Mea Vorago - I think there's something in the Gulf

Chapter 1-Baptism of the Lost

"Cogito, ergo sum" The months passed and many awkward first encounters have led me from the city I woke up in, which I'm now aware of was named Saint Petersburg to now a pub sat in Pensacola.

I drown my anger and fear that shared their roots in utter confusion with dirty soda floats. The sugar and alcohol being my only comfort as the satiating warmth of the spirits are delivered through a bubbly and crisp vessel.

I've been working odd labor for anyone who would accept my almost infant-like cries of being lost. From police stations to government buildings, many were in desperate search of my identity as I was myself, but there was nothing to quell any curiosity of my origin.

My name... no the given name from the locals was "Nemo" as I was of no clan or tribe. I hate the name deeply as it reminds me of my virtually eternal strife. To only be a ghost in brutal conflict with an enemy who doesn't even acknowledge my person, as an ant below the boot.

As I sip the last drippings of comfort I have, I exit the pub giving the last of whatever money I could attain to the bartender with pity in his eyes. Another night to forage all matters of necessities anew, my constant truth as my cursed status quo.

Cold... cold air I feel once again reliving my first moments in the dark and emerging world I find myself in now. As I look for shelter away from any other person to avoid their unpredictable nature and to just find solace.

"All I want is to go home!" I chant silently without knowing what or where home is or was. I sink into a ditch outside of town and slump into a sleepless dream and detach myself by fantasizing about my next drink. The only found comfort in this hostile world.

In an attempt to rest the scent of cigarettes lurked in the ambience slowly presenting itself in an aura around me. I grab a rock and cower praying for no confrontation to befall me.

Tears rolling down my face as if it were the railroads I've slept on many nights were stalled by the shock of a sandwich and a can of beer being handed to me by a mysterious man whose face was greatly hidden by shadow only being partially visible by the ember of a cigarette.

"Easy, I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to learn who you are, is that okay?" The man said with a hardened and rough voice straining against an attempt of comforting me. I was confused as the first people I met stated something about me being a devil of the gulf and that I was an omen upon mankind.

Words of a great war were stated and that after the conflict the world shook and started to spit creatures of old into the industrial age. All loose and disconnected as I only heard these stories through eavesdropping in parks, pubs, and other public places.

"I'm no devil! I don't want to get run out of town again, please I just want to be left alone... I'm sorry if I did anything to hurt anyone! I can't remember what I did! I can't remember ANYTHING!!!" I cry in desperate frustration knowing I was probably in need to escape from the locals and make a silent existence somewhere else, once again.

"I don't believe in devils, but as far as I know you're the closest thing I have to a clue of the recent events plaguing the gulf ports within the area." A blank stare reaches from my eyes to my gap jaw as the man spoke to me in a much more robotic and informative tone.

As the words were lost from my tongue, the man's voice began again "No memory you say?" The man says rhetorically. "Subject states no memory or recollection of self or unnatural occurrences" he whispered silently to himself while writing in his notebook. Looking back up after making multiple notes our eyes meet again.

With a drag of his cigarette he shoots back "Name's Gumshoe kid, I'm a P.I. hired by a notable creole family sat in New Orleans... The nature of my investigation is to figure out the growing reports of... alleged attacks of creatures of supernatural origins, and whatever makes your head spin in terms of sightings, cultivations, or whatever you can imagine.