Observation_Log_Gideon_Cost_1400_ Hrs



During excavations today a well preserved woman was uncovered under seven feet of ice at the designated dig sight marked Anchorage, Alaska.

1500_Hrs: The woman is not only alive but breathing steadily. Appearances are of the Victorian era. Ankle length dress with minor tears and rips. No shoes. Any attempt of awakening the subject has failed, described in Mansoor's log. Subject is virtually unscathed, having only four jagged scars across her left breast. The team cannot arrive at a scientific reason as to why this woman is alive upon not only further observation of these scars (original wound approximately five inches deep, never stitched), but her original location beneath the ice. Any and all suffocation methods have been used. No effect recognized. Subject is clearly human, supernatural options have been ruled out.

2300_Hrs: Subject seems to be in REM sleep. For just how long, we have no idea.

0100_Hrs: I have agreed to monitor the woman overnight. Input: Subject rename: R-O-S-E.
REM Observed She Entity. Input: Project rename: S-B. Securely Bound.

0600_Hrs: No change.


The log you are trying to access-- Gideon_Cost_0700_Hrs has been red flagged by it's command voice. This is a preliminary warning, meaning the content is of urgent or graphic nature. Thank you.

0700_Hrs: They... they're... they're all d-dead. Nine men. Two of them my own brothers. Why didn't she take me? Why am I still here? Why aren't I dead? There's blood. Everywhere. I became a scientist to learn... to study. If I wanted to see my fellow men die I would've enlisted in the military when my father told me to. There... there isn't point to this.

END_OF_LOG



Gideon gathered himself as best he could. In front of him lay the nine bodies of his former colleagues. He noticed a discrepancy. Mathews, the eleventh of the team sent to Alaska in search of the missing link, wasn't present or accounted for. Without giving it much thought, Gideon was well aware of what had occurred here, and what his men had died of. The once clean granite table that held the sleeping woman was near unrecognizable, but not more so than the corpses of his friends. Those, those were beyond human, much like the damage dealt to them. No man or woman was capable of ripping another person in half. No, whatever did this was enraged. Vengeful even, tearing these men apart as if searching for the point their souls were firmly rooted. It was clear the woman from the ice had done this. But, how was she awoken from her slumber, and why did only leave two of the entire team alive?

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Gideon nervously slinked to the opposite side of the once off-white lab, now ungracefully splattered with insides. The redness you'd imagine coursing through your veins, but used to decorate a room. His movements were slow and precise, taking great care not to disturb his limp postmortem company or make any sound that would draw the woman back into her temporary dwelling. After having his salty damp fingertips slip and fall from four or five different buttons, Gideon was able to view the surveillance footage from the one hour he was asleep. Blurry and in various shades of black, white, and grey, he sees the nine men moments before their end removing the subject's dress, poking and prodding at her until they all make a move to undress themselves.

In that instant, Gideon is peeled away from the small monitor by a skin peeling screech from the tech room, two units over. Hesitant to venture into the corridor, all he can do is bend his knees and slide himself under the desk. She found Mathews. I am the only one left. I am already dead. This is hell itself. I was raised a brave man, and I will die a coward. The door to Gideon's eventual coffin was for some reason, neatly closed and securely fastened to it's hinges. You'd think with the over dramatic violence displayed in each and every murder, she wouldn't feel the need to how great care in anything, much less a door. This struck Gideon as odd, as it would anyone, but he didn't noticed until it was gingerly opened by none other than the woman herself, who's features were vastly different than the ones he has previously recorded. Now, her entire body was bare of clothing, but covered in retreating locks the same dirty blonde tone as her tightly curled hair. Her nails, no longer filed down, ended in sharp daggers, dripping with what can only be assumed as Mathews' blood. As the blood began to pool at her feet, indistinguishable from the gore of less fresh kills, she was reverting into the original woman dug up the previous day.

“I killed those bad men. They were hurting me.”

Her tone was somber, giving way to a innocent look of regret in her widening eyes.

“Those men. Those men were my friends you whore! My colleagues! Get the hell away from me you demon!”

Gideon spit venom at her until she folded into herself, crumpling to the floor and staining her skin a deep red. Leaving the confines and safety of the desk, he stood over her, degrading and reprimanding her. Then, in a rush of adrenaline, he grasped the silver cross hanging beside the doorway.

“Go back to hell you f*ing monster.”

All in the same moment, he firmly pressed the instrument to the nape of her neck and pulled it across her skin.