As you enter the Nemesis’ cabin, you notice an open door and walk through it. Inside the room, which seems very cold and impersonal, you notice an open book on the desk. As you look closer, you find that it’s a diary, with pages torn out and others glued together, some lines scribbled over as though the owner wanted to cover up something.
You find yourself unable to look away, and start reading:
“My name is Jake, Jake Solitude. Well, actually it’s Jacob Nathan Solitude, but I go by Jake. Anyway, if you’re reading this, you should start running. I’m probably not far away, and while I might not be armed, I am ALWAYS dangerous…
May 15, 2002
The first time my father forgot my birthday. I hadn’t started writing diary at that point, but, well, I don’t know why I’m reminding myself this, but it’s not a day I think should be forgotten. What kind of father forgets his six-year old son’s birthday?
Written on the 12th of January, 2010.
September 17, 2003
Daddy hit me today. He said I was being rude, but I was just asking where mommy was. He told me to go to my room without supper. Why would he ask me to do that? I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?
I must have though, because daddy always says that only bad boys should be hit.
It’s time to sleep now, so night night.
You read the writings of a child who does not understand why he’s being hit, mistreated or forgotten by a father who’d rather forget that said child exists. Eventually you reach this entry:
“February 28, 2007
I apologize for not writing anything for yesterday, though I suspect you might forgive me after I give you my reason. As you know, father has been growing increasingly cold towards me, but yesterday it took a much more literal turn. He was having a visit from some lady or another, and suddenly he tells me to leave, before physically throwing me out when I didn’t immediately move. I had to spend the night in the nearest subway station, ‘cause there was snow everywhere and I was cold. He didn’t even give me my jacket.
Today, when he let me in, he told me there was going to be some changes; apparently the lady is staying, and I’m not. He’s giving me up to an orphanage.
The next few entries are quick and confusing, most of them unreadable because of all the scribbles. You do, however, find a very official looking letter a few pages later.
“March 7, 2007
For: *Name is scribbled out*, Jacob Nathan
It is with sorrow in my heart that I must inform you that your father, Jonathan *The name is crossed out*, passed away yesterday at 11:31 PM, due to the strange injuries which got him hospitalized earlier that same day.
The police report that they still do not know what caused those injuries, but… “
The rest of the letter has been ripped off, but it is enough to give you a creepy feeling, like someone is watching you. You turn your head, but find no one.
The next few years describe how Jake is adopted by another family, his new father a doctor who seems to genuinely care about him, and make him start doing sports. After having tried a few different sports, Jake finds that he seems to innately have a talent for martial arts, and practice several. He quickly advances through the belts of Karate, Kung Fu, Jiu Jitsu and a few others, until he finds one that actually challenges him. He starts practising Ninjutsu.
At 13, he started to experience strange things, including being able to feel if any people he met had an overweight of good or bad in their lives. On the day of his thirteenth birthday, he felt a strange sensation and a light blue light shone over him for a moment, before disappearing. He had no idea what it was, and kept coming with ideas in entries for a long time.
Obviously you know that it was his claiming, or you wouldn’t be sitting there.
“September 4, 2010,
I’ve just had the weirdest day. I was at a museum that daddy told me about, with all sorts of antique Greek things, like statues and weapons. Suddenly a small poodle turned into this huge black dog and attacked me. I grabbed the nearest weapon, which was this bronze-like sword and slashed at it, and suddenly it turned to dust.
What is even weirder is that the sword turned into a pen… A bloody pen. And not a ballpoint pen, but a seventeenth century pen. And no one else remembered anything, so I just put the pen in my pocket and got out as fast as possible.
I am NOT going back there, no matter what daddy says.
This kept on and increased as he grew older, until, at 16, he was found by this strange creature, which he described as looking like a satyr of the Greek myths. At first he didn’t believe it was real, and kept on poking it, trying to prove it was a costume, until he had no choice but to admit that it was real.
When it told him that the gods were real, he didn’t believe that either, but then it described several of the things which had happened to him, like the sensation and the light, and asked him whether he’d experienced anything else, which wouldn’t be considered normal, to which he described anything strange which had happened to him.
Apparently an apple falling from a tree 10 feet away hitting his head doesn’t count as “strange” though. It seems it’s just a kid throwing it.
At some point, a few months later, an entry tells of his way here, and you get that feeling of being watched again. You turn again, only this time a tall, dark-haired stranger is looking sharply at you. He seems to be annoyed, but you don’t know by what, until you realize you’re in his room, at which point you hurriedly start running.