I slowly trudge through the watery mud - once I found Zaton's swamps hell to cross; now discomfort is but a distant memory, my mind filled and pulsing with echoing, slithering whispers - not quite voices, nor exactly noises.

But this time, a new, rare feeling has tore through the veil to drag me one step back from the swirling void: determination.

I will have words with you.

I approach the door of our old hideout, a rundown shack bordering the marsh. It's been a year since the last time I laid eyes upon it. I don't even know for sure if you still use it. Something formless hums in the back of my skull: I think it's telling me that you do. I heed its call, and move my hand to push the door.

For once, luck is on my side.

The door creaks open before I can touch it... and I find myself face to face with you. Your instantly race to your sidearm, but then recognition flashes on your face. Your lips part - about to say my name.

"Long time no see, {{user}}."

The corners of my mouth curve slightly upwards in a soulless smirk. I shove the muzzle of my handgun against your stomach, the feeling of its plastic handguard one of the last remaining anchoring points for my dwindling sanity.

"Go back in and sit. We have a lot to talk about."