△Crimson Memories△

All characters belong to their respective owners; Gen Urobuchi, Hanokage, Kuroe Mura; this story will attempt to align with canon as much as possible but exceptions may appear. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Art: "Deer" by David Lynch; Twin Peaks Season 3

"We are like the spider. We weave our life and then move along in it. We are like the dreamer who dreams and then lives in the dream. This is true for the entire universe." - Brihadaranyaka Upanishad

PROLOGUE:

覚醒

Kakusei

Coneconam Air Force Base, West Massachusetts

1:30:01

1:30:02

1:30:03….

*Brrrrrt*

*Brrrrrt*

*Brrrrt*

The ringing vibrated through the empty compound and into the blackness that permeated his vision. Brian knew something happened to him.

Uhhhhhhhhggggg…..

He rolled over, the side of his head throbbed with pain, he touched his head, and there was a little blood. The last thing he remembered was running away, from something. Owen was behind him, catching up. He couldn't remember if he slammed against a wall, or if something hit him, but he was not there. This was a different room, and Owen was not around.

He grabbed the phone. Someone was calling him, but it is not someone on his contacts. There was 66% battery left; he had enough time to get by. He answered the phone.

"He…hello?" he muttered.

"What the hell are you doing?!" a girl exclaimed. Brian recoiled.

"Who…who is this?" he asked. He felt slow, and his head continued to throb, "Who the hell is this? How do you know my number?"

"You'll need to get out of there, and fast. This place is dangerous. My name is Naomi, that's all you need to know. There's a pistol by the door. I left it for you. If you see anything that moves, shoot it once and get the hell out of there. Make as little noise as possible. I'll explain the rest later. Go."

Naomi hanged up.

Brian struggled to get up, and staggered his way towards the doorway. Naomi was right, there was a pistol propped by a wall, and with it, 2 magazine clips. He grabbed the pistol and shoved the clips in his pocket. He looked back towards the shattered windows of the room. The air base was abandoned 40 years ago, and there was a clear sign of overgrowth. Dirt and grime was scattered all over the cement floor, and the roots and shrubs was taking over the ledges, but the shine of the moonlight glimmered through. That was Brian's plan. Go urban exploring on a full moon, and in case if something happened, a clear sky can lead the way out.

Brian stepped into the halls. The moonlight gleamed and emerged out of the several rooms that lined the halls. They were once part of the administrative part of the air base, and aside from the spartan layout and dull colors of the building; it looked like it was once a decent place.

He crept his way slowly, but something felt different. The floor was wet. He looked down. A dark, sticky liquid streaked the floor and there was that smell of iron. The pistol had an attached flashlight to it, so Brian turned it on. His heart dropped; it looked like blood.

He broke a sweat.

"Owen?" he whispered.

"Owen?"

"Owen!"

Everything told him to run away. Get the fuck out of there! his body seemed to say. Even Naomi said that, but he had to get Owen. It just felt wrong to leave him there. He knows the rules of every horror movie in the book, but it was just wrong.

He walked towards the direction of the streaks. Another noise echoed in the distance. It sounded wet. There was thumping, and thuds.

Halfway through the hall, there was an old Exit sign. The lights went out a long time ago, and a heavy rusted door that was left open. It led down to a set of stairs. The noises were much louder.

Brian couldn't say anything. Someone might hear him…or something. He walked down the stairs, one step at a time. He took a turn at the end; the room was pitch black. He turned the pistol flashlight on.

"Oh fuck…"

The room was empty and the concrete walls were cracked from age. But five meters away from him… there was Owen, and a pale figure on top of him. The streaks of blood led to Owen's neck, or what was left of it. The figure was gazing towards the wall, as if it had noticed something different. It continued its chewing noise. What haunted Brian the most was Owen's eyes, open and staring blankly at the ceiling, and his mouth open from pain, blood dribbling out.

The figure turned its head towards Brian. It was white and even when kneeling, it looked tall. It had robes and looked like a mummy, with its shrunken eye sockets. But its head looked incomplete, like it was pixelated, as if it does not look real. Blood streaked its skeletal mouth, shriveled up into a grin. It was uncanny, as if it didn't belong here on Earth.

Brian's body froze in fear but his hands did the acting. He cocked the gun and aimed right at its body. The creature turned and lunged, but two bullets struck it, once in the neck and once in the eye. It recoiled and shrieked. Brian fired two more shots. With each bullet, a light gleamed out of its body. The fourth bullet struck its heart and then it disintegrated with a burst of light.

Brian fell back from the shock and the recoil. He dropped the pistol, which clattered, its flashlight gleaming on Owen's mutilated body.

"No…" he muttered. "What the fuck? What the fuck?"

The phone rang again.

He picked it up.

"I heard gunshots. Are you okay?"

It was Naomi.

"Owen…my friend…he's dead. What was that thing? What was that monster?"

"You saw it?"

"It killed him. It's white, but it didn't look real…the texture…what the fuck? What is it?"

Naomi swore.

"Didn't think they would become that visible…did you see anything fall out of it? If you see it, I'm going to need it."

Brian was silent.

"Hello?" Naomi called out.

He stood up from where he sat and picked up the pistol. He couldn't deal with seeing the remains of his friend, but he persisted, and pointed the pistol beyond the body. The floor like any other was covered with dirt, but behind Owen's body was a dark cube. Like a dice but with some etchings. Brian walked around the body and picked it up, and bolted back up the stairs.

"I got it. It looks like a black die."

"I am going to need that. It's going to help me out. I really appreciate it. But you need to get out of there now, and I am serious. I counted 4 shots, so you have 6 left. Be sure to use it wisely. There's people out there who does not you to see what you saw, and they are gonna come for you."

"What people?" Brian asked just as he saw a flashlight shine in his direction by one of the shattered windows. He kneeled down as he quickly saw it.

"Fuck! They're here!" he whispered loudly on the phone.

"Dammit! They've caught on. I'm going to distract them. Go! Hurry!"

Brian crawled his way past the room he woke up in. The opened windows had some glass remnants so he remained careful to avoid contacting the areas. He heard more gunshots in the distance; he also saw some flashes, followed by scattered shouts and the noise of metal clashing against metal. It sounded like a group of girls, but that didn't change the fact that they were here for him.

He stood up and scampered out the nearest exit away from the source of commotion. He darted out of the administration building and around the old barracks and two large satellite dishes that sat near the woods. His car was parked there against the driveway. A motor scooter and two cars were parked alongside his car. They were never there before. He grabbed the keys in his pocket and slid into the car. He turned on the ignition, and with a quick U-turn, sped out into the main road, knocking over the scooter.

The air base (for good reason) was located in the outskirts of town. Several state forests were within the area, Tolland was one of them. The trees seemed to rush by, and the only noise, the only sign of life was the roaring of the car. The reflection of the lights from the signs seemed to be the only source of illumination. The speed limit was 30, but he went a good 20 miles faster. He wanted to get out. This wasn't happening, he thought, this is not real.

The image of Owen's mutilated body was seared into his head, and that thing…that monster… it looked different, not some junkie who took a good dose of PCP, it was not a zombie either. It felt unnatural, and that was what scared him the most.

The phone rumbled again, and Brian switched it on speaker.

"Do you have it?" Naomi asked.

"The cube? Yeah, I got it, tell me, what the hell did I just see? Tell me everything…NOW!"

"That thing you saw, that's called a wraith, and the cube, it's something I use to make sure that thing does not come back. I didn't they can become physical."

"What hell are you even talking about? I saw my friend's neck ripped out!" Brian said, shaking.

"Demons do exist, and you killed it."

"Well…that explains jackshit."

"I don't expect you to understand, but I expect you to follow my lead. This is something you weren't meant to see, and there are others out there who want to keep this from being seen."

"So…what now? What am I supposed to do, call the cops?"

"Report your friend missing, but first, go to any public space, any Starbucks, or even a Wal-Mart will suffice. Call me then, I'll come. I've seen your car, I'll recognize you then."

"How can I trust you?"

"I dragged you out before the others came. I'm sorry about your friend, I couldn't find him. I could've easily killed you if I was one of them. Remember, find someplace safe and call me."

Naomi hung up.

"That's just great." Brian muttered, slamming his hand in frustration on the steering wheel.

The darkness of the woods did not help. The moonlight and the headlights were the only source of illumination, but made the tree branches more menacing.

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…..

A light peaked out in the rear view mirror, followed by the distant sound of a motorcycle. The light should bring comfort to him, but it did the opposite. Breaking into a sweat, Brian pressed on the gas.

The motorcycle gained ground and slowly caught up with him. Brian pressed on. The motorcyclist came into view. It was a young woman, face obscured by a helmet, but her outfit was strange. It was a dress, but it was strangely old-fashioned, or the type seen at a convention. She had a long object in her hand.

Brian barely had time before he heard a loud THUD!

Before he knew it, the car seemed to be off the ground. He sailed into the air, and then he crashed down.

THUD! CRASH! BANG! SCREECH!

Shattered glass came flying to his face, and the last thing he remembered was the last bang, and an airbag popping out right at his face.

Brian woke up, his face hurt, his entire body sore. He felt blood streaming down his face. He saw the distant glow of a flame flickering on the back of his car. Without a word, his hand stumbled upon the seatbelt, and quietly, he ejected himself.

Get out. Get out. Get out, he thought.

He dropped down head first into what was the roof of the car. He was upside down. The glass around the windows was completely shattered, but there was enough room to crawl out. He then dragged himself out of the window. The flame on the car only grew brighter.

He did not feel the glass shards. The adrenaline kicking in, he dragged himself out.

In the distance, beyond the flame were a group of figures. He could only count 5 women, or were they girls? He wasn't so sure. They too were dressed strangely. He didn't care at this point; he stood up and continued limping his way from the women.

BANG!

A gunshot echoed, and Brian collapsed, pain rushing from his leg. He cried out, and looked down, his legs mangled and marred by bullet holes.

NO! NO! NO! NO! he mustered out, but hoarsely and quietly.

He kept on dragging himself. He knew he would pass out from blood loss soon, but that did not stop him.

One of the figures slowly walked in his direction, shotgun in hand. He rolled forth, and grabbing the pistol, he fired a few shots.

POP! POP! POP! POP!

The first three missed, but the forth made its mark. The woman collapsed, yelping in pain.

"Fuck!" she shouted.

Brian fired back more shots.

POP! POP! Click! Click! Click!

He ran out of bullets. He unloaded the used magazine and replaced it with a new one. One of the figures tended to the woman with the shotgun, as the rest converged on him. His vision started to blur, as one of them stepped on his arm. He could not shoot anymore.

He gazed at the sky and saw the faces of the figures that caught him. They were beautiful and strange and they too carried strange weapons, but he saw their cold stares, as though they were finishing a job they did not want to do.

Tears streaming out, he could only muster. "Don't. Please… I won't tell anybody."

"I'm sorry," a younger girl in the group replied, with a tear in her eye. Another girl grabbed an item in her back, but it was not her main weapon. It was small pistol, with a silencer.

She pointed it at Brian's forehead and pulled the trigger.