01 Feb Happy Fun Time on the Dark Web
So, I was doing what I do best the other day. By that I mean sifting through that depraved cesspool of the internet known as the deep web and just generally being a lazy sack of shit.
I spend a lot of time doing that, just randomly clicking links to things I probably shouldn’t and then being horrified by what lies on the other side. I’ve seen a lot of shit on there, goreboards, doxbins, torture sights, IRL rape, animal cruelty you get the picture. You’ve all heard the stories.
Everything wrong with the human species can be found somewhere on the deep web, or so they say. I find it all fascinating. To glimpse people when anonymity takes hold and see what monstrous things people are capable of behind closed doors. It’s like peeling back the curtain on a Sesame Street play and finding the showrunners having a satanic orgy backstage. You see people for what they really are. Monsters.
So I began my voyage, Monster in hand and freshly stoned mind ready to be mortified. From my closet the inflatable erotic doll I had been given as a gag Christmas present looked on in a disapproving manner with a lifeless, open-mouthed stare.
“Don’t judge me Miley.” I performed the usual diagnostics and booted up TOR.
I found myself on the hidden wiki soon after, staring at the dozens of links available for the taking. I saw little of interest there so quickly I switched over to DuckDuckGo. I pondered upon what to type in to search for a bit. You have to be careful how you go about browsing TOR and randomly entering “murder” or “torture” into a search bar could get you into a world of trouble. You never know who’s lurking.
I finally ended up typing in one word. Sick. That ought to get some interesting results. The results were initially less than stellar, but soon I did find myself on an apparent blog of some sort. Darkness of the Soul. Edginess level maximum. I glanced through the blog and found dozens of entries ranging from paranormal, conspiracy theories, short stories and real-life crime essays. It was actually pretty interesting, and the guy who wrote it was indeed pretty gifted in the vernacular department.
I spent some time glancing through them until one entry caught my eye. It was titled: “Dark Sites on the Dark Web, Are they real?” I found my interest piqued, and so I clicked it. The article listed several relatively prominent and notoriously vile sites like Cannibal Cafe, Cruel Onion Wiki, Violent Fantasies and Playpen. None of which were what I was really looking for, but then one caught my eye that I didn’t recognize. It was listed only as: “The Site with No Name.” The author was even kind enough to provide a link, to which I clicked without a moment’s hesitation.
“This hidden site has be seized, as part of a joint law enforcement operation by blah blah blah…” I groaned while reclining in my swivel chair and downing the remainder of my Monster. They always have to take away the fun. Just as I was about to click back though, I noticed a small detail which drew my attention back. In the lower left-hand quadrant of the page, there was a slight discoloration that caught my eye. I’ve seen that same message hundreds of times, but this one looked different.
On a whim, I highlighted the section with my mouse. Just as I had suspected, a series of text lit up with strands of numbers. The numbers just looked like gibberish at first, but on closer inspection I noticed a single Russian word.
“войти (voyti)” Translation: enter. Luckily for me I speak a bit of Russian, so I recognized the phrase right away. I hovered the cursor over the word and watched as the pointer to shifted to indicate a hidden link. Clever, hiding behind a smokescreen like that. That’s a first for me. I clicked it.
The page loaded for a while before finally opening to a new page. It was black with red font, and much as the article suggested had no title on top of the page. It appeared to be just another catalogue site. There was actually very little of substance anywhere on the page, just random links with no indication as to where they may lead.
I clicked several of the links, but all of them turned out to be dead. Well except for one that is, which opened to a disgusting image of a woman shitting on a guy’s face. I nearly vomited at the sight of it. I have a pretty strong stomach when it comes to gore and violence, but poop is my kryptonite. Why someone would allow someone else to defecate on them, I will never understand. But then again, there’s a lot of things I’ll never understand, especially regarding the dark web.
I knew it was a troll on their end, and I’ll admit they got me pretty good. I knew they were hiding something though. I mean, why go the trouble of constructing an elaborate decoy if there wasn’t anything illegal going on? Sure, creating the backdrop of the infamous government agency message wouldn’t be too difficult, but if nothing illegal was going on then why bother doing it at all?
Mimicking my efforts from earlier, I highlighted the page once again. Sure enough, there was something at the bottom of the page which had been all but invisible beforehand. It was a series of numbers, spaced out horizontally. I thought at first it was another address, but there was no dot-onion at the end. The numbers were organized as follows. 4, 9, 11, 6, 2, 7, 12, 1, 3, 8, 10, 5. I thought maybe it was some sort of password of first glance, but to what? All the links were dead except for the one with that nasty image, and I was NOT about to click on that again.
I pondered over the image for a moment, before noticing another detail. I counted the links, and noticed that there were twelve in total. That had to be related to the numbers. I thought maybe clicking each link in the order correlating to the strand of numbers would unlock something, so I tried that. After clicking the last one though, nothing had changed.
I sat back and again studied the chain of numbers. There had to be a pattern or method to how they were organized. I pulled my phone out and punched the numbers into google, but found nothing but tips for calculating fractions. In no mood for math, I put my phone away and again stared at the screen. What if the numbers weren’t related to the links? What if this was simply a clue to another site of some kind? I scoured all over the page, clicking every square inch to try and find something. I don’t know why I had become so infatuated with discovering the answer, but boredom can be a deadly motivator.
Suddenly I was struck with an epiphany while staring at the top link. It had 12 digits in it. In fact most, if not all .onion addresses have twelve digits in them. What if the numbers were clues to an entirely new address? I counted the links, and low and behold, there was a grand total of twelve, each with 12 digits. Maybe each number was in relation to the link in the sequence. Maybe they were dead links, because they were never designed to lead anywhere. They were only designed to be clues.
On a new hunch, I wrote down the fourth digit on the top link, the ninth on the second, the eleventh on the third, so on and so forth until I had an entirely new web address. I typed what I had written into the search bar and hit enter. My eyes widened as another web page began to load. I gave myself a metaphoric pat on the back for unravelling the mystery but had no idea what I was about to stumble in to. The page finally loaded, and I was given a new name at the top of the page. “Happy Fun Time.” There were dozens of pictures and videos organized all over the page, none of which I would ever describe with the words ‘happy’ or ‘fun’.
It was a gore forum. My heart pulsated in my chest as I looked upon the first image. It was picture of a guy who had his skull crushed beneath the tire of a truck. Blood and grey matter had been scattered everywhere as several onlookers stood about gawking at the scene.
The second was an image of another man who had been decapitated, and had his genitals placed in his mouth. Probably a victim of the cartels if I had to guess.
The third was a video, a very depraved video. It was grainy quality and terribly shaky, but after a few seconds it showed what appeared to be a lone woman walking down the street at night. The person filming was obscured a couple dozen yards away in some alley.
Suddenly two men other men emerged further down the street and bum-rushed the woman. They were on her in an instant, before she even had time to scream. They grabbed her, and the camera man sprang up to join the action. All the while he chuckled quietly in the most unsettling tone I have ever heard anyone utter. It was a giddy and juvenile giggle the likes of which could only be produced by a severely deranged individual.
The woman attempted to scream, but the two men held her mouth firmly, preventing her from doing so. They dragged her back into an alley, as the giggling camera man followed. I turned it off then, knowing exactly where it was headed. A reasonable person would’ve just exited the site by that point, but morbid curiosity is a powerful narcotic.
The next entry on the list though, ensured that any doubts I had of the authenticity of the site would no longer stand. It was a series of pictures, this time involving a little girl who couldn’t have been more than 5 years old. She had sandy blonde hair and royal blue eyes.
The pictures were innocuous at first, or at least they would have been if not for the site which they were posted on. It started as just pictures that looked to be taken straight from someone’s Facebook profile. A deep pit formed in my stomach as I sifted through them. The pictures began to grow evermore disturbing as they went.
At first it was the little girl with her family and dogs, but soon the pictures began to look as though someone was taking them without her knowledge. There was one where she was swinging at the park with several other children. Another where she was playing with toys in a backyard, with the picture looking like it was taken from over the fence. I felt a cold chill creep down my spine as I anticipated where the pictures were headed.
One picture stood out immediately. It was of a house at night, illuminated only by the flash of the camera. The next picture showed two people, a man and woman lying in bed. Their throats were both slit, and their bed was soiled with a dark crimson.
The next picture showed the little girl, clearly distressed with a black swollen eye. The remainder of the pictures went on to show the unknown camera man take her and do terrible things to her. I won’t even dignify his actions by putting them to paper, some things are just better off forgotten entirely. Needless to say, it was the most goddamn disgusting thing I have ever seen.
As horrible as the images were, the comments may have been almost on par. They were a mix of English and Russian. There were dozens of them, with almost all lobbing heaps of praise onto the vile camera man and expressing their own sexual gratification with his actions. God is dead, and the dark web is proof of that.
How in the world did we get to the point in which human beings like this can exist? I felt sorrow rise within me for the innocent young girl who had been so violently violated and torn from the world. Normally I feel nothing for random people on the internet, but the tragedy that befell her reminded me of things done to me in my own past. Maybe that’s why I’m so fucked up. More than sorrow though, I felt anger. That was when I made my first mistake.
“Congratulations fellas, you are without a doubt the most disgusting sacks of shit in the entire world. Cops have been notified, so have fun jerkin each other off in the time you have left. Might as well do the world a favor though and just kill yourselves.” I couldn’t stop my hands from typing out the message, and before I knew it my comment was inscribed just below all the others. It sat upon the screen for a moment, before others began to appear. All of them insulting me and making fun of my empathy for the girl.
Me and the other users fired back and forth for a while, before a familiar user posted. It was the same profile which had first posted the images to begin with. His first post confused me, as it was only a set of numbers with intermitted periods. I glanced at the comment before a horrible realization took hold. It was an IP address, MY IP address. Before I could react, he followed up with my full name, address and social security number.
I froze, unable to figure out how he had tracked me. It was then that I discovered my second mistake. Like an idiot, I had neglected to activate Tails. They had traced me, son of a bitch.
“Thanks for stopping by friend. I’ll see you soon ;). Then you will get a whole episode on this site staring you!” His words sent chills down my spine. I stared at the screen, dumbfounded and without a clue how to proceed. Not content with two mistakes (and apparently with a secret lust for self-endangerment and masochism) I made a third one.
“Fuck off…” I posted the comment and quickly shut down the TOR browser and closed my laptop. I thought about the events that had just transpired and somehow just ended up laughing them off. After all, there was no way that bastard is going to go through the trouble of tracking me down. People say shit online all the time, but they never act on it. It’s all just empty threats. Either way though, I had some preparation to take care of.
I called the police on the non-emergency hotline and informed them of the events. I gave them the web address I had gotten, and they told me they would investigate it. After that I called my insurance company to alert them about someone finding my social and proceeded to drink myself stupid, hoping liquor would drown the memories.
Days went by and nothing had changed, that is until the end of the week. I had just returned from work, when I saw an unfamiliar black astro van sitting down the block from my house. I paid it little mind at the time, and to be honest only realized the implications after the event. I had since forgotten my careless spree into the deep from days earlier and thought nothing of the van.
I got inside and again booted up my computer for some mindless browsing. As I did, I heard a noise outside. It sounded like someone climbing the fence outside. I live alone and have no pets, so I knew whatever it was wasn’t from my house. I thought about investigating it, but quickly the shattering of glass made it clear that it was not a good idea.
I heard footsteps emanate from down below, giving the distinct sound of boots on hardwood floor. They grew nearer and nearer, and I found myself frozen with terror. It was like my body just refused to accept the situation and would not respond no matter what I did. That would’ve been a most astute time for me to have gotten my gun, problem was, I didn’t have one.
The footsteps got louder and louder, all the way up the stairs with booming stomps of feet. I heard them trudge towards my bedroom door and linger just outside. My heart was in my throat, and sweat had begun to drip from every square inch of my body.
The door slowly creaked open, and in stepped a man with dark clothing and a simplistic porcelain mask. He walked inside brandishing a suppressed pistol in his right hand. He grew closer and closer, and then he walked right past me. I don’t know why they never bother to check the closet, it’s always the first place I look. I guess maybe he was too distracted by the doll which sat at my desk, hood up with headphones on to complete the decoy and lull in the approaching predator. I guess that inflatable sexdoll came in handy after all.
He stepped towards the dummy, and I emerged from behind like a tiger from the jungle, silent and with ravenous hunger. I could feel the saliva begin to pool within my mouth as he reached the prop. He put a hand on the dummy, and I put my hand on his throat. He struggled, like they all do, but I quickly had stripped the firearm from his grip. A simple incision underneath the arm with a blade does wonders in demanding obedience. All it takes is a slit to the ulnar nerve, and the arm becomes essentially useless. The unbearable pain it causes is also a bonus.
He dropped the gun, and I slammed him to the ground face first. With one motion I put my foot on his left elbow and grabbed his wrist with my hand while my other held the blade to his throat. I then leered close behind him and whispered to him.
“What time does my episode air? I don’t want to miss it…” Before he could respond, I yanked his arm backwards while pushing my boot firmly on his elbow. His bone cracked and then popped from it’s hinge as his arm bent backwards in the opposite direction it was meant to. The man cried out in an agonizing scream, but I quickly silenced him. He writhed upon the ground and moaned pitifully as the blood began to drip from his mangled arm. His eyes looked back to me, and I could see that oh-so-sweet luster of panic-stricken prey glisten in his dark brooding eyes. The hunter had become the hunted, and I could not stop the diabolic grin from slithering its way onto my face. It’s time to feed.
It’s a weird feeling when you first kill someone. Most start as a crime of passion, anger which boils over and leads to an act of violence. You learn a lot about people in their last seconds of life. Their secrets, their faith, their fear. You learn a lot about yourself too. Like how you, a normal dude could so easily swipe the life of another. There is a raw primal satisfaction in that feeling, knowing that you yourself hold dominion over death. The feeling is addictive.
Once is never enough though, and soon you will feel the urge to repeat your actions. The dopamine rush, the burst of euphoria, it’s as sweet as honey to the mind. I was more careful from then on, picking targets with no relation to me, and no reason to suspect my intent.
After a time though, I grew tired of targeting the unsuspecting populace. It just didn’t thrill me in the way it used to. You can only shoot fish in a barrel so many times before you want to dive into the ocean. What I needed was a new challenge. A new prey to rekindle the flame beneath me. I don’t want the sheep anymore, what I need now is the wolf.
Do you have any idea how satisfying it is to see the eyes of a predator turn into a helpless little lamb? To know that the terror they once instilled in others is now force-fed down their own throat? They never expect it, and there is no feeling so delicious. It is the ultimate poetic justice, monstrous actions done to monstrous people. The flood of adrenaline through their system also gives the meat a wonderful flavor.
My real name is irrelevant, for the annals of history will forget. But I have become known in certain circles by my adopted moniker; Sig Sepsis. You can find my advertisements all over the web in one form or another. My skills are, taboo, but refined. My clientele willing, and their tastes insatiable. To hunt a monster, you must know how to find a monster. You must become a monster.
So, to all the friends upon the forum known as Happy Fun Time, and the rest of the world at large, I see you. If any of you gentlemen would like to retrieve the remains of your fallen comrade, then you know where to find me. And if you; dear reader, happen to partake in the odious fantasies of the repugnant underworld as well, then perhaps I will see you one day to.