They're here. The guys I contacted arrived at my apartment. Hopefully they're gonna help me out. They brought along a few SCPs to help with the investigation. If this doesn't work, then I'm gonna have to hit the reset button.

First one was an anomalous GPS. Said to find anyone in the world. Didn't find him. Just displayed an "OUT OF RANGE" error. What is this, SCP-294? That's a coffee machine, not a GPS. Dammit.

Second one was 963. Really, it was just Bright showing up. Kept the chainsaw hidden under the flooboards. I don't want another Bright Days Incident on my hands. Didn't help much, just asked where the fridge was.

Third was... actually, fuck it. I'm not gonna go through the tiresome details. I'm gonna skip to the end. You know what happens? Nothing worked. I'm doing this alone. I sent them back to the Foundation, and took a box from under my desk. Inside was something I never thought I'd have to use again...

My Kindle Fire.

Yes. I owned a Kindle Fire. It was where this all started. Where I first tried to write, but failed miserably. I fucked up back then. Times changed, I got better, I built up more confidence in myself. I transitioned from BATIM, to Undertale, to where we are now. Splatoon. That was a long time ago, more than one year now...

I'm gonna use it to rewrite his current status. And that's where whoever the hell you are comes in. Yes, you. Whoever's reading this. I know you're able to read this without finding the real journal. I know you exist. Because I also exist in your world. And I also exist in this one. I live in two realities, but my identities differ from each. I've taken clever steps to not have my real identity be revealed.

Enough about me. I'm using this damned tablet to save him. And possibly myself. I was here. Know that.

I'm not gonna succumb to his words, his actions, or his attacks. He may have the tounge of a serpent (or Octarian, but whatever), the swiftness of a gust of wind, and the strength to toss an ambulance, but I'm not gonna lose.

Wish me luck.

-570RMP1R473