Thursday, February 20, 2014

Tape #1

Report #101 2014, February 21st.

Took me some time to understand and translate the tape, these are the recordings of Kelevra's therapist. I don't really care about them, but they are leading me to Kelevra through Moscow. Take a listen if you want:


Transcription:
"Dr. Karkof’s report #1, 1993, January 2nd:
For the first time in my 38 year career as a psychotherapist, I am disturbed. My new patient worries me, hence the reason for these personal recordings, to keep the progress I make in check, as well as my own well-being. My latest patient, he seems so innocent and yet there is something I can’t put my finger on. It seemed there was nothing left of the boy.

Oleg may have brutally murdered his entire family, but Smith’s grove was no place for a seven year-old boy. Dr. Komarov, the main doctor in the whole grove, I proposed to him to move Oleg into a private room, give him a play area…for therapeutic reasons. He refused to comply, stating that this is a Sanitarium, not a summer camp for naughty little boys.

There were only a handful of other boys in the juvenile ward, but they were teenagers, all were deeply disturbed, some had killed. For a seven-year-old, even someone like Oleg Ponomarenko, it was an inhuman jungle. Adrian, an idiot savant with an eating compulsion, whom the others called ‘donut’. Roger was a biblical expert…and a self-mutilator. And then there was Tonny O’Malley, a violent psychopath.

Being locked away with these hopeless cases was going to make my job so much harder.
It took a week. He remained as silent as the grave. But at least he responded. I believed it was a breakthrough. I asked him to draw whatever he liked.

The drawing was a depiction of him, standing over his Father’s and Mother’s dead bodies. I was foolish, na├»ve. I was both disturbed and delighted…this was the first indication Oleg acknowledged he knew what he’d done. Perhaps I could prove he wasn’t insane. I asked him if he wanted to talk about the picture, if there was something he wanted to tell me. But of course, he didn’t speak.

That is it for this day, after today’s session, I feel like something’s wrong, that something’s coming my way, I can’t explain it. Nervous breakdown? Could be."

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Back Home

Report #100 2014, January 29th.

Russia...

What are you up to Kelevra? For what reason are you bringing me back here? Pointless to ask isn't it? Doesn't matter either way.

This time you left a bunch of tape recordings, they are labeled in such a way, as if they were taken by a professional. I didn't have the time to listen through them yet, since I figured out something, I'm being followed.

I've been followed ever since I entered the country, followed by a group. No idea who they are, assuming a bunch of proxies, why would they follow me is beyond me. In fact I completely forgot about them, that is how much their organization fell, they are not a threat anymore, back in the days I would kill a dozen of them in a span of one day.

Now, there are so many things going on, that they simply become invisible stains, it is too easy to spot them these days, they aren't even trying anymore, they are falling apart, the organizations I mean. No surprise there though, with people like Kelevra and his outcasts causing enormous amounts of damage, among other people, they are just not a threat.

Speaking of threats, haven't seen IT in a while, either I became boring, or IT lost interest, if IT lost interest, why am I still alive? No matter, that works perfectly for me, what IT doesn't realize is that I have an Answer, part of that answer lives inside of me. Once I finish with Kelevra, I am chasing that Answer down and this game will come to an end.

Make fun of me, you cocky puppets, call me a fool, call me anything you want. Won't stop me from pursuing this answer, soon, very soon, this whole thing will lay to rest, lives will be saved, all the victims, all the deaths that happened because of this, they will not be in vain, I will make those deaths mean something.


I see her, haven't seen her for a while, standing in an alleyway, starring at me with those lifeless eyes, the pale woman, who are you? Trying to make me fall asleep? Too bad. These days, I don't sleep. The things I know do not allow me to sleep, I simply can not get sloppy with this knowledge. Go away. I am not interested in your mind games.

You are not her, never her, she is dead, she died at the hands of the priest...and my hands as well. I won't feel guilt for their deaths, stop wasting your time.