What a breath of fresh air it was in meeting Kate today, Mike thought. He mused about Kate and less about her Boyfriend, Mark. Also, a friend of Mike’s. He had finally met Kate, and after some initial conflicts and sparks going off, there emerged some chemistry between the two of them. There was some attraction from Mike towards Kate, however he had best put that out of his mind due to his Loyalty to Mark his friend, and the fact that Mike was suffering a sort of ‘fading in and out’, from what he believed was Travels from a different dimension. A condition worsening by the day, and not something anyone else on Earth had to worry about, but Mike. He would be in no physical state to be with any Woman for that matter.
His return journey from Clapham on the Bus he rode in on, and then the Train back from Sloane Square to Kensington, all in reverse order, was uneventful. It was getting later in the Day and the expected Rush Hour crush was upon him. Despite this, and the small delays due to extra pressure on the Modes of Transport, all went reasonably satisfactory.
Getting off the Train back at Kensington, he now had a short walk back to his apartment. Mike Parris trudged back to his flat, the chill of the London evening seeping through his coat. His thoughts were scattered, drifting in and out as they often did lately, between the strange disorienting circumstances and his full-blown sense of unease about what had happened during his time away. Meeting Kate earlier today had been a rare moment of clarity, a brief escape from the overwhelming fog in his mind.
She was fiery, sharp-witted, and beautiful in that way that had initially set Mike on edge in the Salon. But today—later today, there had been something different. Something unspoken between them. The chemistry had been undeniable, and for a few moments, Mike had forgotten about the weight of his strange travels, the nightmares, the bizarre feeling, the reality, of slipping between worlds. She had made him feel... human again.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Kate was Mark's. Mike could never let himself cross that line. It wasn’t just the loyalty to his old friend that kept him at arm’s length. It was the other thing, the thing Mike couldn’t explain to anyone.
This odd, almost feverish condition he was dealing with, a sense of fading in and out of Physical reality. His body was behaving differently, strained, stretched between dimensions, as though he was no longer fully tethered to the Earth. There were moments when the world felt distant, as though his own skin couldn’t hold him in this place. The past months on Jellsius IV, that alien planet, felt like a blur. How much of it had really happened? How much of it had been a dream, a product of his fractured mind maybe? His recollections were fragmentary and incompletely formed.
Mike shook his head. He couldn't afford to think about it now. Not while his mind was already unraveling.
He reached the door of his flat and pushed it open. The quiet of the apartment greeted him, but the silence felt unnatural, like something was waiting just beyond the edge of his perception. He shrugged off his coat and kicked off his shoes, his mind still reeling from the conversation with Kate, the pull between them that he couldn’t ignore.
But Kate and Mark were part of a different life, one that Mike wasn’t sure he could be a part of anymore.
Tomorrow was the day Mike planned to get himself to Wales on a Train, having to catch this at one of the central London Rail hubs. His enquiry about where to get a Train to Cardiff at Sloane square station was answered by a Ticket attendant, to that of Paddington Station. The trip to Cardiff felt like a fresh start, or at least a temporary escape from the confusion that seemed to haunt him at every turn. He had already mapped out his route: catch the train from Paddington Station, one of the six daily departures to Cardiff. Simple. Straightforward. No reason to overthink it. He would get there quite early and catch the first one. The fact he is traveling alone, makes it even easier.
Mike had always prided himself on being resourceful, but this was different. The weight of his strange condition, the creeping sense of being disconnected from reality, made even the most ordinary tasks feel heavy. The thought of traveling alone didn’t bother him, though. The lack of anyone to contact—his phone had been shut off
He had meant to Pay phone call his Aunt Margery and let her know when to expect him. His phone was out. Cut off due to late Bill payments, so, he had no way to in which to contact his aunt to forewarn her of his arrival, another casualty of forgotten bills—was just another problem to ignore for now.
The invitation to visit her had been open for years, a standing offer she never seemed to tire of. He would arrive, and she would welcome him with open arms. He knew that much for sure. She always did. She would be just as pleased to see him now as she would have been any other time.
No worries, she loved Mike very much, and her invitation for him to visit her in Cardiff had been a standing one for years now. He was untroubled she would be put out. He would catch a Cab from Cardiff Central Train Station. And planned to remain there for at least two weeks, to see what developments transpired.
No, the lack of communication wasn’t the issue. It was the not knowing. Not knowing what was happening to his body, to his mind, or why it felt like his past months had been swept away in a whirlwind of dreams and strange memories. It all felt like it belonged to someone else. The months on Jellsius IV, the band, the concerts—had any of it been real?
He thought about Kate for a moment. What had happened between them today? That inexplicable pull he felt. Was it real? Or was it just another product of his fractured state? She had been a spark in a world that felt increasingly dim. But he couldn’t afford to think about that now. She was Mark’s, and Mike couldn’t cross that line. Not ever.
The thought of his trip to Cardiff seemed to anchor him, like a small shred of normalcy he could cling to.
He glanced at the clock, noting the late hour. There was still time to grab a few hours of sleep before he had to catch the first train out, or one close enough to when he got to the station.
He had the time to reflect on the progress that he has made over the last several days, Mike seemed satisfied he had done some good and answered many questions. In doing just that, he uncovered yet more questions. One day at a time. He had connected with his Landlords, Sidney and Agnes Cable, they had been more than accommodating. He’d reached out to Charlie Tring, his boss—or ex-boss now—and learned about the enormous contract Charlie had been pushing himself, working around the Clock to satisfy and complete. And, of course, there were the visits to his local Bank. That was important— The whole thing felt like some sort of twisted joke. These damn Lump Sums… and this Benevolence Fund? It was insanity.
Then there was Jasi.
Mike couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her. The young woman at the bank, so flirtatious and unabashedly open with him. It was strange—very strange. Employees didn’t act like that with customers, at least not in his experience. But there she was, practically teasing him with her warmth and her eyes. He had half-expected her to join him at the Ten Bells Pub later last night, but the moment had passed, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. A flirtation? Or a distraction? Either way, he hadn’t been able to let it go, and yet, he knew better than to get lost in thoughts of her. There were far more pressing matters at hand.
Still, the thought of a woman like Jasi, so completely unbothered by the world around her, teased the edges of his mind. It was a sharp contrast to the heaviness of his own thoughts.
But all that felt distant now. He couldn’t relax—not here, not in this place. He only found peace when he was alone, back in his apartment, where everything was familiar… where he could take off the mask. His hoodie was still pulled tight over his head, and the weight of the fabric felt like a shroud he couldn’t quite shake off. He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair.
Mike was unable to relax until he reached his Apartment.
Mike’s thoughts then turned back to tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’d be on a train to Cardiff, away from this madness. Or so he hoped.
But somewhere, deep inside, he knew that this... this wasn’t going to end that easily.
He could pack his things, leave for Cardiff, and put distance between himself and the madness of the past few weeks. But something gnawed at him. A darker thought.
Suppose tomorrow, or even tonight, his face was gone? What if some strange force or entity reached out to him before morning, twisted his mind or body in ways he couldn’t even comprehend? The idea made him shudder. His reflection in the window was a pale ghost of himself, and it was hard to remember the man he had once been. Would he even be able to catch the train, buy tickets, to anywhere—if he couldn’t recognize himself in the mirror by morning?
That thought stuck with him, lodged deep in his mind. As if his very identity could slip away.
Mike stared down at his hands, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. The sensation of something being wrong—so deeply wrong—was a constant companion. His body, his mind, they didn’t feel like they belonged to him anymore. A faint ripple of panic began to rise in his chest. But Mike swallowed it down, as best as he could.
Finally making it back to his apartment, Mike entered through the back entrance. This is the usual way in which he enters his Flat, thus avoiding walking through the Flower Shop -and after Hours down there, that is just not happening. He walks up the back entrance via a Fire escape exit wrought Iron Stairwell.
Mike thought it best to make a quick supper and then pack what he thinks he shall need in one suitcase and two Carry bags. Enough for eight changes of clothing. Taking all the money, he has at home, and every piece of Identification. He will be off on a different adventure. He entered the Flat and set about carrying out his plans.
Entering his Apartment, Mike noticed the atmosphere seemed like something was amiss? The flat was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that settled into the bones of a place. His eyes wandered over to the empty chair by the window, where he had sat earlier.
Mike turned and walked into the small kitchenette, reaching for the kettle. He’d make himself some tea perhaps, clear his mind. Tomorrow was a new day. The train ride to Cardiff would give him time to think, time to make sense of things.
However, there was something noticeably different about the place. As Mike stepped through the back door, he was immediately hit by the odd feeling that something wasn’t quite right. The apartment, once a place of routine familiarity, felt… different. At first, he chalked it up to fatigue, to the disjointedness of the day. But there was a tangible weight to the air, a quiet wrongness he couldn’t quite place.
His eyes quickly darted around the room. The first thing that struck him was the papers. A few scattered across the floor, their edges curling up at odd angles, as if they had been knocked out of place by some unseen force. He frowned. He didn’t remember leaving papers around like that, especially not in such a haphazard fashion. There was also a pen, lying there on its side as though it had been dropped mid-thought.
But it wasn’t just the mess. His gaze shifted to the corner of his bedroom, where a pile of clothing lay, once neatly stacked in anticipation of laundry day prior to leaving for Wales. Now, the clothes were scattered across the floor in a disordered heap. A sharp pang of confusion gripped him. He would’ve remembered doing something like that, wouldn’t he? He would not have left his abode in such disarray. Not ransacked, but he had no recollections of being responsible for this mess. Mike's brow furrowed, and his stomach churned. This wasn’t his doing. He would never leave his space like this—things always in their place, a minor order in the chaos that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He shook his head. Maybe it was just exhaustion. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, disorienting him further. He bent down to gather the clothing, but his body felt sluggish, like it was moving in slow motion. It felt wrong, out of sync, like he was detached from his own actions. He pulled his hand away, irritation bubbling up. This was ridiculous. He didn’t have time for this.
His bladder reminded him that he needed to take care of business, so he pushed the thought aside for the moment and shuffled to the bathroom. The trip from the train station had taken longer than expected, and his exhaustion was catching up to him. But as he moved through the small apartment, the unsettling feeling only grew. The door to the bathroom swung open, and he walked inside without bothering to lock it behind him.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror while washing his hands, the patchy fading in an out was still a reality, and a cold shiver ran down his spine. There was something about his face, his skin… something…vanishing. The familiar lines of his features seemed just a little more strained than they should be. A small patch of ‘fade’ opened on his right Cheek. He touched this spot, fully expecting his two fingers to pass into this space. They did not. Although Mike could see distantly, the Mirror behind this Faded opening, his fingers struck his Cheek. They did not pass through! Trans-Dimensional Matter Mike thought. That description came out of his Head. Had he heard that term before, someplace far away?
He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head.
But as he turned to leave the bathroom, the uneasy feeling remained, hanging in the air like a heavy fog. He paused for a moment in the hallway, staring back at the bedroom door, still ajar. The mess, the papers, the clothes—none of it made sense.
Had someone been here?
That question lingered in his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. No. That would have been impossible. His locks were intact. He had planned to pull the Curtain back and tidy up his Apartment. Perhaps a wind gusted into the living room from an open window, knocking off the Papers and pen to roll across the Living room floor perhaps? All explainable. Loose papers have a habit of travelling about on their gravitational ways to floors. He would sort it out. But still, the nagging sense of being watched, or perhaps even followed, was becoming harder to ignore. Mike shook his head, a weak attempt to clear the growing fog in his brain. It was probably nothing. He would rest for a while, get some sleep. Tomorrow he would leave for Cardiff, and all of this would seem like a distant memory. But deep inside, a gnawing suspicion had already begun to take root.
Remaining in the Bathroom, Mike flushed the Toilet. He then moved to his right, to the sink Basin and washed his hands. Turning to dry them on a Towel. As soon as he had shut off the Tap the hissing of water ceased, and he turned to dry his hands. Another noise inside the Bathroom was heard. He took note that the blue shower curtain to his left of the Toilet Bowl, had been pulled across three quarters of the way. This where he heard the soft noise. Mike always drew the Shower Curtains back against the wall. Another oddity.
As he looked about, Mike heard the soft rustling sound again! A sound from the Bathtub!? He glanced across to his left, and saw in a glimpsing moment, something black flash back from the quarter of the Shower Curtain left open. Investigating further, Mike slowly approached the Shower Curtain, and very slowly…drew a portion of it back!
As Mike’s fingers gripped the edges of the shower curtain, his breath caught in his throat. The rustle he had heard before was faint, but now it was distinct, like something—or someone—shifting in the shadows behind the fabric. His pulse quickened, and a cold chill raced up his spine. This was all wrong.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled the curtain aside. The air around him seemed to freeze. The bathroom light flickered once, then settled back into a steady hum. Mike’s eyes scanned the space in front of the curtain, his mind trying to make sense of what he might find. For a moment, there was nothing. This part of the bathtub was empty.
Then, something Black moved.
A dark, liquid shape shifted in the corner, just beyond the curve of the tub. Mike’s heart jumped into his throat. He froze, his body rigid, the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight up. The shape didn’t belong—it was wrong. The sheer size of it, the way it contorted in on itself like a web of darkness, sent a shock of panic through him. It didn’t move like a thing of this world.
What the hell is that?
What he discovered was to send a chill up his Spine. To his great fright, there was a Black, Tarantula-like Spider curled up into a tight ball. The black shape expanded, and before Mike could react, something shot out—fast and impossibly strong. A sleek, jet-black leg—no, not a leg—but something far more sinister. It was so large it blocked the dim light of the bathroom for a split second, casting everything in an unsettling, monstrous shadow. The leg stretched from the corner, coming for him with terrifying speed.
Mike’s breath caught in his chest. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer. It’s not real. It can’t be. But it was.
It had to be at least a clear two feet across!! His eyes widened in disbelief as the creature unfolded before him. Mike let out a terrified screech and profanity erupted from his mouth as he jumped back in an involuntary reaction to gain distance from this abhorrent creature. Without thinking, Mike staggered back, his legs unsteady. Mike impulsively snatched up a small, metal trash bin next to the sink, with which to arm himself! He watched the Shower Curtain and waited in suspended silence. He was unable to see the creature directly. The creature’s body pulsated with a grotesque, fluid-like movement, its black, glistening skin giving off an unnatural gleam. Its eyes—too many eyes—were locked onto him, gleaming with intelligence and malice. A shiver ran down his spine. Slowly, this monster began to climb up onto the Rim of the Bathtub! Legs— First one black leg, then more—until after seven Legs protruded over the Edge of the Bathtub, a Body began to be heaved over the rim. Eight? No, more, ten of them—long, twisted, and spiny, like some abominable spider from a nightmare Mike, feeling sufficiently at a safe distance and placed away enough from the sluggish progress of this Spider, took aim at it with his Trash Can, then held it in front of him like a shield.
Mike’s breath was shallow, his heart thumping in his chest. His hands trembled, but the rage and fear coursing through him gave him the strength to focus. He eyed the creature as it crawled slowly, deliberately, over the edge of the bathtub. Its spindly legs clicked against the porcelain as it hoisted itself up with an unsettling rhythm. The creature’s body was a grotesque, fluid mass—its black, shiny surface reflecting the dim light of the bathroom like an oily puddle.
The monstrous spider, with its grotesque, bulbous body, stretched and expanded as it moved. It had more than just the usual eight legs—ten, maybe twelve, they stretched long and unnervingly, wrapping around the air as if searching for something to cling to. Its movements were deliberate, almost calculated, its massive, multi-faceted eyes locking onto Mike with unnatural precision. It sat poised, on the edge of the bathtub.
Mike’s pulse quickened as the creature’s eyes gleamed with intelligence, dark and malicious. His mind raced—Why is it after me? Why here? Why now?
He could feel the tension building, the moment hanging between them, and for a moment, he just stared. The bathroom, once a place of normalcy, now felt like a trap—a claustrophobic chamber from which there was no escape. He swallowed hard. He couldn’t let this thing get any closer. He couldn't let it corner him, couldn’t let it—
Mike hesitated momentarily, aware that if he missed the Spider, it could attack in an instant. But he was solid in the belief if he struck it, that would give him the chance to bolt out the Apartment door. Taking aim fast- With a swift motion, the Can was launched and BINGO!! He Nailed it!! Striking the creature…. full force! Mike had swung the trash bin forward, hitting it directly on the creature’s ‘head’. The Can struck it good and hard. Hitting this aberration where he did, the impacting force was adequate to knock it spinning backwards into the Bathtub, whence it crawled to flop onto the floor of the Tub, a loudly hissing and spitting writhing mass, rolling into a ball, while its legs thumped and drummed on the enamel tub in suspected agony. It is behaving as if it is clearly hurt and hopefully, injured. If it felt pain, it could die!
The heavy metal can would clatter against the creature's body with a sharp, hollow sound, as the Can ricochetted about the Bathtub. It hissed, an unsettling, guttural sound that echoed off the tiled walls of the bathroom, reverberating in Mike's bones.
The creature’s legs twitched, its body recoiling slightly, but it quickly adjusted, its eyes flashing with a new, darker intent. Mike instinctively recoiled, but in doing so, he knocked over the toilet paper holder, sending a roll skittering across the floor. Mike's heart raced in his chest as the creature’s eerie, pulsating red eyes locked onto him.
Satisfied he was successful; Mike runs out of the Bathroom to flee the Apartment. He finds that the door will not open to permit his escape!?! His hands were slick with cold sweat as he tugged desperately at the doorknob, but it was as though the door had fused with the frame, refusing to budge. As he looked back to the Bathroom, he sees the creature now exiting that room, AND a whole lot bigger than when he first set eyes upon it in the Bathtub! It was maybe four feet across, or more now—and very angry. Panic set in, an overwhelming sense of helplessness gnawing at him as he realized that no one would come to his aid. His mind screamed for escape, but his body felt like it had betrayed him—his legs were now concrete, immovable, as if the floor had swallowed him whole. He fumbles at the doorknob in utter terror—and calls for help. The Flower Shop below is closed. No one will hear him tonight. In the space of two and a half seconds, this Spider has locked onto him, its myriad eyes pulsating and glowing red. Behind him, the horrifying creature—the spider—was now a monstrous size. Expanding its mass by the second! Its grotesque form looming larger than before. The legs that once seemed spindly and thin were now thick, each joint gleaming with deadly precision. Its body had swollen, and its abdomen pulsed with a disturbing rhythmic beat. It was no longer something out of a nightmare; it was a true, living terror. Mike’s eyes darted between the creature and the door, each second stretching into eternity. His throat tightened, but the screams that had lodged there, now refused to come out.
In his mind, a single thought flickered: This is it. The spider was no longer just a threat—it was a hunter, and Mike was its prey. The creature's body moved with unnerving speed, its back now turned as it readied itself for the final strike. Mike's stomach dropped as it aimed its abdomen squarely at him, directly at Mike’s face! Its body now a twisted weapon. Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to the grotesque, ominous figure before him. Suddenly, a flash of translucent liquid erupted from the creature's abdomen. Mike had barely enough time to squeeze his eyes shut and raise his arms to shield himself before the substance struck him. It hit his face like a searing hot wave, instantly soaking his skin, his arms trembling as he fought to keep his balance. His breath caught in his throat, stinging with the chemical scent. The sensation was unbearable—his skin prickled and burned as if the very air had turned acidic.
The realization hit him like a truck: This wasn’t just venom—it was something worse. His mind swam with disorientation as the creature’s horrific laughter echoed in the depths of his mind.
Then, in a chaotic flurry of motions and a sudden jerking tug, a violent fore pulls at Mike’s head, he was tossed about the apartment in a horrifying blur. His senses were overloaded with a mix of confusion and terror. A great tug wrenched at his neck and skull, sending a sharp pang of panic through his body. Before he could comprehend what was happening, he felt his feet leave the ground entirely, a sensation of weightlessness overwhelming him.
Then, in a disorienting whirlwind, his body was guided face-first across the apartment. The world spun around him like a maddening carousel, and he could barely make sense of anything. His mind screamed for control, but the pull was unstoppable, dragging him helplessly through the air.
SMASH!
Suddenly, everything stopped. The dizzying flight was shattered as Mike’s face struck something solid and unforgiving—something that felt far too hard to be a piece of furniture, and far too unyielding for his body to take. The force of the impact reverberated through his skull, his vision a kaleidoscope of bright flashes and pulsing darkness. He crumpled to the ground in a daze, his head spinning, his limbs stiff and uncooperative.
For a moment, everything was a blur of pain and confusion, his body trembling uncontrollably from the shock. He could hear muffled sounds—clicking, shifting, almost too faint to make sense of. Was it real? Was it a nightmare? The creature, the monster—had it just... thrown him?
Still dazed, Mike struggled to push himself up, but his body refused to move as he tried to regain his bearings. The room spun, his face burning with the aftermath of the impact. He could barely breathe, his chest heaving as his brain tried to piece together what had just happened.
The sensation of weightlessness was gone, but the feeling of danger was thick in the air. The creature was looming above Mike.
Mike’s world had devolved into a dizzying, chaotic nightmare. He was tossed horribly, like a ragdoll, flung across the room, his body crashing into walls with sickening force. Each impact sent waves of pain coursing through him, his head spinning, dazed uncontrollably. The creature’s relentless assault felt as though the very air was closing in on him. His vision blurred and distorted as he was flung this way and that, careening across the apartment like a helpless puppet in the hands of a mad force.
The spider, monstrous and terrifying, loomed above him. Its many legs scuttled with a disturbing speed and precision, each one seeming to multiply as it shifted in the corner of his vision. Mike could barely process its size, but he could feel the sheer power behind each tug and twist of his body. The spider’s limbs were more than just appendages; they were like large, manipulating claws, grabbing and twisting him with an unnerving grip. The creature had so many legs that Mike could barely track them all—more than eight, it seemed, but it was impossible to focus on each one as his body was violently tossed from one side of the room to the other.
A thick webbing had been sprayed across Mike’s face and neck, smothering his senses. He struggled to breathe, his chest aching, his face covered in the sticky webbing that blocked his vision and sealed his mouth. The creature’s movements were merciless, each tug at his body forcing another wave of pain, making him feel like his bones were being slowly crushed. His arms burned from the strain, the numbness creeping in, and his ribs felt as though they had cracked with the impact. He couldn’t tell how many bones were broken, but the pain was enough to make him feel like he was falling apart.
The relentless attack continued. It was unstoppable. Mike’s body was giving in. The creature’s assault never ceased; it was as if it enjoyed each second of torment. Mike’s mind teetered on the edge of consciousness, the edges of his vision darkening. His thoughts were disjointed and fading, slipping away as his body failed him.
He could hear a vague, pleading thought in the back of his mind, a desperate cry: ‘Make it stop!! ‘ He thought that he may have several broken ribs and other Bones that maybe have been fractured. The Monster was unrelenting in its attack and seemed unstoppable to defend against. Mike felt himself losing consciousness at this point.
But it was drowned out by the sickening reality of the creature’s assault, and the weight of exhaustion that made it harder and harder to stay conscious. Each breath became a battle, each movement another reminder of the horrific strength of the creature that had him in its grip. Slowly, everything began to fade to black.
Mike lay motionless in a crumpled heap at the center of the living room, his body battered and bruised, barely able to move. His limbs were numb, his head swimming with pain. The spider creature towered above him, its enormous fangs gleaming in the dim light. It was poised, its mouth opening wide, ready to envenomate him with its deadly bite. Mike’s mind screamed, his breath shallow and labored as he tried to summon the strength to fight back, but his body betrayed him, unable to respond.
Then, something unexpected happened.
A voice—a powerful, commanding voice—suddenly echoed in Mike’s head. It wasn’t his own thoughts, and it certainly wasn’t a voice from the outside world. No, it came from somewhere deeper, a place Mike couldn’t fully understand. But the voice was unmistakable.
It was Oblika’s voice.
[“SPARE HIM!!...Spare him!! ...I COMMAND it!! STOP!! Not him!!”]
Mike’s mind went numb with shock. He couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. Oblika? In this creature? How could that be? His thoughts jumbled together as he tried to make sense of it. Oblika... the name echoed through his skull, and he could almost sense the force of the words, the power in them, even if they weren’t spoken aloud. It felt as though Oblika was inside the creature, commanding it, somehow exerting influence over its actions.
The voice, though faint, was clear in its intent: Spare him. The creature, this monstrous spider, seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second, its fangs still glinting with venom but unmoving, as if caught in the grip of some unseen force. The air itself seemed to hum with tension as the creature’s monstrous eyes flickered, its deadly posture shifting.
What in the world was happening? Mike's breath hitched as his mind raced to make sense of the impossible situation. The voice wasn’t directed at him, not in the way a normal plea for help would be. It wasn’t his voice calling out for mercy; it was as if Oblika was speaking to the spider directly, ordering it to stop. The words were a command, but not one Mike had ever expected to hear from the very creature he feared most.
The connection between them, between the voice of Oblika and the creature, was unclear, but unmistakable. The spider’s movements slowed, the tension in the room thickening with an unnatural stillness. Mike could feel the weight of the creature’s presence above him, its many eyes still locked on him, but the venomous fangs seemed to falter, as if uncertain.
Could it be that Oblika, in some twisted form, had taken control of this monster? Was this the key to his survival, or was it simply another part of the nightmare he had already been dragged into?
Before he could ponder further, the creature’s massive form shifted again, its intentions unclear, but for now, at least, Mike’s life was spared.
.
The Spider creature paused in its attack, then seems to listen and spare Mike from a further beating and biting him. Through a mass of relaxed Web Threads and a translucent field of vision, Mike though he could see the creature back away from its position over top of him. Oblika’s Voice seemed to transform into a series of whistles and grunts…then clear and firmly spoke in a language more familiar to Mike’s own one. Mike lay stunned and motionless on the floor—his Sides, Arms and Legs burned and protested painfully against the Thrashing he had been given.
Mike’s mind reeled as the voice continued to echo in his head. It was not just a voice, but a presence, an authority that left him feeling both helpless and paralyzed. He couldn’t tell if it was the creature speaking, or something else entirely, but it felt as though the very fabric of reality was warping around him. The spider above him remained still for the moment, but its eyes burned with an unsettling awareness, as if listening to the voice as well.
The words were chilling in their cold, detached tone, and they seemed to cut through the air with a weight of finality. Oblika’s voice—no, not Oblika himself, but the thing that had taken his form—commanded this creature into submission.
[ I don’t expect you to talk to me Mike, it is now your turn to do some listening!]. The voice rang with an almost mocking authority, like a teacher scolding an unruly student. Mike’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to piece together the meaning behind these words. What was this? Some kind of twisted game? A trap? But the voice kept coming, its tone unyielding. He continued…
[We allowed you to wander back into your former life, the exercise we thought would be good for you. Your frail Human Body can re-calibrate itself to your own Gravity on your Planet. This is a normal practice we permit from time to time with Humans, in which to preserve their Lives. What was a few of your Hours in the Capsule, can seem like Five Days in the Earth timeline. But we did NOT expect you to be so busy alerting various people in your former-first life].
Mike’s breath caught in his throat. The capsule? Five days in the Earth timeline? What in the world were they talking about? He was trapped, broken, battered, and now the voice was telling him that his actions—his attempts to escape—had been part of something far larger than he had ever imagined. He had been under some kind of surveillance, some kind of test, all along.
The implications of it were too much to grasp. He had thought he was free, but now he understood—his life, his choices, they were nothing but small pieces in a larger game that he had no control over.
The voice didn’t pause. It continued, growing colder with each passing word.
[We have an answer for this, and when a ‘walk-about’ gets to a point that it could compromise the object of what it is we are doing- we regain control of events, forcefully at times. This has been necessary in your case].
Mike’s mind swirled with terror. The creature above him was no longer just a beast; it was an Enforcer. A tool in whatever dark scheme had been unfolding around him since the moment he left the capsule. He had been allowed a taste of freedom, a brief return to his life, but it was all part of a larger, twisted plan.
As the weight of the voice’s words sank in, Mike’s body grew heavier, his limbs aching as if they were filled with cement. He could feel the reality of the situation pressing down on him, suffocating him. There was no escape. No help. Just the cold, calculating force of whatever had taken control of his life, his body, and now, his future.
The spider creature’s many eyes locked onto him once again, its venomous fangs twitching with an unsettling awareness of the voice’s command. Mike, now fully realizing the true nature of his imprisonment, felt the walls of his world closing in. And this time, there would be no “walk-about” to save him.
[The same creature, my Pet, ’Agamemnon’ I call it, followed you through the Wormhole Portal, to monitor your actions. Unfortunately, YOU FAILED our Test. This is where the Pathfinders have vetoed my pleas for sparing some of those you decided to contact. Unfortunately for the Cables, your landlords, they have been marked for liquidation. Your careless and complete disregard for the order of things, for the simplicity to just live your own Life and do your own time, has led to Agamemnon getting orders to remove them. In fact, Sidney Cable will be neutralised later today after his wife left their home. Agamemnon is not too choosy. He will do what he is willed to do, at his own discretion. And on his own Timetable.]
Oblika paused to allow this news to sink into Mike’s Brain. Mike's entire body went cold as the voice continued, its words slicing through the air with an eerie detachment. He had barely begun to process the impossible, terrifying reality of his situation when the voice deepened further into his nightmare. Each word sent a new shock through his already battered system.
[“The same creature, my pet, ‘Agamemnon,’ I call it, followed you through the wormhole portal to monitor your actions.”]
Agamemnon. The name struck Mike like a hammer. The realization that this monstrous spider had been sent to watch him, track his every move, and somehow control his life was an assault to his very sanity. He had little idea what a wormhole portal was, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that this creature, which had tortured him in every possible way, was under the control of whatever force was pulling the strings. Mike had always felt like a pawn, but now he understood—he was nothing more than a cog in a machine far beyond his comprehension.
The voice didn’t pause; it continued with a cold, mocking tone.
[“Unfortunately, YOU FAILED our test. This is where the Pathfinders have vetoed my pleas for sparing some of those you decided to contact.”]
Mike felt a pit of horror form in his stomach. Failed a test? What test? What was expected of him? Was the whole of his life, every action he took, just a twisted experiment or trial to be judged and manipulated? The idea of Pathfinders vetoing something—it sounded like a council of some sort, a group pulling the strings from behind the scenes. And his failure had already been decided.
The words that followed were even worse.
[“Unfortunately for the Cables, your landlords, they have been marked for liquidation.”]
His heart dropped. Sidney and his wife—people who had shown him kindness—had been marked for death because of his actions. His futile attempts to warn people, to make them aware, had put them in danger. The weight of that knowledge hit him like a physical blow. Liquidation. The word hung in the air like a death sentence.
The voice, ever cold and indifferent, continued, showing no remorse, no empathy. Just pure, unfeeling power.
[“Your careless and complete disregard for the order of things, for the simplicity to just live your own life and do your own time, has led to Agamemnon getting orders to remove them. Mr. Cable will die very quickly, if it is any consolation to you. It is ALL entirely your Fault. But it is more that, than less”.]
Mike’s mind spun. What had he done? What was this order of things? He hadn’t asked for any of this—none of it had been his choice. But it didn’t matter. In the eyes of this entity, Mike’s actions had disrupted their plan, their order. And the price of his disobedience would be paid by those closest to him.
The voice continued, dropping the final hammer.
[“You had a determined Plan to carry out and organised yourself well. I was able to make logical arguments and ‘Save’ Charlie Tring- on the basis that we need him to fulfill an Order for Storage Boxes for the Musical Equipment in the Warehouse. Something that you were suggesting yourself Mike. Your conversation with Jasi the Bank teller, will not jeopardize this operation. Under her job title, and privacy issues, she may only help you on Money matters, and that is on a very limited basis. However, your excursion to see Kate and the resulting Meeting at that Pub, COULD easily mess things up. Due to Mark being involved in this relationship with her, Kate’s demise would be a detriment to this Band. So, for now…. Kate has been spared”].
Through burning pains, Mike heard these words pumped into his Mind. He was aghast at the news that the Cables should die! It is not right. He stands to lose his Apartment. He was powerless to forewarn them. And the recollection of what Neil had told him about Oblika reading Minds, was true. He has an impossible time of camouflaging his thoughts—but hopefully, the pain he is currently suffering can help to offset eavesdropping of his thoughts by his big Ardoccan handler.
[“I am regretful that your liking of the Cables and their fate is bothering you, Mike. Once Agamemnon is unleashed, I have limited control over him when following the super-ceded orders from the Pathfinder’s decrees. In fact, Sidney Cable will be neutralized later today after his wife left their home. Agamemnon is not too choosy. He will do what he is willed to do, at his own discretion. And on his own timetable.”]
The finality of the words hit Mike harder than any physical blow could. This weight of the revelation felt like a leaden cloud pressing down on Mike's chest, suffocating him. The air around him felt like it was thick with the heaviness of his failure, and the creature—Agamemnon—loomed over him, an omnipotent, horrifying presence. He could feel the eyes of the monster, hundreds of them, cold and calculating, surveying him as if to ensure that he understood the gravity of the situation. The Spider was not just an enforcer—it was a relentless, merciless force carrying out the will of whatever had orchestrated his entire existence. Sidney Cable—his landlord, a man who had been nothing but kind to him—was going to die today because of Mike’s failure. And Agamemnon, the monster that had been following him, would carry out the killing with terrifying indifference, on its own terms and time of choosing.
Mike’s thoughts scrambled, desperation clawing at his chest. There was no escaping the creature, no escaping the consequences of his actions. His own life was one thing—he had come to terms with the hopelessness of his situation. But now, because of his reckless attempts to reach out to others, he had doomed innocent people. Sidney. Sidney Cable. The thought of the man’s imminent death gnawed at Mike’s insides. Sidney had done nothing wrong, had shown him kindness when he needed it most. And now, because of Mike’s reckless actions—because he had tried to reach out, tried to reconnect with his former life—he had signed the Cables’ death warrant. Agamemnon had already been given the order to eliminate them, and nothing Mike could do would stop it.
Desperation clawed at him. He had tried so hard to get away, to make sense of what had been happening to him. He had thought he could outsmart whatever force was pulling the strings, but now it was clear—he was nothing more than a pawn in someone else's game. And the consequences of his choices were being paid by innocent people.
His mind raced, but there were no solutions. He could barely move, let alone do anything to change the fate of the Cables. His body was broken, bruised from the savage assault, his mind reeling from the realization that he had failed everyone he had tried to protect. He had no power to stop Agamemnon, no way to warn Sidney. The knowledge that the spider’s monstrous fangs would soon find Sidney, that the man would die on his watch, was a burden that crushed any remaining hope in Mike’s chest.
Sidney’s death is on my hands, he thought in horror. The weight of that realization was crushing. He could barely breathe, the air around him feeling thick and oppressive as Agamemnon loomed above, its massive form a constant reminder of his failure.
There was nothing he could do. The voice had spoken, and the orders were clear. The Cables would pay the price, and Mike was helpless to stop it.
The creature above him twitched. It seemed to sense his inner turmoil, perhaps even feeding off it. The sense of futility overwhelmed him, and Mike’s body seemed to go limp with defeat. He had no fight left in him.
In the cold silence that followed, Mike's thoughts twisted further into the abyss of hopelessness. He had been given a glimpse of something, a possibility of life and freedom, and in his ignorance, he had ruined it. His attempts to reach out to others, to fight back, had only led to more suffering. Sidney’s fate was sealed, and there was nothing Mike could do to stop it.
“Please,” he whispered to no one in particular, though his voice was swallowed by the vast emptiness of the room. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...”
But the voice—the force that controlled everything—made no reply, and Agamemnon continued to loom over him like an executioner ready to carry out its orders. The finality of it all left Mike utterly paralyzed, trapped in a nightmare with no way to wake up.
Mike lay there, every breath shallow, every movement a struggle. The silence that followed Oblika’s chilling command felt like an eternity pressing down on him, the weight of the situation heavy in his mind. He was trapped, hopeless, and the cold realization of his failure still reverberated in his chest.
Then, through the stillness, a new command broke the silence—a command that made Mike's blood run cold …
[“Wrap him!”] …
Before Mike could process the words, Agamemnon, the massive spider-like creature, descended upon him with terrifying speed. Two of its powerful, grotesque limbs shot forward and grabbed hold of him, lifting him off the floor with ease. Mike’s limbs flailed for a moment in futile resistance, but it was no use. Agamemnon was stronger, faster, and more merciless than any force Mike could comprehend.
With a sickening twist, the creature spun him around rapidly. Mike’s body was whipped through the air, unable to break free from the monster’s grasp. The sensation was nauseating, and the world around him blurred as he was spun faster and faster. The very air seemed to press against him, his body helpless to control its own movement.
Then, he felt it.
As this occurred, he felt as if Rope was being wound about his body-pinning his Arms against his side, as two other arms of this Monster pushed him in a rolling motion to permit the web in cocooning him. A sharp, sticky sensation wrapped around him—webbing. It began to wind around his body, a thick, suffocating rope that pinned his arms to his sides. The more the creature spun him, the more the webbing tightened, wrapping him in a cocoon of silk that grew denser and more suffocating with each rotation.
Mike’s body, already battered from the earlier assault, now felt the full force of his immobility. His limbs were trapped, his movements stifled by the thick layers of webbing, and his breath became shallow as the cocoon constricted around him. He tried to scream, but his voice was muffled, drowned out by the frenzy of the spinning motion and the growing cocoon enveloping him.
After what felt like an eternity of spinning and tightening, the webbing finally slowed, and Mike’s vision was reduced to blurry, disorienting motion. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even turn his head to see what was happening. The world around him was a suffocating void of sticky, constricting silk.
He could feel the creature’s cold, unfeeling touch as it dragged him across the room, the last vestiges of his freedom slipping away with each passing second. Mike tried to comprehend what was happening, but his thoughts were fading, drowned out by the sheer terror of the situation.
In a final, sickening moment of clarity, he saw it.
Through the haze of webbing, through the fog of his mind, Mike glimpsed his bed. It was the last thing he saw before the creature stuffed him beneath it, hiding him away like a piece of discarded trash.
He could barely move, could barely breathe. The weight of the webbing pressed against him from all sides, sealing him in an airtight prison of silk beneath the bed. Every instinct in his body screamed for escape, but his body was helpless. He was trapped—no longer even a prisoner of the creature’s monstrous form but buried beneath the very furniture he had once rested upon. His mind, reeling and disoriented, couldn’t fathom what would come next.
In the suffocating silence, there was only one thing he could think of: The Cables. Sidney. The horrible truth of what he had done.
And the weight of that knowledge pressed down harder than the webbing that encased him.
Mike’s consciousness ebbed and swirled like a fog, slowly drifting away from the nightmare he had found himself trapped in. A strange sensation washed over him—something that almost felt like relief. It was as if the weight of his failure, of everything that had happened, was pulling him back to a place of safety, away from the horrors that had unfolded. For a fleeting moment, he imagined himself back in the Capsule—his small, confined space where he could feel protected, insulated from the cruel, foreign world outside. His bandmates—those familiar faces—drifted in his mind like distant echoes. He missed them more than he could put into words, longing for the simplicity of life before all this madness.
The nightmare of Agamemnon, of the creature looming over him and the unrelenting force of Oblika’s commands, felt so far away. He longed for the safety of that Capsule more than anything else.
But then, as if the universe had decided to pull him back into the depths of this twisted reality, Oblika’s voice pierced through the haze, cold and unfeeling, once again cutting through the darkness.
[“I will spare you the details of Sidney Cable’s impending death, Mike. We shall return you into your Capsule and attend to your wounds.”]
The words came with a chilling finality, and Mike's mind snapped to attention as he heard them. Sidney’s death—Sidney’s death. The weight of that knowledge crashed back over him like a tidal wave, drowning out all thoughts of escape. He had done this. He had set this in motion. Sidney, the Cables, and everyone else he had tried to protect were now in the crosshairs of this unfeeling force. His failure was not just his own—it had real consequences for others. And there was no escaping that reality.
Oblika’s voice continued, cold and calculating, as if reading from a script.
[“I suspect you have suffered several fractures and bone breakages, minor things we can rectify in an expedited manner. We have far better medical and surgical procedures, ways in which to easily heal the crude Human Body.”]
Mike barely registered the words. His body ached, his mind was fractured, but at least something could be done about it—something that Oblika and their mysterious, unfathomable power could fix. The thought was strangely comforting in its own twisted way, though he knew that this was not some form of mercy. He had been reduced to something more than a test subject, more than a failure—he was now at their mercy.
Oblika’s tone didn’t change as it went on, its voice dripping with condescension.
[“Internal bleeding is more my concern. And prompt medical attention on board the transport Ship. You will attend a Prison Hospital on Hollien.”]
Mike's heart sank again as he heard the word Prison. His fate, it seemed, was sealed—not just as a test subject, but as a prisoner, a captive to the whims of whatever force had orchestrated this nightmare. Hollien? He didn’t know what that was, or where it was, but it didn’t matter. The words Prison Hospital made his blood run cold. It was another cage, another reminder that he was never truly free. Not from Oblika. Not from Agamemnon. Not from this cruel, twisted game.
[“Striking my ‘Pet’ with that Metal Garbage Can was a big mistake.”]
The words stung more than they should have. He had thought that throwing the can—anything to get away—had been his only option, his desperate plea for freedom. But now, it was another mark against him, another misstep in a long line of failures. Agamemnon, the creature he had hoped to fight off, had been a pet, and Mike had struck it.
The realization hit like a thunderclap. He wasn’t just dealing with a creature—it was an extension of this entity’s will. And now Agamemnon was his enemy. The consequences of his actions had pushed him to the top of the monster’s list.
[“I will do everything in my power to keep Agamemnon away from you in future, but sadly, you have made an enemy in him. His instinct is to hunt, stalk and kill. He now has you on his list. Therefore, you have been warned.”]
Mike’s blood ran cold. Hunted. The word echoed in his mind, and with it, the gnawing sense of dread that wrapped itself around his chest. He could feel Agamemnon’s relentless presence, even now, looming over him in the dark corners of his thoughts. The creature had marked him for death. It was all a matter of time, when and where. There would be no escape from this nightmare, not even within the confines of his Capsule. Not even under the bed where he had been hidden like prey.
Oblika’s voice, distant and calculating, continued in its eerie calm.
[“Goodnight Mike, see you onboard when you awake.”]
The last words felt like a final blow. There was no warmth, no compassion in the voice—just cold indifference. Goodnight? Goodnight? Was this the final curtain, the end of his story? Or merely the start of a new chapter in the nightmare?
As the words faded and his mind began to slip back into darkness, Mike’s thoughts were consumed by the singular, horrifying truth: he was no longer free. He was nothing more than a pawn in a game with rules he would never understand, hunted by a monster he could never escape. And there was nowhere to run.
Mike felt himself drifting away—and was returning to his Capsule hopefully. In an instant, he missed his Band Mates incredibly and realised that he no longer was safe around this...’Agamemnon’ thing, and that his Flat was a nightmare zone for him. He felt safer back inside his Capsule. The London that he now knew was full of mysteries and dangers. A landscape of surprises and contradictions, and new Horrors, because of him.
Oblika spoke to him again.
[“I will spare you the details of Sidney Cable’s impending death, Mike. We shall return you into your Capsule and attend to your wounds. I suspect you have suffered several fractures, bone breakages and even a concussion. Minor things we can rectify in an expedited manner. We have far better medical and surgical procedures, ways in which to easily heal the crude Human Body. Internal bleeding is more my concern. And prompt medical attention on board the transport Ship. You will attend a Prison Hospital on Hollien. Striking my ‘Pet’ with that Metal Garbage Can was a big mistake. I will do everything in my power to keep Agamemnon away from you in future, but sadly, you have made an enemy in him. His instinct is to hunt, stalk and kill. He now has you on his list. Therefore, you have been warned”].
Mike’s blood ran cold. Hunted. The word echoed in his mind, and with it, the gnawing sense of dread that wrapped itself around his chest. He could feel Agamemnon’s relentless presence, even now, looming over him in the dark corners of his thoughts. The creature had marked him. There would be no escape from this nightmare, not even within the confines of his Capsule. Not even under the bed where he had been hidden like prey.
Oblika’s voice, distant and calculating, continued in its eerie calm.
[“Goodnight Mike, see you onboard when you awake.”]
The last words felt like a final blow. There was no warmth, no compassion in the voice—just cold indifference. Goodnight? Goodnight? Was this the final curtain, the end of his story? Or merely the start of a new chapter in the nightmare?
As the words faded and his mind began to slip back into darkness, Mike’s thoughts were consumed by the singular, horrifying truth: he was no longer free. He was nothing more than a pawn in a game with rules he would never understand, hunted by a monster he could never escape. And there was nowhere to run.
Mike made his transfer successfully. He had been shoved underneath his Bed and wrapped very securely in Webs. As he faded back into his on-board and encapsulated Body on the Transport Vessel, the ‘A.S.C.V Tevloe’, the cocoon web began to collapse. He was escaping both the insane wrath of this giant Spider, as well as the horrors that awaited the Cables and his role in their deaths. Mike had a lot to think about. One drop in a Teacup can create another Storm elsewhere. He had done just that. By God, he had some regrets now to live with.
Mike’s senses gradually returned, but they were sluggish and disorienting. The disembodied weightlessness of his body, coupled with the searing pain that greeted him as he regained consciousness, made it difficult for him to form coherent thoughts. The darkness of his past experiences—the horrifying creature, the agonizing battle, the impending doom for Sidney and the Cables—felt like a distant nightmare, now fading in the presence of something different: an eerie, sterile calmness.
He could feel his body, bruised and battered, held in place by a cocoon of webbing that trapped him beneath the bed in his apartment. His mind was still adrift in the echoes of Oblika's voice, the command to "wrap him" ringing through his head like a tolling bell, marking the finality of his failure and the twisted decisions that had led to this point.
But amid it all, a strange sensation of release began to overtake him. The webs that had trapped him under his bed were now loosening, unraveling as his mind flickered back to the Transport Vessel—the very Capsule that had been his sanctuary from the beginning. He was moving. He was leaving the nightmare behind.
The moment of transition, from the suffocating entanglement of webs and Agamemnon’s menacing presence to the familiar, disorienting hum of the Transport Ship, brought with it a bittersweet relief. Mike had escaped. He had evaded the wrath of the spider, and more importantly, the consequences of his actions—at least, for now.
As his mind settled back into the Capsule, the physical trauma he had endured on Earth seemed to dissipate. The overwhelming pain and the frantic sense of danger were replaced with a creeping, numbing discomfort as his body was gently guided into the ship’s medical systems. The sensors embedded in his head monitored his vital signs, making sure that his London time-trip and the events that had unfolded did not cause any lasting damage to his mind or body.
Mike gasped as he regained full awareness, but the relief was short-lived. The pain was still there, deep, aching, and persistent. His body had taken a beating—bruises, contusions, and fractures—but somehow, miraculously, there were no broken bones. His half-conscious mind grasped at the realization: he had endured the worst of it, but it could have been worse. He wasn’t in a state of critical danger, though the damage to his body was still significant. The two versions of him—his physical self in London and his encapsulated self on the ship—had somehow mitigated the worst of the traumas. His resilience had been a factor, but the nature of the transfer had protected him from the full extent of the beating.
Arriving back on the small Transport Ship, the ‘A.S.C.V Tevloe’,(Eastern Fleet), Mike gasped awake inside his Capsule. He had sensors connected to his Head to monitor his progress in his London time-trip. He awoke in agony but was soon anesthetized. He was unconscious so that medical treatment could be affected. The fact that in essence, there were two of him, meant that his return to his Capsule diminished the Physical beatings that he was given by this multi-legged creature.
As the anesthesia coursed through his system, dulling the pain, Mike's thoughts wandered back to the mess he had created. The Cables. Sidney. He had been a fool, reaching out, disturbing the carefully constructed balance of the life he had come to know. The truth hit him hard: a single choice, a single decision, had set everything into motion. The storm he had caused by his actions would be felt far beyond his immediate circle, and he had no control over the damage.
The regret weighed on him like a heavy chain. The consequences of his recklessness would follow him, haunting him long after the physical pain had subsided. I’ve made an enemy of Agamemnon, and worse yet, I’ve doomed Sidney and the Cables, he thought bitterly. The pain in his chest wasn't just physical—it was the raw, gnawing feeling of guilt. He had been warned, but he had ignored it. Now, others would pay the price for his mistakes.
But as the anesthesia took full effect and his body relaxed, Mike felt a strange sense of resignation. I can’t undo what I’ve done, he realized, and yet, a flicker of defiance sparked within him. But I can keep fighting. I can survive. If this spider, if Agamemnon, wants me, I’ll make sure I’m ready next time.
He didn’t know what the future held, or what the Pathfinders—or even Oblika—would decide for him. But for now, as his body healed in the sterile environment of the Transport Ship, Mike allowed himself a moment of peace.
The fight wasn’t over yet.
And when he woke, when his body was whole again, he would be ready.
In a nutshell, he was half beaten up now, so not in such a serious shape as he first thought. He was found to have no broken Bones. But these were now commuted to multiple fractures. And deep bruising. He was quite robust to start with, and yet, this trans-body experience had halved his Traumas. He was back in one piece, would require a couple of weeks of medical assistance, but overall, he will live to fight this Spider again, if need be.
--------------------------------------------------------------
{Takes place two Hours after Mike is attacked by Agamemnon later that same day}.
Agnes was concerned, she had planned to go out shopping in the morning after Breakfast. She felt a mix of excitement and mild frustration as she adjusted her coat and glanced at the shopping list in her hand. But remembered she had an appointment to meet a friend for a coffee first, so that would have to wait until the afternoon. The morning had started off in its usual calm rhythm with Sid making them both a hearty breakfast—eggs, tea, and toast—before tidying up afterward. He always took care of the little things, which was one of the reasons she loved him so much. She smiled as she remembered his affectionate gesture of a peck on her right cheek before she headed out the door.
Her plans had shifted, though. She’d had every intention of running errands right after breakfast, but then the reminder of her coffee date with Alice surfaced in her mind. It had been months since she last saw her dear friend, and she could hardly contain her excitement to catch up. They’d shared so many memories over the years, and now, with a few quiet moments to themselves, it would be a chance to fill in the gaps of what had been going on in their lives.
She adjusted the two carrier bags slung over her shoulder—those would be for the groceries, but that could wait. Right now, it was all about the coffee and reconnecting with Alice. Agnes wasn’t worried about the shopping; after all, it could be done later in the afternoon, and she knew Sid would be content at home and planned to enjoy one of his days off from the Dockyard where he worked. This way too, Agnes could enjoy her morning out.
Bidding Agnes a farewell at the door, he gave her a quick Peck of a Kiss on her right cheek, as she put her coat on.
“I’ll take Mike’s Mail over to him Sid after I meet Alice, we have had it here a while- he may want to see what is inside these Letters”? Agnes was being considerate. She did not know if Mike were even Home during the daytime, but if not- she can drop the Letters inside his door and leave a quick note she wrote on top of them. Not to pry, but he may want to know what the Mail contains.
“That sounds good Aggy. Do you have his key? See ya later-say hello to Alice from me, and… I love you”. Said Sid.
“Yes, I have the Key. I’ll pass on your regards to Alice, see you later. It’ll be Bangers and Mash for Supper, okay? I’ll pick up the Gravy mix. Love ya too honey”. And then, Agnes was out the door.
As she approached the coffee shop, she could already see Alice through the window, her friendly wave, a warm invitation to sit and share in all the stories that had piled up since their last meeting. Agnes smiled to herself, knowing that today’s visit was going to be the first of many moments of joy that would make up the rest of the day.
Agnes and Alice had caught up for hours at the coffee shop, laughing over shared memories and exchanging updates on their lives. It had been so easy to slip into their old rhythms, as if no time had passed at all. But, as the clock ticked on, Agnes realized the day had slipped away much faster than she had anticipated. Her errands, which had seemed so simple earlier, were now becoming a bit more pressing.
After bidding Alice farewell, Agnes made her way towards the High Street. The grocery store was only one block away, but the thought of facing the crowds of later afternoon shoppers wasn’t appealing. She had originally planned to drop by Mike’s apartment first to hand him his mail—something she always did when she passed by—but now she reconsidered. It was better to get the groceries out of the way first; the sooner she got that done, the sooner she could cross the rest of her tasks off her list. Mike's mail could wait a little longer.
As Agnes entered the grocery store, she felt a slight sense of relief. The aisles were quieter than she had expected, with many people still out at work or Supper. She quickly made her way through the store, picking up the few specific items she needed—some fresh produce, a loaf of bread, and a few cans of soup for these cooler days of Spring, and some Gravy Mix for the Bangers and Mash dinner she planned tonight. One of Sid’s favourite meals. It didn’t take long, and she was back at the checkout, ready to continue her day.
The Cables, had recently sold their Mini Cooper. Agnes recalled how they had discussed the need for it, explaining that the car was no longer necessary. With everything they needed being within walking distance or easily accessible via public transport, they felt it was more sensible to free up the money they’d been spending on car expenses.
With the groceries packed and a quiet walk ahead of her, Agnes headed toward Mike’s apartment. It wasn’t far, just a few blocks away, and the Spring air felt refreshing as she made her way down the familiar streets. By the time she reached Mike’s building, the mail was already tucked safely into her bag, and she was feeling the weight of the day’s tasks slowly lift off her shoulders.
Mike had been appreciative when she took the time to bring him his mail, and Agnes enjoyed these little moments of connection with their reliable Renter. After handing over the several letters, she promised to stop by again soon before continuing her walk home. As she walked, she reflected on the simple joy of being able to check off the day’s to-do list, knowing that soon she’d be able to relax and enjoy a quiet evening at home with Sid.
Arriving at the Apartment they owned and expecting Mike to be inside, Agnes entered through the Flower shop below. The soft hum of the flower shop below blended with the quiet murmur of the city outside as Agnes stood at the door to Mike’s apartment. The weather was unusually warm for the time of year, and the overcast skies created a calm, almost muted ambiance. She paused for a moment to take in the silence, the grocery bags heavy in her hands. Mike had always been a bit of a solitary person, so it wasn’t unusual for him to be out, but she thought she’d check in anyway. Agnes placed her two grocery bags down outside Mike’ front door, on the Landing. She knocked a few times, listening intently for any sounds from within. Nothing. The silence seemed almost eerie now that she had stopped to listen. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she fumbled through her handbag for the spare key she kept. It wasn’t the first time she had used it, but she always felt a slight hesitation—an unspoken respect for privacy that made her careful with how she handled it. Finally, her fingers wrapped around the small, cold key, and she gave a brief, final knock, just in case Mike was home and couldn’t hear the doorbell or the first set of knocks. With a slight, apologetic smile to herself, she turned the key in the lock and gently pushed the door open. She did not want to be coming across as snoopy at all.
Opening the door, she craned her neck inside.
“Hello, anyone here?” Agnes called softly into the apartment, her voice tentative and respectful, though curious. The apartment looked still, with no signs of movement or noise emanating from within. It was a cozy, comfortable space, and the familiar scent of Mike’s home, mixed with faint floral notes from the shop below, welcomed her as she stepped a little further inside.
She was greeted by silence. The door creaked slightly as she held it open, just enough to see the dim light filtering in from the windows. It was still quiet—no sound of running water or footsteps. Agnes stood for a moment, waiting for a response. Mike was usually a bit of a night owl, so perhaps he was simply out and about, or perhaps had gone for a walk in the nice weather. She didn't want to intrude, but she did feel a bit puzzled by the silence.
A few more moments passed, and her curiosity began to nudge her forward. Agnes took another step into the apartment, still calling softly, "Mike?"
Agnes stepped fully into the apartment; her grocery bags forgotten outside for the moment. The quiet that had once seemed so comforting now felt ominous, especially as she took in the disarray before her. Papers were scattered across the floor, some torn and crumpled, others carelessly tossed aside. A few pieces of furniture were overturned—one of the chairs was on its side, and the coffee table had been tipped over, its contents now strewn across the floor. It was as though a struggle had occurred.
Her heart rate quickened as her eyes scanned the room. This was not what she had expected at all. Mike was usually tidy and organized. He didn’t leave things like this, and the idea that something might have happened to him, or that he was involved in something unsettling, made Agnes' stomach tighten. She could hear the faint sound of the clock ticking in the corner, its rhythmic ticking growing louder in her ears.
Instinctively, she took a cautious step forward, glancing over her shoulder toward the door. The silence seemed heavier now, oppressive. Agnes knew she had to be careful. She wasn’t sure what had transpired here, but this wasn’t normal. The urge to put the letters down and leave a quick note was still there, but the scene in front of her seemed to demand her focus. Her curiosity was piqued. It wasn’t just the state of the room that unsettled her—it was the sense that something was very wrong. Agnes moved slowly, cautiously, as she stepped around the scattered papers, avoiding the overturned furniture. Her fingers brushed over a piece of paper, and she paused, leaning down to pick it up. It was a bill, crumpled, but it seemed out of place among the clutter. She quickly glanced at it, but it wasn’t anything she recognized.
"Mike?" she called again, her voice quieter this time, as though she feared disturbing something—or someone—that wasn’t immediately visible.
The apartment remained eerily silent, and the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach only grew. Agnes knew that leaving a note wasn’t enough anymore. Something had clearly happened here, and she couldn’t just walk away. With a glance toward the door, she debated calling someone for help, but she didn’t want to make a rash decision. She needed to figure out what had happened—whether it was something she could handle herself, or whether Mike needed help.
With her heart pounding, Agnes moved further into the Apartment and entered the Kitchen, hoping to find more clues, but also wondering if she was about to stumble into something far more dangerous than she had anticipated.
Agnes’s heart raced, her mind still reeling from the chaotic scene in the apartment when suddenly, a sharp slam echoed from the front door. She spun around, her breath caught in her throat, as she froze for a moment. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Had someone entered? Was it Mike? Or was it someone—or something—else?
Tentatively, Agnes stepped back near to Mike’s Bedroom, still holding her breath as she moved to see the source of the noise. The quiet of the apartment had been so oppressive, and now it felt as though the silence was shattered. Her eyes darted around, searching for any sign of life, but what she found instead made her blood run cold.
Right there, near the doorway to the hallway, a massive black spider loomed. It was easily the size of a large Dog, even bigger, its body glistening black, with thick, spindly legs that seemed to stretch forever. The creature’s abdomen was grotesquely large, and its cold, beady eyes locked onto her with unsettling precision.
Agnes’s stomach dropped. She had always been terrified of spiders, and this one was no ordinary pest—it was a monstrous creature that seemed to have come from some nightmare. It had likely been hiding in the bathroom, out of sight, until it saw its chance. As she had walked away from the living room, and into the Kitchen, perhaps it had crept out in search of a victim.
Panic surged through her, and for a split second, her instincts screamed at her to flee. But the spider had already cut off her escape. It was poised in the doorway, blocking her path to the landing outside. Agnes’s mind raced as the creature began to move closer, its legs skittering across the floor in a horrifying, rapid motion.
With a scream that pierced the quiet of the apartment, Agnes threw her hands up in a futile attempt to shield herself. But before the sound could fully leave her lips, something horrific happened.
A violent, hot, sticky blast of goo shot from the spider’s abdomen, striking her full in the face. The substance was thick and sticky, almost instantly inflating her cheeks with its force, while it slammed into her mouth, choking her throat. She gasped, trying to scream again, but the goo filled her mouth, pressing against her tongue and the back of her throat, making it almost impossible to breathe.
The sensation was suffocating—unlike anything she had ever experienced. Her cheeks puffed out, and she could feel the web-like substance rapidly expanding, covering her head and face with a second, even more powerful blast. It was hot to the touch, sticky and dense, and the warmth of it burned her skin as it adhered to her face.
Agnes’s vision blurred as the goo coated her eyes, effectively blinding her. She stumbled backward, her hands desperately trying to scrape at the webs stuck to her face, but it was no use. The more she moved, the more entangled she became. Her breathing grew shallow, frantic, as her mind raced in panic. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, but the warm, sticky substance made it nearly impossible to think clearly.
In her panic, she flailed, trying to rip away the webs, but they were too strong, too fast. The spider's sinister presence loomed, and Agnes was left frozen in place, overwhelmed and trapped by its relentless assault. The air was thick with the sound of her own frantic breathing as she struggled to escape, but the more she fought, the tighter the web seemed to grow around her.
Time seemed to stretch on in a blur of fear and confusion, and Agnes felt herself slipping into a haze of terror.
Agnes tried to retreat, her body jerking backward in a desperate attempt to escape, but it was a hopeless effort. Before she could even make it halfway across the room, the spider’s webbing lashed out, yanking her off her feet with brutal force. The world around her spun as she was dragged across the floor, every movement only tightening the web around her. And in an instant, she is dragged headfirst across the room and thumped into a Wall. Hardly did her folded up body settle onto the floor, was she hauled up and back across the Living Room, to strike hard against the opposing brick Wall. The solid construction of the wall absorbed the impact, and the force was too much for her to withstand. Her vision blurred, her head spinning, and before she could process the overwhelming pain, her body went limp, the darkness pulling her under as unconsciousness claimed her. However, Agamemnon unsatisfied with its savage attack, again catapults poor Agnes back again, to strike against the same wall in the opposite direction that she was thrown against. Now no longer able to brace her impact, her bones were breaking. Agnes wasn’t left to rest. Before she could even fully succumb to unconsciousness, she was violently pulled forward. The spider’s webbing wrapped around her like a cruel lasso, spinning her in tight, dizzying circles. The force was relentless, each turn tightening the strands around her body, binding her further. She could feel the webbing constricting, layer after layer wrapping around her form, mummifying her in a suffocating cocoon of sticky silk.
Agnes was motionless, and as helpless as a Marionette getting bound up inside its own Strings. At this point, Agnes had no idea what was happening to her. Her senses were drowned in a haze of pain and confusion, and her body felt like it was being pulled in every direction at once. The webbing clung to her skin, suffocating her with every passing moment. She could no longer tell if she was breathing or if the silk was already sealing off her airways. Agamemnon loomed above her, it would seem to have grown even larger. Its massive abdomen poised menacingly over her cocooned form. With two powerful legs, it gently lifted her slight frame, the webbing already binding her tightly. Then, with a sudden and horrifying motion, the spider began a dizzying rotation, spinning her in slow, deliberate counterclockwise circles. The web tightened around her with each turn, layering over her body, pulling her deeper into the suffocating trap. Agnes was helpless, spinning endlessly as the silk wound tighter and tighter, encasing her completely. Satisfied that she was immobilized and contained inside the webby lump, the spider began to sink its sickle-shaped fangs into her, injecting venom and slowly draining the life from her in preparation for its next move. A yellow, oozing liquid was seen to emits from the strands of web that wrapped her face. This vile Liquid oozed from her eyes, nose and mouth. The over-pressure, shooting too much Venom.
Agamemnon paused over Agnes’s cocooned form, its large, glistening abdomen hovering above her body, as if savoring the moment. The creature had no need for haste. Its sharp fangs twitched with anticipation, but first, it would feast. Agnes’s body, now trapped and helpless, would serve as the perfect sustenance for the spider, ensuring it had the strength to continue its dark mission.
Once satisfied, Agamemnon, its hunger sated, began to shrink. It adjusted its form, compressing into a more compact shape. It needed to be swift for its next task. The spider scuttled across the floor; its movements calculated as it crawled toward the exit. With surprising agility, it had reduced its size and could exit Mike’s Apartment via a Chimney pipe. It climbed the walls and Roof, then moved across the rooftops, its legs making barely a sound as it traveled through the now early evening air.
The Cable home lay just a few blocks away. Through the shadows, Agamemnon would enter through the chimney pipes, silently navigating the urban landscape. Its destination was clear, and its mission was one of cold efficiency. It would find Sidney Cable and ensure that this loose end was tied up.
Back at the Cable home, Sidney sat anxiously by the window, the dim glow of the streetlights casting long shadows on the walls. He had been waiting for Agnes to return all evening, but as the hours passed, his concern grew. She had been out all day, and the longer she stayed away, the more unsettling the silence became. Had something happened to her? He had no idea, but his gut told him that something was terribly wrong.
He rose from his seat, pacing the room, his eyes flicking nervously to the door. He checked his watch again, but still, there was no sign of her. With each passing minute, his worry deepened. Little did he know, Agamemnon was already on its way, moving closer to deliver its own brand of finality.
As for Mike? His form had vanished from within the cocoon that covered his body, the remains of the Web that enshrouded him was collapsed. And this mass of webbing was arranged like a Cargo Parachute heaped underneath his bed still. Mike was back in his Transport Ship undergoing medical intervention Treatments. Agnes was being eaten alive, a living snack. When it was done, this creature would also stuff her, under Mike’s bed. It was all over from beginning attack to the end, in Forty seconds or less. Sidney was next to die.
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Sid Cable paced back and forth in their quiet home, the ticking of the old clock on the wall the only sound accompanying his growing anxiety. He had already tried calling Agnes several times, but each time, there was no answer. The silence was becoming unbearable. He had spoken to Alice earlier that afternoon, and she had confirmed Agnes had left for the shops after their coffee. But that was hours ago, and now it was dark. Supper had long passed, and his stomach growled in protest, but the concern gnawing at him overshadowed any hunger.
It was unusual for Agnes to be late. She was always punctual, always reliable. If she said she would be somewhere, she was there. He could picture it: she would have grabbed the shopping list, the two bags, and headed straight for the store. He had expected her back no later than an hour after her trip, maybe two at the most. Yet here they were, hours later, and there was still no word.
The house felt unusually still, the way it did when something was out of place—when something was wrong. Sid ran a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. He’d fallen asleep earlier, trying to take advantage of his rare day off, but now, the peaceful nap felt like a cruel joke. He glanced over at the clock again. It was already well past 9 PM.
Sid wasn’t prone to panic, but this—this felt different. Agnes was independent, yes, but she wouldn’t just disappear without a word. The knot in his stomach tightened as he thought about the possibility that something had happened to her. He grabbed his jacket, ready to head out. Sid pulled on his coat, deciding to check around the neighborhood himself. Maybe she’d stopped at a friend’s house. Or maybe... he tried to push away the darker thought that had started to creep into his mind. No. No, that wouldn’t happen to Agnes. She was independent, but she knew how to take care of herself.
The silence hung heavy as he stepped out the door into the cold evening air. He needed to find her—whatever it took
Sidney’s mind raced as he paced through the living room, his thoughts scattered in all directions. Agnes should have been home by now—she always was. But now, the house felt eerily empty, and the weight of her absence was gnawing at him. She had planned to drop off the mail at Mike's place. Perhaps something had happened over there. But the problem was, Mike’s phone service had been cut off by the company weeks ago, and he was never around when you needed him. Would anyone even be there tonight?
Sidney glanced at the clock again. 9:15 PM. His frustration was building with each passing minute. He'd give it one more hour—if Agnes wasn’t home by then, he’d head straight over to Mike Parris’s flat. After all, it was their flat, too. The key was with Agnes, though. He’d have to go over and knock on the door. Not ideal, but what else could he do? It was all within a few blocks, so retracing her route seemed like the best course of action.
The grocery store would be closed by now, and there were no other errands left to run. The streets outside had quieted, and Sid couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong. His mind kept coming back to the worst-case scenario.
If Agnes still hadn’t returned by the time he finished his route, he'd contact the police. He’d ask if there had been any accidents reported on their street and report her as missing. He wasn’t sure how much they would do right away, but he wasn’t going to sit around and wait for the worst to come to him.
Sidney moved toward the hallway. He grabbed his jacket but hesitated for a moment, his mind already mapping out the route he would take. The search wouldn’t take more than an hour. He’d retrace the routes she would have walked, head to Mike’s place, then return home. If Agnes wasn’t there by then, he’d have to escalate things.
He moved through the house, the worry gnawing at him like a slow burn, his hands shaking just enough to make the search for his shoes frustrating. Where the hell were his comfortable walking shoes? He could hardly go running around in his House slippers. He scanned the room but could not locate the old pair of Hush Puppies he'd worn for years. They were comfortable and broken in, perfect for the job ahead.
Agnes—where could she be? And why wasn’t she home yet? Was something wrong?
Sidney was fixated on finding his comfortable walking shoes. His mind was racing, and he barely noticed how much time was slipping by. He checked the rec room, then the bedroom, and even rummaged through the closet in the kitchen. The shoes weren't where he expected. His frustration mounted as he pushed through the rooms one after another, trying to stay focused. Where were they?
As his search continued, he heard a sound—a faint noise that made him freeze mid-step. His heart skipped a beat. A creak? A shuffle? It came from the sitting room, the one with the old Georgian fireplace that had always had a draft, but tonight, something was different. Sidney hesitated for a moment, then, instinctively, walked toward the room.
He half-expected to find Agnes there, maybe in the dim light, sitting by the fireplace, or maybe just walking through the door after a long day. But as he entered the room—his eyes scanning quickly—there was no sign of her. The high ceiling loomed above, casting shadows in the corners of the room. The furniture was just as he had left it, and the stillness only added to the unease building in his chest.
Then, just as he was about to turn and head back to his search, a loud ‘THUD!’ erupted from behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy shifting on the floor.
Sidney’s heart raced as his head snapped toward the source of the sound. His pulse pounded in his ears. His mind instantly ran through possibilities—what could it be? Someone breaking in? Something falling off the shelf? But no, it was too deliberate, too violent for that.
His breath quickened as he stepped further into the room, half-turned toward the sound, muscles tensed. What the hell was that?
Sid was grabbed forcefully from behind before he could even turn around to see what was making this loud noise! Sidney felt severely sharp pains in both sides of his face and both eyes had a stabbing object in each, jab into his head! Simultaneously, he was aware that two arms of a sorts, were grabbing at his torso on each side! These ‘Arms’ pierced deep into his Abdomen and hooked far into his flesh! In a whirlwind of agonizing pains, and as Sid forced out a screamed outcry of agony, these hooks, or arms, all violently pulled apart—and Sidney literally had both sides of his face ripped off of his Head, as too, his torso was also pulled in two separate parts!! Sidney Cable was eviscerated alive. His Intestines flopped out of his Abdominal cavity in a steaming and heaped, bloody mass of guts and organs, to plop onto the sitting room floor. His last fleeting glimpse through tortured Eyes half-clawed and gouged into shreds was to see his innards spill out in a spray of blood and white intestines. It was all over very quickly. Sid Cable had no idea what had hit him.
Agamemnon had one more task, as his victorious ‘calling card’, and an action he is known to do; he would decorate the Cable Home with Webs, like a gigantic, Haunted House exhibit. With a flick of its legs, the creature began to spin, working its way around the house, covering the windows, the porch, the garden in thick, sticky webs. It was like a macabre decorator, its Forty-eyed gaze surveying the home with a dark sense of accomplishment.
The webs spread like a disease, a suffocating blanket, draping over every corner of the house. The once welcoming front door, now had its inside encased in layers of glistening threads, was like the portal to a tomb. The porch lights flickered in response to the creature’s dark presence, casting erratic shadows that seemed to grow longer with each passing second. Inside, the air grew thick with the scent of dampness as the webs infiltrated every space. They snaked their way across the furniture, wrapped themselves around the chairs, the tables—coiling like a deathtrap waiting to close in on its prey. The walls, once bare and ordinary, now appeared suffocating and tight, bound by the creature’s unholy webbing.
This creature had also done this around Mike Parris’ apartment, while leaving Agnes, the remnants of her cocooned form still lying, half-consumed, still jammed underneath Mike’s Bed. Agamemnon had completed its grisly feast on Agnes. It was a vicious, terrifying process—quick, ruthless, and almost ceremonial. The creature had taken its time, wrapping her in webs as though preparing her for a twisted display. It then had taken the time to spread threads throughout Mike’s Apartment.
Sooner or later, the unnerving silence in the Cable home would be broken, though not in the way anyone expected. The police authorities, alerted by a concerned neighbor or an even more concerned passerby, would begin their investigation of the area. Something was wrong—something foul.
The telltale signs had been there for days: the stench of rotting meat wafting from Mike Parris’s apartment, a pungent odor that became increasingly hard to ignore. It started faint, but as the days passed, the smell intensified, like a festering wound. To anyone with a nose for it, it was unmistakable—the smell of decay, of death. It made the air feel heavy, thick, almost unbearable.
The staff in the flower shop downstairs had already noticed it, of course. The elderly woman, Mrs. Farrow, and her young assistant had exchanged wary glances as they worked through their daily tasks, the scent growing stronger by the hour. At first, they had tried to ignore it, attributing it to a faulty drain, they had a Plumber call already for just that reason. Or more spoiled flowers. But the smell wasn’t just unpleasant—it was unnatural. And when Agnes’s bags of groceries were still sitting outside Mike’s apartment door, untouched and forgotten, suspicion bloomed like a dark flower.
As well as Alice’s inquiry as to Sid’s search for his Wife- and her whereabouts. Alice’s suspicion soon turned to dread when she realized that Sid had mentioned Mike’s name—Mike Parris, the four months missing renter. He’d been quiet, too quiet for too long. It was as though the man had vanished into thin air. And now Agnes’s trail led straight to Mike’s apartment. Within days, entry would be made into the Cable home, and also Mike’s Apartment. And the discovery of the horrors found within these places. With two dead Landlords, one mutilated and the other, half eaten, and inside Mike Parris’ own Apartment, the situation would not look good for Mike. Considering, the fact that now he had disappeared—all suspicions will inevitably lead to Mr. Parris. He would become the Police Authority’s Prime Suspect in a grisly double murder.
This, hopefully, would be sufficient reason and insurance enough, to never be allowed to return home again.
-----End of Chapter XV (15): ‘The Widow Of Jellsius’------