[ WP ] A villian who thinks he 's a hero realizes he 's the villian . What is he thinking ?

`` `` Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn'' We chanted, like usual, at the start of our 33rd meeting of the Esoteric Order of Dagon. 
 
 We were n't really a cult, more like a little group of eccentrics and outcasts. A club more than anything. I had never taken it too seriously, and I did n't think any of the others did either. Just an excuse to get dressed up, put on some cool robes and blow off steam - casting our little curses and magic spells on our fellow students at Miskatonic U. 
 
 I do n't think any of us really believed in magic, but we wanted to feel like we were something, that we had something, and most of all that we belonged. Take Heidi, I'd found her in a stairwell in the library, holding back tears; her sorority sisters had ditched her for some bullshit reason. She had nobody to hang out with. I invited her along and she seemed to really enjoy it - studying old books, learning a dead language, and having people to share it with. Most of us were like that. 
 
 But anyway. We met twice a week on our `` official business'', and we'd been running for over a term. We were working through books in the library's compact storage - unknown authors, really old stuff. Most of them last checked out in the'20s. The library systems would freak out every time we tried to check one out, and this older librarian, everyone just called her `` Mrs P.'', would always override the system for us. Then we'd scan a couple of passages and read them, come to the meetings and discuss them, cast spells from them, and copy the rituals. That sort of stuff. As I said, it was n't a cult or anything, like this one ritual called for a blood sacrifice, so we cut up a steak on the'alter', we were laughing so much we could hardly get the words right. 
 
 But where was I? Yeah the books. They were all about these old gods, Father Dagon and Mother Hydra, who served the `` Great Old One'' Cthulhu. They were written in different languages, English, Latin and this dead, weird language of the chants. We had a book from the library, by Dr Armitage, apparently he used to teach at the University. He'd decoded most of it. All rubbish about Cthulhu dead but not dead, sleeping until `` death itself may die''. 
 
 But the one we'd gotten for this meeting. That was fucked up. We got it straight from Mrs P, she said she'd found it in the archive and thought we might be interested. Did n't even have an electronic tag, she had to find one of the old ink stamps and put an entry in. We were the first to check it out since 1926. I remember that bit. 
 
 That was n't the weird thing though, Mrs P often pointed us at new books, but like, this one, you just got a weird vibe off it. It looked like any other old book - leather bound, had that book smell, but it just... it sort of hurt to look at. Like your eyes did n't want to focus on it or something. You had to try really hard to read it. I thought it was the font at first, like it was this old cursive stuff, totally in the same language as the chants. I tried to scan it so we could all read it, but the scanner fucked up. Like, kept just giving blank scans. Mrs P said the system was fucked. 
 
 So we got together to read it, in the usual seminar room in the library basement. And like got really excited, it had way more powerful sounding spells in it. None of this Curse of Bad Luck shit ( Although we sort of pretended that one worked after we cursed one of the guys on the football team and he broke his leg in a freak accident ), this was like `` Invocation of the Great Old One'' and all this stuff about peeling back the veil of reality. 
 
 We were really excited, so we raced through the usual incantations, and all sat there with this book, reading through it. We decided to try one of the summonings to `` invoke the spirit of Father Dagon''. Just... it sounded cool. It had words we did n't recognise. 
 
 So we started with a pentagram on the floor and stuff, black candles, etc. all the usual shit for black magic. We'd done it all before... but when we put the book in the centre of the pentagram, it was... the was something fucked up. Like you know that feeling in the air, like just before a storm comes yeah? The hairs on your neck stand up, static electricity and shit. Well, like... it was like that. 
 
 So... anyway. We followed the ritual. But we were n't giggling this time. We all felt it... there was something here this time. It was n't funny. 
 
 And then, oh fuck. I do n't even know how to describe it. It was... like a person but with scales. It fucking appeared, right there, right in the room and it... it tore them apart. It's claws were like... razors. It ripped their limbs off in front of me... they tried to run, but the door was locked. We had n't locked it. We were the only people there except Mrs... oh wow. She was the only one who could have locked it. 
 
 But... yeah the thing, the thing it killed them, Heidi was last, banging against the door, screaming. Oh god I can hear her. I was... I froze. I could n't move, I just... I just watched them die. In front of me. It was... it was a stupid club, a stupid game. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.'' 
 
 
 `` And *that's* your story? *That's* how you explain us finding you in a room with as far as we can tell from counting arms, 6 dead bodies? Black Magic and a librarian who does n't exist?'' Asked the cop. His tired eyes glared from beneath the shadow of his furrowed brow. His coffee was going cold next to him. 
 
 `` It's the truth.'' 
 
 `` Son. I've heard some fucked up stories in my time, but this one takes the cake, and unless you can come up with a reasonable fucking explanation of what happened in that room, you are going to be in a world of shit. What do you have to say to that?'' 
 
 `` I... I...'' The kid sat still for a moment, the hood of his crimson red robe pulled back, he stared at the floor. `` I... Ia! Ia! Cthulhu Fthagn! Mglw'nafh agla thfnha vu!'' 
 
 The cop opened his mouth to say something, but blood was already pouring down his cheeks from his burnt out eye sockets. His corpse tilted forward, and then collapsed, head first against the desk. Coffee and blood mixed as they pooled, flowed and dripped towards the floor. 
 
 `` Now, to find my book.''
