Mason Beck Fiction

Had a great time on session three. Things are escalating and more clues are being revealed.

Took me a bit to get this written up from the transcripts, but it’s finally here.

I hope you enjoy!

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The evening of Monday, November 17th, 2025.

Their first day at the Magnus Institute had stretched into something that felt far longer than any single day had a right to be. The fog still clung to London, and the weight of what they had seen, the footage, the claw marks, the missing people, pressed against them as they gathered after clocking out.

Olivia Schmidt sat in silence, her thoughts circling back to the image of her brother walking through those doors and never coming back out. John Miller had gone pale, ashen gray, his eyes wide as he looked around the room they had cleared upstairs. He had seen it before. In dreams. Before the destruction.

Father Mateo Bellano broke the quiet.

“In times like these,” he said, “I find it best to go to a house of prayer. To go to a mission and help others who are in worse positions than us. I would like to go to Saint Augustine’s Mission this evening. Perhaps it will help us reframe everything we’ve seen. Ground us so we can better move forward tomorrow.”

“We do have to return that backpack,” Olivia said.

“Is that just an excuse to go see if that person is there?” Allie Russo added.

“You never need an excuse to help the needy,” Father Mateo replied.

John spoke up, his voice still carrying a tremor. “Look. I just don’t think that’s the right route for us to take now. If you believe that’s the case, Father, and you want to return this pack to whoever it belongs to, then by all means. But I think the best course of action is getting the fuck out of here and figuring out where they were going next. Obviously, whatever they were working on had something to do with how they disappeared.”

He paused, rubbing his face. “Listen, Father, I ain’t the brightest, so I’ll absolutely let y’all lead on this. I’m just concerned for your safety. That’s my job here. I’ve got a funny taste in my mouth about all this. People disappearing from one workplace, then disappearing from another on top of it.”

“It’s true,” Allie said, “but maybe the person who was sleeping behind the Institute overheard something. It might still be a good idea to find them. Return their stuff.”

John sighed. “I see that point. Alright. I’ll let y’all lead the way.”

They secured transportation, a taxi weaving through the gray streets of London, the sun already lost behind the blanket of clouds. Father Mateo led the way, familiar with the mission from years past.

Saint Augustine’s Church was a modest but well-kept building, its grounds extending back to a banquet hall used for the soup kitchen and a shelter beyond. The front gate stood open, and well-lit paths wound around the property.

Father Mateo paused at the entrance of the church, genuflected, made the sign of the cross, and continued down the path toward the back. They followed the lights to a building with its doors open, a line of people waiting outside. Two men in formal dress, clipboards in hand, stood at a table distributing bags of toiletries and welcoming people inside one at a time.

Father Mateo approached. “God bless you, brothers in Christ. My name is Father Mateo. These are some associates of mine. We have an item that might belong to someone in your flock.” He held up the weathered backpack.

The older gentleman shook his hand. “Welcome to Saint Augustine’s.”

The younger one looked up with recognition. “Father Mateo? It’s Gavin. The last time you were here, I was obviously a bit younger. Shorter. It’s been a while.”

Mateo smiled. “Oh, yes. Of course, Gavin. You have grown up, haven’t you. We should catch up later. I’ll buy the Guinness.”

Gavin gave a slightly pinched grin, perhaps not quite old enough for hard liquor, but London was London. “Please, please, inside. You said you found someone’s pack?”

“Behind a building, near a dumpster,” Mateo explained. “Found the pack next to a flyer for the mission. Figured this would be the best place to check. And while we’re doing one good deed, why not do another?”

Gavin examined the backpack, turning it over, looking inside. “I don’t recognize it. Let me ask around.”

He walked off into the banquet hall. Rows of folding tables and chairs filled the space. A line formed where food was being ladled out. The room was subdued, most folks keeping to themselves, though a few small groups huddled together in quiet conversation.

Gavin went from person to person, showing the pack, receiving shakes of the head. Then one of the men eating at a table grabbed his arm, pointed at the pack, and then pointed to a corner at the back of the room.

Gavin returned. “Seems it belongs to a young fellow named Reggie. Over there by himself. Red beanie.”

“He’s not in any trouble, is he?” Gavin added, stepping slightly in front of them. “We don’t want that here.”

“Absolutely not,” Father Mateo assured him. “We’re just trying to do a good deed today, Gavin.”

“If you say so. I trust you, Father.”

They made their way toward the back. The group of them, professionally dressed and Father Mateo in his vestments, drew attention as they walked. The already quiet room grew quieter still. Conversations stopped. Eyes followed them.

Allie kept her senses sharp. She could feel it. The young man in the red beanie, hunched over his food at a table alone, had seen something. And whatever it was had scared the shit out of him.

His back was to them, his shoulders tense. He hadn’t looked up as they approached, but a bubble of silence had formed around them. Everyone knew they were there. Including Reggie. He had positioned his spoon just far enough in front of him that he could watch them in its reflection.

Father Mateo made the sign of the cross in front of him. “Excuse me, son. Is your name Reggie? I’m Father Mateo. Can we talk to you for a minute?”

“Bruv, I don’t want no trouble, man. I don’t want no trouble.”

“We’re not here to bring you trouble, son. We’re here to return something to you, and we have a few questions about your situation and maybe what you might have seen.”

“I didn’t see nothing, man. Just please. If you’re returning something, just put it down. I ain’t seen nothing.”

He hadn’t turned around. He hadn’t looked at them. He was just huddled over his tray.

John leaned in toward the others, voice low. “I wouldn’t be lying if I said I don’t think this is the best place to start asking questions where everybody can hear. I don’t know if y’all are familiar with street life, but snitches get stitches out here.”

“Perhaps we should ask him to dinner,” Allie said.

“How about a drink?” John suggested. “Tell him if he remembers anything that scared him and he wants some help with it, meet us at a certain time and place. Let him be. He’ll make his decision.”

John stepped back, giving the kid space rather than hovering.

Allie cleared her throat and tried to catch his eye through the spoon. “Maybe we could go somewhere else to talk about this. It does feel like a private matter. We could even get drinks if you want.”

Reggie didn’t turn. “Don’t want to go nowhere with nobody. Don’t want nothing you got. Please, ma’am. I ain’t seen nothing. I ain’t nobody. I ain’t got nothing you want.”

Olivia spoke up. “Look, we’re trying to figure out what the fuck happened at the institute so we can get rid of whatever is causing harm to people.”

Father Mateo added gently, “We’ll be at O’Brien’s Pub down the street if you change your mind. It’s warm there. I’m sure it’s been a long time since you’ve been somewhere that nice. It’ll just be us, if you feel like talking.”

Reggie’s head turned, just slightly, at the word institute. He shrank in on himself a little more. “How you plan to get rid of nothing, man? Ain’t seen nothing. Ain’t got anything for you, man. Please.”

Gavin approached as the tension in the room became palpable. “You alright, Reggie? Do you need any more to eat?” He looked at Father Mateo and leaned in and whispered. “These folks have not had easy lives. He seems uncomfortable as do the others. Perhaps this isn’t the right time.”

“Reggie, here’s your pack,” Mateo said, handing it over. “Later, if you’d like to talk, we’ll be at O’Brien’s.”

Gavin walked with them toward the door. “Father, it’s not my place to ask, but he’s not in trouble? Is there anything I can help with?”

“He’s definitely not in trouble, Gavin. That doesn’t mean he’s not troubled. It seems like he’s seen some terrible things. More than most in his position. We’re just trying to help him.”

“He has been more reserved as of late,” Gavin admitted. “You swear you’re only trying to help him?”

“Look at the cross around my neck. Of course that’s priority number one.”

Gavin’s shoulders relaxed. “Okay, Father. I trust you. I’ll talk to him. Maybe if you had some money to donate, it might help sweeten the pot. He’s really had it rough lately. Wait…” He leaned in closer. “Is this Vatican business?”

“No no, nothing like that.” Mateo turned to the others. “Anyone got any cash on them? I took a vow of poverty.”

Allie handed over twenty pounds. Olivia added fifty. Gavin nodded as he took it. “This could probably last him a good while. I’ll talk to him and try to convince him to meet you. Can’t make any promises, but we’ll see.”

“Bless you, son.”

John had already moved toward the door. He was visibly uncomfortable in the space and made a quick exit. Olivia followed. The others filed out after them.

O’Brien’s Pub was a short walk away. The kind of pub that had stood in its spot for generations, though it had changed with the times, no longer the dingy dive it used to be, now more of an evening coffee shop vibe with buzzed-fade-wearing bartenders and brass rails and polished stools. But there was a bar, bottles behind it, taps available, and booths in the corners.

“Drinks are on me,” Father Mateo announced.

“Father, you’re speaking my language,” John said.

They claimed a large booth in the corner. Olivia ordered a bottle of wine and brought it to the table with a single glass. Father Mateo ordered a bottle of Macallan 12 Year. The whisky arrived, and the talk drifted to the day, arrangements, the things they had seen.

“This is still Monday,” someone said. “Our first day on the job.”

“Monday has felt like three days,” John muttered.

It was nearly eight o’clock when they noticed movement outside the window. A familiar red beanie, pacing back and forth.

Reggie approached the door. He poked his head inside, and for the first time they got a good look at his face. He was younger than they had thought. Not even sure if he was a full twenty years old. Maybe not even eighteen.

His eyes met theirs. He pulled his head back out. The door closed. Through the window, they saw his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath.

Then he opened the door again and slunk inside, keeping his head down, following the line of booths until he was a full booth away from them. He looked at them all, wary.

“Please, come join us,” Father Mateo said, motioning him over. He whispered to John, “Let’s get this kid shit-faced.”

“We’ll see how it goes,” John replied. “He’s definitely going to need some liquid courage, but maybe let’s pace it.”

Reggie stayed where he was. “Gavin said I could trust you. But what do you want, man? Like really want?”

“Can we get you something to drink?” Father Mateo offered. “Make yourself comfortable. We don’t have to get right down to business. You seem a little out of sorts, and that’s okay. We’ve all been there. We’re a bit out of sorts now ourselves. We’d like to help.”

“I’m not here to drink nothing. I just want to leave. I want to pretend like all this never happened. You got questions?”

John leaned forward. “What are you trying to pretend didn’t happen? Because I know what I’m trying to pretend didn’t happen. And I can tell you what I know in exchange for what you know.”

“Man, I’m not into all this. He knows, she knows, I know, you know stuff. I’m scared, alright? I’m fucking terrified. So please. Just, what do you want to know? I don’t even need to know who you are. I don’t want to get messed up in this. What do you want to know?”

“We want to know about the Magnus Institute,” Allie said.

“What did you see?” Olivia added.

Reggie’s eyes shot to Allie, his shoulders slumping. “Fucking knew it. Fucking knew it, man.”

“If I tell you, I can just fucking go, right?”

“Yeah,” Olivia said.

Reggie grabbed a chair from a nearby table, pulled it up with the back facing them, and sat just out of arm’s reach. He leaned on it and began to talk.

“Fam. That was a prime spot, right? Everybody thinks that place is haunted, right? Been there for at least about a year. Not that night though. White van pulls up. Not unusual. Beacon of Hope or something like that on the side. They get deliveries. Stuff goes in, stuff goes out. I heard the engine, told myself I’d only get up once the boxes stop. No one could see me. Got the system down. No one ever found me. If they have, they haven’t said nothing.”

He paused, his eyes darting.

“Van opens. Two blokes get out. Right away, something’s off with the way they’re talking. I can’t really hear what they’re saying, but I just tucked myself in. They moved weird. Creeped me out right away. Never seen them before, ain’t seen them since.”

“They knock on the back door. The big doors. Where they bring things out, bring things in. Door opens. They’re talking to someone. I don’t get a good look at him. Not right away. They go inside, and then they just start filling the van.”

His voice dropped.

“I don’t know what exactly happened. They lock the van. Unlock it, open it up, like the van didn’t have any bottom, right? Like they just kept bringing stuff and bringing stuff and bringing stuff. Close the doors, lock it, unlock it, open it, bring stuff, bring stuff. They did it all night.”

“Eventually they must have gotten everything they was after. They were done. Whatever. And then they reach in and start bringing out gas cans and stuff, man.”

“I was already shitting myself back there.”

“They were leaving. The last one I saw, man, I saw that woman.”

He stopped. Swallowed.

“I noticed it right away. When she stayed in the doorway and watched them leave. Then she turned and looked right at me. That face. It wasn’t human, man. Wasn’t a woman.”

“You know how they say somebody smiled from ear to ear? Like they just got a big smile on their face? It was literally ear to ear, man. And her hands, fucking long. The fingers went all the way down to her fucking knees, man.”

“She smiled at me. And I fucking ran, man. I never want to see her again. I never want to see her as long as I live.”

“You know what? I’m not really sure I ever want to see any of y’all again either. I hope that’s all you guys needed to know, because—”

Father Mateo had his journal and pen out, taking notes. Olivia was doing the same.

Jean Dainko spoke up, interrupting Reggie. “The two men, did you get a good look at their faces? Any facial hair?”

“Didn’t really get a good look at the faces. White fellas. No beards. They had hats on.”

“The woman,” Jean continued. “Can you describe her more? What was she wearing? What was she like?”

“Had on this white shirt, but it was stained. Looked like blood on it. A skirt that was all ripped. Brown hair past her shoulders. Seemed like she looked normal at first, right? Like when she was going back inside, she had to duck to get her head back through the door.”

“She grew? Before you ran?”

“She wasn’t like that to begin with. She was when I fucking ran.”

“How tall was the woman before she transformed? And after?”

“Ain’t exactly like they had one of them charts in the grocery store, you know, at the gas stations, mate. Didn’t have little marks on the door to tell you. She was shorter than the men. Maybe 5’6, 5’4. I don’t know.”

“One last question,” Jean said. “Were you drunk or had any drugs that day?”

“I don’t do that shit, man. I stay clean. No. Hadn’t even eaten that day yet.”

“Has this kind of situation, has something like this happened before?”

“I got other problems. But I don’t got those problems, man.”

“You said you’d been living behind there for a year,” Olivia said. “Have you ever seen that woman before?”

“Not from the back.”

“From behind?” asked Allie.

“No, I said from the back. The back. The dumpster’s in the back, man. I’ve seen her across the street. At the coffee shop and around the shops. Thought she really fucking likes books, I guess.”

John pulled out his phone. He scrolled to the photos he had taken from the police evidence board. “Look through these. See if any of them are familiar.”

Reggie shook his head at the first few. Then stopped. “Yeah, yeah man. That’s her.”

John passed the phone around to show the others. The photo was labeled. One of the missing Institute staff. Sasha James.

They recalled from the statement they had found, from the notes made by Martin Blackwood, her name had been mentioned as having confirmed that Daniel Moore was at Greyfriars Psychiatric.

“So we’ve got the first lead,” John said. “The last thing we know she worked on. The last person we know she talked to in regards to her job is Daniel Moore, at Greyfriars. We need to start backtracking these people. Whatever they were working on, I have a feeling that’s the key. People don’t just vanish.”

Reggie stood, sliding his chair forward to block the booth slightly as he stepped backward. He watched them over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

“You all watch your backs. I’m out. Don’t follow me, don’t look for me. I’m gone. Laters.”

“Take care, kid,” John said.

“That poor kid shouldn’t be looking out for us,” Olivia muttered after he left.

“I think he’s just going to be looking over his shoulder for anybody at any time.”

John sat back with a sigh. “I need to pick up another pack of damn cigarettes. I’m going to step outside and have a smoke. Y’all are free to join me or y’all can talk amongst yourselves, but I’m stepping out.”

He stood, stretched his bones, and stepped outside, standing under the awning on the sidewalk.

A group of young twenty-somethings rounded the corner about twenty feet away, loud and drunk and laughing. John turned his back to them, pointed his cigarette down, tried not to draw attention. They passed behind him.

A wave of cold traveled down his spine.

A whisper, right next to his head: “I’m still watching.”

He felt his hair flutter as if someone had breathed on it. The voice had sounded like it was right beside him. He felt the presence of someone standing and leaning right over him.

He looked around. The group of kids had their backs to him now, bumping into each other, giggling. It would have been very difficult for someone to lean over him, whisper in his ear, and snap back around that fast.

He decided to end his cigarette early, snapping it out, and stepped back toward the bar.

Just in time to see the face of a young woman blowing a kiss at him before disappearing around the corner.

John stepped through the door of the bar, then immediately turned and walked back out, long strides carrying him toward the corner where she had vanished.

Olivia and Allie noticed. They followed.

John rounded the corner. The sidewalk stretched before him, a few folks walking around, cars lining the street. A car approached, music playing. As it passed, a young woman in the passenger seat winked at him.

He caught the license plate number. Pulled out his phone and put it in his notes, trying not to be obvious about what he was doing.

Olivia had done the same.

“You know them?” she asked quietly.

John didn’t answer. They returned to the booth.

John ordered another drink, took a slow deep breath, and sat down.

“So. Some of those kids passed by. They were drunk. I didn’t feel like dealing with it today, so I turned my back to them. And someone whispered in my ear. And I’ve been getting these weird texts.”

“We’ve heard,” Olivia said flatly. “We hear your phone going off constantly.”

“Somebody was talking at me,” he continued. “Whatever. In the midst of the crowd. They did it. When I went after them, I got to the corner but there was a car driving toward us. The person got close enough that I could see them through the window, whoever is messing with me is in that car.”

“You’ve got a stalker,” Allie said.

“That’s rude. At first I thought it was fun. Then I thought it was spam, then I thought it was somebody fucking around, then I thought it was someone I’d met at a club one night and didn’t remember. I thought it was fun. Everything was normal.”

“You know what happened at the Institute?” Olivia pressed.

“No! I don’t know what happened! I came here from across the pond, or wherever the fuck y’all call it, after the first job I could get because I need a fucking job. I came here for a job and a paycheck and to take care of people. Not to get weird text messages in the middle of the night and have weird prophetic dreams. That’s not what I signed up for.”

“The room we were in today looked a little familiar,” he admitted, quieter now.

“A little?” Allie asked. “Like on a scale of one to ten?”

“Look me in my eyes and tell me you want exact measurements right now,” John said. “Things were everywhere. I know that’s the room. That much I know. That’s about as much as I can take.”

As he spoke, images flashed in front of his eyes again. The room. Before the destruction. Someone else in that room with him. Tim. The man from the photo in the tent.

John closed his eyes and shook his head. “Look, I just, I don’t want to think about the dream I had. Alright? I’m not that kind of person. Not anymore. I got out of the military for a damn reason, and it’s because I can’t handle that kind of shit anymore. So I don’t know. I just know that room looks familiar. And people didn’t die quick. We all knew that.”

“What about the text messages?” Olivia asked.

John pulled them up on his phone and slid it over to her. Everyone crowded around.

The first one, from before his shift even started: “How does it feel to be so special?” John had responded: “I don’t know if I like being special. My mom always said I was a special boy.” The reply: “Oh, to be you and only you. There’s less of you every day, and that’s what makes you oh so special.”

Then later, during work: “I like your shirt. I wonder how it would look on me.” John had tried to correct the flirting: “That’s not how that line works. It’s supposed to be, it would look better on the floor next to my bed. Right?” The response: “Well, there is more than one way to get into a man’s pants.”

And after they’d watched the footage: “How have you been sleeping? I see you in my dreams too.” John had replied, still playing along: “Well, if you see me in your dreams, you’d know how I sleep.” The answer came almost immediately: “Oh, I do. And I can’t wait to make your dreams come true.”

“Based on these messages, this person’s trying to become you,” Allie said.

“Maybe we should come up with a secret code or something,” Allie suggested, “so that we know you’re you when you meet us.”

“Wouldn’t they know the secret code if they were me?”

“How would they know if they weren’t there?”

“But how long do we know that they weren’t there?”

Olivia thought about the statement they’d found. The man, Daniel Moore, who had looked at his coworker and said that’s not her. Even from a distance, she hadn’t felt right.

“Are those the same thing?” John asked. “The replacements and whatever’s following me? Is it one person? One thing?”

They discussed what they had learned. Daniel Moore at Greyfriars. The woman from the photo, now confirmed to be something other than human. The Beacon of Hope van that seemed to have no bottom. The gas cans. The pieces were coming together, even if the picture they formed was deeply unsettling.

“There’s so many branches to this one tree trunk,” John said. “They all lead to the same place, but trying to follow them to that connection point without getting lost, it’s getting harder.”

“Regardless,” he continued, “I think we found something. Because our job is to figure out what happened, right? That’s what Caldwell wants us to focus on. This is a strong lead. Everything is circling back to them.”

They discussed the next steps. The moving company mentioned on the van, perhaps legitimate, perhaps not. Greyfriars Psychiatric and Daniel Moore. The circles kept expanding.

John suggested he might stay behind when they went to Greyfriars. “I just don’t think bringing the guy who is getting weird text messages and having weird dreams to the people that might have information is the right way to go.”

“We can’t leave you alone,” Allie pointed out. “That means whoever’s watching you gets a chance to get to you.”

“What if I just went to work? Stayed safely at work?” He looked around the table and noticed the looks he was getting. “Fine. I’ll go then, whatever.”

Only the first day on the job.