| the apartment |
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August 2nd,
2012 12:16 am
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( AUBADE #506 )
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| Voice Log 197 |
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December 26th,
2010 11:58 pm
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[Voice log. Usual precautions. Several hours after this.]
Twenty-ten, December twenty-six. Corbinian is again a threat. I have removed as much of the equipment as possible from central location 7, but of course there are signs. I have insured the security remains there in case he returns. I haven't given up hope he may seek me there, but if Max is right, that is not likely. I would remove her from Aubade, and Luke as well, if I thought they would go. I have made it as secure as possible, considering it is a public building, and I wish to avoid notice. I think they would stop speaking to me if I took their freedom.
[Some rustling, a metallic creak of the glass desk as he leans his weight on it.]
Is murder such a mild thing here? Are we so accepting of the loss of life that situation is permission?
It would be so much easier to be a killer. I wonder if they realize who I would kill if I was?
[A sharp exhale, a clench of teeth, and a sharp sweep of his arm toward the system. Beep.]
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| Voice Log 116 |
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September 7th,
2010 3:14 pm
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[Voice log. Usual precautions. Essentially timed before this, and something of an exposition to his presence there.]
Twenty-ten, August thirty. [He sounds... scientific. Concentrated. There are no background noises, as he is focusing entirely on what he is saying.] I have not entirely abandoned my investigations into the two masked assailants, now codenamed accurately according to self-identification and press as "Rorschach" (previously codenamed "Ink") and "Corbinian" (previously codenamed "Paint). Still, my attention has been taken by smaller, more immediate crimes. I am gathering information and evidence on vigilantism here, but I've been unable to do more. [A hint of frustration at being human--or rather, Creation. This hint cracks the concentrated intensity of his voice, and reveals a great deal of strain that only becomes more evident as time continues.]
More important things have taken my time from initial tests to measure the effect of this world on my person. I still don't know what my ability is; I have not detected any great change in myself since my arrival. A week of measurements and no obvious change in my vital signs. Notably, I've detected slight variations in blood sugar levels, not enough that I notice in practice but enough that it's coming through in blood tests for insulin markers. [A slight pause.] Troubling, but I need to prioritize.
I'm tracking a bad drug mix that hit the streets last weekend. It hit hard in the usual areas. Traditionally these dealers were sending out benzoylmethylecgonine adulterated with xanthine derivitives; cocaine cut with caffeine and other similar mild stimulants. This particular batch, however, is cut with a significant amount of methamphetamine, probably as an experimental incentive never intended for market. Potency tripled, and DEA is cleaning up a number of bodies. The most recent is that of Christopher Rhodes, white male, thirteen years old. [He says the last three words through gritted teeth, but he never even had a hitch on the multisyllabic chemical compounds.]
Trace elements of sodium bicarbonate--grocery store baking powder--that are still highly active indicate a relatively recent adulteration methods, which lead me to believe that there is a source of manufacturing in the immediate area. [It's not strain in his voice, it's anger. He's livid, enraged that someone is mixing this stuff in his own backyard and handing it to children for twenty dollar bills from mom's purse. He barely has it check.] Subsequent investigations over the last twenty-four hours have given me a list of names that deal in this area. The first two are deceased, but not recently. The third is in prison. The fourth I will visit as soon as the sun goes down. [His voice goes cold.] I hope he is cooperative. If not, I look forward to making sure he changes his mind.
[Beep.]
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| Voice Log 101 |
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August 15th,
2010 1:16 am
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[Voice log. Usual precautions.]
Twenty-ten, August thirteen. Twenty-two hundred hours. My previous theorized connection between Maxine Main's attacker on the night of the tenth and the masked assailant I've codenamed Ink is likely incorrect. I'm still unable to access cadavers due to some surprising resistance to bribery in the coroner's office, but from the report I have been able to access, the shoe type on the body from the tenth seems to be significantly different from those I observed on Ink, unless he changes shoes between attacks. I've gathered nothing concrete on Ink; rumors, no more. Currently working on a timeline of activity, perhaps to find out how long he's been operating--and whether or not he's a creation. On the other hand--
[Here follows a brief list of additions to his theories about the attacker "Paint," including educated guesses about his city sector of origin judging from the evidence he collected on the nearby roof. He mentions that the police report is completely useless thanks to "unreliable witness testimony." He sounds irritated about it.]
No further observations of portal activity or the phenomenon that supposedly deactivates abilities within the boundaries of Verisimilitude. Have detected no change in myself. [Pause.] Worrying. I have not viewed it as a priority, as I assumed it would make itself known by now; it has not. Perhaps it is time to run some tests.
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| Voice Log 098. |
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August 8th,
2010 2:07 am
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[Voice log. Heavily encrypted. Stored on private server, isolated from any external network connection.]
Twenty-ten, August eight. Twenty-one hundred hours. Eight months beyond the portal. This world beyond continues to amaze me with its apparent stability. The acceptance of a naturally short lifespan has made this society faster and more impatient, but no less greedy and corrupt. Crime here is fast and brutal, often randomized, without target or interpersonal purpose. [He pauses, considering these changes, pulling his fingers apart then interlacing them together again--audible because he is wearing gloves that have a metallic hiss when they rub together, perhaps lined with some kind of thin, armor-like layer.] Criminal science is extremely advanced, as in our world, and I’ve found no significant advancements beyond our own except for those in the medical field to fight [he clears his throat at this point] terminal diseases. [Grimly.] Fortunately, that is not my field.
More of us continue to arrive. I am unable to exactly account for numbers as I feel a stakeout in the area of Verisimilitude to be a questionable use of my time--I will not be able to prevent anyone from arriving, nor send them back once they are here. [Another pause. He’s not sure of this decision even though he has already made it.]
Batman has made a few initial appearances. As before, intimidation begins with mythos; only a few junkies and petty criminals have met me, and never long enough to understand what I am. I plan to sustain the mythical status as long as possible; it’s safer. [Some fatigue.] Perhaps if I obtain some allies... we shall see.
[A deep breath to refresh his approach.] Business prospects are good. My multiple agent technique worked: independent of each other, they couldn’t be sure who I had sent with what orders, and they invested and saved as I instructed. The expected 22% loss, perhaps half of which is recoverable through intimidation or acquisition. Profits continue to expand, and there is no question of Thomas, Inc.’s existence or durability. As planned.
[New unease.] I am expected to be more social as a CEO. I had not thought so many would view a businessman as a celebrity, and there are enough eyes on Thomas, Inc. that it would be far wiser to show them something than hide. Eternal life accords those at home a better likelihood of privacy, I suppose. You would think that here, gossips would be more interested in living what little they have left. [More hissing of his fingers tenting and folding--nervously?] I am not good at such social niceties. I will need to work on being normal in these social circles.
I detest being social.
End log. [Beep.]
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| the response |
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August 31st,
2009 8:51 pm
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