(This is a registery of known being within the Nera-verse as I call it, lacking any other name presently. This will be a collection of notes, diaries and other such things. I've decided to change the format a little hence the repost)
This book has been floating on the Internet. Some claims it to be fiction, other the rambling of a nutjob. The crackpots, the paranoids and the hunters however swears it as their bible...
Notes from the editor; It's been a few years since I first posted the fragments of this book I had managed to get my hands on. The new world order has worked days and night to find every physical and digital copies of it that floated around so many chapters were lost.
Which leads me to the decision to write a second version of this book in a more advanced format. Also joining me in this task is a woman claiming to be the Nova from the original work. Like the ol' Tom said, she apparently hasn't aged. -JC
Here below is the original introduction to this book;
Nova says it's not a good Idea. That I shouldn't keep written evidences. That we can't allow this to fall into the enemy's hand. But I don't know...
There I am, growing old and wounded while she remains as young as when I met her. Tomorrow, I turn 50. Before people mistook us as a couple but now, we're like father and daughter.
Ah nova... Strongest girl. No, strongest person, I've ever met... We've been together for 25 years and yet I still don't know her name. Nova is how she call herself. I don't even know what relation we have. There's been things. Then there wasn't. Then it was back again. I don't know anymore what to think.
Now, I old. Too old for this. I wrote this without her knowledge, it's important to leave something for the future generations.
There's a war raging but that is nothing compared to what hides in darkness... When I became what I am, I received a message.
DON'T LOOK BACK
Maybe I should've listened. But then, they would be dead, all those we helped. Who ever reads this, know that you will never sleep in the dark anymore...
-A self called Tom o' Bedlam
London 1942 AD
(Written in cursive with a clearly dexterious hand)
Tom taught he could keep this way from me.
That prospect didn't work out as he found out.
After a massive asskicking for doing this behind my back and some lame excuses, I caved in and agreed to help him. Not that i now think this is a good idea, but it's not like we can just get this printed and distributed. Mirrorshades would be on our asses.
So whatever. I've got a few more people to provide commentaries. To everyone who could not possibly reading this, enjoy.