‘Feel’s like my head was cleaved apart by a hot knife.’ Was the first thought Jack had when he regained consciousness. It hurt to think, much less do anything else, and for a second Jack honestly thought he would simply try to get back to sleep. Than he remembered exactly what had been happening when he woke up.
He shot bolt up in bed, and with a quick look around, noticed he was back in his quarters, alone and in perfect quiet with nothing but the ocean waves battering themselves against the old amphibious station. He than slumped back into his bed, exhausted.
“Just another damned nightmare. I must be going insane.” Jack said softly, in a way that was more like a thought that managed to slip through his lips than anything else.
“Au Contraire, Jack O’Neill. You are far from mentally unstable.”
Jack’s body that had lain back down in the cot immediately jumped up.
As he did, he saw the most alarming sight. A figure slipped through the door in absolute silence. Standing before him was a figure in what appeared to be old brown military garb, like the dead unknown he had seen countless times. But it was not the same person, as this… thing was of average height, and was of a far more slender build than the previous one, and with a dim whitish-blue light around him.
And when Jack examined this intruder more closely, he was agape.
This thing had reddish-brown hair and a moustache to match, but that was not the most alarming thing about him.
Splayed about his body, almost randomly, from foot to head, were a few dozen red wounds on him, all of them creating a bleeding stream of their own that slowly traveled down his body. Jack instantly recognized what they were: rifle shots.
And even worse was his eyes. They were pure, eerie white, with no iris or pupil to speak of. ‘He shouldn’t be able to see me’ was Jack’s only thought as he searched the desk for his gun hastily to counter this threat that was only six feet away.
But see he did.
“Now, that is not necessary, now is that?” said the apparition in plain English, as he stretched out one of his hands and pointed it towards Jack.
Jack suddenly found his body halt looking and was violently slammed back into the cot. He struggled to move, and to look away, but to no avail, as for some reason he could not look away from the horrific specter that was standing at the foot of his bed.
“Now, that is better” continued the ghoulish apparition. “Were you by any chance looking for this?” he said, holding out, to Jack’s sheer horror, his own pistol, his only real means of defense. “And also, no need to alarm the rest of them. This little chat is just between you and me.” He said, pocketing the pistol and restretching his arm out.
Jack felt a sudden unfamiliar weightlessness in the middle of his throat, and he tried to scream, or yell, or call for help, but though his lips moved, no sound escaped them.
“Now, we may begin. You are alarmed. You are afraid. You have gone through several traumatic events and know not what to make of them. You have endured a chase now against what appears to be a figment of your imagination. Correct me if I am wrong.”
Jack was stunned again, ‘He really can-‘
The figure gave a small, bitter laugh. “You are half right. I CAN read your mind. But on the other half, the assumption, you are wrong. I am not what has been haunting you through the small hours of the past months. THAT is what I want to talk to you about.”
“You think I am him? I can understand that you might think that, but trust me when I say that it is not true. You find me terrifying, horrific. But he is far worse, for had he gotten a hold of you, you would not have lived to see the dawning sun rise again over Atlantis, or any other place for that matter. And you came VERY close to falling into his trap.”
“But first introductions are in order,” The phantom said as he picked up a glass on the table, looked it over, and than walked into the bathroom, where the sound of water running in the faucet informed him as to what the phantom was doing.
It was a respite, a chance to gather himself together and go over his options, but it did not last anywhere near long enough.
The Specter returned into the room with a single clear plastic glass of water, already getting smudged with bloody fingerprints, and began to drink out of it, seemingly oblivious to the red plasma that was dripping into the cup with every gulp.
Than he, it, whatever it was, it, after a particularly long gulp, moved the cup (now splotched with red) from his lips bloodied lips, and then took a deep breath which was more like a gasp. Than he continued.
“Who am I, you ask?” At this, the ghastly interloper’s head made a slight but notable shift downwards. “What I am is a martyr. You shall not find me in any church’s scripture or Judaic text. Or any other religion, sect, or cult’s documents or lore for that matter, but that does not change the fact that I am one. However, I was not crucified for my faith or burned for my beliefs. Indeed the reason I died has nothing to do with any religious beliefs at all.”
“I died because I knew what was to happen, and I tried to prevent it. It is a long story, and an equally confusing one. However, it can be told later. But back on to the subject of your nightmares.”
“The monster that you have been dueling in your dreams for the countless nights is a great, powerful, archaic evil.”
The creature than took another swig of water, ignoring the blood that spilled into the cup.”
“Yes, it is not pretty, but after a while, you get used to.. this when taking a drink.” The ghostly specter motioned to the now-quite bloody water glass.
“But anyway, you are used to and quite adept at eliminating the mechanical insects and the serpent lords, and have learned much as to how to defeat those threats. However, you must cast that knowledge of their weaknesses and strengths aside; for this threat is by far of a… I have no idea how to put it, but the threat posed by him is of a different nature. Far different.”
At this, the creature finished off the water with a great swig.
“Ah, but it is a long story, and I am out of water. Don’t go anywhere. Not that you can, really.”
At this, the specter exited the room, and the sound of the sink running began. What first filtered through into the room was a loud scrubbing noise, than the sound of water being repeatedly filling up the glass and being poured out, and finally, with the last sound of filling, the sink’s flow was shut of.
And at that, the specter walked back in, carrying a tidied up glass, the only hint as to its previous state being the sickening sight of bloody fingerprints.
And than, the otherworldly interloper took a strong swig, with water pouring out and red plasma inadvertently pouring in. The entire sight made Jack want to vomit, but he was hopeless to even do that, as his entire body felt like it had been restrained or simply shut down.
And than, to Jack’s dismay, with a audible gasp, and a wipe over his now facial hair, the specter turned his milk-white eyes back to him.
“Now where were we, oh yes. This beast, he, or does he deserve being called ‘It’ more? But nevertheless, this monster is far different than anything you, or any Taur’i has faced. He is not of any species you have fought. He has no claim to be a god, and toils not to make anyone think he is. However, his power is inconceivable to the charlatan-gods, who both envy and fear the rumors that circulate about what he has done, envy for that power, and fear that they could be next. For he has power that they know not of and lack the ability to grasp.”
“Even know, you are wondering if you should be put in a madhouse for crying out loud, as you say, for you think we are all delusions, some fragments of a fevered mind. If you are to trust me with anything I say or have said tonight, know this: Whatever anyone says, whatever any test says, no matter what science says, no matter what you think, no matter how overwhelming the evidence to the contrary is, hear this now: YOU ARE NOT MAD! YOUR ARE NOT MAD! YOU ARE NOT MAD!” He said, thrusting his fist at each exclamation, as if to add emphasis to the point.
“You are not mad, for that is what he hopes you shall think yourself as. Know this, however. He has invested much time and energy into his move. He has invested more time than any one being should every be able to live through in his finishing coup. And in order to see that move come to fruitation, he must eliminate you. And for that, you must be on your guard, for he is a dangerous, calculating foe, and should you or anyone else fall victim to one of his many traps, you or that person will be irreversibly and utterly lost.”
“You are going on a diplomatic expedition to the Furlings in three days, once the supplies are brought up, are you not?”
Jack, had he been able to speak, would have said ‘huh?’ at the unexpected turn of topic.
However, the ghostly figure gave a low, mirthless laugh “Ah, what a nasty web you have woven.” He said, seemingly to the room’s air, leaving Jack only the more confused.
“I shall have to put a dent in that, then-
Turning deliberately towards Jack, he continued
“-the rest will be up to you.”
Than, to Jack’s horror, he finished off his glass, than walked towards the cot where he held Jack as a captive audience, putting his bloodied mug on the dressing cabinet, he sat down, and one of his gory hands grabbed Jack sharply by the neck.
“Now listen closely, for I shall only say this once. Are you listening?” With that final word, Jack felt some of his old control of his head return, and instinctively, he nodded once.
“Good. Now pay close attention: over the timeless past months, he has been toying with you, been playing with you mind. Tonight was his first serious attempt to eliminate you, and had I not subdued you, you would have run right into him around the next corner as he took down pipes from a remote position, and had you done so, all the skills and ammunition in the world would not have saved you, or anyone else on this station. But he is clever, and he will try again. You know something he does not at this point, and that is that you have more time than he thinks you have, for his next plan will go, shall we say, arwy?”
“However, the grace period in which he will be surprised by this will be short, and know this: he knows about you. He knows everything about you. He knows everything about everyone else on this station. And you know NOTHING about him, and neither do I, or anyone else on our side of the lines. And he will attempt exploit that fact soon enough. You MUST BE ON YOUR GUARD, For he will show no mercy, give no quarter, and rest not until you and his other targets are destroyed.”
“Yes, he has other targets, and each one of you must tread lightly, tread carefully, tread smartly; for he is clever, and time is against you. Be wary. He can strike from any quarter.”
“But not all is bleak, for allies both new and old can come and reveal themselves from any quarter as well, and should you not use their help to its fullest, your cause shall be lost.”
“As for myself, I know not what specific plans he is plotting, what cunning he devises, for my eyes cannot see past the walls of death. I can only ensure that you have a chance. It is up to you to grasp that chance.”
“Do you understand?”
Jack nodded, but to his surprise, the specter shook his raw, blood-coated white head.
“No, no you do not. However, neither do I understand. But knowledge will come if you survive long enough for it to divulge itself. You have yet more questions. However, I have either have neither the knowledge or the time to answer them, and thus it is time to sleep.”
At this, the spirit raised his hand, and Jack felt himself be slammed back into the cot, but in what seemed like not one second later rebounded up and opened his eyes, breathing heavily in fright, but slumped back on his cot.
It was not the dead of night at all, but it was daybreak in the sunken city of the Ancients. Jack sighed into his pillow. He hated sleeping anymore, and he wondered if he should check out the local doctor (wasn’t it a Scot named Beckett?) about some sleeping pills or something. But either way, he had to get up to help prepare for the expedition, sleep or not.
And with that, Jack began to get to bed, unconsciously looking to his right as he started to exit his cot, and than his breath caught in his throat.
Lying on his dressing cabinet in an innocent, simple way, was an unremarkable and innocuous large, clear drinking glass, standing there in a simple, unremarkable way.
Crusted with dried blood.
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