Red Squad
by Captain Smash Nilpoint
Intro
I’m Captain Smash Nilpoint, sworn enemy to the Blue Squad. Don’t ask why we’re sworn enemies. That is the way it has always been and the way it always will be.
The following accounts are of my many ongoing ‘exchanges’ with my mortal nemesis Blue Squad.
ON ENTROPY, CHANGE, AND THE DEGRADATION OF THE UNIVERSE
Before time, all was uniform and steady. Slowly the symphony gathered, and the concert of change began. Time now set the pace, and uniformity had ended, but a new steadiness had resulted. The concert played on for millenia as one verse. It did not last.
Sadly, a sour note would sound, and a new conductor would come about to seek control of the score. Now there are countless conductors constantly wrestling for the piece, each uping the tempo, destroying the beat; turning the music to din. As the symphony races forward, the score deteriorates , and only a gentle never-ending hum will remain.
I will not let it end this way . The orchestra will play strong to the end. They will play my grand finale.
Year One
2.09
My intents in keeping this journal are to record the recent resistances I have meet up against as I write my grand finale. I have spent several years on my composition, but sadly it is still far from done. So, I believe that a place to record any type of opposing force to my greater efforts and to conjecture on methods to defeat this opposition are in order so that I may precede more effectively on my great work.
Today, as I was leaving a black market purchase of some ecoutraments for my experiments, I ran afoul of a dark figure. Without a word he knocked my equipment from my hand, and threw me into a narrow alley, were he left me. His form was not of flesh but of shadow. His actions left it not to be mistaken that this was a warning. What could this creature know?
3.16
For fear of another attack that I cannot defend against I have stopped all work on my grand finale. I have instead devoted all my efforts towards researching means of stopping any future attacks from the dark shade. Today, I believe I have the answer in a mysterious plant I recently purchased. It appears to have very strong shadow properties. I believe it will be very useful.
3.17
Blessed be the Chia. It is a wonderful organism. So simple. I have great plans for it.
5.29
Ran into that Blue Squad bastard again today. He still insists I’m stealing his thoughts. I’ll kill him soon.
Note: Step up recruiting. It appears Blue Squad has two members now. Who is this Omwah?
Supplemental entry
My hair! MY HAIR!--beautiful, dancing, lockes of gold—GONE! Only one as vile as Blue Squad could stoop so low. REVENGE WILL BE MINE!
5.31
The last couple of days have been thus far uneventful, though I fear it is only the calm before the storm. I’ll bide my time until Blue Squad slips up, then I’ll strike.
I must have stared at the viral structuring diagrams for hours. (I’ve only kept my sanity by ritual watchings of the USA network. God Bless. If only I had someone else which shared my love for reruns of old Star Trek movies and Baywatch.) Perhaps alpha chain sequences could somehow be swapped with omega chain. I can only make idle conjecture until the Jesus Fish 9000 finishes rendering the final structuring diagrams.
6.1
Edgar discovered a combination of mu and omega sequences which can replace alpha chains almost perfectly. I, of course, had to kill him for his impudence. I certainly would have discovered this simple chemical pairing much earlier if it were not for his damned feeble brain. I’ve isolated a suitable gene from the Chia for replicating mu/omega pairs. Synthesis can begin immediately. I should have a quantitizable amount by morning.
6.2
I’ve captured a member of Blue Squad! Their blatant idiocy amazes me. He was wearing a T-shirt with the text ‘Visit Omaha.’ Much too similar for chance to Omwah, a compatriot of Mr_Yuk. He denies any association with them and claims his ‘Gramps’? gave him the shirt. I’m not quite sure what appeal Blue Squad has to the midget community, but it is surely something which needs to be investigated. (NOTE: step up recruiting with midgets.)The small statured one sobs for his ‘Mommy’? nightly.
Synthesis of the designer Chia virus is complete. My captive should make a good test subject.
6.3
The R0LuM17/Chia virus was a success. The subject’s hair follicles have been altered by the virus to produce what is apparently a synthesis between seminian hair and Chia sprouts. This effect is most noticable on the scalp. I suppose this is due to the differing growth cycle of scalpular hair, which in comparision to other body hair is relatively long. A mere fifteen hundred spores are needed to infect a host. The refractory period between infection with R0LuM17 and the first appearance of symptoms is approximately twenty-four hours. The ‘Chia’ virus may only be contracted by direct blood contact. I currently have no cure, nor do I seek any. I’ve developed an ingenious device for delivery of the virus; all that is required is a small prick to the skin and infection is eminent.
TAKE MY HAIR WILL HE!? LET’S SEE HOW HE LIKES BEING A CHIA HEAD.
6.4
Tailed Blue Squad today. I now have the perfect strike plan. It seemed every time I spotted him a black figure would always be in the periphery. Probably just shadows. Several times I almost gave into the urge to dart Blue Squad there. Until tommorow.
I also released my captive. I no longer believe him to be a member of Blue Squad. I could no longer stand his wimpering. You’d think he were a child!
6.5
I feel I have made the gravest of errors. In my blind quest for revenge, I have violated the ethical codes which all responsible researchers must strictly abide by to insure the public’s safety. Millions shall suffer in agony because of my foolishness.
Oh well.
The R0LuM17/Chia virus has mutated. I’ve given it the new designation of R0LuM17-Ab (Airborne). I have already started to show symptoms, but I don’t really care since I don’t have hair anyway. I contacted the CDC but they wouldn’t listen to ‘the rants of a madman about a highly infectious chia virus being carried by a green headed midget wearing a cryptographic T-shirt proclaiming all should visit the great city of Omaha, Nebraska.’
Shit.
I paid Blue Squad’s doctor to dart him with an ingeniously engineered piece pen. It’s a foolproof plan.
Red Squad! Captain Smash Nilpoint. Hoooo!
Supplemental entry
Damn’d whore! My foolproof plan has failed. I watched Blue Squad’s doctor take him back to her office as planned. I heard the ‘contagion delivery device’ fire and an unintelligable yell. I could only assume everything went as planned, but approximately 10 minutes later Blue Squad exited her office with a goofy as hell grin and a weird, chaffed-like stride. He walked directly past me totally unaware of my presence. Enraged I burst into her office to find her straightening her hair and smoking a cigarette. She failed, so I shot her. It is as simple as that. Blue Squad is the only thing that stands between me and domination of the world. Eh, except for the insignificant White Rabbits and the fabled Gold Squad.
6.6
The gauntlet has been dropped. The final engagement is at hand. Blue Squad has called for a show down.
I’m prepared.
9.9
Due to my absence during the period of 6.7 through today the following entries have been added subsequently.
6.7 - 9.9
I noted the time to be exactly 12:03 A.M. A shadow in the light approaches. It must of towered seven feet. It suddenly became a blur, racing towards me. I launched a thermal-chia blast, dropping it in it’s tracks. A thick growth of chia consumed it—choking it’s life away. Omwah was vanquished. Blue Squad jumped me from behind and a struggle ensued. After his brief and weak display of fighting I had him poised for the ‘infamous Smash Nilpoint back breaker’; suddenly,a group of three golden beings surrounded us. The sheer power of their presence radiated through the air. It had an almost tangible physicality.
Then the air simmered slightly and, a hole, for the lack of a better word, opened, the physics of which was beyond my comprehension. It was apparently two dimensional. It was of a color more pure than black, from which darkness radiated, negative light seemed to pour from it. I could make it out only by the warping of light surrounding it. Could it have been a rotating black hole?
The void pulsed, and a deafening roar began. All the air around us was being pulled in, creating a violent windstorm. As I turned to run for cover the void pulsed once more and Mr. Yuk was engulfed by its blackness. It was as if he was frozen in time amoung the darkness, as he slowly faded to red and then to nothing as he was consumed by the nothingness.
The void pulsed once more, and I too was drawn into the ink well.
Then as soon as I had entered (from my perspective), I was cast out into a sparce desert forest. I collapsed from exhaustion; I surmise Mr. Yuk did as well, for he awoke approximately the same time as I did. Too hot and baffled to fight, Mr. Yuk and I called a truce.
Exhile
Day 1st
Three weeks have past. Journal, my absence must be forgiven for I have only recently attained a pen and parchment. I’ve found writing in the sand is bothersome, and, truely, it doesn’t last. Nothing of great import has past in these first three weeks. Only matters of survival. Gold Squad has yet to be seen since Mr. Yuk and I first came here. Yet, they are apparently watching over us for our basic needs are routinely cared for. All that need be done is to speak one’s wish aloud and whatever item in want of shall appear shortly (this paper was obtained by the same method), but always when both of us are either away or sleeping. Though, not all wishes are provided for; many times I’ve pleaded for passage home and have yet to receive an answer.
Day 7th
Nothing of great importance has happened of late. I’ve found taking journal entries is a luxury, hard to afford, in this formidable clime. Most of mine time is spent exploring this desolate place, but it is of no use. No matter which direction one sets out on, and no matter how straight a path on walks the destination is always the same, your point of origin.
Strangly, a comradiery has grown between Mr_Yuk and I. Granted, the first couple weeks only a stray bit of conversation passed between us, mostly scowls during the first. But of recent days, he and I have began to speak, not of great matters, but of small issues, such as the characteristics of the landscape or conjecture about the reasons for being here. Mind you, not of some anthropic philosophing for our presence on this Earth (damn! if this even is Earth), but rather why we here, together, in this desolete place. “When will we go home?” is another oft asked question.
Day 8th
Our fighting has resumed. I find myself filling with rage thinking of it now. I will right about it later. A fierce storm is upon us, I believe it will have passed by morning.
Day 23rd
Life has been harsh these past weeks. Successions of sandstorms have piled upon our camp. They seem to be in some wicked chase to smother us. Only yesterday did they finally pass. Whatever was not blown away is covered in dust. However, Mr_Yuk and I have grown closer. The area does not lend itself to exploration; we have no books, and no things to waste idle time but conversation. He still laments of Omwah (I have ponderings about a latent homosexual relationship between them). I know he hates me for his death, but I think he also has an understanding for me.
Day 27th
I flew into a rage again today. Mr_Yuk wasted three days worth of wishes on bottled water and pornography. The truce is over.
Day 87th
Unrelenting storms of every type have blasted and washed and froze upon our souls. Only brief periods of calm allowed us outside our tent, and these moments were fleeting. Surely we would have died if nourishment had not been conjoured into our tents. These past sixty-five days have been maddening.
Day 89th
On a regular outing for kindling I spotted a something glinting sunlight in a remote dune. Upon clearing away a good amount of sand I revealed a smaller area of about three yards of what appears to a be a large metallic silver dome, free of any kind of markings and of perfect curvature. Not knowing what to make of it I returned to camp and discussed with my former enemy. I promised to show it to him the next morning for it had already began to grow dark.
Day 90th
That morning, shortly after we rose Mr_Yuk found an unusual hammer left in the middle of our encampment. It was made of a very solid metal, the same composition of the dome, apparently craft from one piece of material for it posed no edges or joints. Neither of us directly wished for such an odd instrument. It was so unique that it could not have been wanted for in passing. This leads me to believe its appearance is somehow correlated with my discovery of the sphere.
The sphere appeared to me made of the purest gold as we approached it with the rising sun behind us. After we summitted the dune to the peak of the sphere, I pondered with my friend about estimations of size and origin of this alien object. On a lark Mr_Yuk gently tapped the sphere, shattering the hammer, leaving no trace on the silver orb.
Day 93th
Again, a metallic hammer appears at our camp. It is identical to the original in every aspect. And it also shattered in a similar matter (though with a harder swing) upon the sphere as the first.
Day 99th
Another hammer appears. It is of the same making and composition of the first two. Hopeless, we try it out on the sphere as well. Just as Mr_Yuk is about to strike I have an epiphany. Quickly, I outstretched my hand and caught the hammer just before it struck the sphere. I explained to my friend what took me almost a hundred days of hell to realize. That is, force is not always the way. Gold Squad sent us here so that we might reconcile our differences and learn respect for one another. This we have done, and this sphere is a test of what they hoped we would learn. We must peacefully will it to be open. Clemency is the way. Suddenly ripples waved just beneath the surface, which then turned momentarly liquid and we and a bit of sand fell through. All that lay within was a small circular platform which seemed to levitate at the center of the sphere. The top of the sphere we had just fallen through was solid, but transparent when viewed from this side. Nothing but void and darkness was beneath us.
A small electronic device with one button and an attenuator rests on the platform. As I depressed the button a portal appeared just like the one we had seen so long ago, but this time we could see through to the destination. Slowly I turned the attentuator and as I did the destinations change. After some fiddling and much pondering Mr_Yuk discovered it wasn’t the place that was changing but instead the time! Carefully we honed in on our on time period, we debated about visiting the future but the farther we strayed from our time period the blurrier the image became, however as we looked at what appeared to be a approximately one year ahead of our own time period a grave image appeared. The world was in chaos hideous large clumps of green decaying matter littered the streets. No person was in sight. Then, a strange green creature walked into view. It appeared to be staring directly at us. We were not sure if the portal transmitted images both ways. Mr_Yuk and I decided to take our chances, to see what this strange creature would do. All the creature wore was a tattered T-shirt which appeared to say something about visiting Omaha. The being towered several feet, very muscular, devoid of any sexual organs, and appeared to be composed of plant matter and detritus. The closer it came the more tense I became. Inches from the portal it suddenly stopped as if something else caught its attention. It turned to the side, paused, and then manically lunged forth into the portal. Mr_Yuk deftly turned the attenuator and a partial hand fell from the portal to the platform on which we stood. It laid there lifeless for several seconds. As I drew closer to inspect it, weedlike barbed tendrils sprung forth from the severed hand narrowly missing my throat. Reflexively I kicked it away, unfortunately it flew into the portal and into the distant past. Mr_Yuk then seized the opportunity and reattenuated the portal. After some effort we were able to get the device to bring us within three months of the time we had entered the first portal.
9.10
Mr_Yuk and I have arrived safely back home. We’ve put or differences aside and have decide to form a new coalition—cast in the spirit of goodwill and friendship—Purple Squad. I told Mr_Yuk that purple seemed a little gay, but he was adamant about it. This new group shall herald a new era of peace coexistence through the universe. Glorious days shall from this day on reign forth. Love and warmth will fill the hearts of all and merry be their souls.
9.13
I am all alone and the plant beasts are chasing me through a deserted city. The buildings are crumbling, and the streets are crammed with cars. The same leacherous plant that the beasts are composed of seem to grow everywhere. Curiously, they are appear to grow the strongest where the sunlight is absent. The beasts gain on me. I try to run faster. Everything is in slow motion. My legs feel like lead. As soon as I get around a corner, I duck down a dark side street and hide under a car. The monsters run past. For a brief moment, I feel relief, but then a sharp pain enters my side. I look down to see I have been stuck by the tendrils of a plant growing on the car. I feel my humanity slowly begin to fade, no consumed, and then I am awoken by a knock at the door.
Mr. Yuk has brought a journal written by his deceased ally Omwah. I had always assumed the shadow creature was just a minor incantation of Mr. Yuk’s. I never knew he was human. Waves of guilt crash over me; I had never intended to hurt a human. Now, I am starting to realize why Mr. Yuk feels so much pain for his loss, they were friends. My previous self would never have felt any emotion for anyone who got in my way. I believe the prison world has changed us both more than we realize.
The journal is fantastic. Much of it is indechiperable, but Mr_Yuk believes he has found some vital information to point us towards new adventures. However, it doesn’t seem to answer any of our questions; it only asks more. Why did Gold Squad appear before us? What happens in the future that turns the world so dark, and abandoned? What was that plant beast that tried to attack us through the portal? Who exactly is Omwah? How is it that he possess the power of Shadow? Mr. Yuk agrees that Omwah was more than a mere human, but how much more he does not know. For now, we are both clueless.
For now the task at hand is to try and find the relic. After an exhaustive search through my library of ancient South American culture, I discovered a very old volumen that held a page with a partial rubbing that matches the lower-left quarter of the of the symbol Mr. Yuk found in Omwah’s journal. So tomorrow we set out in search of the lost subterrainian Peruvian temple where the book indicates that this rubbing was taken.
9.14
We have arrived at Lima, Peru. Tomorrow we will rent a plane and begin our survey. Our best guess is that the lost temple is in the densely forested northern region of the country.
9.15
After three hours of searching, our plane began to have problems with one of the engines. Mr. Yuk said that we would have to end the survey and turn back. He seemed a little shaken. As he started the turn, an alarm sounded. We were losing altitude. Now both engines were struggling. The first engine, died, restarted, struggled, and died again. We were falling fast now. There was no where to land, thick forest covered everything. Then a glimpse of hope, a short clearing was to the right. It was littered with rocks, but it was our only chance. We were coming in very fast. The wheels touched down with a large jolt. The plane continued to race foward and hit a large outcropping of rocks. My skull smashed the side window, and I slumped over unconcious. The next thing I remember is being lightly shaken by Mr. Yuk. I awoke to a terrifying view. We were fourty feet above the forest floor, pointing straight down, hanging from a tree. The clearing had ended in an approximately sixty-degree slope. Just as started to release my belt, an equipment rack broke free of it’s ties and slammed into the front of the plane, ripping Mr. Yuk’s seat from the floor, throwing him into windshield, and violently jarring the trees precarious grip on the plane. At first, this appeared to have no effect, but then a branch snapped, followed by another, and another, then three more in rapid succession. The plane was too much to hold and began skidding and tumbling down the incline. The air had a noxious smell of fuel which tore at our eyes. Then the roar of earth and crashing metal stopped, replaced by a creek, pop, and air racing by. We were falling through open space now. Quickly as it began, the fall stopped, and an in rush of water began. I looked around the cabin for Mr. Yuk, but he was gone. I struggled to free myself of the restraining belts and kicked towards the surface, my lungs burning to be free of the fuel vapors and filled with fresh air. I found Mr. Yuk lying in the shallow water near the shore. He must had been ejected during our first fall, and tumbled down the slope alongside the aircraft. Bloody water surrounded him. I exhaustively pulled him to the shore. Both cold and tired, I collapsed.
When I awoke, I started to assess our grim situation. All our supplies were either underwater or back at our hotel. Mr. Yuk has large slash across his back and I cannot rouse him. Fortunately, the medic-kit floated to the surface and I was able to treat his wounds. It was going to be night soon, so I began to collect fire wood.
Night fell, and Mr. Yuk has still not awakened. As we warmed ourselves by the fire, I pondered plans of action for the following day. I believed the best plan was to hike back up to the clearing where we attempted to land. Hopefully, some debris would be visible from the air. If this were the U.S., planes should begin looking for us at first light tomorrow, when our return time on our flight plan is not met. I do not feel quite the same comfort about a Peruvian search effort.
As the night progressed, Mr. Yuk broke out in an icy cold sweat. He tossed and turned all night; constantly, mumbling about “too many voices.”;
9.16
I awake to the sounds of wretching. Mr. Yuk is puking at the water’s edge. He manages to get out a weak “Good Morning”, before keeling over again. I told Mr. Yuk about how bad his condition was, and asked him if he remembered any bad dreams. He said he didn’t want to talk about. His condition showed reasonable improvement so we set out for the clearing where we had attempted to land.
After two hours of strenuous hiking we made it to the top of the precipice the plane fell from, to the water. Further up there was a clear trail of destruction that the plane cleared as it slid and tumbled down the slope. At the spot where it had fallen from the trees was a very odd discovery. It seems the plane had cleared away the earth that was covering an entrance to a cave. Most of the dirt still blocked the way in, and the cave may have been missed, but there was an odd golden sparkle coming from within.
Mr. Yuk and I decided to investigate. The closer we came to the cave we realized that it was man made. The entrance was made of stone blocks, carved with mysterious artwork. We decided to put off waiting for rescue, and journey inside.
The golden walls appeared to glow as they reflected the light of our torches. As we followed the cave’s twists and turns, we stopped many times to examine the strange writings on various places in the tunnel. Sometimes it was on the floor, sometimes on the walls, and sometimes on the ceciling. We found symbols very similar to the one on the relic, but never the same. The path forked many times but we decided it was best to always stay on the center path for now. Eventually, we came upon a large circular chamber. In the center of the room, stood a pedstal which held five stone markers. A shelve, at about chest-height lined the room with similar marks. Mr. Yuk rushed ahead with excitement, and began to examine the stones. He picked up one of the markers and compared it to his notes. “This is it!”, he said. As he turned to show me, there was a bright flash and a loud crack. Eventually, I awoke and found myself not in the jungle but back in the desert forest of the alien planet, at dusk, alone.
Separation
Day One
Our old camp remains, it appears as if I haven’t been gone an hour; however, several stone markers now form a tight circle around the campsite (excepting three gaps at different places each the width of a marker). Some strange force will not let me pass the ring’s boundary. When I tried to step over it, I simply blacked out.
Day Two
I awoke this morning to find three golden markers in the middle of my camp. Having no better guesses, I placed them randomly into the stone ring. First the gold markers transmuted to gold and then a section of four markers disappeared; one of which was one of the golden ones I placed. The ring then turned clockwise and counterclockwise, until the larger gap was randomly seperated into four smaller gaps. I don’t know what this means. I try just sticking a finger across the boundary this time, and again I black out.
Day Three
Five golden markers appeared this morning. Three are different, two are the same. None of them ressemble any of the stones in the circle. I place four different ones in a pattern that I know is random, but some how convince myself makes sense. Three markers disappear and the ring rearrages itself. This is going no where. I take a running jump at the boundary. I pass out. It’s better than waiting until morning.
Day Four
I have a headache. Two gold markers appear today. Both the same. There are three stones in the ring that have the same symbol. Should I place them close to or far from their copies? I don’t know. I put them in; It sort of makes sense, nothing happens, there is still a gap.
I’ve decided to ride the rest of this day out. To take a break.
I get out of my tent during the middle of the night to take a leak.
Day Five
I wake up on the ground outside of the tent, my pants are damp. I must have urinated on the barrier. There are two new markers, each different. The old one from two days ago still remains. I place all three, and nothing happens! None of them disappear, the circle doesn’t rotate. I solved the puzzle! I confidently step out of the boundary, and then I black out. Just before I’m gone, I hear the familiar clicks of the circle rearranging itself.
Day Nine
It’s useless. Three new markers today, four gaps. I place them nothing happens. I don’t understand this test. I threw the remaining marker at the barrier. I pass out.
Day Seventeen
One gap. Three new markers, eleven old ones, zero placed.
Day Eleventeenth
My stack of markers fell over, several of them went beyond the boundary. Then I fell asleep.
Day Twenty-Something
I finally solved the riddle. It was easy enough all it took was a little smarts and a whole lot of crazy. I decided I wanted to build a sand igloo. Of course, the best sand was underneath the ring, so I started to dig it up. But then I saw that this sand wasn’t nearly as good as the sand, a little bit past the boundary, so I dug further. This was the best sand imaginable. It made the perfect igloo. The next few days were the best. I had cook-outs, volleyball, and a raucous game of charades with my new eskimo-family friends. My life was perfect until the sand igloo collapsed killing them all while they slept. God bless their souls. I was half way finished with the second igloo before I stopped and realized what the hell I was doing. I had dug a hole under the circle, and had been going back and forth underneath the boundary for half a week.
I have entered the time sphere. I am taking this opportunity to try get more information on the plant beasts Mr. Yuk and I saw through the portal the last time we were here. I turn the attenuator to the future. All the portal shows is static. I turn it to the past, the near present, any time, and all it shows is static.
I walk up to the portal to investigate. It appears this portal, this temporal shear, is contained by a very thin silver torus The torus is attached to a small black base, with a small recessed control panel. The panel contains two buttons and a dial exactly like the one on the attenuator. I try turning the attenuator and nothing happens, just more static. So, I try the first button. The entire inner shell of the sphere lights up with static. It appears to be projecting the view from the portal. This isn’t much of an improvement, so I try the second button. The portal and the sphere flash, and now show a picture of Earth. The projection on the inner walls is like being surrounded by a globe turned inside-out. The portal shows a similar two-dimensional image. There are several locations on this map flagged with strange symbols. Most of the sites are in the Americas. The site currently selected is the south pole. That must of been snow being displayer earlier, not static. Strange, why would someone be interest in the south pole? By turning the attenuator I can highlight different locations on the map. I select Mr. Yuk’s and my point of origin in North America, and a view of the present day surrounds me. Being more interested in the future, I turn the attenuator to get more information on what’s to come.
The view is fuzzy but there is not much to see, only desolation. It appears to be the mid-twenty-first century. Many cities have been abandoned or destroyed. Green monsters stalk everywhere. Humans appear to be in very small numbers. I hear them refer several times to the green beasts as Chia monsters. Could this be the result of my experiments? The view is similar in every location I examine. Perhaps, I need to start closer to the beginning, to get to the root of the cause; I need to know if I am to blame.
I turn the view to the near-past. The night Omwah was destroyed. The night Mr. Yuk and I were first sent to this desert prison. Everything is clear. A shadow blurs past. There is a burst of light, and the shadow falls. Mr. Yuk and I begin to fight and then Gold Squad appears. As they open the portal that consumes us, I notice something I missed before. Each of the three has a strange golden mark woven into a crest on their robes, none the same, but all very similar to the markings I saw in the temple. This is the clue I have been looking for.
I bring up the map, and select the temple marker, but then I realize something. I can’t go back to the temple. That stranger marker will imprison me here again. I can’t take anymore tests. However, there is is a second site on the map very close, to the temple site. I select it and flip the ring. I am now surrounded by the ancient ruins of what I believe was once a very large and complex city. Some markings like those in the temple are discernable. There also appears to be a primitive tribe living amoungst these ruins. The civilization that constructed this city, must have been very complex, but it seems that the time I am viewing is much older than the other periods.
I turn the attenuator to the past. The portal’s image is remarkably clear, for viewing so far back in time, there must be something special about this particular location.
What a marvelous site. I am surrounded by a bustling city. There are people everywhere. Strange ships fly overhead, and are constantly landing and taking off. Even stranger creatures walk amoung the people. They are much too alien for this planet. This place seems to be the hub of trade for this area, if for not the entire continent. Goods are everywhere. Peddlers line the streets. At the center of the city and up many flights of stairs, there appears to be an anouncement taking place. Five men dressed in golden clothing approach a strange device. Their images are projected ten times their normal size, and they begin to speak. The words are foreign to me, but the crowd appears to be very pleased with the speech from the way they cheer. The image begins to grow unsteady, snowy, and then it skips.
A very different scene surrounds me now. There are dead everywhere, human and alien. There are no more ships in the sky. The same hideous green monsters that were in the future are all over. How can this be? Am I responsible for these Chia monsters? The five golden leaders are here. They are fighting the Chia monsters with strange light weapons, but appear to be in the middle of a retreat. Their leader pauses to help a fallen member up. His chest bears the same symbol as in Omwah’s journal. His fallen companion has a very strange wound. Plant life seems to be rapidly growing from it and consuming the man. The leader draws his artifact weapon, vaporizes the man, and continues his retreat. The images skips again.
The time and location are different this time. The four remaining leaders, who must be Gold Squad, sit around a strange smokeless fire. They appear to be in deep meditation. The fire then begins to billow smoke. There are images in the smoke, views of the futurev, a Native American family expecting their first child. The image changes, the woman is now giving birth. There is something wrong, the child is still-born. Then the leader, the one with Omwah’s mark, opens his mouth and a hazy apparition pours out. His spirit joins the smoke and disappears. The smoke now shows an amazed doctor, the baby that appeared dead is now alive and crying. The smoke stirs, and shifts. The child is older now, he is a very serious boy, very knowing. His parents call him an old soul. The image changes, the boy is now a man. He is leaving his parents and the desert. His eyes have a sense of purpose; he appears focused. The smoke boils, the man is talking to someone. It is a friendly conversation. This man has never had a friend before, life was always much too serious for friends. The image grows clear, the man’s friend is Mr. Yuk! The man is Omwah!
The night I destroyed Omwah, plays out in the smoke. A shadows rushes, there is a flash of light, and the shadow falls. Through the smoke it is not clear who killed Omwah to the remaining members of Gold Squad. Their mouthes open and their spirits pour into the fire, and join the smoke. They appear before Mr. Yuk and I and cast us into a portal. The fire grows weak. Just before it dies, Omwah’s spirit falls from the smoke and reenters his body.
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