Author’s Note: This chapter is best read on a computer using the sepia reader settings. You’ll see why.

Trynity’s recollection of the night before was surprisingly precise, if a bit lewd. According to her, she’d just started her shift and was relaxing from a rough anal pounding by an ogre in her usual spot near the door when Vanessa had passed by. John had no doubt who she meant, not after a painstaking description of everything and the kitchen sink, including: “She had this necklace sticking out from between her boobs that kept glowing every so often.” The real kicker was how she’d acted, however.

“That bitch took one look at me and started laughing! Can you believe that?” the goblin groaned, balling her hands up into fists. “Then she said ‘I didn’t think they let midgets in here.’, well go get fucked by a Shroud Queen, you drunk slut!”

John had grown used to Trynity’s outbursts; the girl had the emotional passion of two people packed into something just over half the size of one, and she held nothing back. She reminded him a lot of Adorabelle.

“Right, so where was I?”

“Laughing at you?” John posited. He took a sip of the water he’d swiped at the last bar they’d passed. The bartender there hadn’t given them a second look, so presumably they were only banned from the one. Maybe their public… ‘display of affection’ hadn’t been that big of a deal?

“Oh, yeah. So, the drunk slut’s wobbling like my cousin’s fat ass, and that’s when I see the guy next to her. Tall, handsome and mysterious isn’t usually my thing, but one look at his eyes and my pussy just goes ‘sploosh’. I’m so soaked it’s running down my legs.” Trynity looked up at him and misread John’s reaction to her choice of words, “Oh, don’t worry, Master. The only one I want plowing my fields right now is your fine ass.” She punctuated the statement by grabbing John’s hand and pulling it to her breasts. It seemed impolite not to give them a fondle.

Tall and handsome… I wouldn’t use those words to describe Frank, and that meathead’s anything but mysterious. Something’s off.

“That’s nice… Anyway, there I am, as horny as a hellhound in heat, and there aren’t any customers around, so I say ‘fuck it’. Something about this guy is just irresistible, like you! Well, not quite. I’ll get to it.” The goblin leaned against him and wrapped one arm around his thigh. Between his feeling her up and the traces of cum drying on her face, she looked the part of a trophy slut, so there wasn’t much of a surprise the pair got a few jealous looks from passersby. The attention wasn’t exactly uncomfortable to John, not now, but everything about it felt a bit surreal to him. Trynity got off on it.

“Stuff you don’t care about happened, but then I followed them both to here.” She fidgeted as she continued the story, moaning quietly whenever John gave one of her nipples a squeeze. “The bimbo, Van… ah!”

“Vanessa?”

“Yeah, her. She started dancing, but I was so high on hormones that all I cared about was getting the cock with her jammed into my pussy that she could’ve been getting gangbanged for all I cared.” A little shiver ran down her legs, and her hips swirled in little circles as she tried to continue the story, “Just roll them… oh yes, just like that. Ah... The guy… he… he was watching her in this creepy way. Almost like an animal. His eyes were all red and creepy and not sexy at all anymore. He was gaunt and kind of pale too.”

What? That’s definitely not Frank. Who the hell was she with?

John stopped groping the goblin, running everyone he’d seen with Vanessa ever through his mind. The bitchy cheerleader had no shortage of ‘friends’, but most of them were female, and she’d always seemed tied at the hip to her brutish boyfriend. At least at school. When he tried to imagine Vanessa fucking random guys at a bar, even if it was a supernatural one, it wasn’t too hard to believe…

“Master… please…” he looked down at Trynity. In his train of thought he'd been neglecting her, so she'd started taking the initiative again. One hand was gently stroking along his crotch and she pushed her hefty breasts into his fingers at every opportunity.

He started massaging them again, “Uh. Sorry?”

“You can make it up to me by letting me play cock-jockey and unloading another thick batch of your delicious cum into your little slut.” She kissed the telltale bulge lovingly, and one of her hands started tracing circles underneath her fishnet skirt.

John had to grit his teeth and back down the desire to push the little cocktease against the nearest wall and take her now, managing, “Afterwards.”

He didn’t get any backsass or disappointment, only a breathy, “Yes, Master.” Though, he did have to remind the worshipful goblin that she was in the middle of her story.

“He was just so weird and scary, I didn’t know what to do; it’s a good thing he didn’t catch me staring. Some of the customers we get are dangerous… At least, if you can’t take a cock the size of your leg. This guy seemed worse than even the time I had to service four stuck up elf princelings. Eugh. Elves are always into the grossest stuff.” Trynity seemed poised to continue rambling, and John’s curiosity almost let her, but he needed the information she’d promised. A little flick of one nipple was enough to get her back on track. “I’m about to leave when the bitch comes back and practically straddles him then and there; she’s all over him with her drunken dumb mouth. Get a room!”

That’s kind of ironic, considering. Now I’ve got that awful image stuck in my head though!

Imagining Vanessa naked wasn’t so bad, except for the part where it had her face attached to her body. That detail managed to ruin the entire experience. He looked over at the goblin snuggled up to him to try and purge the foul thought with other, sexier ones. Thankfully, staring at her tits did wonders for that.

His attention didn’t go unnoticed, and Trynity intentionally wiggled her shoulders so that her chest bounced enticingly. The way they jiggled was almost hypnotic and before he could stop himself, John had both hands firmly squeezing her tits as the goblin leaned back against him. She let out a breathy moan as her cheek nuzzled against his erection, finally bringing her rambling story to a close, “They did though; he said something to her, and they went to a bathroom on the second floor. Keep on... yes...”

“Hang on,” John interjected, “how do you know which one?”

The goblin looked up at him with a bit of confusion, “I was going to watch?”

“But why?”

Pure disgust tinged his words, and the forcefulness with which he said them made Trynity recoil, pulling away from his touch and curling inwards. As much as she’d reacted to his praise, she seemed hurt by his dissatisfaction… but he hadn’t meant that. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back against him despite the way she flinched.

“Sorry, Tryn. I just really hate Vanessa’s guts,” John tried to reassure her.

The goblin whore was silent for long enough that he started to get concerned he’d done serious damage to her feelings, but when she next spoke it was with the same excitement and confidence she’d shown earlier, “That’s ok. She seemed like a bitch, and if Master hates her, I understand. Is that why you’re looking for her? ****?”

John wasn’t sure how to reply. Hell, he didn’t even know if he should reply. He’d already roped Erica into his suicidal quest, did he need to dump all that on Trynity too? Considering he’d already let her blow him, they were pretty damn close, but still… it’d probably be best to keep the cute prostitute out of his affairs.

“Something like that,” he answered noncommittally. “So, you followed them to the bathroom and…”

Trynity didn’t press for answers, but as she was about to respond she stopped, and then seemed to deflate, “That’s all I know. They went in, but someone must’ve told my boss where I went cause I got dragged back to ‘Lust’ before I could see anything else. Sorry…” She placed a finger absentmindedly against the lace collar around her throat.

Damnit, it’s been hours, who knows where she could’ve gone after that point.

He gave the disappointed goblin a smile that brought one of her own back to her lips and gave her side an affectionate squeeze, “That’s fine. I should go take a look there and see if she left anything behind.”

Lorelei said if I brought her something connected to Vanessa… it’s a longshot, but if she was drunk, she might’ve left behind her phone or something. That’d explain why her family can’t get in touch with her.

“I’ll go with you!” the shorstacked whore insisted. John gave her a skeptical look. Trynity seemed oddly passionate about visiting a dirty club bathroom. She stood up on her tiptoes and waved at him to lean in, “The one they used is usually empty, and…” his fingers were pulled down and pressed against something sticky and wet, surrounded by soft, thick thighs, “there’s a hole in one of the stalls with a tight pussy waiting for her Master’s thick cock on the other side.”

God, she’s insatiable.

---

The bathroom that Trynity had been referring to was rather well hidden in a nook behind a curving wall near the end of the balcony closest to the stage. He took a quick look over the railing as his companion bounced through the door without a moment’s hesitation, eager for the chance to satisfy him again. John, on the other hand, was a bit more focused on the mission. This clue gave him something to present to Mrs. Wentworth, but he doubted that ‘she was at the Inferno with a tall, gaunt, creepy guy’ would suffice. He’d been ordered to find her… dead or alive.

His gaze ran over the crowd one more time just to see if he caught a glimpse of Vanessa, but to his surprise he saw someone else he recognized. Two people, on stage no less. The band had changed out, and the person currently sitting at the drums was undeniably Keith, which meant the redhead with the bass guitar had to be Jenny. Hell, they were good too.

“Master!” Behind him, a muffled voice called out from behind the ladies’ room door, and John took it as his cue. He enjoyed the music for a second longer, then turned away and stopped just before walking into the bathroom. This wasn’t the men’s room, but he was here on a purpose. That made it ok, right? Right?

Fuck it, who cares what bathroom it is. I’m not going to use it.

He shoved the door open and walked in with the awkward shuffle of a man deeply out of place with his surroundings.

The interior was a lot different than he’d expected. A nightclub brought to mind dingy stalls with flickering lights and graffiti everywhere, but the nature of ‘Pride’ extended even to the toilets. The walls were clean, mirrors polished, faucets gilded and lights a nice bright white. The only place in the entire space that was anything less than pristine was the floor near the far stall, where someone had tracked sand or dust into it.

“Master, I’m ready for you! Use the other one!” Trynity’s cheerful voice came from behind the door of the first stall, which was closed and clearly locked. Someone had hung a sign on it with an arrow pointing at the dusty one to the left with the words ‘Try Me’. It looked like a permanent fixture.

He walked towards the closed door to the second stall, letting his eyes roam across the sinks and floor, even stopping to take a look in the trash bin. A few filled condoms were visible amidst the paper towels… gross.

No sign of Vanessa, unless one of those was in her. God, now that’s back in my brain again!

Since Trynity was taking up the first stall, the only place left to look was the second, so he tried the handle… but it didn’t budge. Strange. He knelt down to take a peek through the space at the bottom of the door to see if it was occupied… but it wasn’t. Something smelled like an old attic.

“Master, please… I need you.”

He stood back up, trying the door handle again. Still no success. “One second,” he said to Trynity, before staring at the closed door in front of him. This was too strange. Everywhere in the room was perfectly clean except here, and this one door was locked without anyone inside of it… Why?

Leaning down to take a look between the door and the frame around it, he could see the bolt had been pulled shut, but there wasn’t enough space below it for someone to crawl out, and these stalls were tall enough that climbing out wasn’t an option without something to boost them. That and… another thing. The walls looked like they were covered in some kind of graffiti.

John pressed his shoulder up against the door, ignoring the confused questions coming from the waiting goblin, pushing hard against it to test the strength of the lock. It didn’t even give an inch, so he took the alternate approach. A cast of Rend leapt through the gap and left a massive crack in the bolt, followed by another one that broke it clean in half. Without anything to keep it closed, the door swung slowly open.

Trynity must’ve heard him open the door, because on the wall to his right inside the stall there was a hole at crotch height, and nestled up against it was a tight looking green-skinned pussy being held partly open by two fingers. “Do you want my tight little pussy, or would you rather use my ass? I love it in both, Master…” she moaned through the wall. It would’ve been arousing… if not for the rest of his surroundings.

Dried muddy-red spatters stained the walls, several streaks forming the ‘graffiti’ he’d seen earlier, but the horrific mess of smears and partial handprints were everywhere. A layer of dust coated the floor and the lid of the closed toilet, only adding to the eerie disaster he’d walked in on. Someone, or something, had died here.

“Fucking hell…” he muttered under his breath. Not even Vanessa deserved… exsanguination.

“Master?”

The knowledge he’d acquired with Paramedic kicked in, providing some handy extra notes to help him assess the situation at hand. It was strange, remembering things as if reading them off an invisible textbook.

The human body contains only between one and one point five gallons of blood. Now that might seem like a lot, but it only takes a 30% loss of that volume to constitute a Class III Hemorrhage: the point where a blood transfusion is necessary for survival. There’s at… least that much here. Maybe more.

Vanessa doesn’t suffer from hemophilia, as far as I know, and without an anticoagulant it shouldn’t be possible for anyone to bleed this excessively. Even if they survived, they wouldn’t get far before succumbing to blood loss or being noticed… but there isn’t a body. This doesn’t add up.

“Um… Master, is everything okay? It is you, right?” the voice behind the wall broke into John’s thoughts, and he glanced over to see Trynity looking through the hole at him… and past him at the blood spatters. “Oh, fuck.”

He heard the stall door unlock and the pitter-patter of footsteps behind him but turned around and caught the goblin before she could get a close look at the grotesque tableau of crimson. She stared up at him with wide eyes, and though John was significantly taller than her, he couldn’t fully obscure the mess.

“Tryn, wait. You really don’t want to go in there,” he said.

I don’t want to look at it either...

Trynity winced. She looked a bit nauseous, but it was hard to tell with her natural emerald skin tone. “Is she…” the goblin started, but her voice trailed off as she found herself unable to ask the question properly.

John looked back into the empty stall, checking it again for a body that wasn’t there. He shook his head, “No. She’s not here. It doesn’t look good though.” It was an understatement.

His words were anything but encouraging, and she stared at him in muted shock. The pure horror on her face spoke volumes about the commonality of this situation, but a part of him found morbid amusement in the fact that all it'd taken to get the goblin to stop trying to get into his pants was a ****.

“Tryn. Tryn. Focus.”

She was still dazed when he waved a hand in front of her face, but when he crouched down and grabbed her shoulders, the disturbed prostitute snapped back to reality. “Sorry, Master. I…” she mumbled.

“It’s ok. Just help me out here,” John encouraged.

The word help seemed to magically perk Trynity up, and her pale cheeks settled into a healthier shade of green. It was as if he’d flipped an internal switch… and with her obsession towards subservience, maybe he had. Either way, the goblin was focused on him and not the blood visible over his shoulder.

“Yes!” Her shout was a bit overly exuberant, following it with a less enthusiastic and more somber repetition, “Yes. What can I do you for? I mean do for you.”

Well, that was short-lived. At least she’s consistent… and cute.

“Uh…” He hadn’t expected her to respond that way, much less take his encouragement literally. “Just... go clean yourself up. Your makeup’s a mess.”

If Trynity was insulted by his comment about her appearance, she certainly didn’t show it and shuffled over to a sink at the end of the row that was slightly shorter than the rest. He’d disregarded it as an artistic choice earlier, but the mismatched heights of the sinks made perfect sense when one considered the variety of species that frequented The Inferno. The goblin wiggled her butt hypnotically at him as she touched up her eyeshadow, flashing John with momentary glimpses of her nether parts, and he was so easily distracted by the show that he almost missed the way her feet had tracked some of the dust from the **** scene over to the sinks.

Hers were a second pair of footprints leading away from the stall, though the other tracks faded quickly. Someone had walked away from this disaster. Using magic, it wouldn’t have been too difficult to lock the door behind them or to spirit away or do away with the body… but then why hadn’t the killer bothered to clean up the rest of the crime scene?

Nothing made sense about any of this.

Unless...

They'd specifically needed the corpse.

John turned back to look into the stall, hoping that he’d missed some detail or clue, which was why he saw it. Thanks to the fact he’d crouched down to be on eye level with Trynity, John was at the perfect height to catch what he might’ve otherwise overlooked. At the back corner of the toilet lid was a glint of something golden, a chain just barely sticking out from underneath the basin lid.

He approached it cautiously, his feet crunching in the piles of dust. As he lifted the toilet lid, the chain was released and splashed into the water, settling atop a very familiar locket. If there was any question in his mind if Vanessa had been here… it was gone now.

Shattered Casket of Dreams (Miniature)
This locket once held the soul of a sentient Abyssal, but misuse has left it sundered and worthless.

Lorelei was right. She was here at the ‘seventh sin’. Emphasis on the was... Fuck.

He dipped his fingers into the cold water to curl around the locket’s chain.

I should call Erica and tell her what we found. Maybe she'll know what to do next, cause I have a feeling this isn't going to be good enough for Mrs. Wentworth...

“Master, no!”

Why was Trynity screaming desperately at him? He turned to look back at the goblin who had one hand outstretched towards him. She seemed to be running at slow motion… her form rippled.

I do not tolerate fools, Mr. Newman. You were warned.

---

Error: Instance not Found - User Out of Bounds - TAGCGTCTAAGCGTACTACTGATC
Error: p.SCheckThreshold > j.Insight
Conceptual Severance Fault!
Forcing Alt. Representation…
using c_lib.interpreter; force_load(interpreter.assets); concept(interpreter.veil, true);
…
…
...
Error: Unidentified Access Attempt - user.h
load_admin(g.Watcher); kick(user.h);
Error: user.h is inaccessible.
administrator_kick(user.h);
Error: user.h is not a valid object.
Manifesting…

...and if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.

John stood at the edge of a great, infinite ocean, its black surface lapping at the sand beneath his bare toes. The cold water swept in and out in a slow, hypnotic fashion, brushing an icy chill against his feet. It didn’t bother him.

Lights twinkled in the deep, shimmering pinpoints of rainbow that danced in incomprehensible patterns. The empty night sky above stretched as a cloudless expanse of dark blues and swirling black. In the midst of it all, the crimson moon hung in full splendor, bathing the sands in scarlet. Everything was utterly silent.

“Contact, hello. I wasn’t told I’d have company.” A female voice caught his attention, and John looked to his right to see a dock stretching out of the beach for several meters. Sitting at the end of it, her feet dipped into the water and staring at him was the silhouette of a girl. Her form lacked detail, more of a glowing guideline filled with wispy swirls of luminant energy and the glittering dots of constellations. Only her face held a semblance of humanity, solidified slightly more than the rest of her absent body. “Hm. The program must be getting faulty. You’re not properly outfitted.”

She looked back out at the endless stretch before them, and there was a hint of delight to her words. “When I finished the program, I thought that I’d see the stars. That I’d travel through the cosmos and witness the infinite possibilities beyond the clutch of gravity.” The formless girl pushed off the dock, but instead of sinking, her feet landed on the surface without a ripple. She approached John with an outstretched hand, “I was wrong. Would you like to see what I found instead?”

In the distance, forms writhed with tendrils and beaks and claws and teeth and voiceless screams of everything that should not be. A whisper, the faintest trace of a beautiful, horrible, wondrously agonizing song reached John’s ears. The calling pulled deep within him, and one step at a time, the water rippled around his feet, ankles and knees. His fingers reached out towards the offered hand.

“Don’t be scared,” the girl said as her fingers intertwined with his. “We’re only dreaming.”

Mist swirled, gathering and dispersing as things moved beneath the waves. Dreams fragmented and splintered, pulled apart by a dozen-dozen fingers, pulling at the threads of irrationality hiding the truth, revealing to sightless eyes the void beneath it all. Alien consciousnesses pressed against his mind, seeping secrets, murmuring names, bleeding themselves into the fragile mortal on the edge of their domain.

Aspect Deepened: Insight ~ 1 -> 2
Once, you were the stars. Before everything, before space and time, your species blossomed in the womb of a solar crucible. We witnessed the first ones step from its warm embrace. Then from you, She came.

“John.”

With a word, the song vanished, and he turned back to look at the now distant shore. A different woman stood there, the water recoiling from her stockinged feet as she stepped into the black sea. Her eyes and hair glowed in the silver moonlight, blues and greens radiant. A white sweater emblazoned with, of all things, the NASA logo and inexplicably cut at her midriff contrasted her exposed sun-tanned skin, while tight-fitting blue booty shorts left her upper thighs exposed. Despite having never seen her before in his life, there was an undeniable certainty that John knew this woman. It would be… impossible not to.

Weaver of the Veil, Lady of Avalon , Progenitor of the Great Lie , Queen of Silver Moonlight, Watcher at the End, Mother of Summer and Winter, Developer of the Game.

Gaia.

She looked past him, to the figure atop the waves. “╠╧╡║╔╧.” The word spoken reverberated in impossible syllables, only barely resembling a name that was impossible to grasp. John looked back to see the silhouette that had been guiding him tremble and cower away. This new entity terrified her.

The woman stepped closer, her attention once more on John, “You need to wake up.”

John blinked, the tide receding away from his body as well, much to the chagrin of the whispers repelled with it. They were angry, their song twisted with hatred and vile loathing. He opened his mouth and with difficulty verbalized the only question his mind could handle, “Why?”

Gaia’s eyes met his, and in their glowing depths he found pity and sorrow.

“Because you’re drowning.”

Mental-spiritual Recalibration Complete
Transposing User to Last Stable Instance…