Gentlemen, I declare this extraordinary session of the Board open.

The Master sent me a dream about our enemy.

His name is Richard Grant II, head of Metaware Inc, the richest known plutomancer. We’ve fought him in the past and, in some occasions when his empire was beginning to spread, he even was our ally. Had we guessed his purpose, we would have crushed him quickly. Today, it’s going to be a harsh battle.

His wealth in stock options and his capacity to manipulate the market allowed him to spend money when he needed it and still accumulate huge magickal charges. As you know, he used this power to increase his influence over peoples, cultures and economies. We learned early on that he wanted to ascend. Judging from his obsession with control and the way he tried to shape the dreams of his willing and unwilling subjects, we thought that he was aiming for a corrupted Leader archetype. That was fine with us. We even approached him to see if he was good Board material but, apparently, he didn’t take us seriously.

None of our analysts spotted the clues: Metaware’s secret construction of the mammoth knowledge repository known as the Bunker, the company owned network that was built to link the Bunker to every part of the globe, Grant’s strange interest for automata, renewable energy sources and… cryonics. He was not trying to become a Leader. Knowledge, reach, infinite energy and a tomb. He wanted to build an eternal kingdom that would wait for his return, when the time was right. He wanted to become the King Under The Hill.

Grant entered the hidden cryogenic chamber of the Bunker yesterday at 1 a.m. Twelve minutes later, all the accesses to the Bunker were hermetically sealed and the freezing process began. He almost ascended.

There is a place outside called the Court of Change where a pretending godwalker goes to challenge an archetype and that no one else can find. Their respective merits and failings are weighted and the one less fit for the role is sent to the House of Renunciation. It is there that Grant met the Master.

Though there is no ground in the statosphere, Grant was shaken by His approaching bulk.

Though there is no scent in the statosphere, he was overwhelmed by the stench of His presence.

Though one cannot be physically harmed in the statosphere, he knew fear.

And thus, he was found lacking.

This is as close a brush with disaster as we can tolerate. You are to dismantle Grant’s kingdom and see that no one can ever achieve such power again. Have your agents find the Bunker and destroy it. Use whatever means you deem necessary.

That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange eons even death may die.

The session is adjourned.

The world was covered in a veil of darkness, leaving
those unarmed to the demons and creatures whom you
only confronted in nightmares. The Gate had been
cracked by a voodoo master whom felt he had the power
to control Hell’s inhabitants. But he was wrong.
After bringing forth the darkest powers to do his
dirty work he had lost control and the earth was
flooded with insanity and malicious creatures.

After the Gate had been broken wide open there came
first the smaller creatures, agile and cat like
although possessing the most gruesome characteristics.
They roamed the earth in search for a place that
their master, Satan, could come and hide. Equipped
with more than just razor sharp claws and serrated
teeth they ravaged those who were
stupid enough to stay out after dark.

Upon finding a city in which Satan could be they
called forth their second army. Coming from within
the pits of Hell were the demons. They alone could
have taken the earth by surprise and done away with
every last mortal. But that was not what they were
for. They were Satans protectors, his bodyguards in
this unknown and welcoming world. They stood a good 6
feet above their proceeding companions. Smarter than
most of hells creatures they were able to outsmart
even those people who had fled underground.

Upon ridding their new home of all mortals they
called to their master. Rising from the pits of Hell,
breaking the Gates of Hell clear off their hinges,
came Satan. No man could escape his fiery gaze, no
woman could escape the almost soothing voice he used
to bring them to submission and as soon as Satan had
made himself a home on earth it would
be the final and most terrifying step that the planet
we call earth has come to Hell on Earth.

Im here in this shitty apartment, pretending to shoot up.

If youve ever tried to fake putting heroin into your veins, youll realize its much easier than you first think it will be. For starters, no ones really watching you do it. Theyre all to concerned about kissing the face of God, or something. Secondly, its pretty simple to pull the needle out, and spill it into your lap or the couch or the floor.

So I wasnt worried about that.

You cant worry much, and you especially cant show it, not when youre undercover. They tell you the rules; Always Cool, Always Calm, Always Covered. Carpenter told me that, Jesus, four months ago. This job is supposed to be pretty easy, as far as sheepskin jobs go. Just keeps tabs on William Blix, find out who his supplier is, find out why hes connected to Alex Abel.

Carpenter told me later, in the paneled hallway, that this was a Delta Green operation, that I need to keep an eye out for Delta Green interests, that Ill be protected; and that when (not if, but when) Blix does something telling, that I need to ensure his termination.

Whatever the Christ that means. I nodded my head, clipped off the Yes sirs as they need be said. I didnt ask questions. I assumed I would be briefed later, which never happened, and it doesnt look like it will, since Carpenter apparently died in upstate New York last month. Shot in the head.

It could be that since I replaced Andy Groven, some of the details got lost in the shuffle. After Groven checked himself into a mental hospital, they snatched me out up out of Detroit, ready and willing to start acting again. My guess is that Carpenter just thought that I was Groven or something. Or maybe he just wanted to fuck with my head, I dont know.

So now Im here, in this shitty apartment, pretending to shoot up, listening to those scary groans coming from Bobbys room. Its not him having sex, I dont think. I tell myself its probably him exercising, but thats the closest thing I can come to. Its this way every morning. Bobby gives me a needle, and he goes and does whatever he does, comes out looking brand new. More than that. He looks different, like hes got a plastic surgeon in his bedroom.

Paul! Paul, come in here, I got something to show you

Uh, okay. You alright in there, Billy?

Oh yeah. Doing great! Get in here.

Billys standing in the middle of the room. Hes totally naked, and hes smiling at me like a like a preacher on Sunday.

Paul. Come here.

Billy, what, Jesus, what did you do to your body?

His stomach, up to underneath his pecs, looks like a shotgun wound. The skin has been torn open, leaving little shreds to curl out. Billy is still smiling, and I can see that his hands are covered, and caked in blood. I think he did this to himself with his fingernails.

Billy, what is going on here?

Its time to show you, Paul. Give me your arm.

What? Im not&

With a speed I can hardly imagine, Billy launches himself onto me. He grabs my arm, holding it tight between his bloodied fingers. He stares at me; he looks like hes a father about to tell his son something important about life.

Be calm, Paul, be calm.

He places his fingernails against the inner joint of my elbow. He looks me dead in the eye, studying me, and he presses in. His fingernails, and his blood, worm their way into my arm, and he starts to drag. The pain is unbelievable. As he slowly twists his way down my arm, I can feel silvery pain start to leak out. It feels like hes touching my bones, slicing through the meat of my arm. My face is getting cold, and my vision starts to turn patchy and gray.

When he reaches my wrist, he lifts his finger out and steps back. My arm, elbow to hand, looks like a hot dog that bursts open after youve cooked it for too long, and its bleeding so much. So loud its obscene, I can hear the blood dripping onto the floor.

Paul, Paul, listen to me. You need to think here, you need to concentrate. Think about what I did to your body.

Jus-jesus, think, Billy, look what you did, nnnnnnnn-this is, this hurts

I know it does Paul. Think about how much it hurts, think about how its going to scar, how youll never look the same again.

Im thinking about ending this whole thing and killing him right here in this shitty apartment, but I can feel something happening. I imagine myself as an old man, looking at this lighting bolt scar I have on my arm, and I can feel something inside of me start to happen.

Billys still staring at me, talking fast. He says something about Play-Doh. The wound, the pain, it doesnt seem to bad suddenly. My body feels calm, like Im made of wet clay.

You feel that, Paul, you feel that? Think about what you can do with it.

And I think, and I do. Everything in my body, everything from my skin to the marrow in my bones, Im suddenly aware of it, and how what I can do with it. I can feel my teeth start to move around, flow through my gums. I can feel hair creep out, getting darker.

You know what youre doing Paul, can you feel what youre capable of? Why do you think they put you here? They put you here because you need to know. They need you to know, do you understand that?

Something inside of me tells me hes making sense. Something else tells me what I already know, what I can do with my body now, that Im the one in control.

In the DG case file he is code-named ‘333,’ unless you are B-cell or below.

Dr. Koeb to Sandy Metcalf, TNI: “Tell the boss they are willing to
strike a deal. In return for everything we know on the Comte de Saint-Germain,
they will give Abel a private viewing of the Video. Don’t ask me how they got
their hands on it, but it is my impression that these Delta guys are
well-organized, heavily-financed, and might even be highly dangerous if
my current contact with them, “Pietro,” hadn’t already been ordered into
“friendly-mode.” Kind of like us.”

In Australia, he is called Big Walker, unless you are white, and cannot
see the Dreamtime.

Pietro to Paco, P-Cell: “Re: our research on “Adam & Evening.” We need Penny
to get her hands on that tape. I’ve practically signed the fucking
papers with these guys, and we’d better not look like amateurs. Alex Abel is a
potentially valuable contact, a veritable cipher for the occult underground.
Let’s not wax this.”

His own master called him something untranslatable, unless you are an idiot
savant.

Paco to Pietro: “Re: Penny. I think she’s in too deep, man. Her last message
to me was a pornographic treatise on joining something called the Clergy
(the inner sanctum of the Sect, maybe?), which would require her to
consolidate all she knew about the nihilistic universe of the Mythos
with the, and I quote, “come-soaked hole of Rosy apotheosis.” It’s a safe bet we’re
going to lose our tag on “A&E,” who’s duping every adept under the
sun.

I think it’s time for a night at the opera.”

In Egypt, he was called Nyarlathotep, unless he wasn’t.