Masks of Nyarlathotep

Faust's POV

Inner Demon

church.png

Inexplicitly, Faust was in a church.

It was his local church and the only other people present was the Pastor and Faust’s two sons, looking exactly as they did 10 years ago. They were in the middle of Communion, eating bread and drinking what looked to be red wine.

The place brought back many unhappy memories and Faust was more livid than alarmed. The rage helped focus his mind and he began suspecting that this was a dream or an illusion – it was hard to tell in his line of work. But before he could gather his thoughts, a voice called out from the pews.

“Dr Faust”

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The man was dressed in a charcoal business suit, dark shirt and accented with a crimson tie. He was clean shaven with shoulder-lengthed hair. His eyes flickered red in the light. Faust eyed the stranger warily, it didn’t take a genius to figure this one out. He decided to cut directly to the chase.

“What do you want?”

The man raised an eyebrow and cracked a half-smile.

“Dr Faust, I would ask the same of you. You see, you and your friends have called me, and I am-”

“I haven’t called you”, Faust cut him short.

“On the contrary, Dr Faust. You did and you are, whether you realise it or not.”

Rather than continue playing word games, Faust gestures to his surroundings, “And this? You brought me here for a reason?”

“You misunderstand. I am merely here as an invited guest. We are here because you wanted it.”

“Really.” Faust replied in a skeptical tone.

He immediately closed his eyes and thought about his desk at the Police station, his only constant for the last decade. He recalled each piece of wood and how they connected, the wooden grain and the finish. His mental image expanded to include neighbouring desks, chairs, tables, shelves, odds and ends and other clutter that made up his home away from home. Soon, he dared to open his eyes.

desk.jpg

Intriguingly, Faust was now at his workplace.

The novelty of the situation suppressed any shock or surprise from the sudden change. Everything was exactly as he remembered it. As another test, Faust pinched himself and felt pain. Maybe this wasn’t a dream, but it didn’t feel like he was fully awake.

Scanning the room, he tried to find any defects that would explain this illusion. But nothing was out of the ordinary… except that the man in the business suit.

“Why are you still here?” Faust barked.

“Dr Faust, it is quite rude to invite a guest and then promptly dismiss him for no reason”, the man answered with a bemused smile.

“Tell it to someone who cares. I haven’t invited anyone for over ten years and I definitely haven’t started now.”

“Very well Dr Faust, but before I leave, let me give you a warning: look inside the cell.”

The Police station holding cells were located on the opposite side of the room. A quick glance revealed Samar, sitting inanimate on the bed with a blank expression.

“Your friend is not who he says he is. Look closer.”

A shadowy form begins to engulf Samar and Faust quickly fixed his gaze back at the man.

“I am not playing your games. Leave.”

The man returned the gaze and held it for a brief moment, his eyes flickered softly and he faded out of existence. Faust took a deep breath and waited for this dream to end.

Unfortunately, Faust didn’t wake up.

Pacing around his own limbo, Faust considered his options. The man said his friends had also called him, so they were likely in their own version of this nightmare. They may be needing his help right now, but how could he go to them? He closed his eyes and concentrated.

shack.png

Faust memories of the shack in Katherine was sketchy at best, and it seemed to take an eternity to build up a strong mental image. It was when he could hear the soft sounds of rain splattering on the tin roof, did he finally open his eyes.

Looking around, he checked his belongings and equipment and rushed downstairs to discover what kind of mess his friends had gotten themselves into.

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