THE VIDEO BEGINS SOME TIME AFTER THE PREVIOUS FILE.

  --File 059: Requiescat in Miserii--

  The video starts up in the same room as before. The lighting has dimmed noticeably; evening approaches. Emma is leaning back in the chair she was in before and looks tired.

  Blaine: "Okay, camera's rolling."

  Emma: "I think this poem might be about as straightforward as it gets. There are two big takeaways here."

  Bartosz: "I think I might know one of 'em, at least."

  Emma: "His mother died after he got his 'powers', which I'm assuming is control over flies. He used the power to kill her. We can't date the event exactly, but the poem makes it seem like it happened pretty soon after the event."

  Alex: "Sorry- so this apparently well-preserved head has been dead for over a decade? How can that be?"

  Blaine: "Remember what we're dealing with- what was outside in the lake. Is it so hard to believe that a corpse transcends time?"

  Anders: "My head's starting to hurt."

  Emma: "Did you get that one?"

  Bartosz: "More or less, yeah. Not my favorite thought."

  Emma: "The other is pretty straightforward as well. He was granted the powers. Something gave him powers."

  There is a beat of silence following this.

  Alex: "Was... that part not obvious?"

  Emma leans forward, agitated.

  Emma: "Maybe I'm thinking too deeply on this. In the game, we're getting snapshots of his life. There's a cult that's targeted him for whatever reason- and we can assume Weiss, too, because he's, you know, involved- so this cult did something that gave him these powers. The death of his dad played a part in this."

  Alex: "So you're saying... giving him powers was all part of the end goal?"

  Emma: "Part of the end goal... or required. Suffering. They made Grantham suffer, because it was required for him to get the powers he got. So... Weiss must have suffered, too."

  Alex: "Wait- so- Hang on."

  Emma: "The reason they're so interested in Blaine is because he knows suffering."

  Everyone's eyes all turn to Blaine, holding the camera. He involuntarily takes a step back.

  Blaine: "Hang on- you think I get powers?"

  Emma: "My journal gets weird toward the end. Really disjointed, more like snatches of writing in quick moments. Not a lot of it makes sense, and most of it is just... random lines on repeat."

  Emma takes the small journal out of her back pocket.

  Emma: "There's one that stuck out to me though: 'Beware the cameras'."

  The silence in the room thickens, and once again, everyone turns to look at Blaine- or rather, the camera in his hands.

  Anders: "The camera."

  Bartosz: "Of fucking course."

  Blaine: "What?"

  Anders: "The camera. It was- you know. You've said it yourself. You feel comfortable behind a camera, with a camera on you. It's a part of you. It was your saving grace following the death of your step-dad. You set them up originally to collect evidence of the abuse going on in your home."

  Alex: "What? Abuse?"

  Emma: "I'll explain what I can later, Alex, just stay with us. The cameras- that was your focal point. Weiss's must have been video games, and obviously, we saw that Grantham's was what it was."

  Alex: "W... wait."

  Everyone turns to look at Alex, and there's an odd look on his face. He's staring into the distance, and he tilts his head, flinching suddenly.

  Alex: "I... this... it's familiar. Something... this is familiar. I... I've heard this before. Or... have I? Have I seen it?"

  There is a collective intake of breath, but no one says anything. No one moves. The assumption is clearly that Alex is remembering something from his run with the game.

  Alex: "Yeah, I... I saw..."

  His voice trails off, and he stares off again.

  Alex: "I don't think I saw... what I was supposed to see."

  Emma: "What do you mean?"

  Alex: "I was supposed... to see what you saw. We all were, anyone that the game chose. That Weiss chose. But I saw... I saw one of the Turns."

  There is a general exchanging of glances.

  Bartosz: "A turn?"

  Alex: "A turn of the loop. The ouroboros, the snake that eats its own tail; an imperfect loop, changing as the snake gets tighter and tighter. My game... played out a Turn."

  Emma: "And what did you see?"

  Alex: "I saw it all, beginning to end... but I can't... remember. I saw our deaths. I saw my death. I saw your death- repeatedly. Not just in the game; I completed it, I won, and then everything... and then I saw your death again and again and again. Not just ideas. Actual deaths, played out, recorded through time. Blaine killing you, and using it to gain... powers."

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  The silence is heavy now, and suddenly, Alex's eyes dim, and he slumps back into his chair; his skin loses a bit of its color.

  Emma: "Alex, you need sleep."

  Alex: "We can't. We're in enemy territory. How the hell are we going to sleep in here?"

  Blaine: "They're not going to do us in early. They won't fuck with us until it's time. Emma's got one more level- and I shudder to think what happens afterward."

  Bartosz: "D-day, most likely."

  Anders: "Literally."

  Blaine: "Look. Let's go take a look through the rooms. If anything's even remotely passable for a sleeping space, we'll set Alex up in it, and we can take turns taking watch."

  Bartosz: "Not you."

  There is a very long, pregnant pause following this. The unspoken accusation hangs heavily in the air; Emma is the one who bristles at it.

  Emma: "He hasn't done anything, Bartosz."

  Bartosz: "Yes he has. That's the problem. How many 'turns' is it that Alex saw where he betrays us? He's not taking a watch."

  Blaine: "Fine. That'll put me at a full night's sleep, which I'll probably need tomorrow."

  Blaine's voice is stiff and angry, but he is obviously trying to hide it. There is bitterness that he cannot conceal.

  Anders: "Bartosz, we are a team. We only have each other."

  Bartosz: "There's too much evidence against him, Jim. You're biased in his favor, and you've made that mistake God only knows how many times."

  Alex: "I think... he's on our side."

  Silence falls again, and they all turn to look at the ashen Alex, who was initially Blaine's biggest detractor. He is grim-faced, and almost resigned.

  Bartosz: "Kid. He's got to be good at what he does. He's got to get us to trust him. That's the point."

  Alex: "He saved me, at risk of his own life."

  Bartosz: "Could be calculated."

  Alex: "I was there, Jakub. You weren't. You didn't see it play out. I trust him. I trust Emma."

  The silence hangs heavy once more, and Bartosz shakes his head, stubborn to the end.

  Bartosz: "No. I didn't get this far because I trusted every fuckin' sob story I came across. They're usin' him to destroy the world; they've done it already before, and they're convinced they'll do it again. He's just gettin' better at it, I'd wager."

  Blaine: "Why not just cut me free, then?"

  Bartosz: "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. I want to be there when it happens, so I can do you in myself."

  Emma: "That's enough."

  She stands up out of the chair, and for a girl of such average height, she suddenly seems a lot taller- and a lot angrier.

  Emma: "Blaine and I will go upstairs and look for a bed. You stay down here together and stew in your misery."

  Bartosz: "Kid, I'm tryin' to look out for you."

  Emma: "I'm not the same Emma I was in that Turn, and he's not the same Blaine. I trust him. If you can't, then you can sit here by yourselves and wait."

  Emma strides forward and grabs Blaine's hand as she passes him, causing him to stumble slightly as he walks after her. She does a quick check of the rooms below- there's a mud room and a bathroom- but quickly moves to go upstairs, Blaine quietly following behind. They leave silence behind them as they go.

  The lights in the upstairs hall are already on, and a trail of now-dried blood shows the route the others took when patching up Alex earlier. The hall stretches down the length of the house, and there are three other closed doors. Emma pauses for a moment, breathing hard, before turning and popping open a door before Blaine can stop her. There is nothing on the other side but a very simple guest room; a single bed, perfectly laid out and fresh as if it were used regularly is against one wall. The colors of the setting sun dye the walls orange-red; there is a simple wood desk against one wall, and a very small, sparsely filled bookshelf. There is little else.

  Emma stands in the room for a moment, and Blaine steps in after her, slowly and carefully. She turns and closes the door behind him, looking upset.

  Emma: "They have no idea."

  Blaine: "It's fine. It's better that way."

  Emma: "They have no idea what they're talking about."

  Blaine: "They can't. I need Bartosz to mistrust me. I'm surprised Alex changed his mind. Anders will give in, in time."

  Emma: "I don't think Alex really has. I think he wants to, though."

  Blaine: "Do you trust me?"

  Emma looks up past the camera, which is falling somewhat to the side. Her eyes are pinned, presumably, on Blaine's face, and she looks very serious.

  Emma: "Implicitly. I trust you completely, Blaine."

  Blaine: "I need you to trust me, Emma. I need you to trust me, above all else. It's... the tipping point."

  The choice of words seems to be on purpose, and with meaning. She nods immediately, grim and determined, and takes a step toward him.

  Emma: "I trust you. To the very end, I trust you."

  Blaine: "Good."

  Tension hangs heavy between them, and though the camera is listing more and more to the side, semi-forgotten, just in-frame, Blaine's hand can be seen softly caressing Emma's cheek. Then he steps back, opens the door, and moves back into the hallway.

  Blaine: "Come on. We need to check the rest of the floor."

  Emma follows him silently, and now he leads the way. The next door they try to open is to the right, but there is deadweight against it, and it takes handing the camera to Emma before pounding his shoulder into the door before he is able to get it open even a crack. He takes one peek inside before slamming it shut again, going somewhat green. Emma backs away as a few maggots fall to the floor between them; Blaine hurriedly stamps on them.

  Emma: "I'm guessing not that room."

  Blaine: "It's the master. It, uh... It's occupied by a large chunk of Mrs. Grantham."

  Emma: "Delightful."

  Blaine: "Also, it's absolutely packed with maggots- and they're enormous. Maybe as big as my face."

  Emma says nothing, just shuddering.

  Blaine: "So far, one point for the guest room. If this is Mrs. Grantham's room, then I imagine that the last door..."

  Emma: "It's got to be Grantham's room."

  Blaine: "Surprised she let him have a room."

  They move slowly down the hallway; a light overhead flickers, and they look nervously at each other. There is silence in the hallway, and Blaine holds up a hand to Emma, before stepping up to the door. Despite their reassurances that the cult will not kill them before their time, it seems that no one is able to fully trust that assertation.

  Blaine opens the door, blinks into it, and then steps back for Emma, a look that is difficult to read on his face. Emma steps forward with the camera.

  The room is a study in tragedy. The "bed" is a couple of frail, wooden pallets with what looks like old stains in the wood, and a blanket folded over them. The floor is totally barren, the window is boarded up, and worst of all, written across nearly every inch of the walls, are the words "WHY COULDN'T IT BE YOU". It isn't entirely clear if it was Jake Grantham who wrote this toward his mother... or the reverse.

  Either way, it is a starkly obvious that there was no sanity in either decision, and there is certainly no love.

  Worse, though, is the presence of Mrs. Grantham's arms and legs, pinned to the wall above Jake Grantham's makeshift "bed". They are, as before, in pristine condition; dried blood marks the walls in a very old sort of way, immortalized and simultaneously time-worn. The hands have been forcibly pried open, palms outward in a twisted caricature of arms wide open for a hug.

  Notably, there is a piece of paper pinned to the wall just beneath the arms and legs, though neither moves to retrieve it- yet.

  There is nothing else in the room. There is no desk, no books, no artwork... nothing to suggest that a child once slept and lived here.

  Emma: "Tragedy... begets tragedy."

  They continue to stand there for another few minutes, and then Blaine quietly pulls the door shut. He then fiddles with the camera and turns it off.

  --END TRANSMISSION--