#13116

[Click.]

ARCHIVIST Okay. Sorry, we're gonna start this again from the top. It should work this time.

Statement of Felix Verloren and Blair Matthews, regarding an encounter with the Skinsnatcher, otherwise known as Natasha. Statement given June 6th, 2020. Statement recorded live from subjects.

Statement begins.

FELIX To begin with, it took a few days to even find the location in question, Foxborough Shopping Center, though the name is more or less forgotten by this point, due to its closure in 1992. The rumored, and, likely correct reason being the sharp decrease in business after a homicide occurred on the premises. The victim in question, young Adaline McKinnon, was murdered in the dressing room of a department store. It was called murder, but the circumstances are unclear enough, without a killer being caught, that it is hard to say. BLAIR Yeah, it was real annoying trying to find that place. We got there at around three in the afternoon. It's quiet and a lil spooky but that's not important. Um, after a bit of searching, we manage to find the store and we find the doors, although they... didn't look like how they were described in the statement

FELIX For one thing they both appeared… normal in every sense of the word, versus how the statement described them. Nothing seemed quite amiss.

BLAIR Yeah, then uh, we went in and they led to two old dressing rooms. The first one was normal too, nothing was out of place. It did still have some old clothing hanging up, which was sort of weird, but it wasn’t that noteworthy at the time. The uh, next one however was a little less normal. The mirror in it was cracked, and I swore I saw the skinsnatcher. A pale woman in a plain black dress, long red hair and really dark eyes. She uh, smiled at me.

[Nervous huff of laughter.] I uh, was happy enough to blame it on ghosts in the moment.

Of course at the time, I didn't know it was the... thing. And when I looked back behind me, there was... nothing.

FELIX Nothing at the time, at any rate.

Investigating the one purported to have contained a 'void', it didn't seem off. Aside from the clothing inside. I... Personally found it strange that a completely abandoned facility would still contain any items within, but that is hardly important. Continuing our search, we didn't find much of anything mentioned in the account aside from the cracked mirror as Blair said. The building was almost empty and unremarkable otherwise. I had personally written the place off as a hoax until…

I saw her myself. It? I don't... I don't know.

BLAIR We were in the middle of the store when we noticed her. It. It was so… pale, and its features were almost weirdly exaggerated? It looked just off enough that we knew it wasn’t… normal. Whatever it was, it blocked off the door and charged us, leading to me and Felix getting separated.

I locked myself in the dressing room with the cracked mirror, and of course that thing followed me instead. Hearing it's creepy voice calling out for me was... not fun. It tried to lure me out, but I'm not that dumb. Eventually it resorted to… scratching, at the door. I don't know how long it took for it to give up, but it felt like ages…

FELIX [Quietly.] Whatever it was…

I managed to get outside the establishment, somehow. I don't know why it didn't simply come after me first, I was the easier target.

It took me longer than I care to admit, but I managed to get ahold of the bat we'd brought along. Er. Blair, brought along, specifically.

At that point it had lost interest in her... and... well, it very nearly caught me just trying to get back inside.

BLAIR While Felix was busy dealing with the thing, I waited for a while just to make sure it was clear. Thankfully, it was. Walking back out of the mall alone was... not easy, to say the least. I'm already a jumpy person, but the atmosphere was... terrible

When I got back outside, lo and behold, what I found out there was Felix beating the shit out of that thing. It was pretty badass. [Felix stammers slightly in the background.] While it was distracted, I got into the car and started it up. When I was sure Felix wasn’t in the way, I rammed into it with the car, sending it flying a good bit.

FELIX Right. That was impressive in its own right. [A pause.] Normally that would have likely killed a man, but... we didn't exactly look back to check. We left as soon as I managed to get back in the car.

I… hope it’s dead, anyway.

BLAIR Me too buddy, me too. That thing was creepy as hell... it looked... too human. If that's even possible.

FELIX Looked a bit like a painted mannequin attempting to masquerade. Her, its... limbs were just slightly off enough to feel a bit, sickening to look at.

ARCHIVIST Hm. [A pause.] And you guys--you’re sure it was the Skinsnatcher?

BLAIR It had to have been. Thing was probably waiting for another victim to snack on.

FELIX It matched the descriptions on file to a T. That thing was 'Natasha'.

ARCHIVIST Right, right. Okay. Did you feel like you were being followed at all, on your way back?

FELIX As much as one would after an experience like that.

ARCHIVIST Okay, that’s fair. Have you seen her since?

BLAIR Don’t think so.

FELIX Not as far as I can recall.

ARCHIVIST Okay. I don’t know if that’s good or not. If you see her again, let me or Hazel know immediately, alright?

BLAIR You got it, Boss.

ARCHIVIST Alright. You can get back to work. Just… take it easy, okay?

[Click.]

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The Archivist: @cacowhistle

Felix Verloren: @riku-reimei

[Click.]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Patience Norris, regarding her reflection. Original statement given October 10th, 2019. Audio recording by Perry Greer, Head Archivist of the Penn Institute, Boston.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

I don’t recognize my reflection anymore.

That’s a silly thing to say, isn’t it? It looks normal. My reflection, that is. It’s my face. My eyes, brown and narrow, my nose, with a gentle curve that crooks it to the right ever so slightly. My dimples, my freckled cheeks. My hair, curled and red and falling past my shoulders, partway down my back.

That is what you see, at least. You said so, anyways. You saw red curls and brown eyes and all I saw was that thing, staring back out at me. The way you looked at my reflection was almost pitying. Did you not believe me when I said it was all wrong?

I suppose believing these sorts of things is your job. What did you see in that lost little girl in the mirror? What made you look at her like that? What made you look at me like that?

Did you see me?

My mother Emily has jet-black hair and blue eyes. My father Harrison has brown hair and blue eyes. They’re both fairly tall individuals, both have glasses, both have narrow frames and are incredibly bony.

The woman that looks back at me from the mirror has small brown eyes, bright red curls, is short and curvy. She looks nothing like her parents, and they have never seemed to notice. I looked like the two of them, once, I think. I was thin and tall and had glasses, because bad vision runs in the family, and I had long jet-black hair and bright blue eyes.

I was the spitting image of my parents in different ways, and then one day, something changed. And then another day, another thing changed. And so on and so forth.

It started when I moved back in with my parents once college hadn’t exactly worked out. I looked in the mirror one morning, and my blue eyes were brown. My mother had just laughed and said I’d always had brown eyes, and at the time I decided to believe it.

It kept happening. The next thing to change was my hair. It became shorter, shoulder-length, curly and red, and my mother had just said something about my great grandmother having red hair, and hadn’t we had this talk before, Natasha?

My name is not Natasha.

I have been clinging to that for as long as I can, but I do not know how much longer I’ll be able to. I have forgotten my original middle name. I can feel the fake name prodding at the back of my mind, aching to replace my real one, digging its claws in and dragging itself into my memories. This thing wants me, wants everything that makes me myself, wants to devour the entirety of my identity, and I don’t know what to do.

Next was my face. It became round, freckled, with a scar above the right eyebrow. It is from an accident, I fell off of the treehouse at age eight. We did not have a treehouse. We did not have a yard with a tree at all. I was adopted. I was not adopted.

My height changed the very next day. That was a week ago. Nothing has changed since, but I’ve been having constant headaches and trouble with my memory. Something bad is going to happen, I can just feel it, and I do not know what to do about it. You can help. Your institute is supposed to know about these things, isn’t it?

And yet I hate you and your work, for some reason. Something inside of me despises you, and maybe it is the monster stealing my skin and making it its own, but you and your people disgust me.

You yearn to understand, and that is everything I seem to stand against, now. I had a crush on my best friend Olivia in sophomore year of high school. I did not have a best friend named Olivia in high school, and I did not like girls until yesterday.

On its own that would be an unconcerning development, but in light of all of the things that are happening to me… I am sure you understand the cause for concern.

I can still feel it, in the back of my mind. Even here. It is trying to take me as I write this. Trying to hollow me out from the inside and use me as its own body. I can hardly think straight enough to write this down. My skin itches on the inside. My head feels as if it is going to split apart.

Natasha. What a plain name. Lovely, normal, perfectly ordinary in every way.

Perhaps it suits me.

ARCHIVIST

… Statement ends.

… Right.

I wanted to, um, go over this statement again properly. Record it, post it again, if only to refresh myself on the details of the Skinsnatcher’s process and the perspective of its victims. I, uh, I don’t know… what this told me, really.

There’s been no new information on this case since we last looked into it.

I don’t know what to do. Caesar said he’s seen the Skinsnatcher a few times outside of work. I think I’ve begun to see it. I’m beginning to feel like I’m being watched when I’m in here.

I’m… I don’t know. I don’t know if it’ll show up here or not. I’m hoping it won’t.

Hazel says that destroying the entire physical form tends to work with these things. I’m not sure how we’ll do that, but… I guess it’s the plan. It’s better than nothing.

I’m just… scared, I’ll… I’ll admit it.

We’ve never had an encounter like this before, in all my time at the Institute.

I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.

... End recording.

[Click.]

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