and tries to help Lois with her story. Lois starts to suspect Clark of being this "Superman" character she sees throughout Metropolis due to the sheer facial resemblance, even having mental breakdowns over Clark being Superman or not, constantly feeling afraid whether he'll show up or not. Eventually, at night, she sees Superman outside her house and for the first time, he speaks. Using a calm, softer, near deep and melodic voice to talk to Lois Lane. She asks "What do I call you?" to which he replies, "I'm just someone who wants to help around. But I like the name you gave me. Superman. I like it!" She feels nervous, but braves that feeling by getting closer and standing on her tiptoes, kissing Superman.
Throughout the movie, we see more of Lois and Clark trying to figure out the Superman mystery together, getting close enough, but Lois starts to feel even more frustrated, and through seeing Clark, she keeps on thinking he's Superman and even goes through mental episodes. The final scene is Lois standing at the edge of the roof of the Daily Planet, with Clark tearfully pleading her not to jump, but Lois, now fully convinced Clark is Superman, tearfully says "Clark, I know your secret. There's no need to deny it. I know you'll jump and save me. It's okay". She kisses him hard then backs up, closes her eyes, and jumps. Clark tries to reach for her hand, but is a split second too late.
Lois feels herself falling, only for her to gradually slow down. She opens her eyes, only to see Superman again, carrying her in his arms. She kisses him again, and tearfully says "You came." Superman just keeps on smiling, although slightly eerily. "There was no need to be scared of me, Lois. There never was." Lois reaches up to cup his cheek in her hand, but her hand fazes through. She tries again, and again, and again, before realising. "...I'm sorry, Clark." she mutters.
We cut to police sirens, and a silhouette walking over to the body: Batman. He was specially called through the police department via the GCPD, as officers were afraid just going to the body. He slowly walks over: Lois Lane died upon impact when she jumped off the building. Perry was right. "Superman" was a hoax. She hallucinated Superman the whole time. Why? the "cologne" Bruce wore? An unadulterated, raw sample of a gas. "Bruce Wayne" was also just another man posing to be rich, except... he looked very similar to Bruce. Batman checks the body, takes a sample of it, and deduces that she was drugged the night of the fundraiser he held. He simply says to Alfred (listening in via an upgraded cowl) "Whoever did this doesn't want any materialistic things. Given she was drugged in Gotham and did this to herself in another place entirely, our mutual friend wants to undo my work before it even starts." This sets up the sequel for "The Batman Part II"
What do you guys think of this pitch?

Title: The Telepathic Primate Ghost Theory: A New Perspective on Bigfoot
I've been pondering the Bigfoot phenomenon and have developed a theory that I believe could explain some of the longstanding mysteries associated with these sightings. I'd like to share it with you all for feedback and discussion.
**The Theory:**
Bigfoot sightings could be the result of encounters with the ghosts, or spectral presences, of primates that once roamed the Earth. These primates may have possessed acute non-verbal communication abilities, similar to what some primitive human tribes are documented to have, which border on the telepathic. This theory posits that Bigfoot isn't a physical creature but a ghost from our evolutionary past.
**Why No Physical Evidence?**
The lack of definitive physical evidence of Bigfoot, such as bodies or consistent DNA samples, supports the idea that we're dealing with something other than than purely biological. This aligns with how we understand other paranormal phenomena, where physical evidence is elusive.
**Connecting to Our Ancestral Past:**
If humans are believed to have spectral remnants like ghosts and poltergeists, why couldn't our biological ancestors, who have been on Earth far longer than modern humans, also manifest in this way? This could be a missing piece in understanding our deep and complex relationship with these mysterious sightings.
I propose that what we're experiencing with Bigfoot is a window into our past, a glimpse of what might have been a common form of existence and interaction among earlier primates that we, in our modern civilization, have largely forgotten or dismissed.
**Cultural Significance:**
This theory also aligns with various indigenous folklore around the world, where creatures akin to Bigfoot are often seen as more than mere animals—they are sometimes revered as spiritual beings or ancestors. This perspective is mirrored in how certain tribes, such as those documented in [Amazon Beaming](https://www.gaia.com/article/loren-mcintyre-telepathically-communicated-with-this-amazon-tribe), use psychic communication effectively, suggesting a deeper, more spiritual connection with the world.
**Psychic Abilities and Nonverbal Communication:**
There's substantial documentation that humans can communicate nonverbally, including through psychic means, especially in heightened states of consciousness like those induced by psychedelics. Such abilities are not just the domain of humans; they could have been present in other primates. The experiences reported by people encountering Bigfoot often include a strong psychic or emotional component, suggesting a form of communication that transcends spoken language.
What are your thoughts? Could this theory help explain some of the enigmatic aspects of the Bigfoot legend?
I'm looking forward to your insights and discussions.
Thank you!

cross-posted from GradSchool and what it says on the tin.
i just graduated undergrad in anthropology with a focus in archaeology last december. i have a plethora of research experiences, and i'm in the field right now taking part in a prestigious field program. i had a good undergrad GPA (3.6) and i believe i'd be able to get good LORs. here come the problems:
i was an online student. i didn't do a thesis in undergrad. i wasn't in honors courses, and i don't have many written pieces to submit for writing samples. i moved close to campus in my last year to take part in in-person research once i realized i wanted to go grad school, but i finished up my degree online which made me ineligible for the honors college -- and therefore an undergrad thesis.
i think i could get into a decent phd program, but i'm not fully confident that i'm ready especially since i really haven't attended real, in-person classes in 4 years. i am an archaeology student, but i never took chemistry, or human osteology, or geology. i feel like i missed so much in undergrad that would be aided by taking a master's. plus, i would love to take part in a publication or two and do some conference presentations.
i know people usually say a terminal master's is a waste of time if you know you want a phd, but i just feel like i missed so much..... and i know i could technically teach myself chemistry and geology or whatever, but i missed out big time on lab *classes*. i know how to handle myself in clean and wet labs thanks to my research experiences, but i have next to no practical knowledge beyond the extremely niche things i learned working with archaeology grad students.
i don't know. what helps is that my online undergrad was fully paid for by my job (which is why i took this option, and also the fact that i didn't realize i wanted a phd until halfway through my program), so i have VERY little student loan debt from undergrad, so that would make the hit from taking on paying my way through my master's hit a lot less.
bear with me, i'm a first gen student, which makes navigating all of this so much harder.
i realize that cohort sizes have shrunk dramatically since covid and highly qualified applicant pools have increased sharply. i know i'm a good, competitive student, and that usually terminal MAs are a waste of time, but with my situation and the aforementioned application issues, i am very conflicted. please let me know what you all think.
and because it matters, my specific interests are geochemistry/geochronology/stable isotope chemistry as it informs paleoclimate and paleomobility.
thank you for your time.

what it says on the tin.
i just graduated undergrad in anthropology last december. i have a plethora of research experiences, and i'm in the field right now taking part in a prestigious archaeology field program. i had a good undergrad GPA (3.6) and i believe i'd be able to get good LORs. here come the problems:
i was an online student. i didn't do a thesis in undergrad. i wasn't in honors courses, and i don't have many written pieces to submit for writing samples. i moved close to campus in my last year to take part in in-person research once i realized i wanted to go grad school, but i finished up my degree online which made me ineligible for the honors college -- and therefore an undergrad thesis.
i think i could get into a decent phd program, but i'm not fully confident that i'm ready especially since i really haven't attended real, in-person classes in 4 years. i am an archaeology student, but i never took chemistry, or human osteology, or geology. i feel like i missed so much in undergrad that would be aided by taking a master's. plus, i would love to take part in a publication or two and do some conference presentations.
i know people usually say a master's is a waste of time if you know you want a phd, but i just feel like i missed so much..... and i know i could technically teach myself chemistry and geology or whatever, but i missed out big time on lab *classes*. i know how to handle myself in clean and wet labs thanks to my research experiences, but i have next to no practical knowledge beyond the extremely niche things i learned working with archaeology grad students.
i don't know. what helps is that my online undergrad was fully paid for by my job (which is why i took this option, and also the fact that i didn't realize i wanted a phd until halfway through my program), so i have VERY little student loan debt from undergrad, so that would make the hit from taking on paying my way through my master's hit a lot less.
bear with me, i'm a first gen student, which makes navigating all of this so much harder.
thank you for your time.
EDIT: i realize that my field makes this a little more subjective: cohort sizes have shrunk dramatically since covid and highly qualified applicant pools have increased sharply. i know i'm a good, competitive student, and that usually terminal MAs are a waste of time, but with my situation and the aforementioned application issues, i am very conflicted. please let me know what you all think.
and just because anthro is a very broad field, my specific interests are geochemistry/geochronology/stable isotope chemistry as it informs paleoclimate and paleomobility.

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

This was originally posted to pettyrevenge, but for some reason got taken down. So here goes:
The revenge I took on my grade nine English teacher was so petty that I hesitate to write about it. But Mrs. Bristle (for that is the name I will give her) was cruel to me every chance she got, and she made my first year in high school a misery. So when a file with her name on it arrived at my office, my first thought was not that I would beat her (for I was certain that I would) but rather, of the revenge I would take along the way.
I was pushing forty when Mrs. Bristle’s file hit my desk, some estate litigation where a mother’s last will and testament left my clients next to nothing, and gave their sister, Mrs. Bristle, pretty well the entire estate. When I saw the defendant’s name it looked familiar, and after a bit of Googling, I confirmed what I suspected: the defendant, Mrs. Bristle, was my former grade nine English teacher.
I remembered Mrs. Bristle very well. She was supposed to be teaching us the wonders of English literature, but what she really taught us were her rules, by which she meant her arbitrary whims, expressed in vague language, backed up by petty punishments for non-compliance. There was an art to getting along with Mrs. Bristle, and while most of the other kids learned it easily enough, somehow I did not. I have trouble learning unwritten rules, and in Mrs. Bristle’s class where unwritten and constantly changing rules were the order of the day, I didn’t stand a chance. Mrs. Bristle admonished me almost daily for ‘not paying attention’. I did detentions, re-wrote assignments, and made visits to the principal’s office, all because I apparently wasn’t listening, wasn’t doing what I was told.
Many was the time when Mrs. Bristle took me to task for missing some obvious but unstated part of an assignment. One time I handed in a sonnet, and received an “F” because the rhyming pattern was Petrarchan, not Shakespearean. But she would be nice to me, Mrs. Bristle would always say when she tossed my work back at me. She would give me another chance to hand the assignment in with the arbitrary changes she required, in the end giving me a good mark, but then heavily downgraded for being late.
Mrs. Bristle's case worked its way through the early stages, and every time I exchanged an email with her (for she was a self-rep, no need for counsel, she claimed) I thought about the unpleasant time I’d spent in her class. I had a rough time in high school, and I always resent anything that makes me dwell on it.
After a few months, the case was ready for the next stage. It was time to examine Mrs. Bristle, to find out why she thought her mother wanted to disinherit most of the family and enrich Mrs. Bristle alone. I showed up at the court reporter’s office early as usual, to get set up.
“What’s that shit eating grin on your face?” Adam asked. He was a lawyer colleague, about my vintage, and we were sitting in the lounge for lawyers only, the room that most court reporter’s offices have, a place for the lawyers to hang out and shoot the shit, no clients allowed.
“I’m going to examine my grade nine English teacher today,” I said, “and it's going to be fun.” I explained how she’d hated me back in the day, and had done her best to make my life hell.
“What’s the case about?” Adam said. Adam had been around the block, same as me, and it took only a few words for me to summarize everything that mattered in the file. “Estate fight, one sibling against four, undue influence, holograph will cutting out most of the siblings, competing with an older will, a formal one, where the shares are equal.”
Adam nodded appreciatively. “Nice fees, if the estate’s got the cash.”
“It does,” I said. We chatted for a bit, and then sat there in silence as we each did the last bit of prep for the cases we had that day, making notes, reading documents and drinking coffee. My alarm dinged just before ten, and I made my way to the examination room, and Mrs. Bristle, the teacher who’d greatly disliked the grade nine version of Calledinthe90s. I was curious to see if she would like the older version any better.
* * *
The examination started, and Mrs. Bristle and I sparred for a while, me tossing vague questions her way, and criticizing her when she did not understand. I kept her on the defensive for close to three hours, until it was getting on to one p.m.
“Aren’t you in a conflict or something?” she said to me just before the lunch break, when she’d finally made the connection, and understood that the lawyer asking her questions was a former student.
“No conflict,” I said, dismissing her concerns with a wave of my hand. “During the lunch break, there’s something I need you to do.”
“I don’t want to answer questions during lunch. I need a break.” The examination had been rough on Mrs. Bristle. She was not used to being asked questions, to being held to account, to being constantly challenged, and even having her grammar corrected now and again.
“You’ll get your lunch break. But while you’re eating a sandwich or whatever, keep this copy of the holograph will next to you.” The will on which Mrs. Bristle’s case relied was a holograph will, meaning that Mrs. Bristle’s mother had written the will entirely in hand from start to finish. The mother, or more likely, Mrs. Bristle herself, had downloaded a holograph will form from the web, and had completed it in accordance with the website’s instructions. Holograph wills are special. You can do a holograph will without a witness, without a lawyer, without anything at all, so long as you did it right. But if you got anything wrong, if you messed up in any way, it was invalid.
“You want me to read the will again over lunch?” Mrs. Bristle said.
“No. Instead, I want you to make a handwritten copy of it.”
“You want me to write it out? Whatever for?”
“There’s an allegation that the will wasn’t written by your mother, and that you wrote it up instead.” An allegation that I’d made up myself, that morning, while I was sitting in the lawyer's lounge, drinking coffee and munching on a muffin. My clients had not challenged the will’s handwriting; it was obviously their mother’s, totally different from Mrs. Bristle’s own writing. But I had decided otherwise.
Mrs. Bristle was appropriately outraged at being unjustly accused of forgery. Said she could prove it wasn’t her handwriting, could absolutely prove it.
“Then let’s settle the forgery issue once and for all,” I said, “write out the will in your own hand, so that our document experts can examine it, compare it with the original, and make a determination.”
“I don’t need the entire lunch break for that,” Mrs. Bristle said, “and I’d rather eat lunch at the restaurant downstairs.” The will was barely a page long, at most three hundred words, that being all it took for the mother to allegedly disinherit most of her children, and inexplicably leave everything to Mrs. Bristle. The mother had written up the will herself, but she’d been ninety at the time, while living in Mrs. Bristle’s house, and very much under her influence.
“I’ve retained five different experts,” I said, “and each of them will need copies.”
“Five experts? Why so many experts?”
“Each expert needs ten samples, for comparison purposes. It’s going to take you a while, Mrs. Bristle. I suggest you get started.” I overrode her protests and once she started to write, I left her in the room, and went to the lawyer’s lounge to eat their small sandwiches and drink more of the excellent coffee. After a while I stopped by the examination room to look in on Mrs. Bristle. I wanted to check in on her progress.
Mrs. Bristle asked for more time, complained of writer’s cramp, and asked me again if it was really necessary for her to write out the holograph will fifty times in her own hand, and I assured her that there was nothing for it, that it was absolutely necessary. I returned to the lounge to check my emails, leaving her hard at the homework I’d given her.
After a while my colleague, Adam, popped into the lounge. He asked me how it was going, the examination with the teacher, the teacher who had treated me so badly.
“I’m making her write lines.” Adam laughed, and laughed harder when I explained that I wasn’t kidding, that I really was making Mrs. Bristle write lines, and how I was doing it. His laughter attracted attention, and a few other lawyers asked what was up. “He’s making his teacher witness write lines,” Adam said, and the lawyer’s lounge hooted with laughter when I told everyone what was up.
It was one of the pettiest things I’ve ever done to anyone, making my grade nine teacher write lines. But the writing lines thing was just a warmup. The real revenge had yet to come. I returned to the examination room after a while, to check up on Mrs. Bristle, see how she was doing.
“This is taking forever,” she said, “and I really don’t get why you need it.” She had writer’s cramp, and was shaking her hand to get the kinks out. I picked up the stack of holograph wills she’d created, and flipped through it. She was nowhere near finished.
“On second thought,” I said, “maybe it isn’t necessary. I think you’re right. I don’t need any handwriting samples from you.”
“Why not?” she said.
“The will is invalid,” I explained, adding that because her mother had used a pre-printed form off the web, the law would not recognize the will. “A holograph will has to be entirely in the testator's handwriting,” I explained, “every single word entirely in handwriting from start to finish. This will doesn’t qualify, because your mother used a standard form, a form printed off the web, with instructions and boxes and questions and so on, and when you do that, then the will is no longer a holograph will. It’s a regular will, and regular wills need to be properly witnessed. This one isn’t witnessed, and that means it’s not a will. It’s just a piece of paper.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you only figured that out now? What kind of lawyer are you, anyways?”
“What kind of lawyer am I? I’m a lawyer who makes a witness skip lunch, and sit in a small room all alone, and write lines. Sound familiar, Mrs. Bristle?” She said nothing, and just stared at me. I closed the door on her, leaving her alone once more, and left for the Middle Temple Tavern where the lawyers all hung out. It was time to hoist a Guinness and enjoy my petty triumph.

Hello everyone,
I have had it with David Guetta. His “new” song I don’t wanna wait has got to be the worst low point in the history of music.
So here is this song “dragostea din tei”. Which was a pretty well deserved banger and time piece of the early 2000’s.
Now David Guetta has been slaughtering music since a few years now with stinkers such as “I’m good” which was just a ripoff of I’m blue.
And now this summer he drops “the biggest hit of this year”. With the deplorable “I don’t wanna wait”.
This has nothing to do with music. This isn’t a sample. This is just using the f’ing song by someone else and slapping your lazy “party” lyrics on it.
This isn’t “revolutionary” or “groundbreaking” this is just a damn ripoff. I can’t stand this any longer.
TL;DR: David Guetta is a hack.

I’m a freelance illustrator in the field for roughly 6 years, specializing in digital painting and graphic design. I’ve taken various classes in drawing, design, illustration, color theory, and typography. if you’re looking for a personal custom piece for your space or if you’re working on a large project and need some visual direction, i’m your artist. You can find samples of my work in my portfolio here.

In the competitive world of jewelry design, presenting your creations in the most captivating and realistic manner is essential. This is where jewelry rendering services come into play, transforming your designs into lifelike visuals that attract clients and elevate your brand. But with so many options available, how do you choose the best jewelry rendering service? In this blog post, we’ll explore key factors to consider and highlight what makes a jewelry rendering service truly exceptional.
1. Quality of Renderings:
The hallmark of the best jewelry rendering service is the quality of its renderings. High-resolution images with detailed textures, accurate reflections, and realistic lighting are essential. The renderings should closely resemble real-life photographs, capturing every facet, curve, and detail of the jewelry piece. Please look for services that provide samples of their work to see if they are good enough.
2. Expertise and Experience:
Experience matters when it comes to jewelry rendering. The best services employ skilled artists who understand the nuances of jewelry design and rendering. They should have a proven track record of delivering high-quality renderings for various types of jewelry, from rings and necklaces to intricate custom pieces. An experienced team can bring your vision to life with precision and artistry.
3. Customization and Flexibility:
Every jewelry design is unique, and the best jewelry rendering services offer customization and flexibility to meet your specific needs. Whether you need to tweak the size of a gemstone, change the metal type, or adjust the overall design, the service should provide the tools and support to make these changes easily. Look for providers that offer iterative design processes and are responsive to feedback.
4. Advanced Technology:
The best jewelry rendering services utilize advanced technology to create their renderings. This includes the latest 3D modeling software, high-performance rendering engines, and tools for creating realistic materials and lighting effects. The use of cutting-edge technology ensures that the renderings are of the highest quality and produced efficiently.
5. Fast Turnaround Times:
In the fast-paced jewelry industry, time is of the essence. The best jewelry rendering services offer quick turnaround times without compromising on quality. They should be able to meet tight deadlines and deliver renderings promptly, helping you stay ahead of the competition and meet client demands.
6. Competitive Pricing:
While quality is paramount, pricing is also an important consideration. The best jewelry rendering services offer competitive pricing that provides value for money. Look for transparent pricing structures with no hidden fees, and consider whether the service offers different packages or options to suit various budget levels.
7. Customer Support and Communication:
Effective communication and excellent customer support are key attributes of the best jewelry rendering services. The provider should be responsive, easy to reach, and willing to answer any questions or address concerns you may have. Good communication ensures that the rendering process runs smoothly and that the final product meets your expectations.
8. Positive Reviews and Testimonials:
Finally, one of the best ways to gauge the quality of a jewelry rendering service is by looking at reviews and testimonials from other clients. Positive feedback and high ratings can provide insight into the service’s reliability, quality, and customer satisfaction. Don’t hesitate to ask for references or check online reviews to make an informed decision.
Conclusion:
Choosing the best jewelry rendering service is crucial for bringing your designs to life and presenting them in the most appealing way possible. You can find a service that meets your needs and exceeds your expectations by considering factors such as quality, expertise, customization, technology, turnaround times, pricing, customer support, and reviews. Investing in a top-notch jewelry rendering service will not only enhance your design process but also help you captivate your audience and elevate your brand.

I recently started getting into modelling low poly models. And while following other creators in this space on youtube I often see them using pictures that they sample from and stencil partially on their models and then applying filters to like pixelation.
What I'm wondering is where would you go about sourcing these images from? Or is it considered fair use to make use of images you dont "have the rights to" and use a small piece of it like a pattern or material lets say like a leather jacket in order to achieve a more realistic look?

Warning, very long and confusing post ahead:
On 4/20 I found out im pregnant with my second, after taking a test at home. (first is now 8, almost 9). Without all the details, I am not in the same place mentally, emotionally, etc that I was while pregnant with my first. I was younger and not in a healthy relationship, but I did have more help from friends and family, and financially I was in a better place. I was scared then too, but no where near as unprepared and scared as I was finding out this time. Of course I’d hoped I would be in a better position in life and stronger and better and all the things.. if I ever had another child, but to put it lightly, life throws curveballs, and all that… and the last two years especially, taught me that life is not a linear, continually uphill path. There will be some tumbling back down and starting over… so to speak. So without going on and on, I ended up deciding to seek help with figuring out what I wanted to do because I was very unsure.
my periods have been irregular for well over a year, I had attributed it to stress. I only took a test because I had some symptoms, I’m not on birth control, so I knew it was a possibility. (please refrain from judging/ lecturing. The how and why is very complicated, and this story is going to be long enough.. and I’m doing what I need to, to address it all) but I wasn’t doing a great job of tracking anything and I’m embarrassed to say I wasn’t and am still not exactly sure how far along I might be. I had routine care while I was pregnant with my first, but found out early, because my period was like clockwork then, so 2 days late I had tested positive. I went to one of the only places available in my area at the time, and I didn’t have a great experience, but I also didn’t really question whether I was going to go through with the pregnancy, and just went straight to prenatal care. I had blood testing done finding out I was 3-4 weeks initially, and then a normal ultrasound at 8 weeks, and regularly from then on.
So this was my first experience with abortion/ family planning clinics and my first time being unsure of when I actually got pregnant, which left me both nervous and driving myself insane with scenarios. And the other stress in my life is just amplifying it.
The day of my appointment (4/29) I was running late and so I called to let them know. I quickly googled the number of the place, when I realized I couldn’t find it in my phone, from scheduling it the week before. A woman answered, she was friendly but told me I wasn’t in their system or scheduled for that day. I quickly realized I called the wrong number, and started to apologize. The two clinics are on the same street. She was still being very nice and started telling me they could see me anyway, that day, and even started saying they could do an ultrasound if I wanted, I didn’t even need to worry about having insurance. I said no thank you. I was suspicious, but not fully aware yet of who I had even accidentally called. I told her no thank you and-hurried and called the correct office, that I had initially booked an appt with. they were overbooked that day as it was, and apologized, but they couldn’t push my appt any later and had to reschedule for a couple days later.
My anxiety, and desperation to get some answers, coupled with pressure on myself and stress, led me to call the other clinic, back.
They were happy to get me in, and I showed up. I started putting pieces together on the way over, and confirmed my suspicions when I walked in and saw the Bible verses on the walls. I started to change my mind and was preparing myself to leave but started convincing myself maybe these clinics weren’t as corrupt as I had heard, and that maybe the horror stories were just that. Maybe I was being dramatic, I was just stressed, these women were nice, etc blah blah
They asked for a urine sample and the woman who introduced herself as a nurse and another woman, appeared, but didn’t introduce herself, and had me sit in a room, them across from me, like an interview. They had notepads and internally I start freaking out at this point and I am about to get up and leave because everything now feels incredibly off, but the woman asks if I took a home test, I say yes. She looks at me , smiling “How did you feel, when you saw that positive test.?” I was already visibly nervous and upset at that point and so when she asked that it felt very invasive. I started to explain that I wasn’t oblivious to what they were doing and said I’d like them to stop. They backed off some and started back tracking, asking if I wanted to just get the ultrasound done, for my peace of mind. I definitely should have left, but like I said, my headspace was STRESSED and extremely anxious and I just WANTED to KNOW something. It didn’t even occur to me they might lie about what was on the ultrasound, or anything. I don’t know why it didn’t, but I know I wasn’t thinking clearly at all, and while I had started accepting that they would pressure me into keeping the pregnancy, I started trying to rationalize that I didnt think it was legal for them to do an ultrasound, a medical exam, if they weren’t qualified to do so?…. I still have so many questions and didn’t realize how little I knew about my own rights, and the legal aspects surrounding these things, until now.
I was showed a screen, (not the one the nurse used, she kept that turned to get the entire time) and showed me a normal enough seeming ultrasound. She did one on my stomach and one internally. I didn’t see a noticeable baby, just a sac… I did think I saw flickering, like when I saw my firsts heartbeat, at one point, but she moved the wand away and didn’t speak almost the entire time, never pointing anything out. I know this sounds so stupid but I assumed it was another organ? Or glitching maybe I don’t know…she apologized for being quiet, said she “had to concentrate.” She finally tells me what feels like 5 years later, I look to be 5 weeks 0 days. I take her word for it. I’m pretty overwhelmed. The other woman, (counselor, nurse, stranger????) was in the room the entire time, sitting behind me. Again I’m realizing how absurd this is now that I’m replaying it, and I’m mortified, but it happened and now here I am. Looking back they were uncomfortably quiet, and offered no reassurance really. But then as I’m preparing to leave, while I’m just going through the motions and lost in my thoughts, they tell me they want to try to hear the heartbeat next week, they’re sure they’ll be able to then. They’re almost like, giddy, lose any air of “professionalism” and hand me a box wrapped in a pink bow, that I opened at home and found out had a newborn onesie inside, that said “best gift ever.”
I’m still reeling. This was 2 Weeks ago. I’m upset. I feel stupid. I’m confused and feel like I was taken advantage of, in a way. And worst of all, I am now second guessing everything I thought I “found out.” The ultrasound picture they gave me, was cut off at the top. There is no date, time, name or gestational weeks.. I didn’t go to the follow up appointment, and instead scheduled an appointment with the office I went to for my first pregnancy. But I didn’t tell them what happened or that i had an ultrasound done already, I just told them the date of the positive test, and last suspected period. (Even though, with suspicious clinic saying 5 Weeks- that would mean I had a “period” after I was already pregnant- which is what led me to wonder if I was further along) couldn’t get me in until next week, when, if I go off of the ultrasound, would make me 9 weeks. Normal timing to be seen but I have been on a mental rollercoaster.
I feel like I’ve “popped” this past week, I have a noticeable bump, and everything just feels very off. I have been so depressed and confused I haven’t tried to get any help sooner because I’m just ashamed. But it is worrying me to death that maybe they lied, and my ultrasound was a fake, and I’ve now waited too long to have a choice. I think I decided I want to go through with this anyway, but I now wonder how much of my decision is being influenced by what happened? Pregnancy hormones are already difficult, my life has been chaos and while I think I’m making the decision based on my own choice, I’m not sure I can even trust myself and my decision making anymore after all this confusion… I really need any advice, guidance, support I don’t know. Am I being paranoid? Am I losing it? Is it unlikely a pro life clinic would really go that far?… I’m under too much stress to know what may just be me overreacting, and what is genuinely a concern, and what to do about it all either way. Any help would be appreciated. Thank you

Neither of them will be mvp or all stars but when they are on the court they make their team better and you can feel it. Both technical minded players with lesser athleticism but make up for it in IQ. I’ve been impressed with Martin so far in the small sample I can already see her being a great piece in a great team.

Here’s the reason the TV doesn’t report on the facts: THEY ARE PROTECTING THE SYSTEM. The ramifications of all cops being clueless racist dolts is too much to bear for society at large.
Denise Pilnak was a neighbor of Nicole’s. Her telephone bill shows she was on the phone from 10:25 PM and 10:28 PM. Prior to making this phone call, she and her friend noted how quiet the neighborhood was. Several minutes later between 10:33 and 10:35 PM, she testified that’s when she began to hear the sound of a barking dog, which is likely when the murders began. Allan Park testified to seeing OJ near the front door of the Rockingham estate at 10:55 PM, and his telephone records also document that. That leaves less than 25 minutes to commit the murders, drive back home, get rid of the evidence, etc.
Both Nicole and Ron had defensive wounds. Ron in particular was in hand to hand combat with whoever killed him, yet OJ had no injuries. The cut on his finger wasn’t seen by anyone who interacted with him at the airport, on the airplane ride to Chicago, nor when he immediately landed in Chicago. This includes people who got autographs from him, shook hands with him, and observed his hands. A broken glass was also found in his hotel room and it was documented he asked for a bandage at the hotel.
The FBI searched all of OJ’s and Nicole's credit card records and there was never any receipt found belonging to either of them that showed a purchase of Bruno Magli shoes. Every store that sold the shoes in the country was also searched, and they couldn't find anyone who sold him the shoes. The only proof of him owning them are the National Enquirer photos, which show him wearing suede shoes on a very rainy day. It was also found that the shoe soles that were said to be OJ's footprint were actually more popular than the prosecution maintained, the manufacturer sold the pattern to numerous shoe lines.
1.5 millimeters of OJ’s blood went missing from its vial. Thanos Peratis, the nurse who withdrew his blood, initially testified that he withdrew 8 millimeters. He took that back when only 6.5 appeared and the prosecution suggested he was mistaken. About a decade later he admitted to William Dear that he was certain he withdrew 8 millimeters because it was the amount he had drawn from patients all of his career, but he was close to retirement and had health problems so he didn’t want to cause any trouble.
The glove found at Bundy contained none of OJ’s DNA. The other glove found at Rockingham only contained his DNA in the area where Collin Yamauchi testified to spilling OJ's reference blood sample while handling it.
An identical knit cap matching the knit cap found lying on the ground next to one of the gloves was found in Nicole’s house. Those caps likely belonged to Sydney and Justin Simpson.
Two different people, John Meraz and William Blasini, encountered the Bronco at the lot where it had been impounded days after the murders. They both looked inside it for blood and testified they saw none. There was also only 1/8th of one drop of blood ever found inside it.
New York Times best selling author and journalist Stephen Singular was connected by an anonymous source within the LAPD about the case a few weeks after the murders. He was told Mark Fuhrman made an undocumented trip to Rockingham in the early morning hours after the murders looking for evidence that would incriminate OJ. Rosa Lopez, a housekeeper for OJ’s next door neighbor, testified to hearing men’s voices coming from the yard of Rockingham in the early morning.
The source told Singular that Fuhrman used a broken piece of fence from Bundy to pick up one of the two gloves found and placed it in a blue plastic bag. Next, he was told Fuhrman removed the glove from the plastic bag and planted it at Rockingham. A broken piece of fence was eventually found at Bundy and a blue plastic bag was found at Rockingham, and both were introduced as evidence in the trial.
He was also told EDTA would be found in some of the blood evidence if tested, lab technicians had mishandled OJ’s blood samples, vials of OJ’s, Nicole’s, and Ron's blood were in possession of an LAPD detective for several hours before being booked into evidence, and that Fuhrman had been acquainted with Nicole in some way.
Singular relayed this information from the source to the defense team and was in communication with them for awhile. Pretty much all of it checked out, including an investigation conducted by the LAPD's Internal Affairs Division which revealed that Fuhrman was overheard by other LAPD officers bragging about being intimate with Nicole and seeing her boob job before she was murdered.
There were 17 fingerprints lifted from the Bundy crime scene that didn’t belong to OJ or any of the police officers involved in the case.
Brett Cantor ran a nightclub called The Dragonfly where Ron worked for him as a waitepromoter. Nicole was also a regular at the club. He was murdered a year before them in almost exactly the same way, by being stabbed repeatedly in the upper body and being nearly decapitated. Judge Ito ruled the defense team could review his case. His murder remains unsolved.
Casimir Sucharski, a friend of OJ's, was murdered alongside two female companions in his house in Florida by people with machine guns two weeks after Ron and Nicole were murdered.
Michael Nigg was friends with Ron and also worked at the Mezzaluna restaurant. He was murdered a year later in 1995 by being shot in the head after refusing to give his money to two men outside an ATM. The men who shot him didn't end up taking his money. His murder remains unsolved.
Not saying these murders are necessarily related to each other but it does make you wonder since all of these people reportedly led similar lifestyles which involved the use of cocaine. Faye Resnick, a cocaine addict, was also living with Nicole just days before the murders.
If you listen to the full 1993 911 call, OJ was mostly yelling about drugs and hookers being in the house. When police officers responded to the call, Nicole told the responding officers that OJ hadn’t hit her in four years. After the 1989 domestic violence incident, OJ added an addendum to their prenuptial agreement which stated that if he struck Nicole again, she would‘ve been entitled to a settlement of more than 5 million dollars.
OJ wasn't scheduled to be in LA during that week. He had been busy working and made a last minute decision to come back for Sydney's recital. Video taken of him afterwards shows him in a good mood, kissing his kids and the Brown’s goodbye.
Christian Reichardt spoke with OJ on the phone an hour before the murders and testified his demeanor was jovial and not indicative of a simmering murderous rage.
His telephone records also show he made phone calls trying to set up dates with a few models, one of which he told he was unattached to anyone. If he was in a jealous rage over Nicole, why was he trying to date other women?
After the bodies were discovered, Sydney told the police she heard her mommy (Nicole) fighting & crying with her best friend (Faye Resnick) on the phone earlier that night.
Sydney was planning to have a sleepover that night with one of her friends. According to family and friends who attended the recital and dinner, OJ was aware of this. Committing a murder with all those extra witnesses and the possibility of having the kids hurt or things getting out of control, in addition to having a flight to catch, doesn’t make sense.

These last forty-eight hours have been some of the most excruciating of my life...and I may have finally hit the bitter end of my empathy towards someone whom I never would have considered it possible to do so. I have learned increasingly that apathy has its own uses when presented with such a toxic situation, but I have unfortunately been unable to find out how to turn that apathetic switch off. After having been through the last two days of my mother's lectures/rants/vents...I can safely say that my ability to have an empathetic understanding of these people has been totally depleted.... which is why I won't say that my mother is like a nazi...she's an American Nazi.
For those that might not know, the American Nazi party was founded by a particularly reprehensible individual known as Gearge Lincoln Rockwell. Rockwell was a dedicated white supremacist and was highly sympathetic to the German NSDAP. He would actually serve in both the second world war and the Korean War as a pilot, but never served in combat, or was ever assigned to a combat station. He would serve until 1960, when his incendiary views FINALLY saw him dishonorably discharged. (I would like to point out that while it is good that the US military did eventually flush this turd out, the fact that it took as long as it did speaks volumes to the depth of the white supremacist problem within the culture of the American military. I DO NOT think that the US military is intentionally generating white supremacists, but I think it creates an overall atmosphere that is waaaay to accommodating for people who, respectfully, deserve to be thrown into an active woodchipper.) Mr. Rockwell would eventually be, ironically, assassinated by a disgruntled former member of his post 'nazi's are bad, so we're not them anymore' nationalist party, who Rockwell accused of being a 'Bolshevik sympathizer'.
Why do I tell y'all this story? Because unlike my mother, y'all might actually, I don't know, listen without interrupting me like an obnoxious rowdy student...enter my mother. Yesterday morning, I went to visit my mother, and to drop off a burger form an event the previous day that I thought she would want...I walked through the front door expecting to hand off a damn sandwich, and be gone within about 10-15min...I walked through the door at around 9am...and I didn't walk out until almost noon...and I don't mean that I 'walked out', I mean that I had to awkwardly shuffle my way to the door, and keep my back constantly turned away from her so she couldn't see my clenched fists crushing this poor innocent burger. What was said during these almost three hours of dialogue? Here's a sampling of some of the most notable quote that I can remember.
I was told that she considered one of her fellow cultists kids to be her grandchild, and essentially mocked my inability to trust a woman enough to date them again. I was told that I had wasted my years of college 'learning about a bunch of lies', and that I am apparently going to be so upset when 'all of it gets revealed'. I was told that I was arrogant, disrespectful, mean, cruel, unempathetic, '...you can't be taught anything...', and my personal favorite, '...you can't know that much because you weren't there like I was!'
Truth be told...I just don't care anymore. I feel like a piece of Swiss cheese that's perforated to the point of being string. I have been increasingly leaning on apathy just to stomach these moments, and with my mother now openly declaring that '...maybe I'll just leave you and dad to figure it all out for yourselves.' ...I think I am finally okay with that outcome. My mother has gotten to the point where she will frequently (in fact it happened twice just this afternoon while she was yelling at me AGAIN about who she knows all this, and I don't and blah blah blah...I just want her to go away. I don't care how; I just want her to leave, and I don't ever want to see her again. If she wants to go and celebrate a 'new grandchild', fucking fine, go have your grandchild, just don't come looking for the son you gave up along the way.
I think a time is coming in the very near future where people like me are going to have to make some very hard decisions on who we actually want to spend the rest of our lives with. Are people like my mother, who not only tortures me with this constant bombardment of negativity, really worth caring about? If they don't care about us...why should we care about them? I am whole heartedly convinced that this cult of Q will burn for the damage is has wrought, which ties me back to my earlier story of the original American Nazi. Trump, and subsequent extreme republicans get compared to nazi's a bit too much, and I don't think people realize that there is a much better comparison right infront of them. America once had its very own Nazi party, with its own dedicated Americans, homegrown and vile, like the Cult of Q. The same kind of people who looked up to American Nazi's like Charles Lindbergh, and Lincoln Rockwell, are the same kinds of people who now speculate that Gearge Soros is running a Satanic cabal, or that democrats are 'grooming' children, despite republican legislation showing a rather unsettling trend of the last two decades of regressing bodily autonomy within this country. My point is these people should be treated as reprehensibly as they proclaim to be. Don't shy away from calling them out for what they are...people like my mother...these American nazi's
If you made it this far, thank you for indulging in my little rant. My mother actually called while I was in the middle of typing this post, and when she started talking about Burisma, I hung up. I have never done that to her before...and I don't regret doing it. I am comprehensively depleted of my stores of empathy towards people like this, and I wanted to post this feeling somewhere so I could get it out of my head. All of this shit just makes me fell so dead inside...I feel empty, like an engine trying to turn over without any gas. I'll end with this; I will always love my mother. She is one of the most kind, generous, hardworking, and loving people that I have ever known...and this abomination of an ideology stole her from me...so I am going to make sure that this movement pays for exacting such a price on my family, and for making my mother and I suffer as a result of our inherent disagreements.