Here Come the Men in Black

Hey. Haven't updated in some time, right? Well, I promised myself not to post any updates to this blog until after I'd finished my job. Didn't want any Drones or Timberwolves reading this and knowing where I am or what I'm doing, but I figured I'd make an exception here, just so long as I leave out any specifics about my situation.

I met someone today. Someone who may or may not be an ally to me in the near future. Haven't decided yet. Like I said, I can't say where the meeting took place, only that it was a public area.

It was some random cafe.

...Apparently I am physically incapable of getting rid of that sentence. You know, prior to meeting Judas, I never would have considered any of Them to be internet trolls. But the more time I spend possessed, the more I become certain that that's what They are. Big, cosmic internet trolls.

Anyway, like I was saying, I was just... well, no use hiding it (thanks Judas)... I was sitting in a cafe, eating breakfast. It was taking some time, but I was slowly mastering the art of using my non-dominant hand for everything. I was having some eggs, some bacon, some coffee. Nothing fancy. Suddenly, this guy in a black suit sits down across from me.

I think the most surprising thing was how completely unsurprised I was. After all the shit I've gone through in the past few months, I doubt anything could have phased me. From the looks of it, the guy in front of me was a genuine Man in Black, and you know what? I just took it in stride.

"Matthias Stanford?" he asked.

I nodded. I didn't speak because my mouth was full of eggs.

"I am Agent Lebowsky. I work with the SMSC. Do you know what that is?"

I nodded again, and swallowed. "I thought you guys used codenames from David Bowie songs?"

"If that were true, there would not be nearly enough codenames for everyone in our organization."

Well that made sense. For those of you who haven't scoured the internet for information on Them, the SMSC are some weird division of the FBI devoted to Their activity. Well, maybe not the FBI. That might be a front. I don't know, it's confusing. The point is that they apparently handle cases involving Them, though I've never heard of them actually being effective.

"So, what do you want?"

"Your situation recently came to our attention," Lebowsky told me. "We want to sponsor you."

"Come again?"

"Do you have any idea the kind of opportunity you present? You possess a Dying Man fragment, but it has barely affected your body at all. This provides ample opportunity for us to observe the long term effects of Dying Man exposure."

"I have a name you know," my mouth said. My voice didn't.

Poor bastard nearly jumped out of his skin. Apparently, he hadn't been expecting to actually speak with Judas. "I apologize... Judas... It's just, surely you understand our position?"

"I doubt he cares," I muttered. "So, you want me to be a guinea pig?"

Lebowsky shook his head. "Far from it. We want to recruit you."

I just sort of sat there staring at him. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I could hear laughter. "Come again?"

"You are unique," Lebowsky explained. "You are a trained officer of the law, you've managed to keep your head even in the face of... well, you know, and you while you have yet to achieve a major victory, you have made admirable efforts against the Fears' servants."

"Don't call Them that," I said.

"What? Fears?"

I nodded. "That implies that they somehow represent a part of ourselves, that we created them. That they represent what scares us. And I don't think that's the case."

Lebowsky didn't reply to that. After a moment of silence he simply said "We will be keeping a close eye on your coming operation." And then he stood and left.

Don't worry. We'll give you a show you'll never forget.