This is a revision of a previous work, with a new protagonist taking the lead.
This story is also going to have a variant that has the same protagonist in the sonic universe.
Why? No real reason, I just want to see how they both turn out, with that being said while both will feature the same protagonist, they will split off almost immediately after into two separate storylines.
Four words; four simple words echoed throughout the youths mind. Linking themselves into a single line of thought that put itself on repeat, replaying itself over and over again like they were coming from a scratched record.
And those four words, echoing out from the thresholds of his mind, told him not what he needed to hear, but what he already knew.
That he wasn't going to make it home.
He knew, from the very start, that he wouldn't be able to make it back home after this.
He knew he'd never be able to see his friends again, never be able to catch up over a couple drinks ever again.
He knew he'd never be able to keep that promise he made to his parents about finally trying to patch things up and repair that bridge they had both burned.
He knew in his bones that he wouldn't be making it home after this.
When your in this kind of situation – a suicide mission at best , and a last stand at worst – you rarely get to make it home.
So yeah, the youth – the Seeker knew damn well that he wasn't getting out of this mess alive.
None of them were.
Knowing that though, they still ended up dragging their sorry asses out here in the middle of nowhere.
And for what? To protect the people of a world who didn't give a rat's ass about them?
To earn a good few bits of coins?
No… their reasons for coming all the way out here to the lonely isle of Darkwater?
Well, to be put in simple terms, they'd been drafted into active duty.
The Foundation hunted them down like dogs chasing rabbits, and then rounded them up like sheep.
They'd pulled them into this job, promising to expunge their records if they got back from this one job.
If they got back; that were their exact words…
"From the very start that Foundation Agent knew we probably weren't walking out of this alive." The Seeker muttered as he stumbled for a moment and took some much needed breathes, with each one sounding like they were coming from a rabid dog instead of a person.
It hurt to breath. The Seeker realized.
It hurt to fucking breathe.
"Fuck." The Seeker muttered. "Since when did breathing become such a pain in the ass?" His question went unanswered. Slumping over, dropping to his knees, the Seeker looked down, attention focused on the cracked and soaked stone platform that overlooked Darkwater's lonely fishing hamlet.
He could barely hear the rain coming down all around him; barely felt the thunder bounce off his skin. He barely registered the cracks of lightning that raced across the sky, hitting the earth and splitting trees as they set them ablaze.
Storm was getting worse by the minute, and that thick wall of fog was rolling in.
He wouldn't be able to see the hamlet soon.
Did that bother him though? No; instead, his attention slowly drifted forward, gaze locking onto what demanded his attention at this very moment.
The followers of the Ogdru Hem , whether they were in alignment to the fabled
High Priest of the Great Old Ones, or the Leviathan of Disease or the Father of the Deep Ones, or some other aquatic abomination once hiding beneath the waves escaped him - and honestly he could care less regardless. All he knew was that they were here, as was their leader, a figure that was half man, half… something else; something that honestly made his head hurt.
He was close, he was so fucking close.
Here stood the leader of a cult aligned with the Ogdru Hem – the Great Old Ones.
It wasn't just their leader either, their chosen; an exalted figure who had long crossed into adulthood. The child of the Old Gods; an Anchor.
That's what the Foundation liked to call them anyway, and to be fair that was what they 'were'. An Anchor, something that tethered their abominable parent's existence to this world.
The old madmen wrote fables describing the Stars 'being right', they wrote about how they were responsible for rousing the Old Gods from their death-like slumber. One thing they forgot to mention was their children, about how they tethered their parents' existence to this plain so they might walk even when the stars 'were wrong'.
That was what insight - what Truth had taught him shortly after he became a Seeker.
…
For some reason the Seeker in question found himself chuckling, and he chose to blame it on being so close to the Child of the Old Ones, it's presence slowly eroding his mind as time continued to pass. If it wasn't for the fact that his mind was a bit 'cracked' already – he was damn sure that it would have shattered like glass being stepped on by an elephant.
He glanced to the side, attention turning to the still corpse of one Walter Bernard, s fellow Seeker the Foundation had drafted to do their dirty work. His fingers were still wrapped around that relic he'd picked up from their now deceased Agent. He clung to that relic so desperately, like it was their only salvation. His plan? The Agent's plan had been simple; seal the child of the Old Ones away, lock it away in a cage so that neither it nor it's parent could do any more harm. Unfortunately, the sealing spell was something only the late Bernard and their long dead agent knew at the moment.
So, sealing the youngling away was certainly off the tables now.
At the same time, this Seeker, last of five, didn't really care about that little fact.
After all, he was one of the few that had voiced their opinion against the sealing in the first place.
Even if they had succeeded in sealing away this spawn of an Old Ones, they would just be leaving a problem for the future generations to take care of.
After all; seals only lasted so long.
Maybe it was his pride talking, but he wasn't the kind of people who basically threw in the towel cause things were bad and went 'it's your problem now' . He'd seen too many men do that, and personally he had made a habit of hunting down anyone who tried that shit on him.
Regardless of those thoughts, the Seeker chuckled as his gaze turned skyward, his attention focused on the gloomy overcast that was surrounding the Isle of Darkwater.
His chuckle slowly evolved into laughter, laughter that seemed to go unnoticed by both the followers and child of the Old Ones.
He laughed. He laughed and at the same time, he cried.
By humanities absent and benign Gods he always hated crying, but he just couldn't help himself.
It was over.
They lost.
Despite their best effort, they lost.
They couldn't stop the ascension of the exalted fledging, and they sure as hell couldn't stop their abhorrent parent.
They lost, and there wasn't a damn thing they could do.
There wasn't a damn thing they could do now.
All the Seekers that had been drafted into this fucking job were either dead or dying; and he'd be of the former very soon.
I'm gonna die…" His laughter slowly died down, returning to a chuckle as he kept his gaze heavenward. "I'm gonna fucking die here…" For a brief moment the laughter returned as he shook his head, before looking down before noticing his handgun was still in his grip.
It's lighter than he remembers…
Was it also this light and he just never noticed?
Without much prompting he raised the weapon to his head and closed his eyes.
Better to die on his terms than on theirs.
So without much hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
An empty click reached the young man's ears as he opened his eyes and kept pulling at the trigger, dropping the weapon in his lap and looked heavenward again, letting his gaze return to the murky abyss of a foggy night. "Well, there goes that idea." He mused as he forced himself to think of anything to chase away the creeping madness.
His attempt was blocked when he heard the screaming, something that sounded like a cross between an animal's death wail and a demon's battlecry. It caused him to look forward, gaze turning to the fog as he saw the silhouette of something change behind it, as the tide grew restless.
He saw spears of light arc across the sky.
"That time already?" He asked but found no answer coming to him. He chuckled as the madness tried creeping in again, only to be pushed back the monsters created by his own twisted mind.
He listened to the praise, the chanting and the alien songs being sung in by these cultists in the names of both an Old God and their child. The Seeker closed his eyes as he turned skyward, taking a second to think back to something he heard from Agent Walker himself.
"Three days."
He'd told them.
"We get this job done in three days, or we're going to at ground Zero for a nuclear strike that puts the Fatman and the Little Boy to shame."
That was the World Government's failsafe should the Foundation fail with this operation.
"Well." The Seeker began as he opened his eyes again. "Not like the Government is at the risk of 'losing anything of value' anyway." He muttered to himself. "Just a Foundation Agent and five scrubs pulled out from societies underbelly." He mused as he adjusted himself, sitting cross-legged on the ground as he took a breath and stared at those before him.
How were they so blind that they didn't see the spears racing across the sky?
Were they so enraptured by that abhorrent song they were singing that they lost sight of their surroundings?
The Seeker just shrugged it off; after all it didn't matter in the end. They were going to burn, before they even realized what was going on.
And so was he…
"Fuck…" He chuckled weakly. "I'm gonna die…" He continued staring heavenward. "I'm gonna fucking die here…" The laughter returned as he shook his head, putting his hands on his head and seemed to tightened his grip. "I'm scared." He admitted. "I don't wanna die." He added as he turned his head downward. "I don't wanna die." He muttered before closing his eyes. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I don't know what I did wrong, but… I'm sorry." He added. "Mom, dad…" He whispered. "I'm so sorry… I just…" Whatever he was apologizing for was drowned out as his entire world disappeared into blinding light and fire.
…
…
…
"What?"
That was the first word his mind got out after trying to piece itself back together.
"What's going on?"
His eyes struggled to open.
"Where am I?"
The youth's thoughts seemed to echo into eternity as he found himself staring into the abyss.
Where was he? The last he remembered was the sky bleeding, and…
"Oh, that's right."
His thoughts echoed out.
"I'm dead."
He realized, closing his eyes as he seemed to hug himself.
"It's so cold."
He whispered, shaking in the dark.
Why was it so cold?
Why was it so dark?
Where… where was he?
This place, it couldn't be Hell, and it definitely wasn't Heaven.
"This where you go when you're not good enough for either?"
He asked as he cracked his eyes open or at least he thought he did. It was so dark that he wasn't sure if he even opened his eyes or not.
Shivering, the youth bit his lips as the cold washed over him, feeling more like sharp needles than anything.
It's so cold…
It's so dark…
It's so quiet…
He didn't wanna be here.
He wanted to go home, not to that shabby bachelor pad he'd rigged together after running away; he wanted to go home . To his parents, to his dog… to before all this crazy shit happened.
"I know."
A voice called out as the cold started to fade, a new sense of warmth washing over the Seeker as he 'opened' his eyes in the dark and saw that before him was a small fire burning in the spot before him. It was small, but growing; like a small torch gaining strength.
"I wanna go home too…"
That voice…
He knew that voice. How could he not. It belonged to the one who was always there, whether he wanted them to be or not. A confidant, a friend, a guardian, a guide… they were always there for him, even when the rest of the world seemed to turn against him.
"You're still here…"
"Where else would I be?"
The fire grew, grew till it was the size of a baseball that hovered above his cupped hands before resting on them. It's warmth and light, touching his skin and spreading its flames till it enveloped the Seeker.
"Better?"
"Yeah…" The Seeker smiled as the warmth chased away the cold. The fire didn't burn him, it couldn't burn him, then again it was their fire. Both his and his other self."Thank you." The seeker muttered as he started to look around. Despite the new light source, the dark refused to give way, instead it seemed to lash out with greater shadows in an attempt to snuff out the light. "What afterlife is-" The moment the question started to form the Seeker flinched his hands going to his head as he started to hear them. "Ah~"
The voices… No, that's not the right way to describe them. These weren't voices. They were… words, but they weren't spoken.
They were being written.
Words were being etched onto his brain - no not on his brain, his mind .
"Ah~" His whimper evolved into a pained scream as he continued clutching his head as blood started to seem from his nose.
It hurts, the etching of letters of words onto his mind hurt so damn much, he couldn't describe it.
"Stop." He started to plead, to beg the words to stop writing themself on his mind. "St o p i t!" The writing didn't stop, instead just continued on for what felt like a few hours as he screamed out into the darkness.
When it was over, the Seeker just curled into himself, weeping slightly as he wiped the blood from his nose.
The writing was done, but the damage - and the message was left behind.
He knew where he was now.
Worse, he knew it was a place he wasn't supposed to be.
There was a scarce few who remembered this 'place'. It's a piece of~ before; before names - before identity, before things like time and space and casualty were molded into reality. It's a piece of before the Ogdru Hem and their more abhorrent parents the Ogdru Jahad.
Those that remembered it called it the Abyss, but those old forgotten inscriptions called it Tehom .
"Why are we here?" The Seeker asked. "We're not supposed to be here…" He whimpered.
"I know…"
"Then why are we here?"
"I don't know, something must have pulled us here before the missiles hit."
"Something brought us here?"
"Yeah, it seems like it…"
"That means…" The hairs on the back of the Seeker's neck went straight up as he fought the desire to pull himself from his little huddle. Something had chosen to settle under his feet, lifting him up slightly. Looking down from his huddle he saw what looked - in his opinion - looked like the palm of a hand, only it was one made entirely up of smaller hands. The Seeker Shivered at the sight, before closing his eyes and started to mutter to himself. "It's in my head." He told himself. "It's all in my head…" He repeated.
He knew he was sitting on… something, but it wasn't a hand made of hands…
These things weren't something his mind could accurately identify. His mind could only comprehend what his eyes were looking at through some form of self-induced illusion. It couldn't see what was beyond it - it didn't want to see what was beyond the illusion.
If it did…
"It's all in my head…" The Seeker muttered as he continued to breathe before he felt his chin be pushed upward, and what he saw was a sea of eyeballs clumped together and focused only on him. He gulped, taking a much needed breath as he stared into the sea of eyes that gazed upon him.
Seeker
It hurt to hear the word echo into his head. It didn't hurt as much as the writing upon his mind, it was more… like hearing nails on a chalkboard, or even static on a radio.
Hello, Seeker
The words continued to hurt, but not as much as the original spoken word.
That was only because it was poking at his mind, dumbing down the words of an old abominable tongue into a language he could better understand without melting his brain.
"You…" The Seeker whimpered before finding a bit of strength to stand. "Who… what are you?" He asked. "What do you want?"
A Seeker
It responded simply.
I need a Seeker
"What?" The youth muttered as the hand of hands started to raise him upward. "You need a Seeker?" The Seeker felt a chill run up his spine.
An Old thing needed a Seeker?
There was no way that was a good thing..
Yes
The sea of eyes stated.
"Why…." The Seeker gulped nervously. "Why do you need a Seeker?"
The thing in front of him didn't say anything, instead just pulled an eye from its sea of eyeballs and held it out, purple hued blood spilling out into the dark as it continued holding the plucked squirming eye.
My dream
It began as the squirming eye started to melt away.
My dream is ending
"What?"
The plucked organ continued to melt away, until… until it revealed something hiding beneath all the material.
It looked like… was this a mask?
It was a mask… one he felt he'd seen before. He just couldn't figure out where.
The Thing - the Dreamer dropped the white mask into his hands.
It's warm … and it feels like a little heartbeat.
My dream
The Seeker looked up, his gaze turned away from what was now in his hands as it's empty eyes started to glow.
I don't want my dream to end
The Dreamer told him as it started to disappear into the dark.
At least, not yet
Once again left alone in the dark, the Seeker looked at the mask before seeming to think, trying to make sense of things.
The Dream?
What was it talking about?
He flinched as the writing returned, etching itself across his mind as he raised a hand to his head and the gem started glowing brighter.
He screamed, but it was drowned out by the dark.
NOTES
Ogdru Jahad - The Term originates from the Hellboy Franchise, it is synonymous with the Outer Gods, much like Azathothbr /
Ogdru Hem - Another Term originating from Hellboy, it is synonymous with the Great Old Ones, much like /
The Dreamer - The Dreamer is the equivalent to Azathoth who dreams Creation into being, and should the dream end so does creation and all within it.