Seven by a hundred

A prologue

       Prologue

Recorded by Detecitve Dwinyl Sachison, investigating the case of three missing teenagers from the Upper Realm of the Free Israeli Empire: Charlie, Gareth and London.

Annotations made before the proper recordings:

parents are old fashioned, naming their kids stuff like that.

Not siblings.

'Pparently, Charlie was pretty popular.

Charlie Thwayne is a red eyed( literally), pale teenager with "unruly" golden hair and was best friends with...

Hyde London, smallest of the three, born in Sweden and brought to the Empire by his fathers. Blue eyes, almost orange hair and "more freckles than there are stars in the sky" ( what is with the kids and poetry recently? Jesus fuckin' Christ. )

And Gareth Malkaon. At least he's got an almost normal name. It's supposed to be Gartetho though.. I think. Tallest of the three, apparently "intimidating" and doesn't talk a whole lot except to Charlie and London. Nicknamed "tall, dark and handsome", even though he did not wear any dark things. On the contrary, he weaved light colored clothes that apparently "wonderfully contrasted with his dark skin" ( what is up with the poetry? )

This is going to give me hell.

- A gruff and raspy voice coughs as the officer, Dwin, begins his formalities. Very tiredly. He's very tired, you see. Of this bull crap. He's very tired. -

Year 2199

October 52nd, The Free Empire of Israel

Recorded in a cassette tape was found the last trace Charlie left before disappearing.

A cassette tape.

And I'm sitting here wondering how a fourteen year old living in twenty-one ninety-nine got a fuckin' cassette type.

Where the hell are we living? The 2000s? Hell no! But apparently, Mister Mystery Thwayne sure was and left behind only a small collection of cassette tapes before going poof along with two other guys.

Apparently I'm supposed to investigate this. Great.

the officer, Dwin, clears his threat and audibly puts something down on the desk, maybe a glass or mug. Or something else, perhaps. It's up to you. The object is placed down on something that sounds like it'd made of wood. The slightly hollow noise is loud. It is strange. It is wood. That is strange.-

Subject one is Charlie E. Thwayne, son of late Calthara Rojein and still living Avi Thwayne. Raised by his father, alone. Never married again. Did have a sort of step father but not officially. A man named Malagnus seemed to be present almost always. I've got my suspicions of this Malag-Mal-Malay.. whatever...

Basically the man is invisible, doesn't exist.

Dad, Avi,is very.. kind? He's completely fuckin' oblivious of the situation. He bakes. He bakes a lot. He owns a bakery at Fifth and Twennon on Rosello street. Literally does nothing except baking at all times.

I went to visit him. His costumers are weird. Like, pecu-pecal-FUCK! Peculiar. They're peculiar. They've got weird horns and eyes, the kind you mostly see off-world but I guess they hang around a Jewish baker who's oblivious about everything. The ones sitting on the edge of the bakery, next to the door were all amassed in one table that had been pushed together, and they were kinda like huddling. The largest one had long, alien horns that went and curled around his head. They started on the slight back and went forwards, kind of like ram horns but then curled again, did another loop, and then ended like normal ram horns. His eyes were black rather than gray or blue or white. His iris was glowing gold and his pupils were slit and black. His fingers had long, dagger like claws, I reckon could be used to cut neatly over the skin, maybe even penetrate it and cut bone. I couldn't- and cannot- tell what species the man was. He had dark reddish skin and a weird tattoo that bloomed on his neck.