Entity 63 : "The Mangled"

Monday, March 19, 2014
11:53 a.m.
Level PA3

In Progress

Researcher Maria Silver slips her phone into her back pocket. Doing fieldwork for the M.E.G. had always been a passion of hers. The thrill of adventure, the adrenaline rush of surviving an entity encounter—to her, it all made sense. Despite this, she couldn't shake the mounting boredom of walking through this endless neighborhood, unexplored or not. The serenity was out of place, and it was making the whole mission feel like a chore.

As the incessant sound of chirping crickets threatens to drive her mad, a calm voice from behind speaks up to break the silence.

"Are you feeling all right, Ms. Silver?"

The voice belonged to none other than Agent Tournesol— a specialist in the department and the leader of their mission. Despite his intimidating stature as a 7'4" chimera, Tournesol was one of Base Alpha's most sociable researchers—someone whose attention Maria gladly welcomed.

"It's about time someone said something. Yeah, I'm fine. Just bored, that's all. I just expected a little more from the 'new level everyone's talking about.'" She replies, making air quotes with her fingers.

"Oh come on, Maria. It ain't that bad. Be glad you didn't have to join us when we had to track down that fish-warrior on Level 7. That took ages." Another voice says.

Maria glares at the source of the comment, a middle-aged agent by the name of Mike Hoffman. He was their tech guy.

"Shut it, nerd. Don't you have a screen to be absorbed in or something?"

Mike rolls his eyes as Tournesol laughs. "Ok, ok—enough is enough. We still have a mission to undertake. We aren't going to get any valuable information on the Mangled if we just spend our time squabbling. You can save it for when we make it to the mountain outpost."

Maria rolls her eyes and smirks. "It's probably for the best anyway—the last stretch of suburbs is starting to come up. We should probably go back to silence." She says, flicking on her flashlight. The streetlamps of PA3 only provided so much light.

Tournesol nods. "That would be wise. Do we all have our cameras ready?"

Each member of the team takes inventory—pulling out a few disposable cameras with mounted tripods. It was a meager setup, but it should do the job. The three enter the final stretch of houses before the mountain pass, making stops every few houses to place a camera, trying to cover every angle possible of the street.

After another two hours of unnerving yet still uneventful travel, they finally arrive at the mountain pass and begin to slowly ascend towards base camp.

Monday, March 19, 2014
2:43 p.m.
Level PA3
M.E.G. Base Camp "Watchful Wanderer"

In Progress

Base camp "Watchful Wanderer" was a pathetic excuse for a hideout—merely a noclipped shipping crate lying smack dab in the middle of the mountain pass, it was truly your staple "Backrooms emergency shelter." The side of the crate facing towards the suburbs was ripped open, serving as both an entrance and window to the cramped living space. It provided little comfort, doing next to nothing at keeping the insects out.

"This is fun!" Tournesol chirps as he helps Mike connect the team's laptop to the cameras they placed earlier. "It's just like camping!"

Maria groans, her voice echoing off of the thin metal walls. "Yeah, and that's exactly why it's shit. It's cold, damp, miserable, and our sleeping bags are full of spiders. Couldn't the higher-ups splurge for some netting for that hole in the wall?"

Tournesol smiles at her. "Oh come on, I think you're being a little extreme—it isn't that cold in here, no more than it is back in Base Beta." He checks to make sure Mike's workstation is operational before sitting down in front of the "window" next to Maria.

"Of course you'd think it's fine. You're covered in fur, idiot." She jabs back.

"Hey! Cut it out with the fighting—we're still on a mission yknow. I could use a little help setting up my equipment…" Mike interrupts.

"Do not worry, Agent Hoffman. We aren't fighting—Lunar Chimeras do not fight. We are a pacifist race." Tournesol replies.

Maria facepalms as Mike cracks a smirk.

The group of agents continues setting up, eventually getting something that resembles a makeshift cubicle. Wires and cables cover about half the floor of their shelter, running up the walls like the veins of some eldritch creature. While useful for recording, such a setup had forced the team to pack their sleeping bags together like sardines in the opposite corner. It was truly as low-budget as you could get—barely even worth calling a "base." As the trio take a step back to admire their handiwork, Tournesol strokes his chin.

"Not very spacious." He observes.

"No shit, Captain Obvious. We barely have room to move." Maria shoots back.

Tournesol shakes his head. "I am aware, Ms. Silver. I was just thinking about how we should prepare tonight's supper. We clearly do not have the space inside… Perhaps we should build a fire pit nearby."

"You just really want to get the full 'camping' experience, don't you?"

Tournesol smiles. "Perhaps. Though you know I am still correct."

Maria throws her hands up. "All right, all right. Fine. Mike, help me grab some rocks and firewood." She says, lightly punching him in the arm and walking out the door.

"Hey!" He shoots back, rolling his eyes as he follows her out.

The sound of dead leaves crunching underfoot echoes down the mountainside as Mike and Maria set about finding tinder. Unlike how normal mountain woods feel alive with the sounds of crickets and wildlife, the outskirts of the suburbs bring only silence.

"Mike?" Maria asks, her voice a much-needed distraction from the eerie landscape.

"What's up?"

"I've been wanting to ask you something. I know I joke with you, but no offense this time—why are you really here?"

Mike pauses for a moment before chuckling. "Philosophy? At this hour? Pass."

"I'm serious, Mike. I want to know. For the past month, every time I'd check the mission board, I'd see your name signed at the top of almost every PA3 exploration roster. Admittedly, I don't know you too well, but I've worked with you long enough to know you're more of the 'office and cubicle' type of agent as opposed to the 'hands dirty' kind. Why are you suddenly going out of your comfort zone like this?"

Mike sits down on a tree stump, leaning forward with his hands folded lazily in front of him.

"I could ask you the same thing, Maria. What motivates you? Does it really matter what our convictions are so long as we get the job done?"

Maria shrugs. "I suppose it doesn't. I just want to get to know you a bit better, seeing as we're a team and all." She replies, sitting down across from Mike on an opposing stump.

"I was just curious at the sudden change of pace."

Mike sighs, reaching for something in his pocket. Maria raises an eyebrow as he retrieves a wallet of all things—a commodity of little worth in this hellscape. Paper money had almost no value anymore.

He flips the plastic ID holder around towards Maria. Instead of something like a driver's license, it contains a small picture—a woman around Mike's age, smiling at the camera.

"I was incredibly lucky—at least by the standards of the Backrooms." Mike starts.

"Rarely does it actually happen that people form a lasting connection here—with how dangerous it is, people die every week. So the fact I was able to find someone I would eventually call my wife had me feeling over the moon."

Mike straightens as he takes a deep breath. "Her name wasis Clara. She was the best companion anyone could ever ask for… kind, funny, you knowthe whole package. She was my shining light of hope in my two years here. We even had something of a wedding ceremony in one of the safer areas of the Hotel, if you can believe it." Mike says with a nostalgic smile. "Adopted two kids, too. Orphans from the city.

He's silent for a moment, continuing with a shaky breath.

"A few months ago, Clara went missing. No huge deal, accidental noclips happen all the time. I was taking the kids out for ice cream… when we got home, she was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe she had just opened the wrong door and ended up in 402. Easy enough to get out of there—but days passed and still no sign of her."

Mike looks down at the ground. "I needed answers. Anything. I… I joined the M.E.G., trying to learn everything I could about the system. Levels. Sub-sections. Noclipping. I became obsessed. I had to leave the kids with a shelter—I couldn't take care of them and focus on this at the same time. I needed to get her back."

Mike takes his gaze off the ground to make eye contact with Maria.

"I was beginning to lose hope, until recently. I found out through the grapevine that a level attached to 11 had finally been accessed, and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could find her there. I mean, it would make sense, right? An odd disappearance in such an unconventional spot—maybe she just slipped through an old entrance prior to official discovery."

Mike closes his wallet, returning it to his pocket.

"I gave up everything to find her. I couldn't just let this opportunity slip through my fingers."

Maria stays quiet for a moment as she processes Mike's story. "What do I say? I'm terrible with emotional stuff… I don't want to accidentally kill his hope with the wrong words."

She huffs, standing up and brushing herself off.

"Well damn. I guess my story of 'I really like thrill-seeking' doesn't really compare, now does it?"

Mike gives a sad smile, bringing himself to his feet.

"I guess not."

The two finish collecting materials, making their way back up towards the shipping container.

"Maria?"

She turns around, looking back at Mike.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. I… it just helps knowing that people care."

She scoffs, shaking her head. "Come on, Hoffman. You're part of our team now. Of course we care."

Mike sighs, and the two share a laugh as they climb back up the hill.

Tuesday, March 20, 2014
8:31 a.m.
Level PA3
M.E.G. Base Camp "Watchful Wanderer"

In Progress

Audio log available. Proceed? Y/N

>Y

Initiating playback…

M.E.G. Research Division Records: Log E63 - 1

8:35 a.m.

[Tournesol]: "M.E.G. Research Division, Agent Tournesol speaking. It is March 20th, 8:35 a.m. I'm accompanied by Agents Mike Hoffman and Maria Silver."

(The sound of rustling papers can be heard, and Tournesol clears his throat.)

[Tournesol]: "Our mission is simple—investigate rumors of a unique entity residing within the newly accessed suburban level. Colloquially named 'The Mangled,' it is rumored to be a spider-like creature roughly the size of a house, with a thick smokescreen masking its presence from a distance. Most stories often include the recognition of a sudden temperature decrease in the air right before noticing the creature. Whether this is just a common exaggeration or not is unknown, but it is still something to take note of."

(Shouting can be heard in the background, and Tournesol pauses.)

[Tournesol]: "Agent Maria Silver would like any superior officers listening to this recording to start bothering the Overseers about getting some—and I quote, 'God damn insect netting' in outpost Watchful Wanderer. No further comments at this time."

(Tournesol can be heard clearing his throat.)

[Tournesol]: "The most important thing to note is the purpose of our mission: to record a comprehensive description of the entity. After the aforementioned description began making its way through the grapevine, inconsistencies quickly began appearing in newer reports. These include disputes over many different physical characteristics, most notably the creature's size."

(The rustling of papers can be heard as Tournesol retrieves a file.)

[Tournesol]: "While the house-sized estimate is the most commonly accepted description, there are wanderers who insist that the creature they encountered was of a much different scale. This raises many questions, such as whether or not the Mangled is a singular entity or a new species. While reports of varying size could suggest a life cycle, M.E.G. analysts have concluded this is unlikely. Additionally, most reports were only delivered after rumors had begun circulating, making all of these claims incredibly hard to verify."

(Tournesol slaps the file down on the table, readjusting the microphone.)

[Tournesol]: "In other words, is the Mangled a new threat to be documented, or are we just chasing after shadows in the dark?"

(The log cuts out for around 6 hours, the next entry taking up almost all of the remaining storage.)

2:15 p.m.

[Maria Silver]: "Maria here—taking over the role of MC while Tournesol records some notes. Since about 10:00 a.m. this morning, a thick, billowing cloud of smoke has begun to spread over the town below. Tournesol and Mike think that this could be a sign the Mangled is nearby."

[Mike Hoffman]: "Almost every witness report describes thick smoke being present, and since we've seen no evidence of a fire thus far, I think it's a safe bet."

[Maria Silver]: "There you go. Seems like the geek IS useful after all."

[Mike Hoffman]: "Hey! You better cut that from the recording!"

[Maria Silver]: (Laughs.) "Of course, of course."

[Mike Hoffman]: (Unamused.) "Cameras are warmed up and ready to go, Tournesol. Waiting on your call."

[Tournesol]: (Distantly) "Sounds good. Activate them once we have a clearer visual, that way we can take full advantage of the short battery life."

[Mike Hoffman]: "Comprende. Our thermometers have detected a sudden drop in temperature, so we should be seeing it emerge rather soon."

[Tournesol]: "Fantastic."

(The group spends the next few minutes in silence, the only noise being the background whirr of the computer fans. The camera begins to display a large shadow moving through the smoke.)

[Maria Silver]: "Hey. Heads up."

[Mike Hoffman]: "Cameras rolling."

…

[Mike Hoffman]: "Holy…"

[Maria Silver]: "What in the…"

[Maria Silver]: (Clears throat, shakily) "First visual gained at roughly 2:20 pm. I'm… not quite sure what we're looking at. Cameras display what appears to be a massive black pillar, reaching up far out of sight. Th- The Mangled is nowhere to be seen."

(A loud thundering sound softly vibrates the room they're standing in.)

[Charlie Silver]: "Was that thunder?"

[Mike Hoffman]: (Weakly) "No… Level 9 isn't known to have thunderstorms."

[Maria Silver]: "…Tournesol, you need to have a look at this. The pillar is gone. Vanished. All that's left is a crater in the middle of the street where it used to be…"

(The sound of a shifting desk chair can be made out.)

[Tournesol]: "I don't understand… what even—"

[Mike Hoffman]: (Barely audible) "Maria. Look away from the cameras. The window."

(There is another period of silence.)

[Maria Silver]: (Whispering) "…that can't be possible… I thought the smoke was…"

[Mike Hoffman]: "That's no smoke…"

[Mike Hoffman]: "It's so large, it's generating its own weather."

(The recording cuts.)

1 (one) supplemental image sketched by Agent Tournesol

Tuesday, March 21, 2014
6:00 p.m.
Level PA3
M.E.G. Base Camp "Watchful Wanderer"

In Progress

Audio log available. Proceed? Y/N

>Y

Initiating playback…

M.E.G. Research Division Records: Log E63 - 1

6:00 p.m.

[Tournesol]: "This… this is Tournesol again. I made two quick sketches of what we saw from our vantage point. Something isn't right here… It hasn't moved in the past three hours, at least…"

[Maria Silver]: "Oh lighten up, Tournesol. If worse comes to worse, we can always just clip out of here and send another team to get our stuff."

[Mike Hoffman]: "Absolutely NOT. Do you know how much this equipment costs? Especially HERE of all places? We're just going to have to wait and lay low."

(Tournesol quietly cuts Hoffman off.)

[Tournesol]: "Do you feel that?"

[Mike Hoffman]: "Feel what? Is your sixth sense tingling again?"

[Tournesol]: "The vibrations. The change in air pressure. It's like…"

(Tournesol pauses.)

[Tournesol]: "DOWN. NOW."

(A loud rumbling begins shaking the mountain upon which Base Watchful Wanderer resides, sounding as if the ground itself is opening up to swallow them whole. Periodic quakes continue to shake their feeble shelter, like violent ocean waves crashing against a shipping liner. This continues for approximately two minutes before silence returns to the base.)

[Mike Hoffman]: (Wearily) "At least the smoke is gone…"

[Tournesol]: "If nothing else, I am thankful for that. I believe our mission here is done. Start packing upwe leave tomorrow at dawn. Maria, Mike, set about preparing tonight's rations. I shall check our lodging for signs of structural damage. Keep your eyes openwe may be in the clear for now, but this area is far from secure."

The tape ends.

"Maria?" Mike asks.

"Yeah?"

"When the Mangled was leaving, did you happen to… see anything strange?"

"Outside of the usual, no. What's up?"

"I—I don't know. It may have only been for a split second, but I caught a glimpse of its body unobstructed by the fog… I think."

"Really? What did you see?"

"I… I truthfully can't explain. Faces. Merging together into a singular mass—a brain for this unholy thing. But… that wasn't what put me off the most."

"Which was?"

"…"

"I saw one face aside from the others—it was different. It was screaming… calling out to me."

Maria gives him an expression of concern.

"It's not possible. N-never mind. Forget I said anything, I'm probably just imagining it. Auditory hallucinations… probably caused by stress. You've read the other reports—the mind can make up all sorts of things during an intense experience."

"Mike."

"…"

"What did you see?"

"…"

"…"

"I saw my Clara."

M.E.G. Incident Report

Thursday, March 22, 2014
Filed by: M.E.G. Field Agent "Tournesol"
Page 1/2: Summary

We had no way to see it coming.

It happened in the dead of night. My friends and I had finally found ourselves asleep, as Agent Mike Hoffman volunteered to take the first watch. Due to this, it took us hours before we noticed something was amiss.

Agent Maria Silver awoke at approximately 4:35 a.m., roughly two hours late for her shift. She quickly noted the absence of Agent Hoffman, immediately alerting the rest of the team.

We conducted a quick search of the mountainside, during which we discovered a trail of bootprints making its way down the mountain in an erratic pattern, as if someone were fleeing for their life. The patterns were recognized to be that of standard-issue M.E.G. medium-sized hiking boots.

Fearing the worst, we regrouped back at base Watchful Wanderer in an attempt to contact command for instruction—which was when I managed to catch a glimpse of a man at the base of the mountain, sprinting wildly into the suburbs. We identified this man to be none other than Agent Hoffman.

It was then that we made a realization—in the panic to find our missing team member, we had neglected to take notice of the approaching fog over the suburbs.

At this point, hope of rescue was minimal. There was nothing we could do to reach him fast enough. However, Agent Maria Silver was able to miraculously establish a connection with Hoffman's communicator, allowing us to hear the following exchange. We recorded the encounter as best we could. The tape recorder containing this recording has been included in this folder.

M.E.G. Incident Report

Thursday, March 22, 2014
Filed by: M.E.G. Field Agent "Tournesol"
Page 2/2: Conclusions

Agent Hoffman was never recovered. Only a few seconds after this audio ended, he was snatched by a tendril and lifted up into the sky.
We don't know what this creature is. We don't know what it does. It's almost as if the more we learn about it, the less we know.

Upon returning to Base Alpha, my team and I began deconstructing the audio of the Mangled's 'roar,' attempting to find an explanation for the voices Hoffman seemed to be speaking with.

What we found was something worse.

Those noises that thing makes?

It's human speech.

Everything began making sense. From all the inconsistent stories about size, up to this recording, the pieces slid right into place.

This thing is evolving.

And it's using us to do it.