June 20th, 1983
Blood spilled from Dorothea's mouth in thin, trembling streams as the Curator stood there, staring at the tooth he had torn from her.
It was chipped.
A small imperfection along the edge.
He studied it with strange, almost reverent fondness, as if the sight of it stirred something buried deep inside him—some memory he could no longer reach, but still somehow mourned.
"You have broken the library rules…" the Curator murmured.
His massive mouth stretched wider.
"The Librarian will be angry…"
The brown eyes sloshing in his throat fixed on them.
"Not beautiful at all."
Then they heard it.
A skittering sound.
Fast.
Sharp.
Closing in through the maze of shelves.
The Librarian was coming.
Jasper didn't hesitate.
He grabbed Dorothea by the arm and pulled hard.
"Come on," he hissed. "We need to get out of here."
He dragged her into a run before the Curator could react.
Dorothea stumbled after him, one hand pressed over her bleeding mouth, the other clutching her file so tightly it bent at the edges.
"Why does this keep happening to us?" she choked out.
Her voice trembled with pain and fury.
"Everyone we care about…" She swallowed hard, blood staining her lips. "They all turn into these freaks."
Jasper didn't answer.
He just pulled her behind the nearest bookshelf, and the two of them crouched low in the narrow gap between the shelves, forcing themselves into silence.
Not breathing too hard.
Not moving.
Not making a sound.
A moment later, the Librarian arrived.
Silvia stepped into view with eerie grace, her elongated claws twitching at her sides. Her stretched smile seemed even wider now, sharpened by the anticipation of punishment.
"Which way did the rule breakers go?" she asked brightly. "I need to… disconnect them."
The Curator stood motionless for a moment, still staring down at the chipped tooth in his hand.
Then, at last, he lifted one long arm and pointed.
"Dorothea…" he muttered. "She went that way."
He pointed in the wrong direction.
Silvia tilted her head, then nodded.
Without another word, she turned and began moving through the maze of shelves, already setting out on her hunt, eager to punish the guest who had broken her beautiful rules.
Only once she was gone did Jasper dare breathe again.
But then the Curator moved.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Toward their hiding place.
"Friend…" he whispered.
Dorothea stiffened.
"Dorothea…"
He stopped just on the other side of the shelf.
"Elijah?" Dorothea whispered back.
The Curator's head tilted.
Then one of his gloved hands lifted, and he pointed directly at her through the gap in the shelves.
"Beautiful friend… Dorothea."
Jasper stared.
"How is this even possible?" he muttered.
Dorothea's eyes widened, not with fear this time, but with thought.
"August said he was experimenting," she whispered quickly. "Only showing people part of Azathoth's body through that photograph, right?"
Jasper nodded slowly.
"Well then…" Dorothea said, her voice hushed but suddenly sharper, more focused. "Maybe a partial image still breaks the body, still contaminates them—but not as completely. Maybe if they're shocked hard enough, or reminded of something important enough, pieces of them can come back."
Jasper blinked.
He glanced toward Elijah—toward the Curator—who still stood there clutching the chipped tooth like it meant something to him, even if he didn't understand why.
"If that's true…" Jasper said quietly, "then what about the people we already killed?"
The question hung between them like something rotten.
Dorothea's expression darkened.
"I'm guessing they were too far gone," she said at last. "Even when they started recognizing us, it was twisted. Cruel. Like whatever humanity was left had already been dragged through hell first."
Jasper gave a slow, uneasy nod.
Neither of them liked that answer.
"Elijah…" Dorothea said softly, stepping a little closer. "Can you help us find Jasper's book?"
The Curator tilted his head.
"Mean bully… Jasper?" he muttered.
Jasper blinked.
"What?" he whispered. "Mean bully?"
Dorothea let out a quiet, awkward laugh.
"I might've complained about you once… or a hundred times," she admitted.
Jasper stared at her.
"Wow. I'm hurt."
Dorothea smirked faintly.
"Yes," she said, nodding. "Mean bully Jasper's book."
The Curator seemed to process that.
Slowly.
Then he gave a small, uneven nod.
"Okay…" he murmured. "Beautiful friend."
Without another word, he turned and began walking through the maze of shelves.
Jasper and Dorothea followed closely behind.
They didn't speak.
They didn't dare.
The only sounds were their careful footsteps…
…and the occasional wet, quiet crack.
Every so often, the Curator would stop.
If there was a corpse nearby, he would kneel beside it and, with careful precision, remove its teeth one by one, as though performing some sacred duty.
If one of the corrupted residents wandered too close—still clutching a book, still pretending to read—
he would pause.
Reach out.
And tear a single tooth free.
Then continue walking, as if nothing had happened.
Jasper stopped reacting after the third time.
Eventually, they reached it.
A body hung against the wall.
Another chef.
The third one from the facility.
His wrists had been pinned to the wall with kitchen knives, the blades driven deep enough to hold his weight. His head hung forward, lifeless, and his torso had been split open with surgical precision.
Inside—
stuffed within the cavity like something deliberately placed—
was a book.
Soaked in blood.
Jasper grimaced.
"…Gross."
He stepped forward anyway.
Reaching into the open body, Jasper pulled the book free, trying not to think about what his hands were touching as he wiped the blood against his shirt.
The title stared back at him.
Jasper Quinn — Personal Files
"Thank you… seriously, Elijah," Dorothea said, stepping forward and taking the Curator's gloved hand.
She gave it a gentle shake.
For a moment, he didn't react.
Then, awkwardly, his fingers twitched—like he was trying to remember how.
But he seemed… pleased.
"Do you think we can take him with us?" Jasper asked quietly. "I mean… yeah, he's creepy. And not really all there. But…" He hesitated. "He's still a good person. Or at least… what's left of him is."
Dorothea looked at Elijah.
At the marigold.
At the way he still lingered close to her.
"It might take some convincing," she said softly. "But… I'd like to try."
For a brief, fragile moment—
everything felt almost… normal.
They had their books.
They had each other.
And The Curator—no, Elijah—stood beside them, awkward and broken, yet somehow still trying to be kind.
A small, impossible piece of something human remained.
Of course—
it didn't last.
"Found you, rule breakers."
The voice ripped through the air.
A shrill, gleeful screech that shattered the fragile quiet.
Before anyone could react—
a massive skeletal claw burst forward—
and tore straight through Elijah's head.
There was a wet, cracking sound as bone and flesh gave way.
The claw punched through one side of his skull and out the other, lifting him slightly off the ground.
For a split second—
he didn't even react.
Then Silvia stepped into view behind him.
Smiling.
In her hand, she held what remained.
His eyes.
Torn free.
Crushed together in her grasp as black liquid seeped between her fingers.
"Helping rule breakers?" she said sweetly. "That's not very appropriate behavior for staff."
Her grin widened.
"You're fired."
With a casual motion, she crushed the eyes completely and pulled her claw free.
Elijiah's body collapsed.
Limp.
Empty.
Dorothea didn't move.
For a moment, she just stared.
Her mind refused to process what she had just seen.
Then it hit.
Her hands trembled.
Tears blurred her vision.
Grief—
sharp, sudden, suffocating—
clawed its way up her chest.
And beneath it—
something else.
Something hotter.
Something far more dangerous.
Her fingers tightened around the book until the cover bent.
Her teeth clenched, blood still fresh in her mouth.
She was crying.
But her eyes—
her eyes burned with a single, violent thought.
She wanted to kill the Librarian.
June 20th, 1983
Successful termination of an Azathoth-created organism recorded.
Agents Responsible: Silvia Silva
Agent Fatalities: Elijah Neuman
Hostile Designation: Codename — The Curator