fragment:the-cogwork-cult-0

Link to article: fragment:the-cogwork-cult-0.

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    /*
    한글 대용 - FOR KOREAN
    --title: "총대주교들의 도식";
    --short_title: "도식";
    --subtitle: "충실한 우리, 신의 주물을 뜬다";
    --short_subtitle: "신의 주물을 뜬다";
    */
 
    --title: "MEKHANE'S GRACE";
    --short_title: "GRACE";
    --subtitle: "Departing from FLESH.";
    --short_subtitle: "Departing from FLESH.";
 
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[[include :scp-wiki:theme:scheme]]
[[module CSS]]
:root {
    /*
    한글 대용 - FOR KOREAN
    --title: "총대주교들의 도식";
    --short_title: "도식";
    --subtitle: "충실한 우리, 신의 주물을 뜬다";
    --short_subtitle: "신의 주물을 뜬다";
    */
 
    --title: "MEKHANE'S GRACE";
    --short_title: "GRACE";
    --subtitle: "Departing from FLESH.";
    --short_subtitle: "Departing from FLESH.";
 
    --dark-accent: 185, 150, 17
}
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[[/module]]


[[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-cogwork-cult/offset/1|Accessible Version]]]

[[div class="black"]]
> The following articles were retrieved by Foundation operatives following the acquisition of Her Majesty's Royal Foundation for the Study of Curiosities and Phantasmagoria. These articles have been digitized and preserved for the sake of understanding the events surrounding SCP-8712-B and Incident 8712-1.

[[div class="hfbookcontainerRight"]]
    [[div class="hfbooktopRight"]]
        The Broken God.
    [[/div]]
    [[div class="hfbookmobiletitleRight"]]
         The Broken God.
    [[/div]]
    [[div class="hfbooktitleRight"]]
        Volume 01.76.12-18
    [[/div]]
    [[div class="hfbookcontentRight"]]
[[div style="float:right;width:45%;font-size:90%;padding:5px;"]]
##red|a.## See Volume 02.07.25.

##red|b.## See Volume 2 for the rise and [*https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rounderhouse-gold-proposal collapse] of Amoni.

##red|c.## Prior to the reconstruction of the stomach, a complete departure from The FLESH was a gift MEKHANE gifted upon the holy few. 

##red|d.## Inscriptions found within the walls of Amoni detail that the more the sinful clung to their FLESH- the more impactful their sacrifice. 

##red|e.## This construct is believed to be an integral CORE for MEKHANE's construction. 

##red|f.## Discovering the location of the alimentary canal and its requisition to [*https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/twistedgears-kaktus-proposal Mexico] for reconstruction has been deemed a top-level priority for all church members.
[[/div]]

**Volume 01.76.12-18**
**12.** The alimentary canal, reconstructed ##red|^^a^^## of melted steel and parts from the city of Amoni, ##red|^^b^^## was a gift indicative of [*https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/church-of-the-broken-god-hub MEKHANE]'s divine grace. 
**13.** The stomach, homogeneous to the multifarious components of MEKHANE assembled in Amoni, brought grace upon the sinful, allowing them to abscond from The FLESH. ##red|^^c^^## 
**14.** When the sinful enter the canal, they are stripped of their abominate form and granted the divine form of machine. ##red|^^d^^##
**15.** The FLESH is extirpated; amputated from the hivemind through the use of a deific apparatus located in the center of the canal. ##red|^^e^^##
**16.** The Patriarch elected that the alimentary canal be utilized to convert sinful creatures- namely sheep and cattle- into components utilized in the reconstruction of MEKHANE. 
**17.** Before the collapse of Amoni, a schism within the Patriarchy would cause the stomach to be ruined and forgotten.
**18.** Knowledge of the stomach would be reawakened upon the rediscovery of Amoni.  ##red|^^f^^##
~~~~
        [[div class="hfbookpagenumbers-mobileRight"]]
            116
        [[/div]]
    [[/div]]
[[/div]]
        [[div class="hfbookpagenumberRight"]]
            116
        [[/div]]


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| contents=

May 18th, 1899:

There was a meeting today. Usually, this wouldn't be worth my time; anything I needed to know could have been sent to me in a letter. Unfortunately, an Inventor retrieved me from my quarters to inform me that the Patriarchy had requested my presence. If it had not been for the nature of this meeting, I would have cut the insolent bastard's fingers off. 

They found it.

I had my doubts- ever since the church allowed females to ascend to any rank higher than Inventors, we've become completely incompetent. It was within my range of reasoning that the stupid whores had merely found another dishwasher. Regardless, my curiosity piqued, and I'm always more than happy to take any opportunity I can to prove Bumaro's decision wrong. 

The meeting was about as interesting as one would expect it to be. The endless, redundant dronings of Patriarchs far past their prime enabled constructs and ideas that would never come to pass before dragging themselves to the topic of discussion. A civilian had identified a construct in London back in January, and a Legate-Faithful has now confirmed it as a holy artifact. They wanted me to confirm the nature of the object and return it to Mexico. 

When I inquired about the pace at which the Legate returned, I was met with claims that a new "normalcy" agency had infiltrated the ranks of the British crown and that all members of the church were to exercise caution when traveling. It's highly likely this was merely a scare tactic Bumaro fabricated to keep church members close together, deceitful but clever. 

I have been instructed to depart from Tampico tomorrow morning. Originally, I was to be accompanied by a Hispanic, Columbian or something like that, a disgusting notion which I quickly dispelled. Instead, I am accompanied by Militant-Faithful Caesar Brogly and Inventor-Faithful Irwin Fordham alongside a group of forty general members of the faith. 

I will seek to exit London sooner than I enter it, the less time I have to spend in that FLESH pit, the better. 

]]



[[div class="hfbookcontainerRight"]]
    [[div class="hfbooktopRight"]]
        The Collapse of Amoni.
    [[/div]]
    [[div class="hfbookmobiletitleRight"]]
        Amoni.
    [[/div]]
    [[div class="hfbooktitleRight"]]
        Volume 2.07.25-38
    [[/div]]
    [[div class="hfbookcontentRight"]]
[[div style="float:right;width:45%;font-size:90%;padding:5px;"]]
##red|a.## The illegitimate son of Emperor Tamin, it was considered that Kadmiel did not inherit Bumaro's blood, and so it was determined that he, and all of his sons after him, were to never ascend to the Patriarchy. 

##red|b.## Producers and overseers over the actions of the Inventors-Faithful.

##red|c.## Records indicate some form of construct was present within the emperor's temple, capable of relaying the history of the city into the mind of the current emperor. 

##red|d.## A construct destroyed during her fall from the heavens, for more, see 01.76.12-97.
[[/div]]

**Volume 02.07.25-29**
**25.** Two sons of Kadmiel ##red|^^a^^## would be born, Orville and Jacob.
**26.** They would become Fabricators-Faithful ##red|^^b^^## much like their father before them.
**27.** Orville, younger and infinitely wise, would ascend to the ranks of a Schematist through his contributions to the church. 
**28.** Jacob, older and resolute in his faith, would resign himself to the rank of a Legate-Faithful, eternally unwavering in his loyalty to the emperor. 
**29.** Through the transcriptions of the emperor's memories##red|^^c^^##Orville would learn of MEKHANE's alimentary canal. ##red|^^d^^## With permission from the Patriarchy, Orville would set out to reconstruct the canal, enlisting the assistance of his brother. 
~~~~
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May 30th, 1899:

London. A vile hellhole serving as the epicenter of an equally vile country. What was once a glimmering city has since been ruined and tainted by the sins of The FLESH and the abolishment of slavery. I had previously considered the possibility of the stomach entering the city, but due to how fast items travel through London's ports, I figured it would be gone sooner than I would be able to investigate. 

We arrived in London through the St Katharine Docks, a dreadful place run by creatures that made me glad I didn't possess the senses of The FLESH. Unfortunately, our destination lay in the Southwark neighborhood, about two miles from the port. 

Same as four days ago, Brogly's presence has been a hindrance to our proceedings; he's a loggerhead and duller than a rock. His only redeeming quality is his 20/20 vision. The man's head has been clouded by a FLESH-bound lust for Saint Trunnion and her unholy teachings. He stated my mechanical form was bound to draw unsavory attention and wrestled me into a heinous disguise. If he fears a mechanical form so much, then I shall ensure he grows to love it...

A crumbling warehouse in a sea of other crumbling warehouses. I had heard a lot about the status of the man who discovered the stomach, so needless to say, this was not what I was expecting. Although much to my delight, Fordham had discovered a coffeehouse in the area, rumors stated that the coffee was harvested the way I like. 

The interior of the warehouse was disheveled and unsanitary, various catwalks lead to adjacent rooms, in the center of the warehouse floor sat a large object covered with a white sheet. 

Fordham introduced me to James Moriarty, a tall, thin man with skin lighter than the parchment I write this on. It was clear to me that this was a man possessed by desires of The FLESH. After our dreadful exchange of pleasantries, the man limped to the center of the room and pulled the sheet off the object.

It was just as beautiful as I imagined. A divine combination of gears and steel coming together in a form so striking words fail to truly give it meaning. 

"We acquired this warehouse following a recent operation." The man explained, "Once I grew closer to the object, I instantly knew of its importance and managed to contact one of your representatives." 

I wheeled over to the stomach, laying my hand upon its hard exterior. 

"You have done a great service to the church, but your services are no longer required," I said, focusing on our reflection in the cold steel. 

In my mind, I counted down from fifteen. At three, I heard the expected clang on the back of my head, followed by the usual reactionary movements from Brogly and his goons. 

"Tsk, off by three," I exclaimed as I turned to the pale man, his sunken eyes widened. I wheeled myself closer, feeling the vibrations of his FLESH and bone. 

"Professor Moriarty, do you take me for an idiot?" I inquired, met only with the sound of the frail man's heartbeat. 

With a flick of his wrist, the man produced a scimitar knife engraved with spurious gold. He brought the knife down upon my head, lodging its blade in my skull. I retaliated by detaining Moriarty's hands; the eternally satisfying sound of bones cracking graced my ears as I peeled his fingers back.

Through his other sleeve, the man produced a syringe, a tactic just as effective as the knife. 

"Well, isn't that just adorable?" My hand enclosed itself around his long neck, I sensed the vibrations of his pulse, faster and faster and faster.

"It's a real shame; you would've been a valuable asset." My fingers dug themselves through his neck, spilling the sinful liquids on the floor. 

The sack of FLESH dropped to the ground as I extended a lone finger to the catwalks above, demanding that Brogly bring me the gunman. Despite Brogly's asininity, he was well trained, and the gunman was brought to me within moments. 

He was quite different from the nearby corpse. Large, hairy, primitive, he would do nicely. I directed Brogly and the gunman up the stairs and onto the catwalks above the stomach's opening. Brogly's vacant eyes stared at me, seeking the reassurance he was shortly met with. With a push, the man tumbled from the catwalks, crashing into the cavity below. 

I was met with the orgasmic sound of churning gears and screaming FLESH. The other end of the construct dispensed several gears, bullets, and a large container holding a specimen I was quite familiar with. A gracious gift from MEKHANE. 

I listened to the utterances muttered beneath the breaths of the church members. 

"Caesar, your right hand."

He was apprehensive; I wheeled myself closer, neglecting to reiterate myself. 

A swift cut of my blade and three of the fingers on Brogly's right hand were lost to the stomach's opening. The momentary squealing of FLESH and another gift, three mechanical rodents glimmering and golden. 

"Let something like that happen again, and your entire body will meet the same fate." 

"Moriarty's corpse is to be hung from the rafters," I called to the group down below. "His FLESH will be of great use to me."






<br>
<br>

June 2nd, 1899:

The rats are gone. 

They got out of the warehouse a couple of days ago, stuck around the alleyways for a while, but now they're completely gone. 

I worry not about this being a problem; they'll likely be deducted as mere children's toys. 

]]

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        Volume 2.07.30-36
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##red|a.## Records indicate Orville took part in this task for twelve years. 

##red|b.## See Volume 2.15.63-98.

##red|c.## A sinful covenant of powerful mages that participated in the conquest against the city of Amoni. 
[[/div]]

**Volume 02.07.30-36**
**30.** To fabricate the gut was a daunting task. 
**31.** Orville would spend hundreds of moons studying MEKHANE's form.##red|^^a^^##
**32.** Jacob would provide the metals necessary to construct the stomach while, much to Jacob's dismay, Orville would isolate himself from the rest of Amoni for several seasons at a time to complete his project.
**33.** With the encroaching war and rising tensions throughout the patriarchy,##red|^^b^^##
 Jacob feared his brother would be unable to complete the stomach. As such, he pressed Orville into the completion of the canal. 
**34.** Within a fortnight, the brothers were certain the construct was complete. Orville, confident in his technology, would sacrifice his rightmost toe to the stomach; to his dismay, the construct would activate, but no FLESH would be converted or destroyed. 
**35.** Jacob, now called to fight the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rounderhouse-jade-proposal Covenant], ##red|^^c^^## urged his brother to seek ancient texts and inscriptions for the location of the missing component.
**36.** And so a new journey would begin for the sons of Kadmiel. 

~~~~
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June 6th, 1899:

It requires consistent flesh sacrifices to continue operation at full capacity, not a surprise but a difficulty if we plan to take this to Mexico. I've instructed my legwork to use livestock and the occasional drunkard, although I am not afraid to turn to more unconventional methods. 

My experiment with the corpse has come along well.  It has been far too long since I have modified FLESH, and Fordham has proven himself particularly useful. He was the one who provided me with my tasting module, introducing me to the delectable and biting taste of blood coffee, and much to my luck, the aforementioned coffee shop provided just what I sought.  

I have taken much joy in arming this new automaton. This has been an excellent medium by which I can test the capabilities of the stomach. Through several of the lamb sacrifices, we've obtained some incredibly valuable components, and through those components have come new constructs. 

My best work thus far is the replacement for the corpse's left arm, an incredibly powerful tool operated as follows. 

* Users attach their fingers to a subject's teeth. 
* The fingers then inject a fast-acting calcium compound into the subject's bones.
* Once the subject's bones are hardened, the hydraulics in the mechanical arm activate, allowing the user to separate the subject's bones from their FLESH. 


 When we are brought new sacrifices, we shall use this to split the corpses we receive into specific parts, allowing us to better optimize the outcomes of our sacrifices.  

This new automaton will be perfect. A figure so divine and faultless that it will disgrace any other construct assembled by the hands of man. 

June 8th, 1899: 

Damn it all to hell. If it weren't for these imbecilic meatheads, we would've been back in Mexico by now. 

We're being followed. Our more covert intelligence have inserted themselves across businesses in the area.  One of them, inserted in a bar, managed to get one of the local constables to blabber about the <a style='color:#630700' href="https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/zoempaws-sandboxpdcon">livestock disappearances</a>. A private detective by the name of Sherlock Holmes and his oafish sidekick, John Watson, are investigating the case and are likely the cause of the rats' disappearances. Fordham says he might be able to construct a technology from the stomach that will allow me to keep a constant eye on our agents. 

In the interim, I have instructed Brogly to find a way to infect Holmes with our new <a style='color:#630700' href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-217">biological sample </a>. I am not going to let this officious FLESH sack throw himself in the way of my destiny. 

This will be dealt with swiftly. Apotheosis shall be achieved, no matter the cost.
]]

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##red|a.##  At this point in the war, ranking members injured in battle returned to Amoni as the development of all prosthetics had shifted to the city.

##red|b.## Amoni was built atop a labyrinth structure of steel. Only the highest-ranking members of the church were allowed to descend into the labyrinth due to its precarious nature. See Volume 12.88.444 for more. 

##red|c.## Due to the current condition of Amoni, excavation of the subterranean portion of the city is currently impossible, further details of Orville and Jacob's descent into the city have been considered lost. 
[[/div]]

**Volume 02.07.227-235**
**227.** And so Jacob and Orville, the sons of Kadmiel, would be reunited once again. Jacob returned to Amoni following his battlefield injuries. ##red|^^a^^## While Orville had rejoined the city following his investigation of the [https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com ancient libraries].
**228.** Upon reconnecting with his brother, Orville would unveil the [# ancient text] he had discovered. 
**229.** "It spoke to me!" Orville would exclaim. "It lured me to its location, screaming for me to rip it off the shelf." 
**230.** "I seized the text from its hiding spot and opened its contents. Instead of being met with text and numbers, I peered into the eyes of MEKHANE and saw all that exists." 
**231.** "She instructed me to descend to the deeper layers of Amoni, ##red|^^b^^## there I would find the component which I seek." 
**232.** "I implore you, Jacob, to accompany me to the labyrinth, and together we shall finally complete this quest!"
**233.** Jacob would ponder this call before finally accepting the offer. Together, the two brothers would descend into the labyrinth. 
**234.** Various trials ##red|^^c^^## would lead the brothers to a previously undiscovered chamber.
**235.** The room would host a component; constructed of the purest fuladh, composed of a form so divine the languages of the FLESH fail to describe its brilliance. 
~~~~
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        Amoni.
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        Volume 2.07.236-257
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##red|a.## It is currently a subject of debate among the Schematists' Council as to whether MEKHANE'S CORES function for a specific person or the deepest desire of the user. 

##red|b.## Following the 1887 release of the Schema, this section was quickly excised for its heretical teachings.

##red|c.## No old records indicate the fate of this book, leading to the common belief it was destroyed before the collapse of Amoni. [[footnote]] Foundation agents have recently discovered an anomalous object believed to be the texts mentioned here. For more information, see [# here.] [[/footnote]]
[[/div]]

**Volume 02.07.236-257**
**236.** Together, the brothers hoisted the component from its chamber and returned it to Orville's workshop. 
**237.** The component, now returned to the stomach, granted Orville his desire. ##red|^^a^^##
**238.** When FLESH and bone are sacrificed to the canal, they are granted the grace of MEKHANE and repurposed as divine machinery. 
**239.** The brothers, elated in their discovery, celebrated throughout the night.  
**240.** MEKHANE had granted the city her most divine gift, an infallible method to destroy the sins of The FLESH while creating machinery in the process. 
**241.** Jacob would [EXCISED BY ORDER OF THE PATRIARCHS AND THE SCHEMATISTS' COUNCIL] ##red|^^b^^## bringing himself to the [EXCISED].
**242.** Orville would reciprocate the action by [EXCISED].
**243.** Orville would [EXCISED] the text, [EXCISED]. 
**244-253.** [EXCISED BY ORDER OF THE PATRIARCHS AND THE SCHEMATISTS' COUNCIL]
**254.** Kadmiel would [EXCISED] his eyes as Orville [EXCISED] teeth. 
**255.** The text would speak of [EXCISED] using the tongue to [EXCISED]. 
**256.** Orville, shocked by his revelations, darted to his chambers, armed with flame and sword. 
**257.** To his despair, the book was gone, leaving behind nothing but ash. ##red|^^c^^##
~~~~
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I will personally tear the skin off of John Watson's back. 

June 8th, 1899: 

For once, one of the bumbling idiots managed to accomplish something. Holmes was infected just as planned, but that has not deterred his accomplice. How that moronic bastard is a doctor is far beyond my understanding. 

Holmes was getting close, I'll admit that much, but how Watson works is far beyond me. He's getting closer. Saw right through the disguise of one of our agents; must've heard the ticking. We haven't seen the man since. Brogly wanted to pull our agents back to the warehouse, but I refused. He claims to have lost four agents, but it's clear he's spewing hot air. They've all been arrested and dragged to Scotland Yard. It doesn't matter; they'd have to dissect our agents to learn the truth, and the Brits just don't have the heart to do it. 

Fordham brought upon me the Schema I wrote, reminding me that the further an individual is intertwined with their FLESH, the greater the sacrifice. I have demanded the general delegation bring me more humans, preferably ones who wouldn't be missed, but that appears to not be enough. The stomach keeps spitting out the same components, and if I wish to transform the corpse into something truly divine, this won't cut it. 

Regardless, Fordham's still been quite useful. He's taken in my footsteps, extracting the entrails from the corpses we receive and replacing the innards with clockwork mechanisms. It's clear my intellect is unmatched, an underground network to transport the stomach out of the city, a cogitation even Bumaro would fail to think up! 

The construct is coming along well. We abducted several lawyers and, in return, received computational devices; when attached, we managed to simulate a brain in the construct. Moriarty's corpse is now eternally unyielding to me. He stands at six and a half feet tall, electing to equip the corpse with four legs for movement and eight arms to extract different parts from a human corpse. All that remains is to gift my beautiful creation with sight. 

June 9th, 1899:

Brogly is gone. 

He approached me this morning claiming that Watson wasn't the only one hot on our tail, that the coffee runs and abductions were warranting unwanted attention. Of course, the idiot can only see what's directly in front of him, failing to realize why we needed to distribute our members across the city. 

He stormed off, claiming that he was going to deal with Watson himself. For once, I thought he was finally going to be useful- naturally, I was mistaken. He came crawling back in the dead of night, whining that he was intercepted by members of British intelligence. It was made clear to me that he had failed in his mission and ended up leaking our operations to an extremely incompetent government run by a WOMAN!

I gouged Brogly's eyes out with my own hands, forcing him to listen to his eyes be churned and processed in the stomach before throwing him in as well. Through the destruction of his FLESH, Caesar Brogly managed to contribute something noteworthy to our cause. Through the components MEKHANE has graced us with, I have managed to construct a new image processing system capable of allowing me to connect with the occipital implants Fordham inserts into our agents. Soon, I shall have eyes all across London, allowing me to handpick our next recipients of MEKHANES grace. I will construct perfection, no matter the cost. 

June 10th, 1899:

They're everywhere, they're in our ranks, outside our warehouse, in the deepest corners of my mind. In my slumber, I was met with visions of Amoni and subsequent visions of my own demise. A traitor exists in our midst, waiting to strike me, and I will find them. 

June 11th, 1899: 

Twelve sacrifices today, four of them our own. I'm not taking risks, not when I'm this close. I tested the new image processing device today, and I have now seen the repugnant face of Dr. John Watson. He approached one of my agents stationed in a nearby restaurant. 

His pug-like lips flapped, spewing unnecessary nonsense. My agent showed Watson to his table, careful to keep an eye on the obese doctor. Another man approached, an officer, lanky, his facial hair akin to that of a filthy rodent. I managed to catch his name, one born of FLESH rite: Lestrade. 

Despite the situation that surrounded him, Watson was cheery, approaching Lestrade with a kind manner and presenting an understanding tone when the officer failed to provide any leads on Holmes' condition. Every sentence exchanged between the two disgusted me more- two incompetent and ignorant morons encouraging each other's oafishness. 

Following their meeting, Lestrade was brought to me and sacrificed, yielding nothing more than a few simple gears. 

John Watson is not a threat. He will spend the rest of eternity stumbling in the dark as his accomplice turns to steel. I thought no man could be that slow, no matter the false god they worship; I stand corrected. 

I will have the members of the general faith deal with Watson while I complete the construction of Moriarty's corpse & ostracize our traitor. 

]]

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##red|a.## The Emperor requested the acquisition of the alimentary canal in the name of MEKHANE.

##red|b.## Since this event, no other living human has been completely converted by the stomach, so whether or not humans emerge as different materials is currently unknown. 
[[/div]]

**Volume 02.07.288-297**
**288.** Orville would permit the release of the stomach into the hands of the Emperor, ##red|^^a^^## trusting in the Patriarchy's decision. 
**289.** Two nights before the Legates would come to obtain the stomach, Jacob would approach his brother, furious. 
**290.** "Brother, why would you sacrifice your work to the Emperor? He is blasphemous in his ways, and his Patriarchy does not understand the capabilities of the stomach." 
**291.** "I am sound in my decision, Jacob. This technology will allow us to weaponize our armies, repair our implants, and heal our sick in exchange for releasing our sinful forms."
**292.** "You are wrong. This could be used for so much more; we can instantly exchange our forms of FLESH and become fully mechanical. You seek no credit; you let this object be misused, and the history books will forget you."
**293.** "The personal knowledge that I greatly contributed to our empire is credit enough for me." 
**294.** Jacob was infuriated with this response. "You humble yourself too much, brother. If you must be pushed to believe in what you have created, then so be it."
**295.** In a moment of perfect lucidity, Jacob would level himself into MEKHANE's alimentary canal. 
**296.** A sentient automaton would emerge, created entirely of fuladh. ##red|^^b^^## Possessing Jacob's thoughts and memories, he would plead for his brother to take arms against the Emperor. 
**297.** Orville would not respond.
~~~~
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June 12th, 1899: 

Twenty sacrifices today. All of them blasphemous in their own right. I will purge every last member to find this rat if it means the last of me. 

The Moriarty construct is nearly complete, a perfect symbol of divine grace assembled to perform every service the church ever needs. I have granted it the ability to roam the warehouse with explicit permission to decommission anyone who comes in its path. Unfortunately, it has not proven itself yet. That vile rat is still amongst us; I know it to be true. 

Watson still encroaches closer every day, every step he takes is another towards me. I see it now, this man has set out to kill me and will not rest. He has sent me fake letters from the Patriarchy in Mexico requesting my return. He's trying to pull me out of my hiding place. A broken clock is right twice a day, and with the assistance of a filthy rat, that number can jump drastically. 

I watch him through a hundred different eyes, and I wish to kill him. He claims to be a man of science yet denies the foundational science that composes our church. 

<i> I want to tear every bone from his body, denying him any sense of structure. </i>

He follows a baseless reasoning of "deduction," desperately seeking to tie together seemingly random details in a futile attempt to push his own agenda. 

<br>

<i> I want to purge his eyes from their sockets and bathe in the blood that follows. </i>

He claims to be a friend of these people, yet he takes from them, offering nothing in return. 

<i> I want to shatter his brain into puny sizes of meat and feed them to the stomach. </i>

He follows his insufferable hero, Sherlock Holmes, like a starving puppy. His undying affection for a man who merely does nothing more than perform simple parlor tricks. John Watson has no personality outside of his false hero. 

<i> I want to shred his skin, relieve him of FLESH.</i>

I want to save him. I must save him. I know it; he just needs a little push. 






June 13th, 1899: 

I see it now. It's Fordham; it's always been Fordham. 

"We can't use that component; the construct will become unstable."

"We should ignore this Watson fellow and focus on getting the stomach back to Mexico."

"I'm afraid I can't give you that component and still be sound of mind."

All lies, all of it. 

He manipulated Brogly; he dissented from my followers, he lied to our superiors in Mexico. He wants the stomach for himself. He wants to achieve perfection, but perfection does not exist for those who bring hell upon their brethren. 

My coffee runner did not return today. I personally went to investigate to find the store closed down and my runner nowhere in sight; it was a front to watch me. When I returned, I could see the glimmer in Fordham's eyes; it was him, it's always been him.

He is a master of FLESH, clever and cunning. His screams echoed through the warehouse as his body churned through the stomach, a ringing reminder of sacrilege that will always stain these walls. 

I care not for what becomes of the stomach; it is of no use to me anymore. My construct is complete. My time is limited; the walls are closing in. I only have one goal now.

<i> I must save Doctor John Watson. I must grant him the gift of eternal life.</i>

]]

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##red|a.## "Holy is the one who travels under the light of the quarter moon..." //-Diaphragm//

##red|b.## Pending evaluation from the Schematists' Council.
[[/div]]

**Volume 02.07.337-##blue|346##**
**337.** On the third moon of that month ##red|^^a^^## the alimentary canal would disappear from Amoni. 
**338.** Jacob would take it upon himself to seek out the location of his brother and the canal. For a fortnight, Jacob would travel before finding Orville in the ruins of a Covenant city. 
**339.** "Brother, look upon me, see the divine grace I have been granted!" Jacob cried. 
**340.** "You are not divine, you are execrable and unholy." Orville would retort. "There are no shortcuts to apotheosis.##red|^^b^^## You have tried to create a cheap alternative for divinity."
**341.** "Then what is the purpose of the stomach, a component of MEKHANE, if not to benefit her people?"
**342.** "It means to provide us with sustainable means to acquire the components necessary for us to construct apotheosis ourselves. Apotheosis must be constructed through our own means, this was spoken by the first Bumaro and has been purported as recently as Saint Chock." 
**343.** The brothers would stand in a mutual silence, both realizing the unholy fate that has befallen Jacob. 
**344.** Orville, now equipped with four legs and infinite wisdom, and Jacob, now entirely mechanical. In their final meeting, the brothers were much different than the men they once knew. 
**345.** "I am sorry," Orville would exclaim. "You are not Jacob; you are a sad, unholy copy, and the church must never learn how you came to be, or they may follow in Jacob's path." 
**##blue|346.##** In a brilliant shower of smoke, Orville, son of Kadmiel and brother of Jacob, and his creation, the stomach of MEKHANE, would never be seen again. 
~~~~
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-----
**Manifest 226:** Clara Greene's Account. Dated June 14th, 1899.

A report delivered to Her Majesty's Foundation on the actions of Dr. John H. Watson and Sherlock Holmes regarding AO-8712.
-----

**07:48 HOURS:**
Dr. Watson leaves his residence on Baker Street clutching the golden letter the church delivered yesterday. I feared I would have to step in like I did at the scrapyard, but thankfully he appeared armed. 

**09:22 HOURS:** 
I took a back route to the hotel and arrived shortly before the doctor. Rather than darting directly for the stairs as I expected, he spent a moment in the lobby to listen for Tickers, a pleasant surprise. I trailed him as he made his way to room 346, a journey made difficult by his insistence to inspect every door frame he passed. 

Eventually, he arrived at the room, and to my dismay, he entered with little hesitation. I brought my eye to the peephole and watched as the warped shape of the doctor entered the room. Somehow, the church had managed to choose the one hotel with walls thicker than an inch. As such, it was difficult for me to make out anything they were saying.

The form of the Schematist was difficult to discern. He had positioned himself in such a way that the sunlight obscured his appearance. I held out hope that Watson would realize the room was a trap, that he would hear the ticking, or realize the Schematist had no flesh, or that he would trust his gut instinct, yet they just kept talking. 

Watson sluggishly shuffled before the Schematist, careful to keep his grip on his revolver. The Schematist's hands shifted about, a movement that alarmed Watson as he unloaded a bullet into the Schematist's temple. 

In a blink, Watson found himself pinned to the wall, the Schematist's metal fingers quickly enclosing his throat. 

I pulled, twisted, and jerked the doorknob to no result before resorting to throwing my shoulder in the door in a futile attempt to get it to budge. My attempts were all for nothing as I found myself on the floor as Watson's body crashed through the doorway. He groaned, certainly having shattered a few bones. I scrambled to my feet, watching as the Schematist retrieved a canister I had become disgustingly familiar with. 

I pulled Watson to his feet. "By Jove, you're the dame from the scrapyard!" he bellowed. 

I nodded, explaining the urgency with which we needed to evacuate the hotel. Together, we limped down the stairs. Before arriving in the lobby, we were met with the sound of ticking clockwork. 

"They're waiting for us..." Watson gasped as I swore under my breath.

Watson pulled his firearm from his jacket. 

"I'm taking you hostage." Watson illustrated. 

"Excuse me?" 

He knocked on his shoulder; the metal rang out. "They'll think I'm one of them." 

I understood our mission. Watson held his revolver to my temple, and together we walked through the lobby, then stopped. 

"Sorry sir, the hotel's under quarantine. I'm going to have to ask you to head back to your room." A man approached us, the sounds of clockwork beneath his skin louder than that of a grandfather clock. A peer into the gaping hole where his left eye once was revealed hundreds of tiny gears. 

"I'm taking this woman back to the warehouse, Schematist's orders." Watson knocked on his shoulder again. The dumb prats bought his story, and we made our way out of the hotel. 

**10:33 HOURS:**

We attempted to travel back to Baker Street to regroup with Holmes. Much to our dismay every corner we turned held another occultist. We resorted to alleyways for our progression, yet even then we had to adjust our path several times. I was thankful that Watson was so familiar with the layout of the city as I surely would have led us to our demise. 

"It's as though they've abducted half of the city." Watson gasped for air as we took a short break in an alleyway garden. 

"They're being chalked up to disappearances, I'm sure you know that..." I explained, "But I'm not sure how long we can keep this charade up."

"Not to worry." He exclaimed, "This will all be over soon and we shall be allowed to return to our normal lives."

He helped me to my feet and we continued to make passage for Baker Street. 

**11:25 HOURS:**

Eventually, we took refuge in Grosvenor Square, despite the time, it was just as empty as the rest of London. 

"So you're the madam who's been stalking my home?" Watson inquired. 

When I asked how he knew that, he explained the cigarettes that were found in the gutter outside his home each morning, a sizable oversight on my part. 

We exchanged our notes, Watson had amassed a sizable documentation of the church's activity, hundreds of cold hard facts we had overseen in our speculation regarding the anomalous object. Together, our documentation provided more than enough information for me to present to my superiors to justify mobilization against the church. 

Watson asked me how soon we could raid the warehouse, claiming his fear for his life and his wife's. I saw right through him; he was seeking revenge for what happened to Holmes and for his injuries. 

I explained it would take a couple of days to reach approval for this sort of action, but I would let him know when it happens. Soon, we parted ways, and I made my return to Charles Street. 

Watson is clearly disturbed by the church's ideals of eternal life, and the condition of his friend has shaken him to his core. He is an incredibly brave man, but it's clear he is terrified, as expected from someone's first interaction with the unconventional. I believe with time, he could be a valuable asset to our organization. 

Take this as my request that, once the situation dies down, Dr. Watson sees counseling rather than amnestic treatment. 
[[>]]
-  **Clara Greene**
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June 20th, 1899:

They're almost all gone. I gifted them to MEKHANE, and she gifted them eternal life. If I cannot save Watson, I can save my people. Holmes will be perfected soon, and Watson will realize what he missed. 

I care not to return to Mexico. Those bumbling idiots have no concept of what the stomach is capable of; it will rot and collect dust as it creeps towards a reconstruction that will never come to pass. 

The walls are closing in; the crown has detained my automatons; Watson knows my plan, and all will come to pass. I intend to hold my final ground here in a brilliant display of my greatest invention. My construct will fight for me; he will tear through the sinful bastards while I give eternal life to the remaining members of the church. 

Orville was wrong, he always was. There is no purpose more divine than to surrender your FLESH to the stomach of MEKHANE. I was the first to do so, and I have achieved perfection ever since. 

The stomach blessed me with the privilege of eternal life, forcing me to witness the collapse of Amoni with my own eyes. At that moment, I should have understood the futility of the church. 

I revoke my brother, the patriarchy, all of it, for now, I understand true apotheosis. 

&nbsp;

<i> Dr. John H. Watson shall be saved, no matter the cost. </i>

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fragment:the-cogwork-cult-0

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