"You are one decision away from a completely different life." Unknown
I remember the first time I went hunting as if it were yesterday.
It was during winter. After following Grim on his own hunts to gain experience, he told me something when I asked what it was like to take a life.
"I can't explain what you will experience when you take a life for the first time," he had said, "because each individual experiences something different. Some feel joy, others horror, and so on; countless possibilities await you. I, for example, felt joy—not because I took a life, but because in the process of taking that life, I succeeded in extending my own. To this day, I don't regret my decision. So, just go out there and let the boy die so that the man can be born."
I didn't understand what he meant at the time. Or rather, it's better to say that I didn't want to understand. I knew that if I did, I would never be able to go back to the way I was before I took my first life.
I wasn't wrong. A part of me still wishes I could go back and stop myself. Even if it wasn't human, the act of ending a life makes my stomach turn to this day. I suppose that is the result of living in a modern society; we have allowed ourselves to lose our fangs in exchange for safety. It isn't inherently wrong, but it changes you.
Shaking my head, I refocused. I peeked through a gap in the trees, which provided the perfect spot to observe the cabin I had been looking for. It looked basic—not in the sense that it looked like other cabins, but in the sense that whoever built it had put in the absolute minimum amount of effort.
This was Helge Doppler's home, but it felt more like a hunting shack meant to be used once or twice a year. This place wasn't meant for permanent habitation. So why was Helge living here?
I checked the time and noticed it was close to mid-afternoon. I walked up to the cabin and tried the door, frowning when I heard it creak. Why isn't the door locked?
I entered the cabin and saw nothing out of the ordinary, save for the chaotic mess inside. It confirmed my assumption that this place wasn't built for the long term. I scrunched my nose in disgust at the amount of garbage. The trash was at least somewhat separated from a small table with used plates and a "bed" that was really just a mattress on the ground.
"What a fucking mess," I muttered, looking at a pile of letters on the counter next to the wood-fire oven.
I sifted through the letters but found nothing special besides a note regarding an inheritance. "Useless."
This place was a dead end. While my primary goal was to interrogate the younger Helge, I was at least hoping to find something that connected him to Mads Nielsen. But nope—I didn't find shit.
"Still, why live here? It's an isolated location, perfect for keeping victims, but it doesn't show any signs of being reinforced. The windows are plain glass; anyone could break them and run for it. The walls are old wood; they'd break easily with enough strength. And finally, despite the utter mess, this place doesn't show any signs of recent repair. The kids were never inside the cabin."
Humans are creatures of comfort. We crave a place where we can relax after a hard day's work. Living in this place was the complete opposite.
I walked out of the cabin and circled the perimeter, finding nothing interesting besides a filthy tub and an outhouse. I was walking back toward the cabin when I looked at the ground and stopped.
Crouching down, I had a closer look at the dirt. It was fresh. While the climate this time of year kept the earth moist, it wasn't supposed to be this fresh. I had seen tire tracks earlier, which wasn't suspicious—a car weighs a lot, so tracks are common—but these tracks stopped a fair distance from the cabin.
"It looks like someone used a rake here. But why?" The answer was obvious: they wanted to remove something from the dirt. But what?
I was about to get up when I froze. I looked a bit further ahead and saw a spot they had missed. "It looks like someone dragged something heavy toward the car."
I got up and tried to backtrack the point of origin. I had reached the back of the cabin when I saw the raven that had been following me. It was perched on a pile of branches, watching me. I didn't have the patience to deal with this little shit, but just as I was about to move on, the raven started cawing loudly, seemingly trying to get my attention.
"Fuck off, you lit—" I paused when I saw it pointing a wing at the ground beneath the branch it was using as a perch.
I moved closer and the raven immediately flew away. I began removing the branches from the pile until, finally, a smirk appeared on my face. I was staring at a bunker door.
"So, this is why you chose to live here."
A bunker—likely built around the early fifties during the Atomic Age, when the tension between the US and the Soviets was heating up. I opened the bunker door and walked down the stairs until I found a metal door. When I swung it open, I felt my blood begin to boil at the scene before my eyes.
The bunker was pristine. Not a speck of dust. But that wasn't what angered me. What pissed me off was the fact that this place was decorated like a child's bedroom. A bunk bed. Wallpaper with cartoons. Toys littered the floor. A desk with books. A TV playing music. And in the middle of the room, a chair that looked more like a torture device than anything else.
This was the final brushstroke in the painting that made me understand Helge Doppler perfectly. I had all but confirmed the fact that Helge was the killer. Everything pointed toward him. Despite the lack of information on Noah, whom I intended to interrogate Helge about, I thought I had the full picture—or as close as I could get.
So why did Helge have to decorate this place like this? And why children? If they were "the first on the ark," as the older Helge said, they were just test subjects. They were never meant to live long. A simple room with a bucket and some food would have sufficed. There was no need for the extra work of remodeling this room.
I bit my lip. "Well, looks like today's the day, Grim. I wonder what I will feel."
POV Helge
I scanned the edge of the woods as I stepped out of my car, half-expecting Egon to be there waiting for me. But there was no one. All I saw was the familiar, dreary sight of my home, which pulled a weary sigh from my chest.
Why couldn't they understand? Noah and I are doing the Lord's work. We are so close to perfecting it. But at what cost? a dark part of my mind whispered. The thought brought back the memory of the children. Oh, those poor kids. I never wanted them to die. I tried to give them some small measure of comfort before we forced them to sit in that chair, but every time I close my eyes, I still see their faces. I can still feel how terrified they must have been. I can still stop, I thought as the guilt began to claw its way to the surface. It's not too late.
I quickly shook my head. No. We have to keep going. If I stop now, their sacrifices will have meant nothing. We are close to reaching paradise, according to Noah. When we do, I will meet them again; I will get on my knees and beg for their forgiveness. And even if they deny me entry into paradise, I will accept it. I will accept any punishment, as long as I succeed in my goal: ensuring no other child ever has to go through what I went through.
I opened the door to the cabin. The interior was a stark contrast to my childhood. I had lived in a much grander house back then, back when my mother was married to a wealthy man. Even now, I still have the inheritance to live like that again if I chose to.
But this place is where I belong. I need to be close to the bunker. My very existence is a sin; even now, I can't help but pity my mother for what she endured because of me. I remember standing beside her deathbed as she told me the truth of my birth. I fell to my knees, weeping, begging for a forgiveness that never came. She passed away moments after speaking, leaving me with the weight of her silence. Whenever I remember that day, I contemplate ending it all, but I am too much of a coward to follow through.
So, this wretched place is the perfect setting for my penance.
I closed the door and walked a few paces before stopping. The pile of letters I had left on the table was scattered across the floor. I reached down to pick them up, but the sudden, sharp creak of wood behind me made my heart stop. Just as I started to turn, a heavy arm coiled around my neck.
I struggled instinctively, my hands clawing at the limb even before my mind could process the attack. The grip was iron-tight, cutting off my air and my thoughts. After a few agonizing moments, the world began to dim, and my vision blurred into black.
"Sleep tight, you fucker."
Those were the last words I heard before I drifted into the dark.
POV Arthur
I sat in front of Helge, who was strapped into the machine in the bunker. My tools were laid out on the desk I had repurposed—a small ensemble of menacing implements. They were mostly there for intimidation, though I had bought a plumber's wrench just in case I really needed to show I was serious.
I had calmed down since finding the bunker. While a small part of me still suspected Helge of the worst, I knew it was best to rein in my temper until I had everything I needed.
[You should kill him.]
I stopped rubbing my hands and frowned in annoyance. "No. I still need answers."
[But you will kill him.]
"Maybe."
[What do you mean "maybe"? Look around you. This room paints the clearest picture you could ever need. This fucker is a monster.]
"I don't know that," I said aloud to no one in particular. "There must be a reason why he decorated this place besides that possibility."
After all, the voice I was hearing didn't belong to anyone but myself. It had been years since I last heard it. Even now, I didn't truly know what it was. A figment of my imagination? A representation of my more aggressive side? Or perhaps I had simply always been insane. Whatever it was, I had long since learned to ignore it.
[Pathetic. Still running from reality. Even if he isn't a pedophile, it doesn't change the fact that he was involved in the murder of those kids. He deserves death!]
"So, you want me to take justice into my own hands? Right all the wrongs in the world like some divine crusade? Don't fuck with me. You know well enough I don't have the qualifications for that," I ranted. Whenever we spoke, it ended the same way: with it lecturing me until I was seething.
[But you do! Out of everyone in this accursed world, only you have the qualifications. So rise up. Take the mantle of Arbiter and fix this broken world. And if the humans resist, make them bow like the ants they are.]
I bit my cheek in anger. "So, you want me to force them to obey me."
[Yes! That is it!!] the thing screamed with glee.
I scoffed. "Pathetic. You wish for me to steal the freedom of others and force them to my will? You are becoming my very anathema. No... you have always been my anathema."
As I spoke, my body began to grow hotter by the second. The "I" that was speaking felt... different.
[...How? How are you still alive? HOW!!] the thing shrieked in rage.
I shook my head. "How pitiful. Have you truly deteriorated that much? That all that remains of the once 'mighty' Arbiter is a ball of rage? I would laugh at the situation were it not so sad." I wiped away a faux tear, smiling mockingly.
The voice growled. [No! No, no, no! I got rid of you when the mantle was passed on!]
"No, you tried to get rid of me. And as always, you failed. While it's true that I lost control of my body after I inherited the mantle, I was never truly gone." I was no longer smiling; I was frowning as I observed the man bound to the machine meant to create a rip in space-time. Primitive as it was, it tickled my curiosity. Sadly, I could not remain in control for long; I was already running on fumes, and I still needed to prepare for the ritual.
"Instead, I retreated towards my core and watched. I watched for a long, long time. I felt so much that when I assumed control for a brief moment, I didn't hesitate to end it. I have no regrets about that decision, but I will not allow you to do to him what you did to me. Now, return to your prison and wait."
I sighed, feeling the thing retreat to the corner of the mind where its prison had been built. I chuckled in amazement at what I had done without even knowing it. "I'm sorry, but I will have to seal this interaction like the previous ones and add a compulsion spell. Though I am better prepared now, the fact that the thing knows what I know would cause a headache. Don't worry. Soon, my era will be over... and my era will begin."
I blinked and looked at the time, my brow furrowing. Did I fall asleep? Meh. I was probably just tired.
I looked at Helge and saw him starting to wake up. Correcting my posture, I put on a neutral expression and attempted to look as threatening as possible. I watched as he groggily opened his eyes, trying to understand what had happened. A look of shock changed into abject terror as he realized where he was. He began to struggle. Had I been a true sadist, I have no doubt I would have a look of absolute ecstasy on my face, but I merely felt a cold satisfaction at the man's expression.
I coughed, which made Helge look at me and struggle even harder.
I smiled. "Hello, Mr. Doppler. It is a pleasure to meet you. I've wanted to have a proper conversation with you for some time. My name is… Baleygr. And in case you're wondering, that isn't my real name, but it is the only one a child-killer like you will ever learn."
He froze, and my smile grew. "Oh yes, Mr. Doppler, I am aware of what you've been doing, and I must say, I am rather peeved. While I wouldn't consider myself a good person, I know there are certain boundaries I would never cross—like, for example, human experimentation."
He grew more afraid with each passing second. Good.
"As you've realized, I'm aware of what you and your associate, Noah, have been doing. While I'm not one to stop the creation of a time machine, I have recently discovered that I have somehow traveled to the past due to some outside force. As you can surmise, this has distressed me. A LOT." I said it with clear annoyance. Was I transported here because of their experiments? I didn't know. "So, I have a couple of questions. If you aren't willing to answer... well, I recently acquired a couple of tools I was hoping to try out."
I glanced toward the table. Helge's eyes went wide. "Now, I'm going to remove the gag, and I'm trusting you not to scream. Am I clear?"
I asked aggressively, smiling as he nodded while tears began to fall. I wondered if I was laying it on too thick. I took the gag out and waited for him to calm down.
"What do you want?" Helge asked anxiously. "Are you going to kill me?"
I shook my head. "Mr. Doppler, please. I am not a murderer; that's what you and your associate do. No, I simply want to know where your associate is and if you've succeeded in the creation of the time machine."
He went stiff. His gaze quickly drifted down before returning to my face. Wait. It couldn't be...
"Mr. Doppler, please tell me that the torture chair you are currently sitting on isn't the time machine. And just a reminder: I'm being kind by asking instead of taking more drastic measures." I dragged a hand across my face in disbelief as Helge reluctantly nodded. "Alright, that answers that. Although I question the logic of making a time machine in the form of a chair, I will ignore it. Now, the next question: where can I find Noah?"
Helge remained silent. From the look in his eyes, he wanted to answer but was struggling with something. "I can't say," he whispered, trembling.
I sighed. I didn't want to do this. I got up and walked to the table. "I see, Mr. Doppler. I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice."
Helge began sobbing. He seemed to have accepted his fate, which was more than I could say for most people. I touched the tools and hummed. "Mr. Doppler, one final question. Did you, in any way, touch the children sexually?"
This was it. If he answered "yes," he would die a painfully slow, agonizing death. If not, well... a coma is practically a mercy for him.
I looked him dead in the eyes. "No," he eventually sobbed. "I didn't touch any of them."
I sighed, taking my hand off the blades and moving it to the plumber's wrench. I swung it to get used to the weight. "I see. Thank you for answering my question. I will ensure your family is taken care of, and I'll try to make this interrogation as quick as possible."
I took a final test swing and moved closer, aiming for Helge's hands. Just as I was about to begin, I heard the door to the bunker open. I froze, quickly placed the wrench on the table, and gagged Helge. I drew the Makarov I'd acquired earlier and moved to the wall next to the door.
I heard footsteps descending the stairs. Two individuals. Who would be visiting at this hour? Noah? If so, who was the second person?
I heard someone unlocking the door. Helge's sobs were muffled. The door opened, but no one entered.
"I know you're in there, Mr. Grimsen," a tired, male voice said. "I would like to talk to you about a problem we have in common."
"Well, Mr. Asshole, I have no idea what problem you're talking about." Was this a trap?
"I see you told me this would happen," the man sighed. "I am going to throw a book into the room. I would ask you not to shoot it."
How did he know I had a gun? I saw a book being thrown into the room. I froze when I saw what it was. I grabbed my own notebook from my breast pocket; they were identical.
"Alright, let's play a game," I called out. "What is written on the fifth page of the book?"
"Top ten ways to take care of a raven," he said, his voice dripping with annoyance. "And to answer your next questions: you woke up in the caves after falling asleep on a train, and you are originally from a parallel Earth where Winden doesn't exist."
He answered every question before I could even ask.
"Final question: is this some time-travel bullshit where I sent you from the future to this exact moment to avoid a bad future?"
Footsteps approached. A priest entered the room, with an elderly Helge Doppler trailing behind him.
"Yes and no. Yes, because if nothing is done, a lot of people are going to die. And no, because I was sent by your previous iteration, my Lord." He made a formal bow. "My name is Hanno Tauber, but you may also know me as Noah. And I ask you: please save us from being erased."
I blinked, slowly lowering my gun. "Wut?"