Denver Comic Con should have been a slice of fandom heaven in the center of Colorado. Only in their second year, they’ve already amassed a strong array of star power and quality panels. With their lack of experience, one might wonder how they were able to pull it off. Well, this past weekend, I found the answer. In order to arrange this con, the organizers have turned to the darkness, dealing in powers beyond their control. It involves contracts. But not the kind of contracts we mortals are experienced in, no. These contracts are of the sort entered into with outerworldly demons and signed in blood. These contracts are of the sort that can only be paid with human lives. These contracts are of the sort that unleash true horrors upon this world.
In order to hold this convention, the Denver Comic Con organizers summoned from the depths the Great Beast known only as The Line. And The Line hungers.
I have stared down the gullet of this beast. And I have emerged unbroken, but not entirely unscathed. Others were not so lucky. The Line feasts not on mortal flesh but on one’s very soul. I watched as grown men were reduced to quivering messes. I watched as strong human beings fell beneath the weight of The Line. I survived, but it was only through luck and the gains of those fallen long before me. I can take no pride in it, for I was able to do nothing to stop The Line from devouring others’ souls as it attempted to mine.