Well, things have officially gotten batshit.
When I called Mr. A and told him about the Vagrant’s actions, I could almost hear him go pale. Obviously, he had hoped this would never happen. He told me to say a certain phrase aloud: “Closed for Maintenance.” Just like that, the entire shop shifted. The glass door was covered with an enormous slab of some bizarre material that looked almost like obsidian, and come to think of it, looked an awful lot like a solid form of whatever the Vagrant’s skin was covered with. The same thing happened to the windows, and the lights in the shop turned on automatically. Finally, the warehouse door was sealed by one of the slabs.
There was no doubt in my mind that Mr. A had hoped and prayed this would never happen, but he always expected that it would. Despite his obvious fear, he managed to keep enough composure to tell me that these slabs were created from material taken from one of the Vagrant’s earlier intrusions. Using it, he had been able to create a full system that would drive the creature out. Then he told me with some hesitation that it was time for me to meet “Them.” Now, this was the first time he had decided to give them an actual name. According to him, they were called “the Proprietor.” Despite their innocent-sounding name, I had the sense that I had to be on my guard when it came to dealing with them, something Mr. A confirmed. “You’ve dealt with eldritch things before, lad, but trust me when I tell ya, this bloke’s on a different level. I can’t stress these instructions enough, lad: don’t ask them anythin’. Just listen, then wait until they’ve finished speaking. They’ll know why you’re there, and they’ll give ya answers, but they won’t be comfortin’.”
Well, I got what Mr. A was talking about after he had given me the instructions on opening a door to the Proprietor’s world. I’m not allowed to disclose how I made it appear, but a door that the shop previously didn’t have appeared behind me. On it was a sign that read, “Proprietor’s Office. Staff Only. Violators Will Be Terminated.” A faint droning noise emanated from the other side. Cerberus gave a small whine, and I just pet his head and smiled reassuringly, though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling nervous as well. I slowly placed my hand on the doorknob, then turned and opened it.
How do I best describe what I experienced there? I think the best word I can use is, “contradiction.” Imagine an infinitely large room with no color, yet somehow brighter than the Sun. The droning noise I heard from the other side of the door continued, but it was joined by a deafening screech.
Then the noise changed to words. I could hear them suddenly speaking in my head. It pierced my mind, speaking in nonsensical phrases that I could somehow comprehend. They had no voice and every voice. Like I said, “contradiction.” Bear in mind, the speech of this being is similar in structure to the Pr’mAtrian. Same as them, the Proprietor seems to be unable to translate their words into fully comprehensible human language so this is the best I can do. The following is the best translation I can provide.
You/Manager entered/were invited here to understand/know how to kill/evict Vagrant/Vandal and protect Investment/Property/Shop. We/the Proprietor know/remember It/Vagrant. It/Vagrant is/isn’t. Vagrant/Vandal was/is created from nothing/Void. It/Vagrant is/isn’t happy/angry/hates Us/You/Everyone for Existing/Being/Living. Vagrant/Vandal wants to Deface/Break/Kill You/Us/Everything for Having Form/Life. Use/Fire Gun/Tool. Not Easy/Simple. Gun/Tool useful against Living/Undead/Existent People/Folks. Vagrant/Vandal does/doesn’t exist/live. Kill/Break Living/Physical Prison/Form/Jar and put Nothing-Vagrant in new Prison/Form/Jar. Bring/Deliver Jar to Us/the Proprietor. That is all/Thank you/Back to work.
This is all approximate; I have a clearer picture of what I need to do in my head. So basically, I need to kill the physical form of this thing, then seal it in something that they gave me. It looks like a puzzle box (if Hellraiser comes to mind, I don’t blame you; I thought the same.) Why they didn’t do this for previous owners is beyond me. I reported back to Mr. A, and he was as surprised as I was. Still, he told me to keep the gun and box close at hand. Strange as the Proprietor was, I found myself trusting it. I had the impression that if it saw me as a tool or puppet, it could have easily taken over my mind, used me to kill the Vagrant rather than instructing me how to.
I have a feeling that things are really coming to a head soon, though. Just two hours ago, I got a call. Before I could answer, an enraged voice snarled, “You spoke to them, didn’t you, you little shit?! I couldn’t sense you for hours! I was starting to think you’d gotten so scared you decided to finish the job yourself! What did they tell you?!”
I stayed quiet, instinctively reaching for the gun. ”What. Did. They. Tell. You?!” it demanded again through clenched teeth, all arrogance and mockery gone. Still I said nothing. It shrieked, “Damn it, tell me or I’m going to carve you into tiny pieces and make your dog fucking eat them!” “You sound scared,” I replied coldly and with a hint of mockery of my own. There was silence on the other end. Then my right ear erupted in pain as the Vagrant screeched furiously. I dropped the phone and fell, clutching my ear which was ringing with tinnitus. Cerberus rushed to my side and began nudging me. Once the pain began to subside the sound of high, deranged laughter sounded from the phone’s speakers. Then I heard a sound that chilled my blood more than this sadistic creature’s laughter, something that made all three of Cerberus’s heads begin barking and growling. It was sealed up, but I could hear it all the same.
It began knocking from inside the warehouse where I first saw it, all while the phone kept broadcasting its laughter.