Personnel File: Agent Roger North “The Investigator”
Name: Roger Samuel North
Rank: A-Class-C
Locations: L-10 Clearance, mostly frequents ACF-3718's “Red Haven” domain
Age: approximately 38 y/o, D.O.B. [REDACTED]/REDACTED]/1986
Hair color: salt and pepper
Eye color: hazel
Height: 1.9 meters
Weight: 95.2 kg
Hobbies: organizing files, fixing machinery
Foundation History
Roger North signed on with the Foundation following the accidental discovery of a previously unknown radio frequency. Due to the bizarre nature of this frequency, every aspect of Roger's former life was erased for the safety of any possible outside connections. All appropriate parties were administered dosages of mild amnesiac drugs to assist in the transition. He is currently isolated to tests involving the radio frequency and its associated anomalies, most notably the mysterious ACF-3718.
Related Anomalies
ACF-3718 “Mephisto”
Not much is known about the self-proclaimed master of the “Red Haven” domain. It is an anomaly that identifies as male, with phenomenal powers seemingly limited to music and conditions met by consensual deals or exchanges.
Mephisto claims that he is, in fact, the biblical Devil. The extent of his abilities is not currently known within the boundaries already mentioned.
End of file.
Roger North Diary Entry #1 - dated [REDACTED]/[REDACTED]/2023
I don't know if this is how I'm supposed to be using my time. I could be repairing something or fixing clerical errors. I'm not good at articulating myself, especially now that I'm not who I used to be. The psychologists on-site have recommended that I keep a record of myself so I don't lose what I have left. They're not specifically worried about me, more I'm their only link to this anomaly so far. That's what I think at least. All they talk about is the damn radio frequency.
I'm sure they have more important things to worry about, but this is getting agitating. I've only been here for a few months. I want out, but there's nowhere else for me to go.
Roger North Diary Entry #37 - dated [REDACTED]/[REDACTED]/2023
The Foundation just finished installing a track for me to start walking on tomorrow. They want me to do exactly what I did when I listened to the radio frequency the first time. They think it'll trigger properly if I follow their instructions. I have no idea what that means but I guess that's why they enlisted me as a guinea pig.
On another note, I think I'm starting to enjoy the food.
Roger North Diary Entry #38 - dated [REDACTED]/[REDACTED]/2023
Today was brutal. They had me wear a sealed hazard suit with a heavy backpack full of random stuff while I was walking in circles for four hours listening to that damn radio station. The music was admittedly catchy. I'm still humming a few of the songs, even after dinner and a shower. At least they had air conditioning.
They want me to continue this kind of testing until something happens.
Roger North Diary Entry #41 - dated [REDACTED]/[REDACTED]/2023
They got their results today. There wasn't a portal, no transition, nothing. I was on the track one minute and the next, I was in front of a city limits sign. I took a picture on one of the disposable cameras. I didn't take the time to really register how big the place was, the only thing that stuck out at that moment was the name.
"Red Haven".
I didn't want to step forward. Something told me to stay put. The radio station went to commercial break and I suddenly appeared back inside the Foundation building.
Everyone was on the track trying to find any clues or evidence of me disappearing, but they didn't find anything. As far as they knew, I just popped out of existence and then came back after a few minutes.
I showed them the picture I took and they wrote down all sorts of notes while asking me questions.
"What was the temperature like?" Pleasant.
"Were there any strange smells?" No, but I noticed it didn't smell like a modern city. There wasn't a smog around it, and there wasn't a lot of traffic noise.
"What kind of noise was there?" Music. Like a vintage bar or elevator, but everywhere.
"Did you see anyone or anything that seemed alive?" Nope.
"Did anyone see you?" Not that I know of.
"How did you get back?" The station took a commercial break while I hesitated to move forward. It was like the music held the connection and I had to participate while it was playing, or else it just let me go.
After a few more questions, they put me in decontamination for a couple hours just to make sure nothing stuck to my uniform or skin. I was given the green light and sent to commissary with a meal ticket.
Roger North Diary #53 - dated [REDACTED]/[REDACTED]/2023
I've been reporting weird dreams for the past few days. Higher-ups put me in isolation and nothing seemed wrong on their monitors. Vitals were fine. There wasn't any electromagnetic interference in my brain. Nothing caused noticeable spikes in neural activity, so no seizures or overload.
After 72 hours in the tank, they let me out to do more testing. I don't know how wise that would be in other professions, but we all have a job to do.
It happened faster than it ever did before. I barely started walking and the track vanished out from underneath my feet. I was back in Red Haven, this time without the suit around me. I immediately started to panic. They warned me about that kind of shit, like flesh-eating air or things that turn people inside-out in the blink of an eye.
Nothing like that happened, but I was still glad I had my gas mask. I breathed slowly and started to observe my surroundings. At this point, I noticed the earpiece was gone too. I didn't have a connection back to the Foundation. I didn't have any lifelines that could bring me back. I started to breathe heavily.
Unlike last time, there were people here... or at least "people" in shape. They smiled and waved, showering me in good mornings and hellos. I felt welcomed but it was still obscenely unnerving. Were they real?
I looked past their warm expressions and remembered the dreams. It was all a blur of red and orange and black, with grinning mouths full of sharp teeth and deep, black eyes. I didn't trust a soul here - assuming they even had souls.
But they went about their business, almost completely ignoring me besides the initial greetings. I dared to look down to see where the road led and found myself in clothing similar to theirs. I never wore a suit before, and I assumed the gas mask broke the immersion a bit.
My hands scrambled around my new pockets. Luckily, I still had my disposable camera. I started taking pictures for the Foundation. More of the locals approached me, wondering what I was doing. I didn't tell them anything until one of them guessed that I had a camera, albeit one they never saw before. They were used to the vintage ones on tripods. They wanted their pictures taken, surprisingly.
Their dresses and clothing were superb. Each subject of the photographs was beautiful in their own horrific way, and I eventually had a line forming. They each gave me their address so I could send them copies of the pictures, along with payment in the form of a nickel.
By the end of the whole ordeal, my pocket jingled with just over $3.50. They were extremely organized despite the numbers involved. I thought I could easily label them later... but only after the Foundation got a look at it all and deemed it safe to continue.
I felt something watching me the entire time, though. I caught glimpses of shadows moving on their own. Lamps went dim for a split second. No one else seemed to notice - or care, rather. I brushed it off as my imagination, but it definitely didn't sit well with me.
Just when I was getting worried that I wasn't going to be able to find a way back, I heard something in the distance. It was familiar enough to bring me comfort. The dulcet tones of a commercial break broke the pacing of the constant music surrounding me and I suddenly emerged back onto the track.
I was still wearing the suit that materialized on me, and my pockets were still full of coins. I instinctively went to inspect the camera and found all of the photos I took in wonderful detail.
I had to surrender all my new belongings to the research team members in charge of decontamination. Naked, i had to endure over a hour of washing and sterilizing. They told me i was gone for almost four hours, which checked out. That seemed accurate to the clocks i watched while in Red Haven. They surmised that time passed similarly there. After another hour of inspection, they returned my new possessions to me - deciding they were harmless.
i spent the rest of my day writing names and addresses on the backs of the developed photographs. For some reason I was invested in being hospitable to these strange creatures.
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