This is Denise. Chief Roberts asked me to upload the Icke File for you, which is patently ridiculous. The Icke File fills three cabinets in the Black Library. You couldn’t possibly pick through it all in the field, even with tags and a search option the intra-blog doesn’t have. Honestly. The Chief is a credit to the Agency, but they never should have put him behind a desk. So I’m just going to boil it down for you, concentrating on elements pertinent to the Melmoths. Hope it helps.
Lizards made of sound is the key element here. Malevolent reptile gods that exist at a higher vibrational frequency. We refer to them in the plural because they’ve gone by many names in many cultures over the centuries. But truthfully we have no way of knowing if there really are multiple beings, or if we’ve just seen one great reptilian overlord from different angles at different times. But, trusting to the evidence of our limited senses, we use the plural, and the many names.
The name that should most concern you is Yig. A localized tribal entity from Northwestern Mexico, Yig was a man-eater, offered human sacrifice to prevent the other, more disturbing aspect of his godhead: when angered, he had a habit of coming down out of the mountains and violently impregnating the women of the tribe. They would give birth to horrors, X-23. Wombs splitting open to birth a multitude of snakes. Lizards with the faces of infants. Reptilian monstrosities that would rip their way out from the inside and devour their mothers whole.
The Yig Cult died out as people left the deserts, but a Miskatonic researcher claimed an encounter with Yig on a Mexican expedition in the 1920s. The Icke File also contains a photograph of another of these Yig-spawn from the early 20th century:
The quality’s not the best, but it was apparently taken on the sly in a darkened circus tent. A freak show promoter by the name of Jackson Curry claimed to have captured the thing personally, and took it around the country in a cage, billing it as “The Spawn of Yig.” It got loose on the midway one night and killed 25 people before disappearing into the surrounding countryside. Curry’s carnival burned to the ground that night, and neither he nor the snake-man was ever heard from again.
And then, of course, there was Oscar Melmoth’s ill-fated attempt to bring Yig through from the other side in 1972. We’re lucky enough to live in an era when the stars aren’t right for full incursion from these reptilian entities, but that didn’t stop Melmoth. Here’s the Chief’s summation of the event, transcribed from the debriefing:
Hell, Ralph, I don’t know what the damn fool was trying to do. Ramirez says he told Melmoth that he could artificially realign the star map by refracting the light through a crystal skull. Which explains why that was in the cave. But as for what he thought it would get him to let a rampaging snake-god through the Veil? I dunno…
He was no cultist, I’ll tell you that much. Oscar Melmoth’s family’s been a big deal in Colorado society since pioneer days. They got rich on shady deals and Indian blood. You know the Alo tribe still won’t let Melmoths onto their reservation? With that pedigree, he had to want something. Maybe he thought he could buy his way into the Babylonian Brotherhood. Gene surgery through snake-sound. Heh. I’ve heard crazier.
But cosmic suicide? Nah. Nah, he wasn’t the type. Not before this, anyway. Not before the Serpentine Fire… Never saw anything like it, Ralph. Swear to god, suicide’s been sounding pretty good to me here lately, and I didn’t go nuts like Melmoth. Bastard’ll be dead within a year, mark my words. Deserves it, too, after what he let loose. Docs finished with the abortions yet?
They were, but it didn’t help. Thirty women still killed themselves over the following nine months, in many cases joining husbands and lovers dead at the hands of Yig. Or whatever small section of the Yig-Being managed to push its way through the tear Melmoth made in the Veil.
The Chief was right about something else, though: Melmoth’s genetic structure had been changed, as had the rest of his family’s, retroactively, back down at least two generations. One hundred percent human before the incident, part-lizard afterward. We’ve still got his grandfather’s corpse down in the Black Library to prove it. The only documented case of human mutation from outside time.
The Chief still talks about the ’72 Incident, you know. Forty years, and he can’t get it out of his head. So you be careful out there, X-23. You still owe me dinner, and I’ll not have it ruined by snake talk.
– Denise, signing off.