The Daily Eye

A collection of old papers, flyers, notes and photos from throughout the city. There's a paper from April 2022...

"The Daily Eye issue #592
CULT PANIC BREWS
Northern ⌰☊⏧⌾⏙☊ plagued with graffiti and messages from the Barons Eye continue to spread. As the ongoing investigations continue, residents have expressed turmoil with the arising cult. Streets have begun to feel lifeless, curfews have been enforced, and several reports of anomalies during late night hours.The Barons Eye cult has had activity dating back last autumn, when local convenience store owner Howard Caine reported increased activity within the outer walls of his store. No suspects were ever found nor any footage of possible suspects. Earlier this year, late night broadcasts were hijacked by the group; only to show a blank screen with a singular eye staring at viewers.Little is still known about the group, speculation has circled that the group may have ties to incidents in past years such as the Blue Hour Investigations Group from 20XX, Kert County 2007, Elendale 1999 and the 1978 slashings throughout the midwest.As of now, police advise residents to follow the recently placed curfew until further notice and to report suspicious activity."

The paper continues on about a musician who was found dead. The woman in the photo seemed to be closely associated with a notorious gang, likely the twin to an explosive criminal.

"Notable pop idol Victoria 'Hae' Lazcano found dead at age 21. The deceased star was one of the founding members of ⌰☊⏧⌾⏙☊, after creative difference, Lazcano split from the group to launch her own career. Officials and her managers have kept a tight lip on the cause of her death though speculated to be from a possible altercation with the Satoress Gang"

May 2025
Police investigated the location of an explosion gone off near the industrial district. Primarily abandoned buildings and warehouses, likely assumed to be squatters and a meth lab gone wrong.The explosion came from a small apartment complex, was tucked away from public reach, whoever was here really didn't want to be found. Upon entering multiple firearms were found and other forms of weapons; flamethrowers, knives, spears, hammers, a bat with spikes on it with a little decor on it. Similar to imagery around the room and a set of old boots lying around.In the final room was a bulletin board. Plenty of pictures of Lazcano as well as a few more musicians and surreal beings. Police speculated this could be from , possibly having multiple targets. One image in particular contested the possibility; an image of a ghoulish woman with a bat similar to what was found.

Unforseen Eyes
RECORD OF CONVERSATION | Evidence Vault | May 10, 2025
IDENTITIES: K. Halburg, F. Dalton
FILE//MM_CLASSIFIED[K.H.] What do we have?[F.D.] Appears to be a modified Bass guitar. One of those toy ones at least. But incredibly heavy.[K.H.] They still make those?[F.D] I suppose, though it looks like theres parts to it. <Switches to Bass> There we go, typical magic tricks. Whoever this was was big into the scene.[K.H.] Whoever this was a big fan of that old popstar. Let me take a look at it. <Inspecting guitar at hands> Pull up an image of that girl, whatever her name was. Your kids were a fan right?<A picture is shown, the using a guitar, similar in shape and design. Multiple stickers in the corner, similar placement>[K.H.] Was what I thought. It's the same guitar.[F.D.] Can't be [REDACTED] the guitar was red and grey, this ones grey with a little bit of red.[K.H.] The stickers are one of a kind, how could they possibly get these. Even if it were the wrong color, how was her guitar never found.[F.D.] If this was hers, who changed it. What's their connection....<Momentary silence>[F.D.] I feel like someone's watching me.[K.H.] Not someone. Something. Just hurry up and put it away.

MorreposeTake my weapons and I have my fists. Take my fists and I have my mind. And when my mind is dissolved, the skin off my back peeled, and the jagged bones violently shattered, you have my wrath. And when you take my wrath, then shall you carry my rage.What is this I am feeling?Is this feeling of my deepest thoughts?Is the skin I wear of my own? Is the blood that boils of my body or is it the fuel that continues the sins of the fatherA new day would beginI could not see for these were not my eyesI could not speak for this was not my tongueI could not feel, for this skin was not my creationI could think, for my mind was violently screaming in silenceI had no mouth, and so I cut it open. My sight, scooped out of the depths. This skin, ripped piece by piece until what was notNot living, not dead, undeadRebornAnd when the words could no longer pierce through my once brittle bones, then shall no blade nor bullet strike me downFor the blood that boils is mine to fuel. And the skin that is stitched together is of my creationA voice screams outI understand this feelingIt is not my thoughts, it is your cries

👁Ȍ̵̰n̷͍̕ë̶̪́ ̵̮̋g̶̩̕o̶̩̍d̵̞̈́ ̷̢̔ẘ̵̺i̸͂l̸͉̎l̸͓̉ ̶̘̿ġ̸͙r̸̩͗a̶͠ͅn̶̲̔t̵̺̂ ̴̟̇t̸̻̿h̷̲͊ẹ̶́ ̶̠̍a̷͉͒b̴͋ͅî̷̲ḻ̵͋ȋ̴͍t̸̹̐y̷̱̅ ̵̯͊t̸̠̃ȍ̶̼ ̴͉̂f̵̎o̵̬͑r̷͉̿ȩ̶́c̴̭͑ạ̸̍s̵̤͆t̶̛̺ ̷̠̿t̴͉͌ḧ̶͍́e̷̟͐ ̴͙̄f̸́ű̷̟t̶͕́u̴̹͘r̶͉̆ë̵͉
̴̨̓Ã̴̺n̷̛̰o̵͕̿ẗ̴͔́h̴̰͂e̸̢r̴̢̛,̸͕̈ ̵̹͝w̸̪̔r̸̲̃ḙ̷̈n̴̢͊c̷̐͜h̶̺̋e̴̩͘s̵̨̓ ̸͈͆y̶̛̱o̴̬͐ũ̵͇r̷͠ͅ ̴̧b̷̧͌o̶͎͐d̵̢̒y̴̧͘ ̵̦ȃ̷͚n̶̰͠ḏ̸͂ ̸̹͑t̸̡͊u̸͌͜r̶̰͊n̶͝ͅ ̵̥͐ȳ̶̻o̵̦͠u̵̼͠ ̸͕̓î̵͚n̸̞͂t̴͕̏o̶͍͛ ̴̬͌a̵̹̾ ̵͓̿b̵̌ḭ̶̉r̴͈̄ḋ̶
̴͇͗F̸̘͑o̵̤̿r̴͙̿ ̴͕̾t̶͍͐h̸͖͘a̴͎t̸̑ͅ ̵͒ï̴̦s̵̙͂ ̵̞̕t̵̆h̷͚̔e̵̠̒ ̴̦̈́ḡ̸̼i̸̳͗f̸͇t̶̲͐ ̴̙̎y̶̭̌o̵͂͜u̷̙̽ ̷̥̈d̷͓̾e̶̯̋ṣ̸̎e̵̯̽ṟ̶̾v̸̧̍e̴͙̎
̴̯̈́
̶̼T̸̼̐o̵̩͋ ̷̼̅d̶̻̀e̵͇̓s̸͙͒e̵̪͊ȑ̸͉v̸̟̈́e̵͔ ̴̺̈́ï̵͖s̷̡̑ ̷̰̑n̶̹̈́ǒ̷̬t̴̝̏ ̸͓̇o̷͒͜f̸̠̓ ̸͍͌o̸̮͑ǹ̵͎e̷͊͜s̷̹̑ ̶͙̄a̶̺̽c̷͎̈t̶̻̊i̵̩̓o̵̟͋n̸͇͛s̶͔ ̷̱͛n̶̢̍ǫ̴̀ṟ̶̅ ̸͍m̸̦̂o̴̻͋ȑ̶͉ä̶͔́l̵̫̇i̶̹͐t̶̟͝y̶͇ ̶̧́o̴̢͌f̸̘ ̷̡̊t̸̼̔h̴̦͛ę̷̎ ̴̜͐c̴̩̾o̸̒m̵͛ͅm̴̱̕o̵̬̓ṇ̷̔ ̵̫̾m̵̥̂a̴͈͛n̵͉͊
̵̝̈B̷͖͠u̶ͅt̴̫̉ ̸̜̈t̵̳̓h̵̚͜e̷͈͛ ̸͓̍s̴̤̅a̶͚̚ċ̶͎r̷͎̈́i̴̘̚f̷͕̉i̴͜͝č̵̻e̸̟̔ ̵͈͝t̵̬͝h̷͍̽ä̸́ͅt̸͛ ̶̠m̷̟͘ạ̴̃k̶͚̉ȇ̴̙š̵̰ ̷̣̿š̵̠ǎ̶̝i̸̦͗d̴̡͊ ̸̝̽m̵͕͘a̶̝̓ṋ̶̿
̵̡̔T̷͉̊ŏ̸͜ ̶̙̈́g̴̯̍i̴̬͒v̴͚̿ë̵̺́ ̸̹͊ō̷̮ų̵͌r̵͓̉ ̵̠̕s̶̺̓o̵̝̍u̶͙̓l̵͉͐ ̷͔͐t̷̹͂o̶̻̾ ̶̧̒a̴͈̿ ̷͎͗s̷̓ͅe̴͈͛l̸̥̆f̸̄ͅ-̸̦͂r̵̼̾i̷̛̳g̶̤̊h̷̝́t̸͗ͅe̴̼͛ŏ̸͎ủ̸̯s̵̩̉ ̷̤b̵̈́ë̷͉́i̴̧͂ń̷̰ǧ̵͎ ̸̱̌a̵̧̅b̴̩̅ö̴͉́v̸͕͐e̵̢̚
̸̻̉a̸̟͐n̵̤̍d̷̙̄ ̶͚̄t̴͚̉o̵̥͆ ̸͖̈́ŝ̴̜u̶̬͝f̵̏ͅf̸̩͛e̶͎r̷̯̽ ̶̞̄ŏ̶̭ṇ̶͗ḙ̶͐ ̶̥͝f̵͚͌a̵͆l̶̥͂ľ̵ẹ̷̾n̶̟ ̶̮c̷͓̈ĩ̵̪v̷̤̕ī̶͖l̸͖̋i̸͆ͅz̸̯͊á̵̠t̵̉ͅî̶̲ö̵̦n̷͓͝ ̵͉͊a̶̛̦f̸͎̌t̵͍͆e̴̱̿r̵̘͐ ̴̬̉a̸̛̘n̵̥̓ȯ̵̪t̵̿ḧ̸͔́e̸̲͂r̷͚͠ ̴͚̏ì̴͇ṋ̷͂ ̴̙͑t̴̳͊ẖ̴͠e̵̎ ̸͖͗h̸̢̀o̴̪̊p̵̽ĕ̴̬s̷͖̆
̵͓͗P̵̱̽e̴̛͈r̷̫̕l̸͇̇a̵̳̓d̴͓͑ę̶̋s̴̟̏c̵̯̀ḧ̸̡ḙ̴͑ ̶̫̂c̵̻͘o̷̞̽ṵ̸͑l̷̉d̷̤͋ ̷̜̓p̵̼̎r̵̞̆o̷̡̿v̴͉̊ỉ̶͖d̴͓̄e̷̟͂ ̸̩̂o̸̤̾n̶͙͝e̷͈͠ ̴̹̅ḋ̵̲a̴͍͗ỹ̴͚ ̸̰͛o̵̭͝f̴͍̔ ̵̻͒r̵̬̕a̴̬͠ì̴̹n̴̜͛ ̷̳̈ț̸̎ȯ̶͇ ̸̜̆ḁ̶̈ ̶̜̕s̴̠̽ṱ̸̂a̶͉r̵͎͘v̵̟̑ȋ̷̞n̸̠͋ǧ̷͕ ̴͚͠c̵̬͛ḫ̶̛i̶̙͋l̷̫̄d̴͙͑
̸͈̚
̸̜͐B̶͍͌u̸̪̐t̸̠͂ ̴̜̈́t̶̰͠ǫ̴ ̴͓́k̶̮͌e̶̥͠e̸͉̚p̵̚͜ ̴̛̭t̷̟͒h̶͓̏ë̶̲ ̴̬̆s̶̃o̴̰û̷͎ľ̷̬ ̷̰̌w̵̡̓a̶̱͗s̷̻͌ ̸̹̓t̶͕͆ö̷̧́ ̴̯͌l̶͖̽o̵̬͒s̶̲̓ě̷̡ ̶̛̻t̵̢̓h̴͕͆e̵̫̐ ̸̻͗i̶̲d̸̦̄e̶̅͜ň̶̨ẗ̴̪i̴̬̅t̶̥̆y̶ ̴̱͝o̴̠͛f̸̢̑ ̴͖͗m̴̟̓a̶̠n̶̢̾
̴̈F̸̃ộ̷r̸̀ ̷̤͂ẅ̷̜h̸̳̃ḯ̵͇c̴̦͆h̶̛̟ ̷̢̕t̴̾h̵̞e̴̻͋ ̷̠̓b̵̛͚r̷̳̆o̵̪t̴͖̓h̵̩͌e̷͍͂ȑ̵̘s̴̘̓ ̴̋͜a̴̭͘n̷͕͗d̵̦͂ ̷̲̿s̷͉͆ȉ̵͚s̵͕̋t̶̻̀ȅ̴͔r̷̜̀s̴͇̚ ̵̯̓ḇ̵̿ë̶̹́f̸̱ó̶ͅr̵̼͘ȅ̴ ̶̱̅u̴̼̅s̶͈͗ ̷̭̊w̵̼̓e̶̟̍r̸̍͜e̶̙̎ ̶͙̊ṉ̶̇ȏ̴̠w̶̧̅ ̸̤̽t̶̯̉h̵̺̏e̶̟͌ ̶͚̉c̵̈́r̷̫̀e̵͔̋a̴̯͆t̷͕͛i̴͚͐o̸͖̾n̴̼͝s̴̞
̷͓̇o̸̱̓f̷̲̂ ̵̳̈́M̷͙̀a̷̰̚l̵͎͝t̷̡͒ö̴̳́r̴̞̐a̵̝̓z̶͊ͅy̷̡͗m̷̝̈́ṕ̶̮h̶̩̃.̴̤̚ ̸̹̑B̴̤͊l̴͍͌i̸̱͛s̷̱̓t̸͆͜e̴̟̾r̴̹̈e̶̠͋d̶̜̍ ̸̢̈́a̶̻̓n̶̼̆d̶̥͛ ̸͔̄s̴̫̓w̸̼͛o̷̫̓l̷̦͒ȩ̷́n̷̼̔ ̵͙͑w̸̟̉ë̴͈́ȑ̴̝e̸̮̓ ̸̙̈́t̸̲̒ḧ̶͇́ȅ̶͎ ̶͝e̴̘̕y̸̢̌e̴̛̪s̷͖͝ ̸̦̄o̶̱͝f̷̜͠ ̵̮̚ṱ̴̀h̸̦́e̴̛̜ ̷̦̍d̵̟̉ȃ̵͔m̴̪̒n̶͕͌e̸͖͋d̴͇̎
̶͉͝w̷͈̑h̷̥̎o̶̻̕s̷̞̅ë̵͓́ ̶͕̈l̶̜͂i̴̥̓m̸̳͌b̵͕͗s̶͓̏ ̴̙̓w̴͕̎o̴̜̊ṳ̵̃l̷̰͘d̷̕ ̷̣͆s̷̻͝n̷̹̔ả̴̹ṙ̶̫l̶̞͑ ̷̦̌û̴p̸̞̓ȯ̷̬n̷̡̋ ̶͒i̴̤͂t̸͊͜s̴̛̼ ̴̢͑o̷̜͠ẁ̸̤n̸͠ ̴̫̚ṡ̷̰ẻ̴̼ĺ̸f̴̛̭ ̶̙͠t̷̜͋h̸͍̓a̸̋͜t̷̬̔ ̴͈̆t̶̮̒h̴͓̕e̸͓̋ ̵̡̾f̴͛l̴̜̉é̷̫s̶̞h̸͈̄ ̸̲̒b̴͎͌u̸͖̽b̷͎̈b̴l̶̞̽e̵͓͠d̶͖̕
̵͓̽a̸͙s̵̟͂ ̷̤̿ṱ̸ḣ̵̦e̷̦͘ ̸̟͋b̸̪͆ŏ̸̯n̸̩̄ë̴͖ṡ̶̟ ̷͓́s̷̟̀p̷̭̉ṙ̵͈ȍ̴̭u̵͕̔t̵̪͑ē̶d̷̫ ̷̛̜ţ̵̃o̶̹̽ ̸̒͜c̷͠ͅo̵̤̾n̵̓c̵̑͜o̶̳c̶̯̊t̴͇̿ ̵̝̎o̷̼͊n̵̺̚l̸̻͛y̸̧̏ ̸̝͐ṱ̶̈h̴̙͆e̶̦͝ ̸̺̅ḟ̴̫ȏ̵̟ü̷͓l̵̜͝e̴̬͑s̶̩̔t̸͉̚ ̷͙̿t̵͖ő̷͍ ̷̻͐l̸̈́͜a̶͇͐ŷ̵͔ ̵̮̔e̷̊͜ý̴͈e̷̱͛s̵̻̐ ̵̬̔ȗ̴͜p̸̺̚ȏ̸̰n̷̘̐.̴̬̋
̵̛̻
̵̢̔N̴͕̉o̶͓͋ ̷̧s̸̯̍i̵̋n̸͙̋ ̴̱̉w̶̡͝ȧ̵̳s̸̱͆ ̸̧̓g̴̼͝r̴͖̈e̷̡͆a̵͕͒t̶͉͠ě̶̤r̵͔̓ ̸͚̂ṫ̶͎ō̷͓ ̵͍̈́t̴͓̉ḥ̴̾e̶̢̍ ̷̮͑ǵ̵̜õ̴̬ḍ̷͗s̸͈͛ ̴͍̈́ṭ̵̎h̵̠̽ã̷n̷̬̈ ̸͍͐ẗ̴h̵̙̽a̵͎͠t̷̤̚ ̶̟̈ț̷͋o̷̻͒ ̷̯a̸͇͠b̷̥̈a̴͚n̷̠̆d̵̟͆o̸͓̚n̷̜ ̶̙̃t̵̞͊ḧ̶̹́ē̵̯ȉ̴͎r̷̥̕ ̵̻͘w̷͎̾a̶͋ͅy̶͇͂ş̵̏.̸͙̽
̴͚̌F̴̦̒l̴̹̽ẹ̷̎ŝ̷̮h̸͚͗ ̶͎̓a̴͔͒n̸̨͘d̴̯͗ ̷̙̍b̵̳̈́o̵͕͂ñ̷̰e̶̤̐ ̸͙̽m̴̦͆ȇ̸͉ļ̵d̶ȇ̶͇d̶̳͊ ̷͚t̴̪͗o̴̙̎g̴̠ē̷̙ţ̷͘h̵͈̋ę̷͠r̸̰̄,̸ͅ ̵̫͐c̵̓r̷̍i̸̱͗e̷̘̒s̸̜̆ ̶̢̿o̴͕̓f̷̼̒ ̵̈́ͅp̶̟̏a̴̼̾ỉ̸̻ñ̸ͅ ̴̬̐d̸͠i̴̲̿s̶̪̋t̸̥͂ō̴͕r̵͇͝ţ̵̍ï̸͎n̴̈g̷̛͔ ̸̦̊a̵̋ͅn̴͉͆d̶̼̏ ̸͖̄c̸̱͌ö̶̪l̵̬͐l̸̘̈́ï̴̻d̸̪ỉ̸̹n̶̳͆g̶̅
̷̡̛B̸͖͂ù̷͇t̸̨̀ ̷̧͌t̷͇͗ḣ̵̝e̴̋͜ ̷̰͗p̴͔͂ą̵̾i̶̻̽n̸̟̈́ ̶̇ͅa̵̫̅n̷̂d̸̰͛ ̵̣̂a̷̺͌n̵̮̏g̵̬̓ẹ̷̃ŗ̶ ̸͉̈l̷͇͋ȋ̸v̶̼̔e̸̹͝d̴̊ ̶͠o̷̦̎n̷̰.̷̕
̶̭̿Ȋ̸̲ ̵̧̂c̷̟̎o̶͎̽ǘ̸̡l̶̹͊d̶̙̈́ ̴̥̽s̴̛̱ẻ̵̞e̶̤̅ ̴͕̎m̶̺̔ö̵͇́ȓ̵̹e̷͓͆ ̸͓̽f̵̕͜o̸͕̓r̸̞̉ ̸͙̕t̸̲͆h̵̺e̴͇̔s̷̬̈ẻ̸̙ ̴͙͊w̵̙͆e̵͘r̶͉̈́e̶͘͜ ̵̩͛o̸͕ǘ̶̦r̶̯̚ ̷͎̀e̷̱̅y̴̢̕e̴̲͊s̴̡̋,̶̧͝ ̵̡̏I̶͎̽ ̸͙̾d̴͍̀i̸͇͠d̷̅ ̴͚̓n̴̩̆o̸͇̾t̶̞̑ ̶͓̽s̴̻̚p̵̮̅e̵̘͠a̶̞͊k̵̜̈ ̵̛͎ǎ̵̺l̸̈́ó̶̜n̵̎ȩ̶̀ ̶̼́ȁ̸̳s̷̝̚ ̷̡̄w̸͇͠e̸ͅ
̴̱̈s̵̩̓ṗ̷̦ő̴̲k̷̘͝e̸̻̾ ̷̈́ͅả̴̹s̸̤̓ ̷̧̄ö̴͕́n̵͔̆e̴̜͠.̴͎͠ ̵͖͐W̴̧͂h̴̘a̷̭͐t̵͓̓ ̴̼̑w̵̋ͅa̶̡̽s̴͉̍ ̴̝͋m̷̠̈́ỵ̸̿ ̵̰͛š̶̰k̴̮͑ỉ̷ń̸̺ ̶͕̑i̶͕͐ṡ̷̨ ̷̭̅n̵̲̚o̵̪̊w̸̻̏ ̶̛̼o̵̳̽ů̷͈ṟ̷̆ ̸͔̃p̷̼̔ȇ̷͔o̴̺͐p̶̬͒l̴̰͛e̵̳̒
̸̯̂
̸̜͑N̵̮͠o̵̞͐t̸̠ ̴͘ͅl̴̪̚i̶̩̅v̵̈́ĩ̸̥n̷͎͒ğ̵̨,̵̞̽ ̶̬͠n̶̳̂o̶͌t̴͓̏ ̷̱̃d̴͚͌e̷̯̕ã̷̮ḍ̴͑
̷̱̔R̸̝̅e̵̦͂b̸͂o̷̧̅r̶̪̚ǹ̶̪
̸
̶̤̏G̴͉̈́ó̸̪n̴̻͆e̶̹͝ ̸̣͐w̸̭̎a̶͙͗s̶̙̍ ̴͖̂t̵̮̓h̴͙̾y̸͙̏ ̶̦̈́m̵̟͆o̷̙͊ŗ̶͌t̵̘͒ḁ̷̔l̴͎̊ ̸̰͘f̸̯̃l̴͓͐e̶͓͝s̶̩̆ḩ̷̔ ̷̯̽t̵͚̄h̵̹̔ą̵́ṯ̶͌ ̴̝͊b̷͓͊o̸͍͑u̸̻͑ṋ̶̑d̴̝͛e̴̤͋d̸͉͝ ̴̤̄i̷̎͜t̶̲͠ ̵̳͑ā̷̧n̷͘d̵͙̒ ̸̱̃t̶̟͠h̶̼̀e̴̫͠ ̴͓̍m̸̯̀e̵͎͑r̶̞͊c̸̜̆y̷̟̓ ̷̣́o̷̞̽f̸͔̑
̵͒d̶̬̒i̵̻͝s̷͇͊i̸̤̓l̵̻̑l̴̜͐u̷͉̍ş̴̈i̷̤̿o̸͉̔n̶̺̆e̸̦̿d̸͒ ̷c̶̪̃ȏ̵̥m̷͙m̷͚o̶̞̓n̷̠͂e̷̼̿r̴͍̃s̵͎.̸̢̈ ̴͕̃F̶͕̕o̴̘̽r̶̟͆ ̷̝̓t̸͍h̵̬͗e̵͕̔ ̷͜f̸̭i̷͙̇ṋ̷̄a̷̝̔l̸̬ ̷̜́p̵̛̰u̴̝͛n̴͕̋i̴͇͘s̷̥̑h̴̬̄m̴̨͗ě̵͍n̵̫̒t̵̟ ̷̡̆ẘ̸̢a̸͍͑s̷̱͝ ̸͠ͅä̸̞́ ̴̦͊ṋ̸͠e̷͕͊ẁ̵ ̴̺͑w̵̱͊o̵̫r̴͎l̸̐d̸̹̉