Calamity Queen
- Memorandum Notice
- Document No. 0773
- Interview-0773-01
- Interview-0773-02
- Interview-0773-03
- Termination Procedure
- Footnotes
HER MAJESTY'S GOVERNMENT
CLASSIFIED INFORMATION
Access Granted, Welcome Sorcerer
The following information has been communicated in confidence with various ministries and departments that have been authorized to be briefed under a need-to-know basis, or have been exclusively authorized by a Chief of Department.
Unauthorized access or release of sensitive materials without the agreement of Her Majesty's Government is a criminal offence under the Official Secrets Act of 1889.
Current status of this file has been declared as:
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No. # CR0773
Issued: 17/04/1991 |
Calamity Queen  |
fig.1
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| Entity Notes: |
| - Signs of Albinism; - Pale White Skin - White Hair - Pink Eyes |
Safety Procedure
Entity No. 0773 is currently residing in Royal Congregation-approved accommodations located near the offices of the Nottinghamshire Station to ensure easy access for both her and her supervising officers. Given her potential to disrupt the veil of secrecy, any requests for travel to or from densely populated areas must be carefully monitored and require approval from Her Majesty's Subjugation Office and/or the designated on-site supervisors. Any requests for items, furniture, or any commodity are to be placed through the appropriate channel supervisors within Her Majesty's Subjugation Office.
CR0773 has been assigned a personal psychiatrist Dr. Vivian Prowler, whom she can socialise and speak to on medical matters at any point of time. The assigned psychiatrist must be given permission by CR0773's current handlers or superiors at Her Majesty's Subjugation Office before engaging in conversation or psycho-analysis of CR0773 themselves.
CR0773 operates under the direct supervision of Colonel Anthony Damien, Officer Forget-me-not, and General Rudeth Wright of the Black Hunter Corps' 4th Company and assigned caretakers of Her Majesty's Subjugation Office. This command structure ensures that her activities are monitored and regulated in accordance with HMSO protocols. Any infractions, breaches of conduct, or operational failures committed by CR0773 are reflected directly upon the 4th Company's record, placing the responsibility for her behaviour and compliance squarely on her supervising officers.
Due to the reality-warping capabilities of CR0773's thaumaturgy, it is usually required to for on-site staff is to keep her placated, usually by merely engaging in conversation entertaining and keeping her socially stimulated. If she seems emotionally in-distress or unsatisfied, it is highly recommended to steer clear and report it to supervisory or closest Her Majesty's Subjugation especially in the event of mood swings.
In the event that CR0773 is deemed a significant threat or an untenable liability to Monarch Security and the Commonwealth, Protocol "God Hates The Queen" is to be enacted. The protocol outlines a series of measures intended to neutralize and eliminate CR0773 should her continued containment or operational status pose an unacceptable risk to national or global security.
Access to the operational dossier and its associated procedures is restricted to all but the Lord Protector, the reigning monarch, the acting prime minister, and the captains of the Black Hunter Corps companies. The protocol is maintained under the highest level of classification within the HMSO, and its activation requires explicit authorization from one of these designated authorities.
Details regarding the precise steps of Operation: God Hates the Queen remain undisclosed to ensure operational security.
Any violations of this will result in execution of the offender at the earliest convenience.
Synopsis
CR0773 is a 1258-year-old Caucasian woman of Celtic and Avalonian descent, measuring 1.85 meters in height and weighing approximately 187 pounds. She suffers from Oculocutaneous Albinism (OCA)1, characterized by pale skin, depigmented hair (described as "pearly-white" by personnel), and reddish irises. Despite this, she presents none of the negative symptoms typically associated with albinism.
CR0773 identifies as and has proven to be, "Morgana Le Fey", being a direct relative of Arthur Pendragon, Lord Protector. There were multiple examinations and investigations taken to decide whether this was merely a powerful thaumaturgist simply taking the mantle of the Avalonian witch or the genuine individual, this was concluded after various blood, historical and arcane tests. Due to the biology and knowledge possessed by CR0773, all leads lead to that this person is genuinely Morgana Le Fey and should be treated as such. It is shown that she has had no surviving offspring since the 5th century.
She possesses an abnormally high I.Q. of approximately 170 points, indicated by both previous academic records and psychological evaluation given by on-site psychologists. CR0773 is well accounted in a variety of topics, from geography, mathematics, history and applied physics. CR0773 is also highly-versed in thaumaturgical studies and applications, being able to pull off arcane feats no other thaumaturgist has been able to achieve by themselves and with no third-party assistance, granting her a variety of versatile abilities; usually used for the convenience of CR0773, such as instant transportation or easier access to items and entities she requires. She is also capable of other supernatural strengths, such as complete immunity to curses and potentially country-wide destructive abilities.
CR0773 has been analysed and diagnosed with a plethora of mental disorders and syndromes by their assigned psychiatrist Dr. Vivian Prowler. Though an outlier being that none of these psychological disorders do not derive from her over-use and powerful magicks like most sorcerers, as sorcerers who tap into powerful magicks usually have their mental facilities severely diminished from it's use and AMR.
| No. 0773 Psychological Profile | |
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| Date Updated: 11/07/91 | Location: Nottinghamshire Base Accommodations |
| Nature: 12 Psych-Evaluations | Prescribed Psychologist: Dr. Vivian Prowler |
- Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)
- Superiority Complex
- High-Functioning Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)
- Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)
- Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD)
- Sociopathy
- Bipolar Disorder
- Dysthymia
- Histrionic Personality Disorder (HPD)
- Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD)
- Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD)
CR0773 is both fluent and literate in several languages including: Latin, Gaelic, Middle English, French, Spanish and Swedish, CR0773 reported that they were present at the natal stages of these languages’ development, even knowing several other esoteric and/or forgotten dialects from both Earth and The Otherworld. Though she does not seem to care for teaching the Royal Congregation's Codicesia anything about these languages, merely flaunting that she could.
Official communication from The Camelotian Roundtable, delivered by Head Enchantress Nivene to the Royal Congregation and the Lord Protector, has decreed the permanent exile of CR0773 from the Otherworld and Avalon. This ruling is based on charges of high treason, the murder of Merlin, and the torture and subsequent killing of Nimue Viviane, also known as the Lady of the Lake. CR0773's actions have been classified as violations of the highest order under Avalonian law.
Any unauthorized presence of CR0773 within Avalonian territory will be interpreted as a direct breach of the Treaty of Recompense. Such an incident would necessitate immediate political and military retaliation against CR0773, Monarch Security, and, by extension, Great Britain and the Commonwealth. The Roundtable has been formally notified of Avalon's position and is expected to enforce the exile directive to prevent further diplomatic or military escalation.
CLASSIFIED
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Interview 0773-01 |
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To: Seat of Westminister, Roundtable |
Audio Record // 0773BLACKRECORDSStatement of: No. 0773
CR0773 is escorted into the room by two agents and seated across from Colonel Damien. CR0773: Oh, what an honour. I didn’t expect such a… prestigious encounter. Col. Damien: The honour is all mine, Morgana. We’ve never had the pleasure of hosting a thaumaturgist of your calibre before. CR0773: Well, aren’t you just full of flattery. The pleasure’s mutual, Colonel. Col. Damien: Wonderful. Now, Morgana, if I may, this is just a routine interview to get to know you better. CR0773: Please, call me Morgan. That’s what your lackeys have been calling me lately—with my permission, of course. Col. Damien: As you wish, Morgan. Let’s start simple. Tell me about your life, family, work, hobbies. Favorite beer, perhaps? CR0773: [She laughs.] Family? I suppose technically I have one. Who doesn’t? You kind of need one to exist, don’t you? But as for anyone I keep around… not so much. [Colonel Damien nods, jotting something down on his clipboard.] CR0773: Work, though? That’s been a bit more interesting. I’ve been here and there. Varied experience, you could say. [She waves her hand.] CR0773: Most recently, I was a Caseworker and Administrative Officer with the DVLA2. Col. Damien: A fascinating résumé. Of course, we’re already aware of your previous employment. CR0773: Speaking of- Col. Damien: Yes, and speaking of your role at the DVLA, I should inform you— CR0773: Fired, yes. Spare me the dramatics. And next time? Don’t interrupt me. [Her eyes narrow. The Colonel raises an eyebrow.] Col. Damien: You’ve had plenty of time to speak. Let’s not be rude. CR0773: Rude? I’m here on my time, Colonel. My precious, limited time. [She leans back and crosses her arms.] Col. Damien: Fine. Let’s get to the point. We’ve reviewed your abilities, and we believe they could serve a valuable purpose here. I’m prepared to offer you a position. CR0773: Intriguing. But I’m not saying another word with that camera stuck to my face. Lose it. [The Colonel exhales slowly, clearly exasperated, but waves to the agents monitoring the room.] Col. Damien: Very well. Before the camera is turned off. CR0773 reclines in her chair with a smirk [We continued recording with the tables integrated microphones, there's no visual aid further on.] Col. Damien: Now, with all that out of the way, I am here to formally extend an offer on behalf of our Lord Protector—a position as an operative within Military Intelligence 13. CR0773: And why, pray tell, should I even entertain such an offer? Do you honestly believe I lack better things to do? Your little operation has been mildly amusing thus far, but… my attentions have been waning. Col. Damien: With respect, we’re offering far more than amusement. We’ve reviewed your prior accommodations, and I’m certain we can provide you with far better; anything you might need. [Silence.] CR0773: I made do with what I had, but let’s not forget whose on whose court here. You’re awfully presumptuous to think that simply giving me a couple of butlers and some better food would entice me. Do you even know who you’re speaking to? Col. Damien: Of course, we do, ma’am. That’s precisely why the offer is so generous. This is no standard operative package this would include; premier housing, unparalleled access to resources, clearance, and access to pursue your own… interests. All on top of the respect and prestige that comes with it and yourself. CR0773: Hmm, interesting. So you come with gifts. But surely, this isn’t a one-sided arrangement. I imagine there’s a cost to this little position you’re dangling in-front of me. What is it you want from me, Colonel? Col. Damien: Only what you’re already well-versed in, dealing with problems no one else can handle. Your skills and capabilities make you the ideal candidate for this role, and frankly, no one else comes close. CR0773: I see. Alright then; I shall ponder on this proposal.
CLASSIFIED |
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Interview 0773-02 |
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To: Seat of Westminister, Roundtable |
Audio Record // 0773BLACKRECORDSStatement of: No. 0773
[Director-General Graves enters the room chaperoned by Black Hunter Corp and his personal stenographer Wright D. Wurtz. CR0773 was escorted through an opening at the side, free from standard constraints.] D.G. Graves: CR0773, state your name, for the record. CR0773: Director-General Graves, be a dear and skip these… formalities. [Silence.] CR0773: I see you have a knack for wasting time. Can I assume you bed is made perfect every morning, as well? [Silence.] CR0773: Let's do it the way of the snail, then. [She clears her throat, louder than necessary, straightens her back, and places her fingers over her chest.]] Morgana Le Fey, the one, the only, both Avalon's greatest enchantress, and the monster under its bed. D.G. Graves: So I have heard. I'd normally dislike the extended moniker, but it puts us on the right track. Tell me more about you and Avalon. CR0773: There must be a topic of more interest than that, frankly. Avalon is drier than a nun’s bedside table these days. [Silence.] CR0773: Can you not propose something else, sweetheart? [Silence for 23 seconds.] CR0773: [Lip smack] Honestly, I don’t know why everyone is so obsessed with it. “Oh, Avalon, land of heroes, paradise of the blessed.” Blah, blah, blah. Trust me, you stay there long enough, and you’ll be ready to chuck yourself into the nearest lake for the slightest tinge of excitement. [Director-General Graves pulls out several court-ordered records from the Thaumarch and spreads them over the table.] D.G. Graves: Murder, conspiracy to usurp the monarch, high treason, damned sexual deviancy. [One by one he loudly taps his index and ring fingers on each document.] These seem like they could interesting topics of conversation. [CR0773 smiles widely and alternates her gaze between the papers and the interviewer, before releasing a nostalgic chuckle, leaning back and looking upwards. The documents start floating in between the pair.] CR0773: Being too clever, too ambitious, too powerful, too outside-the-box. [She snaps her fingers with each adjective, and the charges on the records change in tow.] Honestly Graves, I was there, in the middle of a giant court with hundreds of jealous eyes just starving for the same attention. This encore wouldn’t be quite it, don’t you think? D.G. Graves: I think you should count your blessings. Lucky for the chance to speak with hindsight. CR0773: [Laughs] Oh, darling, if anyone ever actually manages to kill me, I’ll throw them the biggest celebration this side of the afterlife. Think confetti, marching bands, maybe even a little skywriting—‘Congrats, You Did It!’. [CR0773's waistcoat shifts, now bearing the design of a vintage 48-star American flag. A matching star-spangled top hat appears atop her head as she waves sparklers in both hands, grinning like a carnival barker. She blows a party horn with theatrical enthusiasm before the vanish 3 seconds after.] CR0773: But until then, I remain Avalon's problem that just won’t go away. [Director-General Graves rubs the bridge of his nose and folds his fingers into each other.] D.G. Graves: Firstly; the states’ flag has 50 stars now. Secondly, you don’t really act like Avalon is quite the time-waste you try to convince me it is. [Graves nods to the side.] Why the hell would you call yourself a “monster under its bed”, otherwise? No, no no. [He slowly shakes his head.] Just what chains you there? [The sound of a buzzer can be heard in the room. Its source is unknown.] CR0773: Nuh-uh, you got it all backwards. First of all, good luck finding shackles that fit the bill, second of all, [She leans forward, resting her chin on her knuckles bracing against the table.] I am their obsession, ever since the beginning. D.G. Graves: Sounds like you’re afraid to show how much the exile’s gotten to you. [Silence. CR0773 expression grows mellow, before her mouth rises at the right.] 0773: Now this, my dear Gravesy, this is how you converse with a lady. A bit of action and spice! But no, your games aren’t quite enough, Avalon remains a place of sore losers dreading me, the nightmare that fulfilled their dream. D.G. Graves: Convince me. [Silence. CR0773 begins tapping on the table. Gradually, the frequency and magnitude of the tapping grows.] CR0773: Huh, you asked for it. [The table begins descending into the floor, while simultaneously changing to a browner colour and rougher texture. It then expands, as the walls experience a similar contortion.] D.G. Graves: What the fuck is this? [The room has now adopted the appearance of a chapel, and CR0773 has disappeared. The stenographer’s machine has become of a more mobile design, attached around the hip.] D.G. Graves: Hey! Hey, Morgana! [D.G. Graves starts searching and pacing the volume.] D.G. Graves: Cease your trickery right this moment! [A man, later identified as Duke Gorlois of Cornwall, emerges from behind a wall, frantically sprinting towards an archway. He trips in front of it.] D.G. Graves: H-Hey! You! Where are w- [D.G. Graves is unable to finish his inquiry before Gorlois stumbles back up, and disappears under the archway. Not leaves, but vanishes completely. Graves stares at the lack of the man for a moment, before grunting and inspecting the path the man emerged from.] D.G. Graves: I see. Listen up: its an illusion. But be wary, she usually makes them… too vivid. [He is surrounded by a small cabal of modestly clad women, all charging in the direction of Gorlois. Graves is slightly pushed back by the wave he peeks from the top of. A particularly tall lady headbutts him on the way out, like the other escapees, his presence remains unregarded by her.] Talk to me! Hey! [As the people evanesce, the scene stills. Faint cries can be heard, their source the point of which the people fled. Soon enough, a final woman recognized as the fair lady Igraine, mother of Arthur Pendragon and Morgana le Fay, covered simply by a white cloth stained red, comes crawling out on all fours while crying.] D.G. Graves: Damn it. [He brings aside some of her hair to see the face, before she limps away.] D.G. Graves: What the fuck kind of joke is this supposed to be? [The group follows the Director-General deeper into the chapel, revealing a large open room. In its middle is multiple buckets, tainted cloths and what looks like a small bed. In front of it lies the source of the crying, an infant. The stenographer wishes to report a sense of unease and aversion at this point.] D.G. Graves: That’s quite enough, don’t you think? CR0773: Well, you did ask for convincing. [CR0773 appears beside D.G. Graves.] D.G. Graves: How does this theatre prove anything? 0773: [She scoffs.] I have no need for plays. My presence is all fuel needed to set fire to any stage. [She spreads her hands, as if presenting the scene.] Look here, just the prologue was enough to trigger a fight or flight. I reminisce from time to time. Yet to see any headless chicken with a funnier run. [There is a prolonged silence, only disturbed by the infant’s cries and CR0773’s periodic chuckle.] D.G. Graves: You sound almost proud. CR0773: “Almost”? Really? Stop kidding, Gravesy. D.G. Graves: Hm. Isn't this too much? CR0773: No, no it isn't. You see, it was always Avalon that adored the drama of our relationship. Not even the fabled parents’ love could steer it anywhere normal. D.G. Graves: Now you sound regretful. [She turns sharply and stares at Graves.] CR0773: Oh you’re great. Fantastic, even. Regretful? Ha! Let me show you some real pathetic damn regret. [Footsteps echo from behind the group. A number of women wearing the infinitely-folded robes of the Grand Enchantress title enter. They quickly approach the infant, and the chapel becomes indescribable as it is covered by the pockets of the robes’ white cloth and its gray patterns.] CR0773: I guess they deserve a hint of admiration. Balls big enough to adopt me and all, despite the selfish reason. [She clears her throat.] Meh, not like I'm a saint. [As the fabric flutters it folds upon itself an impossible number of times. From one of its pockets, a little girl is revealed, followed by a scene of a graveyard. The group stand in front of the girl, separated from her by an ingrained stone study table filled with scrolls, smudged by ink and illuminated by a tall candle.] CR0773: They served me on a platter the greatest of healing arts. [The girls studies a scroll, on it is a three dimensional diagram of the human body, with symbols of unknown purpose marking both visceral and somatic anatomy. Surrounding these groups is text, seemingly gibberish.] 0773: Treat you so good I could bring your body back from the dead. [A breeze snuffs the light. However, from behind the group comes a short woman with torn clothing, heavily necrotic cutaneous tissue, and missing an arm who relights the candle by dipping it into a small cup of orange, boiling water.] CR0773: Tried their darnedest to channel me into a, what did they call it? "Virtuous force of rehabilitation." Regretted that once I set an immortal knight around challenging immature knights desperate to gain "great renown". [The table transforms to the cloth of the robes, and swallows the girl along with the rest of the scene. Another pocket shows the same girl, in the middle of an open building with wind chimes hanging above. She stands screeching at the sky.] CR0773: They trained my voice to make my chords tougher than chains, and my throat diamond, capable of casting any convoluted snake-spell along with resisting its sharp words. [The wind chimes start to vibrate. Chaotically at first, but soon emits a soothing melody. The girl begins floating.] CR0773: Heh-heh-huh, oh yeah-yea- probably a peak when I made Camelot’s royal doctor diagnose the entire town with the sleep-scare. Wouldn’t replace the Enchantresses’ faces when they eventually found me, clucking away at the top of the high tower, for anything. [The chimes start falling, one by one, into the cloth which has now covered the ground. It is smudged red by drops of blood, descending from the mouth of the floating girl. The taint is however lost in the robes' blend, which reveals a third scene, where the girl is in a large closet. On its walls are shelves full of staffs, each of different wood, color and centrepiece.] CR0773: They gave me infinite choices for an extended arm of my will, despite the cost of all that fancy wood and pointless carpentry. [The girl leaves the closet without equipping any of the tools.] CR0773: I had already gone beyond any of their simple-minded expectations. More like limitations, actually. The convenience of staffs were lost on me at that point. [Many of the staff's centrepieces glow intensely, flashing the room with a brief rainbow, before they darken again.] CR0773: I felt a bit like a poet. Imagine the irony, when the tools you so heavily depend on to exercise your power start firing the other way. [Silence.] CR0773: You can still speak. D.G. Graves: What do you mean? CR0773: Huh? D.G. Graves: How is it lost on you? CR0773: Wh- what? Are you serious? That’s the first thing you say? D.G. Graves: I am familiar with your crimes, Enchantress. [CR0773 gasps. The cloth rapidly folds into itself, and returns everybody to their position in the interrogation room before the warp.] CR0773: Enchantre- [She cuts herself off.] Well aren’t you hard to please? Here I sat thinking you wanted a playback! D.G. Graves: I want what can be learned. How is it lost on you? [CR0773 mumbles something under her breath.] CR0773: I matured. I realized I didn’t need those toys anymore. D.G. Graves: Are we talking about the same artefacts? CR0773: Uh-huh. I don’t need to compensate, my power is all natural —baby. What’s that thing people say about men with big cars, these days? [Silence.] D.G. Graves: [He shakes his head briefly.] Now wait a second, what do you mean? It doesn’t need to be channelled? No avatar necessary? [CR0773 gradually starts a slow and deep laughter.] CR0773: What a funny side of you! So curious! [Silence.] CR0773: I’ll tell you that my power is less mine, and more me. [Silence.] CR0773: I ain’t gonna budge on this one Gray-Gray. The silent-treatment is getting old, anyway. [Silence.] CR0773: I have all the time in the world. [She conjures a “Funli-brand Shoot-and-Catch game”, and begins using it. Instead of picking up the ball after each failed attempt, she summons a new one. The floor is slowly covered in plastic balls. The action continues for one and a half minutes.] D.G. Graves: Alright, we’ll leave that behind. CR0773: Uh-yeah wait a sec… I’m on a streak here. D.G. Graves: Mhm. [The Director grabs a pen from his chest pocket and flicks it toward the game, catching the ball on a descending course and impaling it on the back wall.] CR0773: Oh! [She stares at the flattened ball on the wall for a moment.] You keep your show-offs subtle, I see. D.G. Graves: You’ve spent quite the effort convincing me Avalon’s the clingy partner. Still does not explain your adamancy to being a thorn for them to impale themselves on. CR0773: Don’t you get it, Gravesy? I’m just paying back a natural debt. I don’t care, no no no, but the balance of the universe demands it. Can’t have good without evil, [She extends her arms to the sides, imitating a scale, and alternates their heights following the object of her speech.] nothing beautiful if nothing’s ugly, fun’s boring if without risk. D.G. Graves: We both know you don’t care about keeping any order. CR0773: Do we, now? [Silence.] D.G. Graves: Your subterfuge is embarrassingly simple. CR0773: Hm? D.G. Graves: [D.G. Graves crosses his arms.] I would fall for the empathy-bait, if it was believable. Unfortunately there are kids who have it worse than being given their education. CR0773: At least they’re not forced to fit in a horribly tight box, no matter how bejewelled it is. D.G. Graves: Fuck are you on about now? CR0773: Do you have siblings, Gravesy? D.G. Graves: [D.G Graves briefly glances over at the members of the Black Hunter Corps.] I’m not the subject of this interview, Enchantress. CR0773: En-… entertain me. D.G. Graves: [D.G Graves rubs his nose and sighs heavily.] I don’t. CR0773: [She extends her hand towards the Director.] Well that explains it. D.G. Graves: What does Arthur Pendragon have to do with your Avalon obsession? CR0773: [She snaps herself forward.] You love walking on cracked ice, don’t you? [Then relaxes back on the back of the chair and looks up.] Whatever. It’s not about him, don’t really give two shits about the guy. D.G Graves: Really? CR0773: [She makes eye-contact with Graves.] You might worship the fake epics and tales of your beloved Warrior-King, but I assure you, the real deal was just as disappointing as the time he lasts in be- D.G. Graves: Then what is it? [Silence. CR0773 stares daggers at the Director-General. Actual daggers are launched from her eyes, which the Director swiftly evades. They impale the chair before he collects them.] 0773: Don’t interrupt me. [They are returned to sender just as quickly, evaporate into a brown mist at the half-way point. The marks on the chair have disappeared as well.] D.G. Graves: Don’t waste my time. [Silence.] CR0773: You really are funny. That is the first time you’ve interrupted me. What happened to the stoic I know? D.G. Graves: Just stay on track. [Silence.] CR0773: …what are you hiding, Gravesy? [Silence. She looks at the Black Hunter Corps members.] CR0773: Is he usually such a prude? [Silence.] CR0773: Alright, I’ll push those buttons some other time. [Silence. D.G. Graves starts tapping his foot slowly.] CR0773: Arthur, was born in a golden ceremony. Clad in gilded regalia from the second he left he womb, wouldn’t be surprised if Uther’s sperm was shining. [A small, wooden doll with a rough similarity to King Arthur appears on the table.] CR0773: Not to dismiss his aptitude for, damn everything. [The doll is dressed in golden medals of an unproportionally large size.] CR0773: But it’s absurd, he could take a shit and his fans would notice a change in the length of the log. High probability of some sage making a prediction out of it too. [Cheers from a large crowd is heard.] CR0773: He could trample on their faces and break their arms, but they would still keep sturdy, lest they fail to push him up, all the way to the throne. [A collection of dolls, dressed in peasants’ clothing, are fused together to make a meter-long pillar, elevating the King’s doll up.] CR0773: But I? I was feared. Came out from the same mother, but I guess they saw something wrong with the other half. And the people who took me in had the gall of pretending, pretending to act as caretakers. No, no they were also scared. Scared of what I’d do to their precious, ordered, planned, pretty little world. [The pillar catches on fire.] CR0773: [She stares at the blaze, and cracks a faint smile.] How I’d turn their books inside out, how I’d dance in places and times of mourning, how I’d make roads of clouds instead of beaten dirt. Probably found it safer to wash that little brain, before it realized what it was. [The Arthur doll is once again the only figurine on the table.] D.G. Graves: So you were jealous? [Silence.] CR0773: Arthur, he was made their glowing Hero, their Champion from heaven. [She starts giggling.] CR0773: I was made the hideous monster. The one who is best kept out of sight, hidden under the bed. [Another doll, this one in the shape of CR0773, but dressed in revealing clothing, appears behind the original.] CR0773: Hell if I'd let them. No, I claimed the title as my own, and danced to its sweet melody, sparing no consideration to those who tried to set the beat for me. [The second doll approaches.] CR0773: And what more independent act of disregard is there, then corrupting their pure idol, who was waiting on top of the bed? [The 0773 doll approaches Arthur’s, and traces its hands from the back to the front, making their way downwards, before D.G. Graves hammers them to bits with his fist.] CR0773: Oh. Oh! D.G. Graves: [He swipes the fragments off the table.] You fucking temptress! CR0773: What gumption! Didn’t know you had it in you- D.G. Graves: You think yourself a victor?! You're but an easy, textbook- CR0773: Ha! You’re just like them! Assassination and destruction, but they only exiled me after a bit of consensual- D.G. Graves: It was not! [D.G. Graves grasps his head tightly.] What cursed enchantment was it you place- CR0773: Don’t fall for their tricks, dear Gravesy! I could show you the memory, the way he moved will tell you all you need to know! D.G.. Graves: Fuck this. This interview is over. [The Director-General leaves the room, and the Black Hunter Corps follow. CR0773 emits a final statement before the door is shut.] CR0773: He loved it, Grave! Yes, he couldn’t get enough of this, this hideous, this terrible, tempting monster! CLASSIFIED |
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Interview 0773-03 |
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To: Seat of Westminister, Roundtable |
Audio Record // 0773BLACKRECORDSStatement of: No. 0773
[Director-General Graves enters the interrogation room, accompanied by his stenographer Wright D. Wurtz, but lacking standard Black Hunter Corps escort. At the centre sits a large table, with three chairs—one occupied by CR0773 at one end, another vacant at the far end, and a third positioned midway between them. The table is adorned by a banquet, with all manners of drink and foodstuff.] CR0773: Gravesy! Good to see you again. Go on—take a seat. I insist. [She toys with a red stone emphasizing a necklace around her throat, its source is unknown, as no such item has been requested or given.] [D.G. Graves stands a few steps deep from the entrance. He looks at the table, then seats and extracts manila folders from a briefcase.] CR0773: By all means, help yourself. [She stuffs the necklace down her bust.] [Graves clears an area in front of himself of cutlery and nut rolls, before spreading the documents flat.]] CR0773: I-uhh. I wanted to let us get off on a lighter foot, [She smacks her lips thrice, then speaks with her teeth clenched.] Star-ting to, regret that. [The Director-General starts reading from a document.] D.G. Graves: An official assessment of our previous discussion has- CR0773: Hello? Morgana to Gravesy? [She waves her hand in front of her face, palm toward the Director.] D.G. Graves: [He clears his throat.] …has concluded it favorable to continue- [The text on the documents begins vanishing. D.G. Graves continues to stare at the paper, however has begun to tap his foot rhythmically.] CR0773: Okay Gravesy, I know we didn't say very sweet goodbyes. But you gave me the most excitement I've had since I joined the crew. Don't fail me now, pretty please? [D.G. Graves returns the blank page to the folder, but his gaze remains still.] CR0773: Look at me, Graves. [Silence.] CR0773: Oh I, I see what you’re on about. [She turns her focus to the stenographer.] Did you know about this? How, ha- sensitive he is? [Silence. Graves tapping grows in frequency.] D.G. Graves: A flat evil such as you requires not one smidgen of consideration, Enchantress. [Silence.] CR0773: Who do you think you are? Who I am? Look at me. [D.G. Graves grabs one of the wine glasses, and spits in it.] D.G. Graves: -continue probing your history, to develop a stronger rappor- [While the Director shares the memorized contents of the documents, CR0773 maintains staring at him. Soon, a gradual darkness overcomes the room, interrupting the General.] CR0773: Best damn comedian I have ever met, in all my 1800 years of laughter and dance. [The furnishing of the enclosure disappears. Followed by the distance between the pair shrinking. They now stand face to face. D.G. Graves turns his head to the side. The stenographer would at this moment note that they were observing the scene while suspended at an elevated position, and unable to relocate.] D.G. Graves: Get out of my face. [D.G. Graves wipes the air between them and the image of CR0773 is revealed to be a visage of smoke which fades away. The surroundings begin to brighten, showing the interior of a bathhouse.] D.G. Graves: [He sighs deeply.] Again? [Young women, recognized as the sapphic dryads of the Brocéliande wash themselves with buckets of warm water and scentless soap, covered only by a rising steam, which escapes through a small opening in the roof.] D.G. Graves: What the- [The Director-General studies the place, before quickly tensing up.] Locate an exit immediately! [Graves begins rapidly running around.] D.G. Graves: Where the fuck are y- Shit! [The Director-General locates and dashes towards a wooden door beside a towel-rack. He removes the lock with a slam using the butt of his sabre, Clarent, but the door resists his attempt to open after.] Dryad: What is this? [One of the dryads has obtained a glass potion containing a translucent liquid, and sealed by a cork. It is adorned by a neat piece of paper.] Dryad: Oh wow! Listen, ladies! [She stand on top on of the benches.] "With the privilege of hindsight, I come to regret denying your offer. See this as a gift, and a tease for pleasures to come." [She lifts the bottle for the amassing dryads to see.] Dryad: A love potion! From the best! Told you she'd come around. How about we accept her apology right this moment? [A wave of agreement prompts the dryad to manifest a sharp branch to impale and unscrew the cork. She pours the liquid on her clavicles, then sprays it on the audience.] D.G. Graves: I bet you felt real smart after this one, hu- [He is interrupted by the screaming of the Dryad on the bench. The water covering the bath house starts to boil and adopt an orange color. She begins to shake the leg in a desperate effort, however only manages to further mix the bubbling tissue.] [As panic overtakes the bathers, they spill more of the water. Graves kicks a bucket upside down and stands on it to avoid the spreading liquid. He is forced to jump to a dry bench, as the women stumble towards the exit. The thickening steam blurs their vision, and they collapse onto one another as a result of their evaporating feet. They wiggle and trip as they try to separate, their hands and other flesh covering each other's mouths and muffling their cries.] [D.G. Graves slowly shakes his head, as the white steam grows so thick it veils the victim’s corpses, along with the rest of the scene.] D.G. Graves: Are we fucking satiated yet? CR0773: I don’t know, you tell me. [0773 appears an arm length from the Director-General] D.G. Graves: What? CR0773: Do you get it yet? D.G. Graves: I told you before, Enchantress. Your crimes aren’t of any mystery to me. Why would your massacre of the sapphic dryads be a particularity? CR0773: I want you to realize, realize how I’m not any of those overplayed persons of interest your wannabe round table pretends to be of any actual importance. [She puts her palms together and widens her eyes.] CR0773: This, this is what I do to those with the gall, the absolute irrationality, to assume me to be “yet another” anything. [She giggles.] You think I would care? That I would give any semblance of a shit what you, you pathetic writhing worm, have to say about my, heh, “vices”? [Silence.] D.G. Graves: You really are one sad Enchantress, can't even see the hole you keep digging. [Silence.] CR0773: You just can’t help yourself, can you? [She is enveloped by the steam, and D.G. Graves is alone in the steam again.] CR0773: How about I show you how little I really care for your oh-so-treasured desperate integrity and made up honour? D.G. Graves: I believe little can deepen the bottomless pit of disdain I bear for you, En-chant-ress. [The steam disperses out of ornate windows decorating the stone walls of a wide hall. In the middle is a long table, full of festive dishes and profoundly colourful wines.] D.G. Graves: C-Camelot?! [A cold breeze invades through the windows, and the stark red and yellow-bottomed curtains flutter with the flow. Some of the few candles still illuminating the hall are snuffed out. The dark paints a contrast with the light escaping from a room on the opposite side of the table from D.G. Graves.] D.G. Graves: [D.G.. Graves mumbles.] What now, wench? [He hesitantly rounds the table, his eyes locked to the destination. His hand absentmindedly traces the table while tapping the Alderwood, a behaviour only stopped once he knocks over a tall glass of unfinished drink. The stenographer wishes to report his suspended position to shift, seemingly following the Director-General’s path.] [With the shortening distance, sounds of activity can be heard emerging from the room. As D.G. Graves stands to the right of the half open hallway, the noise reveals itself to be of a wet, sloppy nature.] D.G. Graves: [The Director freezes, and stands with his back to the wall while looking up with shut eyes.] Oh, you don’t dare. [He stands in a silence disturbed by the rhythmic gulping noises, and faint grunts from a masculine voice.] D.G. Graves: Hey! Hey! You don’t. Fucking! Dare! Get me out! [D.G. Graves continues demanding exit for a prolonged period.] D.G. Graves: Curse you! Curse you and your wrenched illusions! [He begins punching the wall, and continues until a small speck of blood escapes.] D.G. Graves: I can't, I can't see-… [Eventually, he yields.] D.G. Graves: You think you’re something? No, you’re just another of the devil’s many pawns. Remember this, no matter how much you pretend, you'll always be nothing more than a undignified, unsure, and uncertain Enchantress. [He clenches his fists, and approaches the cleavage of the door. King Arthur is revealed sitting exposed on a bed, clenching the sheets. In front of him kneels his wife, Queen Guinevere.] D.G. Graves: [He rapidly returns to his position away from the door, while covering half his face with the pit of his arm.] Oh thank God-… What did you do? CR0773: And you spent so long trying to figure out how I did it. D.G. Graves: Did, what? CR0773: [She laughs deeply.] Not a single great doctor, herbalist, or poison maker could figure out just what caused her sickness. But everyone knew it all came back to the monster, somehow. [Silence. D.G. Graves’ face grows sterner, and his teeth start to show by the depth of his frown.] CR0773: Well, to be fair, it was before they figured out about the affair. No way to know how I had the access to such a, close, part of his person. [The Director-General places his hand on the sheath holding Clarent.] D.G. Graves: Show yourself. CR0773: Poor Guen-Guen, she just wanted to give him an unforgettable birthday gift. D.G. Graves: [He unsheathes the sabre.] Where!? [The remaining candles and other sources of light are extinguished at once. The room becomes immediately pitch-black.] D.G. Graves: Coward! [Just as fast as the darkness appeared, it vanished, with the scene now consisting of Director-General Graves’ living quarters. 0773 stands in the middle of the room.] CR0773: Look who's getting basic now, dear Gravesy. [The mirror behind the Director-General begins reflecting images incompatible with the current, still, form of the scene. The stenographer's perspective disallows a perception of the exact activity shown. It however noted how CR0773 is intently staring at the mirror.] D.G. Graves: I’ll kill you, Enchantress. [The click of Clarent’s edge signals its deployment.] CR0773: Try you- [She rapidly crouches, and avoids the slash, while keeping her eyes on the mirror.] CR0773: -will. [Graves’ assault does not halt.] CR0773: I see what you’re trying to do! [0773 evades the barrage with flowing movements, reminiscent of interpretive dance.] CR0773: I’m just yet another “Enchantress”? Right? Yet another “pawn” for you to put away? Yet another insecure piece of shit you can trick and manipulate at will? [Instead of a standard evasion of the coming attack, 0773 instead dives into the floor.] CR0773: I’ll let you see, just how close I can get! [She ascends behind Graves with a metal pipe, where the top has been scorched and glares a singeing red.] CR0773: This, is what I am! These are the glorious epics and tales of Morgana Le Fay, and you have had the front seat experience! Much better than the bores of your spoiled champion, huh? [Her appearance gradually shifts, now bearing the resemblance of Arthur Pendragon, but in rusted knight's armor.] CR0773: [Even the voice has changed to that of the late King.] You disappoint me, this merit is undeserving of a seat at my round-table! [As D.G.. Graves turns, he releases weight back to the center, and pulls Clarent with to deliver a thunderous sweep to the right of 0773’s waist. She manages to launch herself back with a rapid ejection, just before connection.] CR0773: Oh, you’re- [Before she regains her footing, Graves transitions the momentum into an overhead strike. She blocks it by elevating the pipe with both hands. Clarent is wedged in the middle.] [D.G. Graves pants rapidly.] CR0773: Watch out, you might pull somethi- [With a hefty grunt, he pushes Clarent further down, slicing the rest of the pipe, and continuing towards CR0773. Right before the strike lands on her face, CR0773 bust begins glowing red, and the blade stops abruptly. The scene becomes silent, only disturbed by the crack of glass marking the red light diminishing.] D.G. Graves: F-Fuck! [Silence. 0773 looks at D.G. Graves' sleeping quarters for a moment, before nodding in its direction] CR0773: Would you look at that? Bed made perfect. [They both remove their weapons. The surroundings gradually shift back to the interrogation room. The stenographer wishes to report his new gained freedom.] CR0773: A bit of new info, and a workout. What more could you ask? [D.G. Graves leaves the room.] CR0773: What? Want more to note? [He is followed by the stenographer.] CLASSIFIED |
| OPERATION: GOD HATES THE QUEEN |
|---|
| Date: 25/12/91 | Location: UNKNOWN | |
| Nature: DIRECT ORDERS | Sender: Dir-Gen. Graves | |
| Priority: Classified | Status: Indeterminate | |
VIDEO PLAYING…
CLEARANCE CHECK IN PROGRESS…
ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.
// UNAUTHORISED ACCESS DETECTED. THIS BREACH HAS BEEN REPORTED TO THE DIRECTOR-GENERAL.//
[Director-General Adrian Graves sat down, his long red hair tied back in a wild, unruly ponytail. He wears a military tailcoat draped like a cape over a simple white polo shirt with the top buttons undone. Light trousers secured with leather straps and polished thigh-high boots. His eyes, marked with dark shadows beneath, fix steadily ahead, motionless beside a cluttered table scattered with maps and broken figurines.]
“If you’re watching this, circumstances are likely far from ideal. Or perhaps, you’re someone I trusted enough to leave this message for, should I be unable to speak for myself.”
“I am Director-General Adrian Graves. Recognized by the Camelot Council as Mordred Pendragon. What you are about to hear concerns termination protocol CR0773, known more commonly as Morgana le Fay. To me… she is my mother.”
[He lifts a stack of worn, heavily redacted and annotated files from the chaotic table.]
“This message outlines contingencies I’ve prepared in case her containment, cooperation, or continued service within Military Intelligence 13 becomes… untenable. If you watch this from a future where these plans have failed, I urge you to disregard everything I am about to say.”
[He retrieves a black dossier stamped: “GDAG-7A – EYES ONLY. 'God Hates the Queen'” Breaking the seal with a flick of his thumb, he continues.]
“This document, GDAG-7A, details my current operational plan to quietly remove the sitting British Royal Family. They will be relocated to an undisclosed secure location to live out their lives under strict protection and secrecy.”
“To the public, however, a different story will be told, one that ends their reign and begins mine. I will assume the mantle of monarch under an emergency sovereignty clause, supported by a fabricated line of succession, amplified by controlled media, and enforced by loyal assets. This is not ambition however, it is for the best."
“Now, the reason for such drastic measures traces back to a prophecy from the sixth century, spoken by the sisters. I will read it now.”
[He pulls out a piece of dried parchment, his voice steady but carrying weight as he reads aloud.]
“Y brenin gwir o Brydain a ddal Caledfwlch, ac a daro y Frenhines Drychineb.”
[He allows a brief, nervous chuckle.]
“For those unversed in old Welsh dialect, it translates as: ‘The true king of England shall wield Excalibur and strike down the Queen of Calamity.’ This prophecy was meant for my father, Arthur. But his… unfortunate passing; and even before that, his journey to Avalon to aid his wife’s illness, an affliction my mother herself inflicted, made it impossible to fulfill.”
“Thus, leads to me. I have the blood of my father, and therefore have the requirements to wield the sword itself. Now- the sword is currently under the Lord Protector of Avalon, they won’t be so keen at relinquishing the blade permanently but. Being completely honest. I care not for the opinions of that jester court. As I will, I shall take claim of the sword. Though, frankly, I prefer my Sabre Clarent, it seems my taste in blades can’t be in question here.”
“But don’t let it be mistaken, public opinion is our number one enemy, as my position as new reigning monarch of the united kingdom mustn’t be disputed, as the rightful king must be the one to wield it. And don’t underestimate the lengths my mother would go to spite the crown. She was never one for authority."
"I shall sign off, if things go my way, this will all be strictly hypothetical. If not. Well. I suppose I didn’t ask for it.”
| Critical, Exhibited, Entity |