The ONE Archives

ONE ([0.003]): Streetlights

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Statement of Max Shwartz, regarding a strange encounter while riding the bus home.

Original statement given July 10th, 2005. Given by Liam Plecak, September 14, 2016.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

I usually don't take the bus home from work. I find it more pleasant to drive alongside the nice bright lustre of the streetlights on the road; the album, Creature of Habit by Kiltro playing gently as I manage in the moonlight. It's far nicer than the crowded seats of the bus. But one night, my car broke down. I don't know why, I don't know how, but it broke down. So, I decided, just this once, to take the bus home. I took out my phone, went to Google Maps, and navigated to the nearest bus stop. It was... er, I would say, around 1:30am when I got on.

I sat, putting my headphones on, playing Sometimes by Pearl Jam, as I checked out my future work appointments with a few of my clients. Other times, I would just sit there as various strangers got on and got off. It was a normal few hours as I changed seats a couple times in case someone needed it. I jammed along to the music a bit as I checked my GPS. Being on the night bus wasn't so bad after all, though it was rather boring to begin with. At least, that's what I thought. A moment later, I saw this peculiar stranger walk on the bus; tapping his Presto card and picking the seat on the right-hand side of the bus. And for a moment, I couldn't help but shake off this feeling of being watched. This stranger constantly kept staring at me, his eyes unusually green.

He just kept staring at me, I noticed he wasn't blinking. Even though I tried to avoid his gaze, those eyes pierced through my mind, clear and brazen. I attempted to distract myself by playing one of my games, Flower Hunt, but it certainly did not help me. "You're Max, right?" The stranger asked. How did he know my name? I wanted to say nothing, but the words came out too quickly. "Yeah, I am." Those weren't my words, no, I felt utter fear as I continued to play Flower Hunt. Go away. My thoughts screamed. Leave me alone, please.

I looked at my phone, it was still stuck at 1:30. I figured my phone might've been broken. But how? it was just working fine beforehand! I scowled underneath my breath as I checked my GPS. It was working fine. Just a few more hours until I get the fuck away from the unblinking, leering guy. A moment later, I switched seats with another stranger, but the feeling of being watched was still. Geez, even buses aren't safe from creepy eyeball strangers. I thought.

"I know where you live." I flinched, eyes widening as I felt a cold sweat dripping down my face. "What?" My face went pale as my chest tightened; looking back at the stranger. His eyes – now glowing – gazed back at me, latching onto me like a cat on mice. "I know where you live." The static, which I heard, since the stranger got on was far louder and denser. The tension between me and him stood tall.

I wanted to run. I really wanted to. But I couldn't, I stood, unmoving. His face was blank but his demeanour was frightening.

"What are you? What do you want from me?" I demanded an answer from the stranger but he stood still, idle with no response. I swirled with feelings of anger, paranoia and dread. Time slowed as my head began to spin. My head was a hurricane, spinning and spinning. I had to get out of there. So I tried to gather my pieces and wandered out quickly. My head began to ache as I clumsily stumbled out onto the sidewalk. It was as if someone bashed the inside of my head. I called an uber to take me home.

One thing for certain, I'd never take the night bus again.

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Statement ends.

Max Shwartz was later found dead in his own house, head bashed in brutally and 7 stab wounds in his chest in early 2006. What I find interesting about the crime scene is that evidence Bryce and Amelia managed to dig up. They found many ripped newspaper and magazine pages of various people. But here's the thing; someone cut off the eyes of the people on the clippings, which I find extremely disturbing. The other thing they found was a notebook with hand drawn eyes scribbled through all the pages; except the last one which is depicting: i see you.

Other cases though, The suspect left no fingerprint traces behind which led the police to believe the murderer of Max Shwartz was wearing gloves at the time. What was even stranger was the fact the corpse's eyes were plucked out. Turns out, the eyes of Max Shwartz were in a jar, in the attic. The police inspected this and figured out that the eyeballs were still intact and moving. They voiced that the eyes could still see. 

The police case closed after the suspect was never found.

In other news, I managed to search through Stone's old cabinets for things and... I think I've found something... odd. There seems to be a journal with pink, yellow, cyan and green sticky notes. I can tell you that they're doodles... illustrating a moth, a bunch of merged triangles, a cassette tape with the numbers: 0216458, and a string of... numbe... rs...

...Hold on, why is this... These numbers, why do I feel like... I know these from somewhere?

[BACKGROUND STATIC SLOWLY RISES BUT IS ABRUPTLY CUT SHORT]

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48271954828... Right, right. My head hurts. These numbers belong somewhere in this institute. They're connected to something, but what? I need to search around this place; maybe uncover some stuff. This place, I don't know, It just keeps... it's getting to me. 

(exasperated) Getting really sick of these sudden headaches I keep having. (sigh)

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wsqixlmrk asvxl

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oiit aexglmrk

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A/N: note: the end part is NOT a keyboard smash, it is a code!!!  i'll give you a hint of what the code name is, it ends in cipher