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WVVoU01HTklUVFpNZVRrelpETmpkV0pYVm10aFYwWnRZVmhLYkV4dFRuWmlVemd2WkZkSk1Ga3lUbmhpYWtaeVkwZHdkRTlYUm5FPQ==

Filename: BLANKMAN.TXT

<<transcript intercepted @ 20:45 on 12/18/12>>

<<process_DCRYPT active in memory.>>

"This is the last one for tonight. - E"

<<opening attachment: BLANKMAN.TXT>>

The Blank Man

A child grew lost within the woods
As fog swirled thick and deep,
And so she fell unto her knees
And softly began to weep.

But as the tears flowed from her eyes
And quenched the forest floor,
She noticed a man, a strange Blank Man
Who was not there before.

His frame was like a tall, thin birch,
His suit was black with dread.
His sightless gaze turned to the girl,
And this is what he said:

“Poor child, you are very lost;
Your home you cannot see,
The daylight left is fading fast –
Perhaps you should come with me?”

The child found herself comforted by
The Blank Man’s sure persistence,
And saw no reason to ignore
His calming, soft insistence,

But still, she did not trust the Man,
And was too scared to try,
So she stood and wiped away her tears,
And this was her reply:

“O Blank Man of the forest, I
Cannot just go with you –
I could become still more lost yet,
And then what shall I do?”

“I would be there,” the Blank Man said,
Now standing twice as tall,
“I know the forest very well.
You shan’t be lost at all.

Now come, dear child, the hour’s late
As you can clearly see –
You mustn’t run away from fate.
It’s time to come with me.”

“But Blank Man,” said the child, “I
Cannot be out at night!
My parents shall be worried sick
And surely die of fright!

I couldn’t bear to go with you
And leave them both alone –
I’m sure they must be missing me;
I simply must get home!”

“But they will understand, my child,”
The Blank Man spoke to her,
“And I would have you home by then,
Of that you can be sure.

Now come along, child, the hour’s late
As you can plainly see –
You mustn’t run away from fate.
It’s time to come with me.”

“But Blank Man, I’m afraid of the dark
And all that lurks inside
The shadows of the forest deep!”
The child, now frightened, cried.

“There’s monsters out there in the dark
That crave my flesh and bone!
I’m too afraid to go with you –
Please, just take me back home!”

“The monsters of the forest, child,
Are far too scared of me.
I’ve too many arms,” the Blank Man said
To her, reassuringly.

“Besides, my child, it’s far too late
As you can surely see –
You cannot run, this is your fate.
It’s time to come with me.”

And the frightened child ran away
Into the forest so deep,
Now seeing the Blank Man for what he was
And praying her soul she’d keep,

But the child could neither run, nor hide,
Nor escape the dark pursuit
Of the Blank Man of the forest, dressed
In very blackest suit,

So, choiceless, she took his hand, and then
Vanished, and was never seen again.

<<end transcript.>>

Filename: CHILD.TXT

<<transcript intercepted @ 20:45 on 12/18/12>>

<<process_DCRYPT active in memory.>>

"This poem and the following one were written by a distraught mother upon losing her child to HIM about three months ago. Both her and the child saw HIM but only the child was taken. Shortly after sending the poems to me through email, the mother (who wished to remain nameless) announced her intent to commit suicide. She couldn't live with the pain of losing her only son. Since I never got a response to any messages sent after that, I can only presume she followed through on the thought. - E"

<<opening attachment: CHILD.TXT>>

The Child and The Operator

I have a very bestest friend
That only plays with me –
He likes to hide in dark places
That only I can see.

He’s really, really quiet.
He’s very, very tall.
He doesn’t like to talk much, ‘cause
He has no face at all.

I met him in the forest once.
He likes where there are trees.
He watches while I sleep at night –
I don’t know how he sees.

He’s really, really skinny.
He likes to wear a suit.
My best friend doesn’t scare me though.
I think that he is cute.

He doesn’t like adults at all,
But you might be okay.
I was just going to see him soon –
Would you like to come and play?

<<end transcript.>>

Filename: GLIMPSE.TXT

<<transcript intercepted @ 20:34 on 12/18/12>>

<<process_DCRYPT active in memory.>>

"[Garbled plaintext]ot entirely sure what happened to my comments on STALKER.TXT. If possible, could you send the garbled text back so I may analyze it?

On this file...This particular tale was taken from an online "Creepypasta" website and seems to be some form of summoning ritual. There was some confusion in the comments, many people debunking the ritual as false. These comments ceased soon after a prominent user claimed they were going to test it, then never returned to the site. This user was known to be online at least every evening. Last I checked, the site had deleted this particular page, so I am fortunate to have copied and saved the text when I did. - E"

<<opening attachment: GLIMPSE.TXT>>

You’ll feel him long before you see him.

It’ll start slowly at first, the subtle little sensation of nervousness that he causes. Very subtle, like tiny pinpricks. You might even brush it off as nothing more than a mosquito bite itching down your spine, those are terribly common this time of year. Funny how it works, nervousness. You could be entering one of the world’s most peaceful of places, a park trail – any park trail will do – and it will still strike you down, gradually at first, but then it becomes more and more intense as you proceed off-trail (and you will, nervousness be damned). It’s carried on the cool summer breeze here; it’s conveyed in the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle creaking of swaying tree branches. All normal sounds, yes, but then you’ll begin to notice what’s absent. You’ll realize that the birdsong has gone curiously silent as you enter this section of the woods, that the breeze somehow seems colder now, that the sun is suddenly much lower in the horizon than you recall…

That’s your first warning.

Your nervousness will grow slowly to anxiety, and you’ll strain your ears to hear any sign of life, any at all. But nothing will greet your ears, not a single bird, not crickets, not even the peeping of tiny frogs. Nothing. You’ll hear nothing.

That’s because he’s close by. And it’s your second warning.

You might then become aware of the peculiarly familiar sensation of unseen eyes on the back of your neck. Watching you from a distance. Following you. That’s your third and final warning; you’re very close to him now. If you choose to leave at that point, if you turn back, proceed out of the trail, and search no longer, you very well might remain safe. Not that you’re perfectly safe, of course – he’s already seen you by this point, and he always prefers to observe his prey before making his presence physically known. Never return to that forest, that trail, or that park again if you should choose to leave, or else he will become… bolder.

If you foolishly do not decide to leave, however, and instead decide to further ignore the growing, clawing feeling of fear in your chest, he’ll become much more… persistent. You might even begin to feel ill and dizzy as you continue walking, and that is something that only happens when he gets dangerously close. If you continue to ignore him any further, you’ll get so nauseous and dizzy that you’ll black out, collapsing to the forest floor.

You won’t wake up again. He hates being ignored…

If instead, you stop where you stand and peer into the dark and distant trees around you, into the forest that seems to be slowly closing in on you with every step you take deeper into it, you might notice something… off. Something just a bit out of place, though finding it might take you a second or two. Even then, you might well not find it at all, and if this is the case, consider yourself fortunate and leave before he changes his mind. Sometimes, he’s merely satisfied with just making you feel terribly nervous. If you feel a sudden, crushing dread and the horrifically strong urge to turn and look behind you, immediately start running out of the forest as far and as fast as you can; he is behind you. If you stand for ten minutes searching and see nothing, leave the forest and do not return, you’ve seen more than enough.

If, however, you do see something, it will most likely look like a darker than average patch in the trees, or like a bright smudge of white in the distance. Upon seeing either item, you must focus directly upon it, and never look away from it for even a second. To do so is to propose to him a challenge – a challenge that you will never win. This may be difficult, and you might feel overwhelmingly sick, but it is of utmost importance that you never look away. Eventually, if you focus on the distant blur long enough, it will begin to resolve itself into a figure – vaguely human, tall as the distant trees and about as thin. You may see it with multiple arms, you may see what appear to be branches, you may see nothing more than what seems to be a perfectly normal human being standing in the distant woods. But regardless of what you might see, it will always have the same appearance – suit-clad, with a red or black tie. It will never move from its location, and you won’t be able to make out a face.

That’s because there isn’t one.

The figure will remain perfectly still, but if you weren’t feeling ill before, you will become ill now. It will make you feel sick to your stomach and incredibly weary, it will make you feel anxious, it will feel like it is staring into the most core parts of your soul, and you will desperately want to look away from it to stop the crushing dread it inspires in you. Do not take your eyes off it at any point, and do not blink. If you do either, the figure will begin to get closer and closer, slowly cutting your chances of escaping from this forest alive. And whatever you do, you must not turn and run, even if every impulse in your body screams at you to do so. If you run now, the figure will give chase, and you’ll be no more than another poor soul found dead the next day in the trees.

Stare back at it long enough, and the figure will seem to tilt its head in curiosity. You will feel a sudden, unbearable desire to walk towards the distant figure. Under no circumstances must you actually do so. Your desire to join the figure in the distance will become almost irresistible, tormenting you with how much you will desperately need to join it, but to walk over to that figure will mean a slow and painful end.

If you can manage to ignore the crushing need long enough, the figure will suddenly appear to fade or melt back into tree line, into the shadows from which it first appeared. If you now choose to walk over to the spot it once stood in, you will find absolutely no trace of any creature, human or otherwise, having ever been there.

Leave the forest immediately. Walk out, run out, it doesn’t matter, as long as you leave the forest, the trail, and the park immediately, and never return to it. The figure you saw in the distance was him, and he never forgets a face. Consider yourself fortunate enough to have survived, for he has given you the briefest glimpse of himself, a very small taste of what his many victims feel in his presence.

It won’t be the last time you see him…

<<end transcript.>>

Filename: BUSINESSMEETING.TXT

<<transcript intercepted @ 19:11 on 12/18/12>>

<<process_DCRYPT active in memory.>>

"This presumably humorous tale was written by a self-proclaimed servant of HIS who confided in me their attempts to break from HIS control, apparently as a way to distract themselves from their fear of HIM. It is apparently "Based on a true story", as they put it. I'm understandably wary of sending it to you, but then again... I am also wary of what may happen if I do not. I'm not exactly in much of a position to... negotiate, at the moment. Why is not important, just know that sending you this particular bit of information is quite an enormous risk for myself... and by extension, the Sycamore Foundation. Stay vigilant. - E"

<<opening attachment: BUSINESSMEETING.TXT>> 

Hello…? Sir…? Y-you… you called me in tonight, right?

… H-hello? I-I can leave… you know, if you’re too busy… I-I mean, if you aren’t here and don’t have the time to –

Oh! There you are, you spooked me, Sir… Y-you always were good at that you know, t-the best there is, n-no one better, a-and…

Ah! O-Okay, I-I can s-see this is a… very personal issue… why else would you stand so close to me? Oh no, Sir, I-I’m fine, j-just a little nauseous… and nervous…

Why yes, Sir, it is a very nice night out, isn’t it? Alone… I-In your office, surrounded by… n-nothing but the trees… Wow, aheh, y-you look great tonight, Sir. Is that a new tie?

… Y-yes, of course, Sir, you always look nice, every night….

Y-yes Sir, I-I’m well aware that you can smell my fear…

… N-no, I’m not aware of why you called me in here tonight… I-Is something wrong? D-did I do something wrong?

W-what? Oh no. No no no. Please Sir, no…

I… Y-you can’t fire me! I don’t have anywhere else to go, I –

Losing my touch?! What do you mean, I’m losing my touch? I ran rings around that last client, he went stir-crazy trying to crack the code I thought up! Every single time I show my masked face, he cringes and panics. He has nightmares about me showing up, because if I show up, that means you’re about to show up! I’m one of your best agents and you’re just going to let me go?

N-no Sir, it’s… it’s not that! I-I do understand the need to downsize, really! N-no need to get so up in arms… a-and with so many arms…

… Y-yes, I know the clients keep getting away. I know they’re uncovering so much evidence that it’s becoming a liability. These ones are smarter than I anticipated, Sir…

What? You’re sending him after them now? But Sir, Allen – sorry, I mean “Blackout”… Blackout is a terrible agent. He knows absolutely nothing about subtlety or stealth whatsoever. He can’t even crack Morse Code!

Ah! No! I’m sorry! That came out a lot harsher than I intended, I swear! J-just put me down Sir, please, you know I’m scared of heights! You know everything about me! You know – oh God no is that a damn cliff?!

No no no please Sir don’t drop me I take it back really I’m sorry I swear just please don’t drop me off the cliff please Sir please!

W-w-what do you mean, t-this isn’t about what I s-said about B-Blackout…?

… I-I’m… sorry, retirement, Sir? It’s hard to read your face when there isn’t one to read… What does a-any of this have to do with… letting me… go…

Oh, God.

Oh God, no.

No Sir. Please no. Don’t let me go. I don’t want to die, not yet, I-I could still work for you, I could do odd jobs, I could bring you more children, anything you want, just please. Please. Don’t. Let. Me. Go.

N-no, what are you doing?! Don’t let go. Don’t drop me! Please don’t –

----

"The cutting off at the end is purposeful, according to the author. Certainly a very... odd writing style. - E"

<<end transcript.>>