I am not for you. I am marked.

I am the king of a ruined world, and I will never die.

• I am not, nor have I ever been, "adorable". • Okay, not true.

I am going to take this world that you used me to create, and I am going to burn it out.

• Yeah, well. We've all had trauma. • And everyone's changed.

I remember he always used to say that he was “worried I’d get lost”.

• If you stay, you'll die! • Then I'll die!

Alright. He fires you because of all the drugs and the wild orgies on Archive property.

W-We can always back off, regroup, wait for a better situation. One where she isn’t… elbow deep in some poor sod’s corpse.

• Oh, what's the name of that helper of yours? • Uh, Martin. • No, no — the hot one.

I was worried for a minute that you were Magnussing.

He's all eyes.

Bayonets you could dodge, bullets you could duck, even gas you could block out if you were lucky, but artillery? All you could do against artillery was pray.

Let’s just say that having “former Magnus Institute patsy” on your CV started to carry some special perks.

• I still think you're a pompous ass. • Well, this pompous ass has some very urgent work to do.

• Were they? Innocent? • Some. And if not? What crime warrants what was done to them? Theft? Violence? Disrespect?

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you got exactly what you wanted and somehow it just made everything worse?

The blanket never did anything.

Mr. Spider doesn't like it.

A baby. Human.

Oi, dickhead!

It's a good place to canoodle.

• This isn't right! This isn't you! • It is, though.

• Sorry Elias, I can't hear you. There's— a door in the way. • Martin, I do not have time for this. • Then maybe you should make time.

• Oh, what's the name of that helper of yours? • Uh, Martin. • No, no — the hot one.

DIG.

I really loved you, you know?

Hello, Jon. Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.

Oh, that's a shame. What are we going to do with your skin now? We can't harvest it and use it for things like book-binding.

I mean, I haven't seen many listings on LinkedIn for 'strip club murderer'.

Take her, not me.

Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.

Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.

Our Archivist, yep. Only he wasn’t THE Archivist back then. He was just a pain in the ass.

Nothing hurts here. It's just quiet. Even the fear is gentle here.

Thank you for teaching us the insides.

He cared for her. He trusted her. And she fed him to me.

• Yeah, well. We've all had trauma. • And everyone's changed.

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you got exactly what you wanted and somehow it just made everything worse?

• ...Unlike Needles, who is too much pricks. • He's all pricks.

• Do you have any idea what will happen if this thing managed to finally extinct itself? • We'd go home early?

Seeking murderous host, must provide own cleavers.

(The dogs sit. They are not fur babies, they are what turns up when someone says "release the hounds".)

The maze is sharp on my mind. The angles cut me when I try to think.

Where are your friends, Archivist?

Damn. Damn damn damn damn DAMN!

Don't be a prick, Jon.

• That's a Leitner. • It is. • And the, um... the blood on it? • That's Leitner, too!

I OPEN THE DOOR!