#Elevator Video Surveillance

[medicalweightloss100]

Enhancing Elevator Safety with Advanced Wireless CCTV

Enhance elevator security with Elevator Video Systems' wireless CCTV, featuring motion detection, night vision, and cloud connectivity for safer transit.

Discover flexible and powerful elevator surveillance solutions for safe rides.

Elevator Video Systems enhances security with its advanced wireless CCTV, offering easy installation, minimal wiring, and superior image quality. Featuring motion detection, night vision, and cloud connectivity, it ensures real-time monitoring of commercial and residential properties. With expert support, the company leads in innovative elevator surveillance for safer transit systems.

Creative Methods for Installing Wireless Lift Security Cameras

Our wireless CCTV for elevators enables a seamless safety upgrade that transforms traditional elevator surveillance. By replacing extensive cabling with modern wifi CCTV for lift systems, we deliver enhanced security flexibly. The installation of a wireless lift security camera is straightforward, requiring minimal structural interference while providing high-definition clarity and precise coverage. In addition, the battery-powered lift CCTV option minimizes downtime during installation, allowing businesses and residential properties to maintain operations without major disruptions. Advanced features, such as smart CCTV for elevators and remote access CCTV for lifts, further deepen the security measures within elevator cabins.

This innovative system uses cutting-edge technologies to ensure that every detail is captured. With a no-wire elevator security camera, there is reduced clutter and a more aesthetic installation, while the wireless lift monitoring camera assures comprehensive coverage. Regular monitoring via remote access adds an extra layer of protection, creating a highly responsive environment determined to address safety issues swiftly. This approach not only meets modern security standards but also exceeds expectations, making it an ideal solution for safeguarding passengers and easing management efforts.

Ensuring Continuous Elevator Surveillance with Wireless HD Cameras

The integration of a wireless HD camera for elevators is a game changer in modern security systems. Utilizing superior image quality, these cameras provide clear and detailed footage essential for daily surveillance. The system incorporates features such as motion detection and infrared night vision, which ensure smooth operation at any time of day. With no physical wires required, the setup is both rapid and efficient – perfect for retrofit projects and new installations alike. Enhanced by the integration of remote access CCTV for lift systems, security personnel can instantly review footage from any location.

By employing a battery-powered lift CCTV system, facilities benefit from a reliable and renewable power source, minimizing the risk of disruptions. Regular system checks guarantee up-to-date performance, ensuring that even in low-light conditions, the clarity and integrity of video data remain intact. The advantages of adopting a wireless elevator surveillance system include reduced installation costs and greater flexibility in camera placement, creating a comprehensive solution that effectively addresses today's dynamic security challenges.

High-Security Elevator Cameras with Remote Access And Smart Technology

With our wireless lift monitoring camera, security teams gain unprecedented control over elevator environments. This smart CCTV for elevators provides immediate remote access, allowing facility managers to oversee elevator movements and detect potential threats in real-time. The system’s high-definition capabilities ensure that facial details and key security features are captured without compromise. An integrated alarm system can warn personnel of irregular activity immediately, positioning the setup as an ideal solution for busy high-rise buildings where rapid response is crucial.

Moreover, the emphasis on a cloud-based platform and advanced analytics transforms traditional elevator surveillance into an interactive and responsive security system. The wireless HD camera not only delivers exceptional clarity but also analyzes activity patterns to predict and prevent security breaches. The combination of smart sensors and real-time monitoring makes this system highly adaptable, ensuring every ride is safe and every incident is recorded accurately. This forward-thinking technology empowers both occupants and operators with the tools needed for a secure environment.

Cutting-Edge Features and Advantages of No-Wires Elevator Cameras

Our no-wires elevator security camera is designed for modern buildings that demand aesthetic integrity and functional excellence. This system eliminates unsightly cabling, ensuring a clean installation that blends seamlessly with interior designs. The wireless connectivity also reduces labor costs and installation complexities, while the advanced battery-powered lift CCTV maintains robust functionality even in challenging settings. Users benefit from high-definition imaging combined with motion detection for full-spectrum monitoring. The integration of a wifi CCTV for lift ensures that data transmission is both secure and rapid, facilitating real-time responses to any irregularities.

By choosing a no-wire approach, property managers drastically simplify both the initial setup and subsequent maintenance procedures. The wireless system is engineered to function reliably under constant use, ensuring consistency in surveillance quality. Using innovative communication protocols, the system integrates efficiently with remote control hubs. Consequently, this approach not only boosts operational efficiency but also reinforces overall safety measures, making it a superior solution in today’s technologically driven security landscape.

Advanced Elevator Security System for Enhanced Protection

Elevator Video Systems offers a comprehensive suite of wireless CCTV for elevators that redefines security standards. Their wireless lift security camera systems are engineered to provide high-definition video monitoring, integrating smart and reliable technology with a focus on user convenience. This company’s solutions include remote access CCTV for lifts, allowing real-time monitoring and immediate intervention from any remote location. With an approach centered around innovative design and technical excellence, Elevator Video Systems ensures that every component, from the wireless HD camera for elevators to battery-powered lift CCTV options, works together to provide a robust security framework.

Elevator Video Systems' elevator surveillance wireless system is distinguished by its easy installation, minimal wiring needs, and superior image quality. The fusion of advanced features such as motion detection and night vision with cloud connectivity creates an elevated safety experience tailored for modern commercial and residential properties. Providing thorough support and expert advice, the company is a trusted partner in the transformation of institutional security practices. Their commitment to technological innovation positions them at the forefront of elevator surveillance, ensuring safer and more dependable transit systems.

Conclusion - Reinventing Elevator Safety with Wireless Technology

In summary, the modernization of elevator security through wireless CCTV systems represents a significant advancement in safety and monitoring. The integration of a wireless lift monitoring camera with a smart CCTV for elevators offers a dynamic blend of high-definition video, real-time remote access, and efficient battery-powered operation. These systems are designed for quick installation, eliminating the clutter of traditional wiring without sacrificing performance. Every elevator becomes a monitored and secure space, fortified by advanced image capture, motion detection, and night vision functionalities that cater to modern security demands.

This comprehensive approach to elevator surveillance not only enhances passenger safety but also streamlines maintenance and reduces overall costs. By leveraging state-of-the-art technology, property managers are equipped with the tools required to proactively manage any safety concerns. The wireless HD camera systems and no-wires elevator security camera solutions provide a promising future where safety meets efficiency. The evolution witnessed through these technologically advanced systems marks a new era in building security, ensuring that every ride is as safe as it is seamless.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Premature Internet Activists

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me TOMORROW (Feb 14) in BOSTON for FREE at BOSKONE , and SATURDAY (Feb 15) for a virtual event with YANIS VAROUFAKIS. More tour dates here.

"Premature antifacist" was a sarcastic term used by leftists caught up in the Red Scare to describe themselves, as they came under ideological suspicion for having traveled to Spain to fight against Franco's fascists before the US entered WWII and declared war against the business-friendly, anticommunist fascist Axis powers of Italy, Spain, and, of course, Germany:

https://www.google.com/books/edition/In_Denial/fBSbKS1FlegC?hl=en&gbpv=1&bsq=%22premature+anti-fascist%22&pg=PA277&printsec=frontcover

The joke was that opposing fascism made you an enemy of America – unless you did so after the rest of America had woken up to the existential threat of a global fascist takeover. What's more, if you were a "premature antifascist," you got no credit for fighting fascism early on. Quite the contrary: fighting fascism before the rest of the US caught up with you didn't make you prescient – it made you a pariah.

I've been thinking a lot about premature antifascism these days, as literal fascists use the internet to coordinate a global authoritarian takeover that represents an existential threat to a habitable planet and human thriving. In light of that, it's hard to argue that the internet is politically irrelevant, and that fights over the regulation, governance, and structure of the internet are somehow unserious.

And yet, it wasn't very long ago that tech policy was widely derided as a frivolous pursuit, and that tech organizing was dismissed as "slacktivism":

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2010/10/04/small-change-malcolm-gladwell

Elevating concerns about the internet's destiny to the level of human rights struggle was delusional, a glorified argument about the rules for forums where sad nerds argued about Star Trek. If you worried that Napster-era copyright battles would make it easy to remove online content by claiming that it infringed copyright, you were just carrying water for music pirates. If you thought that legalizing and universalizing encryption technology would safeguard human rights, you were a fool who had no idea that real human rights battles involved confronting Bull Connor in the streets, not suing the NSA in a federal courtroom.

And now here we are. Congress has failed to update consumer privacy law since 1988 (when they banned video store clerks from blabbing about your VHS rentals). Mass surveillance enables everything from ransomware, pig butchering and identity theft to state surveillance of "domestic enemies," from trans people to immigrants. What's more, the commercial and state surveillance apparatus are, in fact, as single institution: states protect corporations from privacy law so that corporations can create and maintain population-scale nonconsensual dossiers on all the intimate facts of our lives, which governments raid at will, treating them as an off-the-books surveillance dragnet:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

Our speech forums have been captured by billionaires who censor anti-oligarchic political speech, and who spy on dissident users in order to aid in political repression. Bogus copyright claims are used to remove or suppress disfavorable news reports of elite rapists, thieves, war criminals and murderers:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/27/nuke-first/#ask-questions-never

You'd be hard pressed to find someone who'd describe the fights over tech governance in 2025 as frivolous or disconnected from "real politics"

This is where the premature antifascist stuff comes in. An emerging revisionist history of internet activism would have you believe that the first generation of tech liberation activists weren't fighting for a free, open internet – we were just shilling for tech companies. The P2P wars weren't about speech, privacy and decentralization – they were just a way to help the tech sector fight the entertainment industry. DRM fights weren't about preserving your right to repair, to privacy, and to accessibility – they were just about making it easy to upload movies to Kazaa. Fighting for universal access to encryption wasn't about defending everyday people from corporate and state surveillance – it was just a way to help terrorists and child abusers stay out of sight of cops.

Of course, now these fights are all about real things. Now we need to worry about centralization, interoperability, lock-in, surveillance, speech, and repair. But the people – like me – who've been fighting over this stuff for a quarter-century? We've gone from "unserious fools who mistook tech battles for human rights fights" to "useful idiots for tech companies" in an eyeblink.

"Premature Internet Activists," in other words.

This isn't merely ironic or frustrating – it's dangerous. Approaching tech activism without a historical foundation can lead people badly astray. For example, many modern tech critics think that Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act (which makes internet users liable for illegal speech acts, while immunizing entities that host that speech) is a "giveaway to Big Tech" and want to see it abolished.

Boy is this dangerous. CDA 230 is necessary for anyone who wants to offer a place for people to meet and discuss anything. Without CDA 230, no one could safely host a Mastodon server, or set up the long-elusive federated Bluesky servers. Hell, you couldn't even host a group-chat or message board:

https://www.techdirt.com/2020/06/23/hello-youve-been-referred-here-because-youre-wrong-about-section-230-communications-decency-act/

Getting rid of CDA 230 won't get rid of Facebook or make it clean up its act. It will just make it impossible for anyone to offer an alternative to Facebook, permanently enshrining Zuck's dominance over our digital future. That's why Mark Zuckerberg wants to kill Section 230:

https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/zuckerberg-calls-changes-techs-section-230-protections-rcna486

Defending policies that make it easier to host speech isn't the same thing as defending tech companies' profits, though these do sometimes overlap. When tech platforms have their users' back – even for self-serving reasons – they create legal precedents and strong norms that protect everyone. Like when Apple stood up to the FBI on refusing to break its encryption:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apple%E2%80%93FBI_encryption_dispute

If Apple had caved on that one, it would be far harder for, say, Signal to stand up to demands that it weaken its privacy guarantees. I'm no fan of Apple, and I would never mistake Tim Cook – who owes his CEOhood to his role in moving Apple production to Chinese sweatshops that are so brutal they had to install suicide nets – for a human rights defender. But I cheered on Apple in its fight against the FBI, and I will cheer them again, if they stand up to the UK government's demand to break their encryption:

https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c20g288yldko

This doesn't make me a shill for Apple. I don't care if Apple makes or loses another dime. I care about Apple's users and their privacy. That's why I criticize Apple when they compromise their users' privacy for profit:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/12/youre-holding-it-wrong/#if-dishwashers-were-iphones

The same goes for fights over scraping. I hate AI companies as much as anyone, but boy is it a mistake to support calls to ban scraping in the name of fighting AI:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

It's scraping that lets us track paid political disinformation on Facebook (Facebook isn't going to tell us about it):

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/05/comprehensive-sex-ed/#quis-custodiet-ipsos-zuck

And it's scraping that let us rescue all the CDC and NIH data that Musk's broccoli-hair brownshirts deleted on behalf of DOGE:

https://www.cnet.com/tech/services-and-software/how-to-access-important-health-info-thats-been-scrubbed-from-the-cdc-site/

It's such a huge mistake to assume that anything corporations want is bad for the internet. There are many times when commercial interests dovetail with online human rights. That's not a defense of capitalism, it's a critique of capitalism that acknowledges that profits do sometimes coincide with the public interest, an argument that Marx and Engels devote Chapter One of The Communist Manifesto to:

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/31/books/review/a-spectre-haunting-china-mieville.html

In the early 1990s, Al Gore led the "National Information Infrastructure" hearings, better known as the "Information Superhighway" hearings. Gore's objective was to transfer control over the internet from the military to civilian institutions. It's true that these institutions were largely (but not exclusively) commercial entities seeking to make a buck on the internet. It's also true that much of that transfer could have been to public institutions rather than private hands.

But I've lately – and repeatedly – heard this moment described (by my fellow leftists) as the "privatization" of the internet. This is strictly true, but it's even more true to say that it was the demilitarization of the internet. In other words, corporations didn't take over functions performed by, say, the FCC – they took over from the Pentagon. Leftists have no business pining for the days when the internet was controlled by the Department of Defense.

Caring about the technological dimension of human rights 30 years ago – or hell, 40 years ago – doesn't make you a corporate stooge who wanted to launch a thousand investment bubbles. It makes you someone who understood, from the start, that digital rights are human rights, that cyberspace would inevitably evert into meatspace, and that the rules, norms and infrastructure we built for the net would someday be as consequential as any other political decision.

I'm proud to be a Premature Internet Activist. I just celebrated my 23rd year with the Electronic Frontier Foundation, and yesterday, we sued Elon Musk and DOGE:

https://www.eff.org/press/releases/eff-sues-opm-doge-and-musk-endangering-privacy-millions

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/13/digital-rights/#are-human-rights

Image: Felix Winkelnkemper (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Acoustic_Coupler.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[imfineitsfineeverythingsfine]

Communication and a Question for the Fandom

I started this off thinking I would end up with one conclusion and I actually found myself changing it by the end. I’ve read a lot frustration with the ineffable husbands and their lack of communication. “You don’t ever talk to each other" and "You never say what you’re really thinking.”

Now, that may be true. But also, throughout both seasons, we have seen repeatedly how they have been under surveillance too. 

Not just visual

But audio as well… Sign in Hell: Be Careful What You Say. But there’s more to the sign itself. I just can’t make it out. It’s not a sign that’s featured in the extras either, which is also interesting. 

What I could find though, in the The Devil in the Details X-Ray video was a little more of the sign, but I still can’t make out what the rest of it says:

Which brings in my Question for the Fandom. If anyone else is able to make out rest of this, I’d be interested. (This was around the 2:05 timestamp)

Moving on, that’s not the only *Clue* about their surveillance either. We know about Hell using electronics as a means of communication. They just cut in to whatever happens to be playing at the time, right? Radio, tv, Saturday Morning Funtime… so it would make sense that they’d use it to listen too. Is the Bookshop any safer, being an embassy for Heaven and all?

And it’s hard to pinpoint exactly how either side is listening in. We all remember this interaction but really… played as a joke but what if it wasn’t? Or maybe they just hadn’t figured out the specifics yet at that point.

Maybe there are certain “trigger words.” We see the reactions when Crowley is called “nice.” 

Crowley tells Aziraphale to “shut up” numerous times. We hear both them say “don’t say that” a lot. 

But also…

Closed captioning capitalized it just like that. Interesting. (If you haven’t watched the show with cc on, I recommend it)

What does this all mean? They just don’t talk to each other? Well, no. Not necessarily. We’ve also seen them find ways around directly speaking too.

Writing it down. (Which was promptly burned)

Aziraphale mouthing “Trust Me” during the bullet catch. Could they have had other short hands or code words? Emergency contingency plans? I personally imagine so. Side note: could they have also been using alcohol (laudanum) as cover for plausible deniability? 

“Safe spaces”? The backroom in the Bookshop that they kept going to for private conversations. We know they had alternative rendezvous locations in the first season too – the old bandstand, the number 19 bus, and the British Museum café. 

The Final Fifteen. I don’t want to take away from the emotion of the scene and I think Season 3 (come on Prime!) give us the rest of the story. I have faith in Neil Gaiman (pun sort of intended). But I will propose that the kiss may have been not only Crowley’s plead but also a misdirect or signal or other way to communicate between the two that we have yet to understand. In the end, Aziraphale was able to get the Metatron to break and divulge that the next step of the Great Plan was the Second Coming…before even leaving Earth…which was pretty impressive in itself. Was Aziraphale then able to relay anything to Crowley before the elevator? Sendarya’s video here does a great job with that very question (and others).

Most experts agree that 70-93% of communication is nonverbal and when communicating emotions, applying the 7-38-55 rule. Meaning only 7% through spoken word, 38% tone of voice, and 55% through body language. So maybe they’re not doing so bad after all. Those are just my thoughts and we’ll just have to wait and see and hope.

[lassieposting]

So like. I've seen plenty of posts discussing CatNap's death scene, the Prototype's involvement, and whether CatNap was betrayed by his mentor or willingly sacrificed himself, but there's one detail that nobody seems to be talking about. So imma bring it up, because it's relevant, it's important, to the point that we might actually only be seeing half the interaction between them.

Prototype is telepathic.

Or at least, he's something similar. It's strongly hinted at throughout his story:

Prototype manages to befriend Theo, despite the fact that he's kept locked in the labs under constant surveillance. Theo's artwork implies he believed Prototype lived under his bed. It also shows that he was - at least partially - aware of what Prototype looked like, as he drew an accurate representation of Prototype's mechanical arm. So how were they communicating? Likely via telepathy, with Prototype reaching out to Theo from the confines of his cell, and possibly projecting an image of himself for Theo to interact with. Theo feels safe with the fearsome-looking Prototype when they meet in person, which would suggest that Prototype is, by then, a familiar face.

Prototype's influence is clear in the video tapes, such as the instructions for moving a Bigger Bodies toy or the Emergency Alert video - he overrides the original content with new instructions like "RELEASE THE GIANT" or "OPEN THE DOORS. THE HOUR OF JOY IS NOW." And it's implied that this "tampering" came hand-in-hand with some kind of telepathic hold on the Playtime workers - they do release Kissy, against all common sense, despite the original instructions being visible beneath Prototype's override, and at the cost of their lives. It makes me think that the "tampering" is actually more of a side effect - that the control Prototype is projecting is so strong that he affects not only the minds of the workers he's targeting, but also any communication media within range - the messages on the VHS tapes are the orders he was pushing into their brains, flash-framed on film. Perhaps, if a worker had picked up a phone to call for help, they would only have heard a cacophony of voices insisting release the giant release the giant release the giant.

DogDay mentions that he and the other Smiling Critters - minus CatNap - "tried to resist [Prototype's] control". It's said in a way that suggests that Bigger Bodies who weren't fully on board with the Hour of Joy were... let's say "encouraged"...to participate, willing or no, via a helpful jolt of Assuming Direct Control. Given how docile she is most of the time, this could also be true of Kissy, who we see joining in with the massacre.

At the end of Chapter Three, the player joins Poppy on an elevator to go confront the Prototype in his lair. Which is weird, because...we know he's not in his lair. We've just seen him kill CatNap, and by this point we know he's likely been tailing us for a while. The Player would know, as they got onto that elevator, that Prototype can follow them down and trap them. But they say nothing to Poppy, their apparent ally. They don't warn her. Why? Maybe Prototype isn't letting them. If he could reach Theo in Playcare from the labs, deep in the bowels of the factory, it's not unreasonable to suggest that he's also in our head, subtly monitoring our thoughts, gently nudging away any desire to raise concerns with Poppy - who, as we know, wants Prototype dead.

So anyway: we know that Prototype has some variety of telepathy. And we know he has a preexisting connection with Theo - now CatNap.

Now, onto the actual death.

Lots of people have already covered the popular theories - that CatNap willingly offered himself to his god, and that CatNap believed the Prototype had come to save him and was cruelly betrayed. But honestly, on first watching, neither of those were the vibe I got. So I'm gonna throw my theories into the ring.

1) CatNap's death was a mercy kill

The first was that it was a mercy kill. CatNap is, at the end of the chapter, electrocuted to the point of collapse, and then horribly burned. There are no scientists left who can tend to the injuries of a Bigger Body creature. CatNap would be in horrifying pain, and if - as I've theorized here - Prototype all but raised CatNap, it could be that the death he provides is intended to put a quick end to CatNap's suffering. A mortally wounded apex predator will often become the target of groups of smaller, subordinate predators - like the swarming Critters in CatNap's territory - once they are dying and unable to defend themselves. Severing the spinal cord and targeting the brain would take away the pain, and make sure the death was as close to immediate as possible. If he'd wanted to hurt or punish CatNap, he could very easily have done so in a far more agonizing way - Miss Delight says that CatNap reports to Prototype, so they seem to be in relatively regular contact with each other and CatNap has few or no reservations about entering Prototype's territory to see him.

From this perspective, it also becomes interesting that Prototype reaches down to CatNap through a vent it's highly unlikely he could fit into, rather than fully appearing in front of us. Bearing in mind their mental connection, left open in the background of their minds, this could actually be seen as Prototype having an understandable and realistic caregiver panic response to CatNap's sudden, all-consuming agony - he wants to get to CatNap as quickly as possible, and he's picked a physically problematic route because it's faster.

2) CatNap's death was the Prototype fixing a problem he created

It's a sad truth that our children - or, in the Prototype's case, the young friend he assumed responsibility for - don't always grow into people we're proud of.

I've talked before about the Prototype's "parenting" as a positive influence on CatNap, and in several ways, it is - relative to the world they're trapped in.

CatNap is spared from the utter social isolation other experiments endure - he has Prototype to play and socialise with, which allows him to grow up with improved social skills and better ability to read people.

CatNap has a protector during the early years of the food shortage, once the toys begin turning on one another. Theo is shy and gentle, not naturally inclined to violence, so Prototype's protection probably shields him from becoming someone else's lunch at least once.

CatNap has someone to teach him to fend for himself. While Prototype's digestive system is vestigial - he doesn't need to eat to survive - he's an accomplished killer and it seems as though CatNap learned many of his hunting techniques from his mentor. It's likely that he would have learned to hunt the way young animals do - at first, Prototype hunts and kills all his food for him. Then Prototype brings back mostly-dead prey for CatNap to finish off. Then CatNap starts practicing his skills on small prey under Prototype's supervision, growing in confidence and competence until he no longer needs help, and then until he's fully self-sufficient.

But let's face it, Prototype is not exactly the world's most well-adjusted or morally upstanding individual. He's been imprisoned for decades. Tortured. Experimented on. He's deeply traumatised, his worldview irrevocably twisted in the name of survival. He's got a documented history of violence and as-yet-unquantified psychic abilities - the telepathy - that could be wreaking absolute havoc on his psyche. And CatNap is a young, impressionable mind who idolises him.

Now, we don't know how Prototype feels about the cult that's sprung up around him. It's entirely possible that he's thriving on it, that he's bought into his own mystique and begun to see himself as a god with the factory as his domain. @hrhowling came up with a fantastic theory along these lines, where CatNap's death is posed as a reward for faithful service - the opportunity to become part of his god and achieve immortality. A show of favour towards a loyal high priest. And if Prototype does appreciate the worship, honestly, this seems the most likely scenario to me.

But it's also just as possible that he's...not a fan.

It's a popular theory that "Ollie" is the Prototype, known to be a vocal mimic, using a child's voice to win the Player's trust. I vibe with this theory - Ollie's speech and tone is...not quite right, and there are multiple points where he sounds like his sentences are made up of different audio clips stitched together - stitched neatly, admittedly, but stitched nonetheless. That's very similar to the way we see Prototype stitching together words in different voices in his interview tape. Ollie's stitching is far less noticeable, but Prototype has had a long time to practice, and he's using the same voice - probably Theodore Grambell's, the child he's most familiar with - so it's not as obvious.

But if Ollie is the Prototype, that sheds a very different light on his character in general. Ollie is helping the Player. Ollie is known to Poppy and Kissy as an ally. Ollie opens up about CatNap, his history with the Prototype, and expresses obvious distaste around CatNap's religious zeal and tendency to kill anyone who opposes his mentor. If Ollie is the Prototype, it seems a lot more like he's a tired old soldier who's been made the unwilling messiah of a cult driven by isolation and insanity.

To add on to this, it's notable that Prototype doesn't seem to be hostile to the other experiments. In fact, his territory would likely be the safest place in the factory for the very small toys - with CatNap grown, he has no need to hunt or eat them, and although he's quite capable of killing anything in the factory, he seems to have no interest in attacking other Bigger Body apex predators. MLL openly hates and fears him, but Prototype has let her be for ten years, only coming to claim her once she's killed. He's openly benevolent to Huggy and CatNap. The only place we ever know him to have aimed his violence is at the scientists tormenting him and the children.

So yeah. Maybe he actually doesn't approve of CatNap's harcore religious leanings. Maybe he's disappointed at how their relationship has shifted over the years, from friendship to surrogate family to reluctant god and fanatical high priest. Maybe he's guiding and helping the Player in the hopes of finally putting an end to their collective imprisonment and misery. And when CatNap snaps - let's be honest, he does make it clear that the Player is intruding and gives them multiple warnings and opportunities to Get Out Of His Home Or Else - and tries to kill the Player, Prototype can't let that happen. He's forced to make a horrifying choice - the kid he loves the bones of, the only friend he had at his lowest points, or the instrument of his ultimate goal.

And we know the Prototype. He's willing to do terrible things in the name of what he believes is right. He massacred innocents along with the guilty during the Hour of Joy. He tells CatNap it's okay, he's done well, he can rest now...

And he does what has to be done.

3) CatNap's death was requested by CatNap

Let's be honest. CatNap is not doing well after that confrontation. He's probably mortally wounded, and he's facing a slow and agonizing death from - if not the player - his burns or his weakness or his inability to defend his own territory. I would not be surprised if the silent conversation between him and the Prototype involved CatNap asking his idol, his god, to please make the pain stop. To end it, quickly and cleanly. I think that would be a reasonable ask from anyone covered head to toe in terrible burns. And in this scenario, knowing there is no doctor that can treat, heal or gently euthanise CatNap, it would honestly be crueller for the Prototype to refuse him.

Anyway yeah I just. Think there's a lot of missing context added by remembering that Prototype is a telepath, and there is probably a conversation going on with CatNap before he dies. So this is my take on three different ways the death scene could be read.

[hotchy-poo]

Five Minutes

a/n: This is my literal first ever piece of fanfiction I've ever written so bare with me please, any and all feedback I would love. This is based off of season 3 episode 20 Lo-Fi.

Summary: The final moments of a terrorism case and too many close calls leaves the reader more shaken than usual.

GN!reader x BAU!Team, some slight Hotch x Reader, maybe Morgan x Reader if you look hard enough.

Word Count: 1.7k

cw: some swearing, discussions of death and explosions

You can hear your heart thudding in your chest, it feels like your ears are ringing but you can still clearly hear the sounds of the shoes and boots you and most of your team were wearing. Dave and Hotch had pieced it together that the profile your team had been putting together was wrong, it wasn't a trio or duo of serial killers, it was a home grown terrorism attack, and it was going to take place in a hospital in downtown New York. The hospital you and your team are currently in. Almost your entire attention is being put towards sweeping the parking lot searching for the terrorist ambulance driver.

The rest of your brain was occupied with two thoughts. 1. Where the hell is Derek Morgan and 2. That surveillance video of Kate Joyner's SUV blowing up, sending her and Hotch flying. He's behind you now, you can hear the change in his gait, his limp from the shrapnel cutting its way into his leg. You also know his face is scratched to hell and his ear is bleeding. Part of you wishes he would have sat this out due to his injuries but everyone knows he's allergic to taking care of himself.

Turning the corner, gun in hand, finger on trigger, you shake those last two thoughts from your head. All focus needs to be on this current situation. Reid nods towards the elevator and you see the dead special service agents lying there covered in blood. One of their legs in the way of the door preventing it from closing all the way.

Your attention is then drawn to a man who is sitting on the concrete floor with his legs crossed. A phone in one hand and a knife in the other. The team surrounds him, guns raised and ready. You notice his EMS uniform and know this is one of the UnSubs, the master bomber. You also notice the lack of ambulance with a bomb that would decimate this hospital and surrounding buildings. The bomber decides he won't be arrested and uses the knife to end his life, proving that he would kill and be killed for his cause.

A faint explosion is heard far in the distance as Hotch calls in that the hospital is secure. The tension could be felt in everyone's chest as they turned their heads to the sound, making eye contact with others, panic visible in their expressions. Reids phone rings and he immediately answers, only a second passing before his whole body sags with relief as he hears Morgans voice on the other side letting him know he is ok and the bomb exploded in a safe location away from the city and its residents. Relief fills your chest as you realize everyone is safe and that another case has come to an end. And while it may not have been the ending anyone wanted, it was over and you looked forward to leaving this experience in the past.

You had barely gotten enough sleep in your hotel room, expecting to have passed out from exhaustion from the events of the case, but you found yourself thinking of all of the what ifs. What if Morgan hadn't of gotten to a safe location in the ambulance, or what if he hadn't gotten out in time, what if Garcia couldn't have jammed the cell towers like she did, what if Hotch had been closer to the SUV or even inside of it. Tossing and turning all night left you quieter than usual in the morning and it was not unnoticed by your team.

Reid, Morgan, Garcia, Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi said their goodbyes and see you laters to you and Hotch outside the federal building. You offered to make the drive with the injured man and Morgan was more than happy to let you as he wanted to lay down on the flight and drink his Cristal. Keys in hand you and Hotch begin the walk to the black SUV you would be driving, subconsciously you brace for some sort of impact as you approach the vehicle and before you can try to play it off Hotchner is suddenly standing in front of you with a concerned look in his eye.

"Everything ok Agent L/N?" he asks raising his eyebrow.

You brush him off trying to step around him "yeah of course I'm fine." Hotch shuffles his feet and prevents you from walking away. "I'm just not super excited for the long drive Hotch, I'm good."

You hope that that was enough to sway him and you think is has as he lets you step around him. Just as you reach for the cars handle to throw your bag in the back, you feel his hand grasp your elbow and turn you to face him.

"You know" he begins "it's ok to be upset, what we all just went through in the past couple of days was hard and damaging, and its ok to feel conflicted, or sad, or angry." He moves his head trying to make eye contact with you but your eyes are firmly placed on the sidewalk. Knowing that if you try to explain what it is that you are feeling it might all come out as word vomit and your emotions might get the best of you.

"I'm good Hotch" you respond still not making eye contact "let's just go." You pull your arm out of his grasp before throwing yours and his bag in the back seat. Shutting the door you go to walk to the drivers side when Hotch calls your name.

"Y/N." Him saying your name doesn't leave room for you to walk away. You slowly turn to face him and you see his lips in a straight line and his eyebrows furrowed. He starts to walk towards you, his limp so prevalent and you can't keep it together anymore. Your eyes fill with tears threatening to spill over and you know that if you start to cry you won't be able to stop.

Hotch gently grabs your shoulder and sighs as he asks you again if you're ok and you can't keep your emotions and tears at bay any longer. Tears start to fall down your cheeks as you try to speak.

"It's just... this case was so much... we thought we had it figured out and that we could catch them but they were always a step ahead of us" The tears keep rolling and you can't stop talking even if you wanted too. A sob breaks out of your mouth and you drop your head as your body shakes with your cries. "All I can think about is the what ifs, all I can see is that surveillance video of you being BLOWN up Hotch" You're aware that your voice is much louder than it needs to be and Hotch's ear rings and aches but he acts like it doesn't bother him. "You got flung across a street Hotch! Derek climbed into a goddamn ambulance with an explosive that would have decimated three blocks of this city at least!" Your breathing is erratic, chest falling and raising quickly. You're using your hands very expressively and Hotch grabs both of your arms to try and slow you down.

"I need you to breathe Y/N" he says but you're not listening.

"I thought you had died when I saw that video!" you sob. " And you weren't answering your phone!"

"I left it behind, I forgot about it" He responds "I didn't mean to I'm sorry" his voice is quiet and gentle.

"And then once we were in the hospital Derek took off like a madman and when the ambulance blew up I thought he was in it!" You are still almost yelling, the tears have not slowed at all, in fact they may have sped up. You keep rambling about how you thought you had lost Hotch and then how you thought you had lost Derek. Starting to stumble over your words you stop talking and just start to sob, pulling your hands up over your face.

Suddenly you're pulled into Hotch's chest, one arm wraps around the middle of your back securing you to him, and the other goes to the back of your head. You can his thumb moving on your back trying to calm you. You know your tears are staining his clothes but you can't seem to care, you also wouldn't be able to escape his hug even if you wanted to.

He holds you as you cry, not caring that you are on a busy sidewalk, ignoring peering eyes. His only concern right now is you.

"I know that this case was a lot Y/N" he begins "this case demanded a lot of us, and we were put into dangerous situations. But I'm ok" He moves his hands to grab the sides of your face and pull your head up so that you can look at each other. "Derek and I are ok, some healing time is necessary but we're alive and well."

Your cries have stopped and now you're just left with a runny nose. Sniffling you take a step out of the embrace allowing his hands to fall back to his sides. You let out a singular breathy laugh and wipe your face with your hands.

"You're right" you agree with him, Derek and Hotch are alive and that is what matters the most. "I'm still gonna kick Derek's ass for what he did."

Hotch exhales through his nose and cracks a small smile "why don't we start driving back to Quantico L/N, its a long journey ahead of us."

You nod and climb into the drivers seat of the car, immediately refusing his offer to drive. Turning the key in the ignition and plugging in the offices address into the GPS, you take one deep breath and let it out slowly as you turn on the blinker and pull out into traffic.

The car is silent for a few minutes before you decide to break it

"Hotch?" you ask. He turns his head to you, prompting you to continue, "promise me you won't tell the others that I just cried in your arms for a minute in the middle of down town New York?" You glance over at him and you see a small smirk form on his face.

"I would never" he responds. I also won't say that it was five minutes not one he thinks to himself.

a/n ok im kinda proud of this, and i hope i can articulate myself well enough, literally just watched this episode for the first time and i cried. if it sucks or you have any tips for me to write better please let me know! I really hope you enjoy it and I hope i get to make more fics hehe

[sanjoongie]

Ϻ𝜚ƍ𝖺ｖℯ𝗿𝑠ｅ

💙A/N: last but certainly not least (after scorpio season is finished i know lmao) this is for @anyamaris who i need to bonk most of the time for being a menace. somehow i made a combined alternate universe combining stray kids and ateez? 💙Pairing: Lee Felix (Stray Kids) x Reader (f) 💙Au: Vigilante au, Undercover au 💙Genre:��smut 💙Trope: enemies to lovers 💙Warnings: mutual foreplay, fingering(f), jerking off (m), praise kink, penetrative sex with no barrier, creampie, slight edging 💙Rated: 18+, MDNI 💙Word Count: 1,590 💙Summary: Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to 'distract' this vigilante until the special forces can finally arrest him. Or will he distract you?!

💙credit to @cafekitsune for the page break!

You throw back your head and gulp down the last of your coffee at 2am on a late night shift. You know what your mission is today but you’re nervous about it. It’s not the mission itself that makes you nervous, but it’s the success that has you anxious. You want to make sure you pull through and help your division capture the vigilantes Stray Kids. 

You had spent months infiltrating the dirty cops group, going behind enemy lines and snuggling up to the one cop in charge of surveillance. You've seen all the blurry screenshots and buzzed video cam of the vigilantes, so you knew your work was cut out for you, but you were firm in your stance: you would do whatever it took to catch these vigilantes.

Stray Kids had taken the law into their own hands, going after suspicious individuals or groups that seemed to get away with a crime. You weren't sure if you agreed to their methods or not, but there was a proper way to do it and it was not working outside of the law.

Your mission was to tempt, distract and down right seduce any one of Stray Kids so that they would be delayed and caught. This group had somehow been able to infiltrate some of the most high security locations and manage to leave without getting a scratch or even nearly being caught. It was time for their vigilante spree to end.

You leaned with both palms against the table where several screens surveyed the building where this particular band of dirty cops operated out of. Everything seemed normal until one of your screens glitched and there they were: 8 men in an elevator, on their way to your location.

You prepared yourself, strapped steel to your spine and turned around in your computer office chair. You swore you saw a man with brown hair walking down the hallway in the camera before you had turned around. You blinked when the door opened and a man with long black hair wound tightly to his scalp entered but when you blinked again, it was a man with blonde hair and a puffy jacket.

“Well, this is a surprise,” He said, voice low, so low, it punched you in the stomach.

You lifted an eyebrow to him. “Surprised there's a woman here? Women can be dirty cops too, pretty boy.”

The blonde grinned, a vague hint of sweetness to it. “Surprise that such a treat has been left for me. The others are going to be jealous.”

You stood up and cocked your hip, putting a hand on it. In reality, it was to allow your hand easier access to your gun strapped there. “A treat, huh?”

“The name's Felix, by the way.” He scuffed his feet and looked at you through his eyelashes, bangs framing his face.

“And why would I need to know your name?” You humored him.

“Why,” he caught his tongue between his teeth naughtily, “for you to scream it, of course.”

A shudder ran through you before you could stop it. Your fingers inched for your gun. “I thought you guys were vigilantes, not bad guys. You plan on torturing me?”

“Oh, come now,” He purred in that deep voice of his, making his way closer to you. “You and me both know why you're here.”

You attempted to keep your cool. How did he know? How had your cover been blown? “Suppose I did, and I believed you also knew…why would you go through with it?”

Felix leaned forward until his mouth was close to your ear, his body heat radiating into your skin without touching you. “Because I'll be able to have my cake and eat it too.”

Goosebumps littered your skin and your nipples tightened to peaks. You wanted him so badly already, you had no idea how he had this kind of power over you. Was it the situation? Was it… You licked your lips. “I guess I'll never know unless I try, right?”

You should leave. You should turn around and inform your higher ups that even this set up wasn't possible. Other means were going to have to be applied to bring this group down. But God, you wanted him badly, it overode your cop instincts.

Your fingers dove into Felix's hair and the nape of his neck and you smashed your lips against his. Felix chuckled deeply against your lips and kissed you back. Your tongues clashed, Felix’s running along the roof of your mouth before he began to maneuver your body back towards the desk with the monitoring screens. You sit back on the desk and spread your legs as Felix fit his body between yours. 

Felix’s dark gaze met yours and when you nodded permission, he unceremoniously shoved his hand down your pants. “So wet for me, treat, that’s good of you.” His statement was so good girl adjacent that you almost felt a little faint. 

As Felix’s fingers rubbed you good, his lips flirted with yours, pressing close but not close enough to kiss, only enough that his hot breath could be felt against your lips. You whined, whether from the inability to kiss him or from the pleasure building in your lower half, you weren’t entirely sure. 

You couldn't come undone for him just like that, so you fought your lust down, and began to palm him through his pants. The groan that verberated through his chest and sent his eyes rolling in the back of his head was worth it. Felix’s chin hit his chest as he tilted his head down to watch you working his length. He hissed when you pinched his head between your thumb and forefinger. “I’m going to fuck you so good, Treat, bend over and pull your pants down for me.” 

You were gone again, at the nickname alone this time. You did as you were told and were rewarded with Felix’s hand smoothing over your ass and hip, murmuring to himself how good you looked for him, bent over and wet. 

Felix struggled entering you. “So tight,” he rasped, “so soft and wet.” You clenched around him at the dirty talk and he moaned. “Treat, I'm gonna come prematurely if you do that again.”

You're both panting and struggling once he's finally full hilt inside of you. “F-felix,” you stuttered, “Pleeeeasseee.”

“Promised I'd fuck you good, didn't I?” Felix said in a husky tone.

You whined and began to push back on his dick. You could feel how wet you were, how you were dripping down your thighs. “Please.”

Felix pulled out slowly and pushed back in, allowing you to appreciate every inch of his dick. He pulled all the way out, making your inner pussy lips feel the head of his dick part them again and again as he played with you. 

You made a noise of anguish at how frustrated you were not getting fucked properly but you couldn't deny the feeling of pure pleasure being fucked this way--like Felix was also appreciating every moment fucking you.

Every single monitor buzzed in front of you, changing to a woman bent over--but how, there were no cameras in this room?! And the man fucking you was not Felix, but a man with light brown hair who you recognized as Lee Know, one of the original members of Stray Kids. 

“Felix!” Lee Know scolded Felix, who was suddenly not present. Lee Know grunted as his cock continued to fuck your wet hole, however. “Hurry up, we're done here!”

You watched on the screens, with a dropped jaw, as Lee Know transformed into Felix. What was going on here? It was like there was an alternate reality blending into yours currently.

“Fine,” Felix sighed and rolled his eyes. “Ruin my fun, why don't you.”

Felix’s grasped both your hips firmly and began to fuck you at a proper pace, not mind-numbing, but the way you were begging for earlier. He leaned forward and began to speak to you in a language you weren’t familiar with but by his tone, you could tell it was dirty and it made you shudder with the secret intimacy of it all. It wasn’t long before you were both crying out from climax, you almost blacking out from the intensity of your delayed orgasm.

When you woke up, you could feel his cum leaking out of you but safely onto your panties as you were fully clothed again but still bent over the surveillance desk. You turned your head tiredly towards the door and spotted an orange haired man wink at you before he blinked out of existence. Wasn’t that the leader? You attempted to stand up but your legs folded beneath you.

Wooyoung, the man that was in charge of surveillance, the dirty cop you had been working with all these months, stumbled into the room. “Someone snitched on us! The SWAT team is on its way! We gotta wipe all these--” Wooyoung halted as he stared up at the many monitors. 

Stray Kids everywhere all around the world was spelled out in letters on each screen. Shit. They had been here and gone, with the information they needed and you without a capture.

You scrambled with Wooyoung, to maintain your cover, but you couldn't help but think about the blonde who had fucked you good and wondering if you might convince your higher ups to give you a second chance to ‘distract’ him again.

[darkmaga-returns]

DISTURBING: Scientists Sound Alarm as Unvaccinated Develop Covid ‘Vaccine’ Side Effects - ARTICLE/VIDEO (3 min.)

Fact Check: Yes, Obama and Biden Had FAA Hire People with Intellectual, Psychiatric, Severe Physical Disabilities - ARTICLE

NOTE: It has been confirmed that one of the 2 air traffic controllers was allowed to leave early leaving just one air traffic controller to watch traffic for both copters and planes (usually there is one controller for copters and one for planes). It has also been reported the lone controller warned the copter it was too close and the copter pilot acknowledged. The black boxes should reveal a lot but will we be told the truth is the real question because we generally never get the truth.

If you could use a good laugh this was just too good not to share - speaker button it at the upper right corner…..don’t miss a second of this…..if you do let it roll again to hear the beginning - VIDEO

Wi-Fi, Cell Towers Can Be Used for Remote Surveillance Without Your Consent: Cornell University arXiv Study by Jon Fleetwood - ARTICLE

Kary Mullis: Martyr or Menace? - although the complete article is only available to paid subscribers (I hate that A LOT) enough is available to get the point. Dr. Mullis was correct. Fauci did back then what he did with COVID. Created a disease to make his buddies in big pharma tons of money and some for himself as well. Dr. Judy Mikovits proved HIV does not cause AIDS because she had AIDS patients who did not have HIV. Dr. Mullis felt AIDS was a lifestyle, health issue. Many of the people that had AIDS were gay men with numerous sex partners, heavy drinkers, drug users (especially poppers) that did not eat properly. If you look at the people in Africa….poor, living under deplorable, filthy conditions. These conditions have caused many diseases that could have been and have been cured just by better nutrition, clean water, clean living conditions. But it was an opportunity to cash in on suffering or to push an agenda. Read GOOD INTENTIONS by Barry Nussbaum (1990) and you will see what Fauci did back then and you will see he did the same thing with COVID. Many people that were not sick at all but tested positive for HIV were given AZT and it killed perfectly healthy people. Just like many people who were not sick tested positive for COVID. Spin PCR enough it will tell you whatever you want it to tell you and that is exactly what they did back in the 90’s and what they did with COVID. When AIDS was considered a disease in the gay community Fauci could get no money but when he came out and said it had now infiltrated the heterosexual community the money started flooding in….Fauci knew how to push the right buttons. But unlike AZT they have refused to take the deadly COVID poison off the market. And I do not believe Dr. Mullis died of natural causes. He would have been the wrench in the wheel that would have shut COVID and the use of PCR down. I pray that when I go to heaven I can be the one pushing the down elevator button on these people. ARTICLE

Bill introduced into the Italian Parliament to Exit the WHO by the League's Senator Claudio Borghi and Deputy Alberto Bagnai - ARTICLE

[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

The Weird Death of Elisa Lam

For her trip to California, Lam travelled alone on Amtrak and intercity buses. She visited the San Diego Zoo and posted photos taken there on social media. On January 26, she arrived in Los Angeles. After two days, she checked into the Cecil Hotel, near downtown’s Skid Row. Lam was initially assigned a shared room on the hotel’s fifth floor; however, her roommates complained about what the hotel’s lawyer would later describe as “certain odd behavior” and Lam was moved to a room of her own after two days.

Lam had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and depression. She had been prescribed four medications – Wellbutrin, Lamictal, Seroquel and Effexor – to treat her disorders. According to her family, who supposedly kept her history of mental illness a secret, Lam had no history of suicidal ideations or attempts, although one report claimed she had previously gone missing for a brief period.

Lam contacted her parents in British Columbia every day while traveling. On February 1, 2013, the day she was scheduled to check out of the Cecil and leave for Santa Cruz, her parents did not hear from her and called the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD); her family flew to Los Angeles to help with the search.

Hotel staff who saw Lam that day said she was alone. Outside the hotel, Katie Orphan, manager of a nearby bookstore, was the only person who recalled seeing her that day. “She was outgoing, very lively, very friendly” while getting gifts to take home to her family.

Police searched the hotel to the extent that they legally could. They searched Lam’s room and had dogs go through the building, including the rooftop, but the dogs were unsuccessful in detecting her scent. “But we didn’t search every room,” Sgt. Rudy Lopez said later, “we could only do that if we had probable cause” to believe a crime had been committed. On February 6, a week after Lam had last been seen, the LAPD decided more help was needed. 

On February 15, after another week with no sign of Lam, the LAPD released a video of the last known sighting of her taken in one of the Cecil’s elevators by a video surveillance camera on February 1. In approximately two and a half minutes of footage, Lam, alone, makes unusual moves and gestures, leaving the elevator at one point while its doors remain open, even after she appears to have pressed every button. When the doors fail to close after she returns, she leaves; the doors close later.

The video drew worldwide interest in the case due to Lam’s strange behavior, and has been extensively analyzed and discussed. It was reposted widely, including on the Chinese video-sharing site Youku, where it got 3 million views and 40,000 comments in its first 10 days. Many of the commentators found it unsettling to watch.

Several theories evolved to explain her actions. One was that Lam was trying to get the elevator car to move in order to escape from someone who was pursuing her. Others suggested that she might be under the influence of ecstasy or some other party drug, but none was detected in her body. When her bipolar disorder became known, the theory that she was having a psychotic episode also emerged.

Other viewers argued that the video had been tampered with before being made public. Besides the obscuring of the timestamp, they claimed, parts had been slowed down and nearly a minute of footage had been removed. This could have been done to protect the identity of someone who otherwise would be in the video, either related or not to the disappearance.

During the search for Lam, guests at the hotel began complaining about low water pressure. Some later claimed their water was colored black and had an unusual taste. On the morning of February 19, Santiago Lopez, a hotel maintenance worker, found Lam’s body in one of four 1,000-gallon (3,785 L) tanks located on the roof providing water to guest rooms, a kitchen, and a coffee shop. Through the open hatch he saw Lam lying face-up in the water. The tank was drained and cut open since its maintenance hatch was too small to accommodate equipment needed to remove Lam’s body.

On February 21, the Los Angeles coroner’s office issued a finding of accidental drowning, with bipolar disorder as a significant factor. The full coroner’s report, released in June, stated that Lam’s body had been found naked;  clothing similar to what she was wearing in the elevator video was floating in the water, coated with a “sand-like particulate”. Her watch and room key were also found with her.

Lam’s body was moderately decomposed and bloated. It was mostly greenish, with some marbling evident on the abdomen and skin separation evident. There was no evidence of physical trauma, sexual assault, or suicide. Toxicology tests showed traces consistent with prescription medication found among her belongings, plus non-prescription drugs such as Sinutab and ibuprofen. A very small quantity of alcohol (about 0.02 g%) was present, but no other recreational drugs. Investigators and experts have however noted that the concentration of her prescription drugs in her system indicated that she was under-medicating or had stopped taking her medications recently.

The investigation had determined how Lam died, but did not initially offer an explanation as to how she got into the tank in the first place. Doors and stairs that access the hotel’s roof are locked, with only staff having the passcodes and keys, and any attempt to force them would supposedly have triggered an alarm. The hotel’s fire escape could have allowed her to bypass those security measures; her scent trail was lost near a window that connected to it. A video posted to the Internet after Lam’s death showed that the hotel’s roof was easily accessible via the fire escape and that two of the lids of the water tanks were open.

Apart from the question of how she got on the roof, others asked if she could have gotten into the tank by herself. All four tanks were 4-by-8-foot (1.2 by 2.4 m) cylinders propped up on concrete blocks;  there was no fixed access to them and hotel workers had to use a ladder to look at the water. They were protected by heavy lids that would be difficult to replace from within. The hotel employee who found the body said that the lid was open at the time, removing the issue of how she could have closed the lid from inside. Police dogs that searched through the hotel for Lam, even on the roof, shortly after her disappearance was noted, did not find any trace of her.

Theories arose pertaining to the elevator video. Some argued that she was attempting to hide from a pursuer, perhaps someone ultimately responsible for her death, while others said she was merely frustrated with the elevator’s apparent malfunction. Some proponents of the theory that she was under the influence of illicit drugs are not dissuaded by their absence from the toxicology screen, suggesting that they might have broken down during the period of time her body decomposed in the tank or that she might have taken rare cocktails of such drugs that a normal screen would not detect. The very low level of her prescription drugs in her system, and the amount of pills left in her prescription bottle, suggested she was under-medicating or had recently stopped taking her medication for bipolar disorder, which might have led to a psychotic episode.

The autopsy report and its conclusions were also questioned based on the incomplete information. For instance, it does not say what the results of the rape kit and fingernail kit were or even if they were processed. It also records subcutaneous pooling of blood in Lam’s anal area, which some observers suggested was a sign of sexual abuse; one pathologist noted it could also have resulted from bloating in the course of the body’s decomposition, and her rectum was also prolapsed. Even the coroner’s pathologists appeared to be ambivalent about their conclusion that Lam’s death was accidental.

Since her death, her Tumblr blog was updated, presumably through Tumblr’s Queue option that allows posts to automatically publish themselves when the user is away. Her phone was not found either with her body or in her hotel room; it has been assumed to have been stolen at some time around her death. Whether the continued updates to her blog were facilitated by the theft of her phone, the work of a hacker, or through the Queue, is not known; nor is it known whether the updates are related to her death.

[crazycurly-77]

Bob (10/24)

This is written in the style of the 24 series.

Events occur in real time.

Hour 10 of 24: 07:00 - 08:00

07:02:53 a.m.

NCIS HQ, Washington D.C.:

Gibbs' phone rang: "Yes, Abs?"

He listened to her briefly and then hung up.

He didn't like what she had told him. So he decided to update his team, stood up, looked at Tony and you and reported: "Abby was able to reconstruct that the admiral's body was taken away. Probably with a vehicle, since the drag marks stop abruptly. The tires are ordinary, so they don't help us either."

He paused.

Then he turned to his right-hand man: “DiNozzo, get the surveillance videos of the access gates and check them for vehicles leaving the base.”

Tony immediately picked up the phone to request the required recordings.

Satisfied, Gibbs then turned to you: “What’s your and Holding’s background and who knows about this project?”

You thought for a moment and then reported: “Several people are working on it, but for security reasons nobody knows everything. The people who know the most are Don and I.”

“That means you know almost everything about it and that you both have to be present at all meetings?” he asked.

“No, Don is a mechanic, navigator and weapons expert. He can fly in an emergency, but is responsible for the on-board systems, especially the weapons systems.”

“And you?”

“I trained to become a SEAL. My specialties are analyzing complex issues and planning special operations.”

“Then why didn’t you stick with it?” Gibbs wanted to know.

Embarrassed, you looked briefly at the floor. When you looked up again, you looked him straight in the eyes and answered: “I injured my knee shortly before the end of the training, so I had to stop.”

Gibbs’ eyebrows shot up in surprise and you continued: “Since I could no longer become a SEAL, I was called to Miramar, where I was trained to be a test pilot. I graduated as the best in my class.”

At that moment, DiNozzo raised his voice: “Boss, I just spoke to Holding’s ex-wife and she had some interesting things to report.”

Gibbs looked at him and waited a moment before barking impatiently: “What is it? Are you going to tell us what she said today or do I have to kick you in the ass first?”

Tony quickly cleared his throat and hurried to explain: “She reported that he’s addicted to gambling. He has accumulated quite a lot of debt, which was also the reason for their separation.”

He paused briefly, then laughed and said: “She said that if we find him, we should tell him that she’s still waiting for the last alimony payment...doesn't that sound familiar, boss?”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him with extreme displeasure, stood up and asked sharply: “Anything else?”

DiNozzo quickly retreated behind his desk and muttered: “No, boss.”

“Gibbs?” You then said.

He didn't answer, but just looked at you expectantly.

“I spoke to the commander of the reinforcement squad.”

“Yes, and?”

“He said that Colonel Fuller ordered them to withdraw. That's why I looked into Fuller's background more closely. He has an amazingly exclusive lifestyle for a colonel and would benefit financially from any sale of the helicopter.”

Gibbs nodded: "DiNozzo, Y/L/N. Gear up and follow me. We're going back to the base."

With that, he stormed towards the elevator.

07:37:48 a.m.

Quantico, Colonel Fuller's office:

Fuller stood at his desk and sorted the documents on it. Next to him was his wastepaper basket, in which he burned a lot of paper.

He had to destroy any possible evidence before he left for the meeting point. Of course, he definitely didn't want anything pointing to him.

The investigators will surely be standing in his office again soon with a bunch of unpleasant questions. It really was high time he got going.

So he left the base as soon as he was finished.

07:54:34 a.m.

Somewhere on the open sea:

"When are we going to get our money?" asked Chris in a provocative tone with his usual impatience.

The first officer just looked at him coldly and replied: “The boss is coming soon, he’s already on his way here. As soon as he gets here, we’ll settle accounts.”

The boys were happy: “Very good, then we’ll be rich!”

The officer then thought to himself: “If he doesn’t kill you first.” He turned around, walked away and muttered threateningly: “Then you’ll get what you deserve…”

07:59:45 a.m. …the clock was ticking…

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story.

Masterlist stories - Part 1 (finished ones)

Masterlist stories - Part 2 (finished/ongoing)

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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[rottenshotgungames]

I’m currently working on the GM chapters for Footfall, and video game level design has been having a massive effect. Specifically, I’ve decided to present GMs with standardized objective types that they can then combine to construct their adventures. By focusing adventure structure on objectives, you center player choices and actions, presenting the party with situations to respond to as opposed to narratives to simply witness.

The system as is lists a bunch of different objective types (Breach, Investigate, Defend) that then walk the GM through constructing an objective of that type with an example. For instance, let’s say you want to build a Breach objective. The book would tell you the following:

“First, select a target location that the party must enter. Next, determine possible entrances or means of entry. Finally, list the Pros and Cons of each means of entry including EXP awarded.

“Example: To complete this objective, the Troupe must enter the Dragon’s Hoard Bank. Possible entrances:

The elevator lodge. Essentially the front entrance. Pros: Quickest way in. Simple. Gives 10 XP. Cons: Predictable. Heavily guarded (8 guards in Elevator Lodge, 14 in Bank Lobby).

The mountain caves. Pros: No guards. Leads almost anywhere in the bank through secret doors. Gives 20 XP. Cons: Requires an additional Surveil Objective to find. Takes extra time. Unmapped, dark, and winding. The clockwork dragon roams these halls at night.”

This gives people an idea of how they should structure objectives, room to play around within that structure, and the ability to add-on-to or change a given objective mid adventure (in case your players do, as is usual, something completely unexpected). Just enough structure to be useful without being restrictive, at least in my estimation.

This system for structuring adventures is largely inspired by videogames, particularly Assassin’s Creed and Dishonored. I really think that design principles from video games can go a long way to innovating in the TTRPG space, but that’s a topic for another day.

Do you agree with my conclusions? Disagree? Have a favorite bit of GM guidance? Why or why not?

[beardedmrbean]

A Maryland man was found guilty in the murder of his girlfriend and her unborn baby, in what was the first time in Montgomery County history that a defendant was convicted of killing a viable, unborn child.

A jury on Friday convicted Torrey Moore, 33, on two counts of first-degree murder in the death of his pregnant girlfriend, Denise Middleton, and her unborn child.

Moore was also found guilty of two counts of the use of a handgun in the commission of a felony, one count of a crime of violence against a pregnant person and one count of illegal possession of a firearm, ABC 7 reported.

Prosecutors showed surveillance footage of the last time Middleton, who was eight and a half months pregnant, was seen alive, according to Fox 5 DC. The video was taken on Oct. 9, 2022, from an elevator in Moore's apartment building, where the couple was seen together shortly before her death.

Investigators believe Moore shot Middleton, who was 26, seven times a short time later. 

Middleton's body was found in Moore's apartment in an advanced stage of decomposition.

Moore faces a possible life sentence without the possibility of parole, with his sentencing hearing scheduled for March 28.

The double murder is linked to another crime which he was convicted of in May. The sentencing hearing for that case, where he killed a gas station employee and could be sentenced to life in prison, is scheduled for February 20.

On Dec. 8, 2022, Moore arrived at a Shell gas station store on the 11100 block of New Hampshire Avenue in Silver Spring, where surveillance footage shows him shooting and killing the clerk, Ayalew Wondimu, before fleeing the scene.

When Montgomery County Police showed up at Moore's apartment in the 11000 block of Oak Leaf Drive in Silver Spring the next day to serve an arrest warrant, they discovered Middleton's body.

After Middleton was killed, cell phone data showed Moore traveled the country for the next 26 days. His search engine history during that time included, "How long does it take for a dead body to smell?" and "How to move a dead body without being seen."

[elvenbeard]

Paranoia

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Summary: Something is off with V's medication, but there are many leads and the clock is ticking. What is Mr. Blue-Eyes planning and who is the rat that sold V out? With little expectations, Kerry begins an investigation on his own. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 11/?, 6999 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V - notes at the end) >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

“Vik told you to take it easy, Vince,” Kerry urged, placing his hands on V’s shoulders from behind. He had been lingering on his desk ever since they’d come home instead of finally joining Kerry on the couch downstairs. Watch a show, or just listen to music, just… exist and forget about all the existential dread at least for an hour or so, but no...

V’s half-empty martini glass stood close by the left edge of the table. Gently massaging V’s tense muscles, Kerry leaned down to give him a quick kiss on his flushed cheeks. He hadn’t made his drink that strong, as requested, but V just really didn’t react well to alcohol. In a way it was adorable. This seasoned merc, Night City’s bad boy number one, couldn’t hold his liquor.

“One sec,” V said, a little absentminded, eyes glued to the screen displaying a timelapse of various views of security cam footage of their penthouse. Kerry suppressed a sigh, and he opted now to loosely wrap his arms around V’s shoulders, trying to get his attention away from the computer like this. When he would not budge still, he rested his chin on V’s head and then reluctantly looked at the screen as well.

Selected in the security system’s overview was one of the cameras in the garage, the one in the elevator, one in the armory. Three more that overlooked the exterior of the house, including the entrance. Kerry knew of a couple more that V wasn’t monitoring at the moment. The timestamp in the corner of the footage was racing backwards, as was the video itself, and V had reached mid-August, briefly after they’d moved in here. The recordings eventually stopped at various still frames of him testing the setup on the day he’d had it installed.

“I wish I had footage of my old apartment,” V murmured, more to himself than to Kerry, “Was still spending a lot of time there when I got the first batch of pills from Vik.”

“Nothin’ suspicious here?” Kerry asked.

“No… at least, nothin’ apparent, as in…,” he gestured vaguely, “Masked intruders with blue glowing eyes.”

Kerry chuckled at his sarcastic undertone.

“That would be too easy.”

“I guess…” V shrugged, finally leaning back into Kerry’s embrace now, although with the backrest of his chair between them it was kinda awkward. Kerry shuffled and shifted slightly to better see V’s expression.

“How’s your head?” he almost didn’t dare to ask.

“Alright,” V said, eyes unfocused, but then he paused, “No actually it… was better earlier. Think Vik’s stuff’s startin’ to wear off. But I’ll manage.”

Kerry lowered his head and briefly closed his eyes. The heat of his own drink long worn off he basked in the warmth V was radiating. His warmth, his glow… how many more – or how few – setbacks would it take until it would all fade away forever?

“I gotta cross-reference this with my schedule,” V changed the topic back to the footage, “What date I got which batch of pills, and then see if there’s any weirdness here around those timeframes… Second prescription was around the time we moved in, but there were so many people in and out all the time… And if they got here before the security system was up and running the next best thing is the building’s surveillance outside, but that’s shitty quality and bad angles…”

V rubbed his face with his right hand and took a deep, heavy breath, as if an immense weight lay on his chest. Kerry clutched him a little tighter.

“Ooor, “he suggested in an attempt to ease the tension, “You could just chill until Nix does his job. ’Cause if this AJ chick lied to ya, you’re wastin’ a lot of energy on somethin’ pointless right now.”

“Don’t think she was lying…” V shook his head and finally moved to get up, Kerry letting him, “If she did, she should apply at some corp’s CI department. Better suited there instead of a dingy drug lab.”

He slipped out of his chair and picked up his leftover martini in one fluid motion, bringing the glass to his lips with some reluctance though.

“Y’know, I’ll happily finish it for ya,” Kerry offered with a wink, his forearms resting on the chair’s backrest now, fingers loosely interlocked as he played with one of his rings. V’s eyes met with his, a challenging glimmer in them, a cheeky smirk on his lips. He emptied the rest of his drink in one go. Letting out a long, deep breath V set the glass down and leaned back against the desk, healthy hand holding on to the edge for support.

“I’m so gonna regret this, but…” he still smiled at Kerry, “Not gonna lie, that was pretty good.”

“Despite the olive?” Kerry teased, then slowly pushed the chair aside, and stepped in front of him.

“Even that wasn’t so bad,” he said as Kerry’s hands trailed down V’s sides, then slipped under his t-shirt. Kerry grinned when goosebumps rose under his fingertips as they wandered around V’s waist, down to the small of his back.

“Picked a good one,” he said, trying to keep his mind from wandering as well, too fast, too far.

“Yeah, I did,” V smiled, and Kerry paused for a moment, noticing the slight tilt of V’s head, how he pursed his lips, amber eyes looking up at him through long dark eyelashes. Yeah… he wasn’t talking about the olive anymore.

“Gonk,” he muttered, but then he leaned in, no longer able to resist to kiss V’s cheeks and neck and chest, tongue and lips guided by the dark pink flushes speckled all across pale skin.

“What was that about takin’ it easy?” V whispered hoarsely, grabbing on to Kerry’s waist, leaning into his touch.

“Yeah… you lean back and relax,” Kerry breathed against his neck, “And lemme do what I’m good at…”

V giggled as Kerry slowly guided him over to their bed, accompanied by more kisses, little gasps, and fleeting touches.

Drunk sex usually guaranteed that V would be out cold (blissfully, of course) for at least a couple of hours afterwards. It had been one rollercoaster of a day and night… of a week, really, with both of them getting too little restful sleep. So, Kerry hoped this impromptu afternoon nap would do V good, or at the very least give him a little rest from everything. He seemed at peace at least, lips slightly parted, breathing slowly and deeply, huddled into their lightweight silk blanket the same way he’d been this morning. Kerry stayed by his side for a little while longer, just watching… but Lee and Vicki and a few other studio assholes kept messaging him, interrupting their domestic bliss once again.

They had been trying to get in touch all day, reminding him of deadlines, work that needed to be done, promo events, concerts, collabs… And Kerry had been patiently ignoring them while out and about with V. All he wanted was to stay in bed with him now, help him get the help he needed, force him to take it easy when he just wouldn’t listen to his doctors telling him to.

He lightly brushed his fingers over V’s cheek, the hint of patchy dark stubble along his jawline, eyes lingering on his pulse point for a moment. Kerry had sucked an almost purple bruise into his flesh, right where skin and cyberware met, as V had been flinching and whimpering under him…

Blip beep. Another message from Lee forced the steamy mental image out of Kerry’s head. He huffed and quickly checked his phone, with no intention to respond.

“The situation in regard to the video is somewhat under control now,” it read, and Kerry shuddered, “But N54 News’ showbiz representative sent in another exclusive interview request. They agreed to scratch the questions that had been bothering you in their previous e-mail, but in return they want a statement on the video and your relationship status. Same conditions as before. I think this is as great chance to clear things up and gain you some sympathy – also in light of already circulating rumors. I wrote up some possible responses (attached below) if you want to read them in advance! Maybe we can meet up some time later today, or tomorrow or… whenever fits best. To talk things through, discuss the next steps for the album and everything else. Please just quickly let me know if you’ve read this so I know you’re okay and onboard!”

Kerry suppressed an annoyed groan to not wake V. After a few more minutes of failing to doze off as well, he decided to get up. Drink some more maybe, have a smoke. Smash his phone with a hammer. In fact, what he really wanted was to get high out of his mind, knock himself out with vodka and pills, and sleep for 72 hours straight. Had he been alone, just lil’ old Kerry back at his villa in North Oak… he probably would’ve, and without hesitation.

Instead, now, he slipped into his bathrobe hanging over the gallery’s rail, and as he passed by V’s desk to get to the kitchen, his eyes got caught by the screens once more. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that V was still asleep. He had been so sure to find something suspicious on the security footage… but he’d also been high on Vik’s drug cocktail, dizzy from drinking Kerry’s actual cocktail, and pre-occupied with too much else. No surprise he hadn’t succeeded. If there even was anything to find at all.

Then again, Kerry barely knew what he was doing when it came to their house’s security system either. He had left these types of things to his management team for decades, and so far, that had worked out just fine. Mostly, at least. V had said himself, back when they had this installed here, that there simply was no system that was one hundred percent safe and impenetrable. There were always loopholes, exploits to use, and all that other fancy tech terminology Kerry only half understood but loved to hear V talk about.

“You can never fully rule out human error, either,” was what he liked to say.

Hence why Kerry felt a little silly when he pulled out the desk chair after standing, staring, and pondering it all for too long. All camera views were still selected in the review tool, V was visible in one of them, the 180 degrees view into the armory. He was looking up at the lens, at Kerry, pensive and serious. The timestamp read “August 3rd 2077 – 11.46 a.m.“. Just a little over a month ago, but he looked so much less tired than he did most days now. But also, at this point, he must’ve already been working for Blue-Eyes behind the scenes. Kerry realized that maybe that was exactly why he had been so keen on upgrading the security system before they’d even properly settled in.

Kerry sighed, leaned back in the chair, and then pulled up his own schedule. They’d just talked about it, the day Viktor had delivered more bad news to V regarding his initial treatment plan was the same day Kerry finally got out of the contract with Kovachek. The same day Blue-Eyes got in touch with his convenient help offer. He had to scroll past walls of texts and messages, but he finally found the invitation for the meeting with the studio bosses. July 22nd. Yeah, no footage for that. They had been talking about moving in together for a while at that time already though… early, really, given how they first met back in May only. But V had spent most of his nights at Kerry’s villa anyway, and Kerry sought refuge at V’s apartment all other days. Finding a place for them both together had simply felt like the right next logical step. It still did, more than ever. And with how little time they seemed to have left at the moment, there was no “too soon” for nothing, really…

Kerry held the thought and continued to scroll further up through his appointments on his planner’s interface. The scheduled meeting during which Lee had signed him on, a few days after the final conversation with Kovachek. The appointment with the realtor to view the penthouse. Moving in day, various important events at the recording studio, and with medias. A handful of parties, occasions, dinner dates with V sprinkled in-between, an invitation from River to come over some time… He hesitated for a moment at August 20th. It had been surprisingly hard again this year, but V made it easier, like so many other things...

After a few more studio-related appointments Kerry had reached present time.

He looked back at the computer screen in front of him, had to search for a play button. Then the recordings started moving again, at a quite high speed.

“Ah fuck…” Kerry hissed and looked for a way to slow the footage down, clicking some random buttons, but without success. Before accidentally deleting something, Kerry decided to just keep his eyes peeled for anything out of the usual as best as he managed, but there was nothing too obvious… Them both or either of them leaving and coming back home every day around similar times, AVs or delivery drones landing outside. There was quite the commotion with the moving company in the beginning, lots of strangers all at once, but Kerry didn’t recall any of them behaving weirdly, or even getting near where V stored his pills at the time.

Since there was only about a month of footage sped up dramatically, Kerry opted to just restart it a handful of times whenever he reached the end. Lee showed up in person at the entrance quite often in the beginning, but rarely made it all the way into the penthouse… Kerry hadn’t been aware just how often he did it though, seeing it happen again and again now on loop. He assumed that during some occasions neither he nor V were home to let him in. Kerry in fact remembered only one time Lee had been here in the early days, and how pissed he’d gotten at him for showing up unannounced over something completely trivial. He’d told him to meet up at the studio for these types of convos in the future and he had assumed that was the end of the story of unannounced visits.

Apparently not. Because right now he saw Lee coming back day after day… then not anymore for a few weeks. Then again on two days in a row at the end of August, the 24th and 25th. Kerry was not there to invite him in for any of those visits either…

He paused the preview at Lee just getting out of the penthouse and into the elevator on August 25th. His heart was racing faster than the footage had been, raking his brains… Had V let him in? He doubted that…

He pulled up his holo screen again to read back through the endless wall of text messages Lee had sent him since. Finally, the 25th, on which there had been a little bit of back and forth between them actually, and Kerry’s tension dropped slightly.

“Lee, I’m fucking busy tonight. Shard with demos is still at my new place. If you really need it that desperately, you gotta go get it yourself,” had been Kerry’s final message that night, and it fit the timeframe Lee was at the penthouse.

 So, he’d let him in remotely to pick up that shard, just how he did the other day to feed the cat. Temporary access token, no big deal, right…

Kerry scrolled further back through his messages, but there was nothing in his texts, nor his e-mails, nor his appointments that would explain Lee’s visit on the day before though. Only a reminder to himself about “date night with V <;3”, the reason for his pre-occupation on the 25th and neither of them being at the penthouse.

He dismissed his schedule and stared back at the screen. At Lee with his ridiculous pompadour, bleach-blond still at the time, in his over-priced suit, stumbling into the elevator, frozen in time. Going by the timestamps, he’d been in the penthouse for 15 minutes to pick up the shard which seemed… long for a task that simple. Unless it wasn’t the only thing he’d done there while Kerry and V were out on a fancy date.

No, not him though. The thought alone was fucking insane. That man’s spine was a slinky toy. He almost shat his pants whenever he had to call or speak to Kerry. If all that was an act and he was secretly one of Blue-Eyes’ agents, he deserved a fucking Oscar. Kerry shook his head at his own paranoia, took a few moments to rationalize, think it through. Lee was notorious for his bad timing and inability to just leave him the fuck alone. There were a million possible explanations that made more sense than any deeper, darker purpose behind these numerous, persistent visits and incompetence of fulfilling easy tasks in a timely manner…

He scrolled back through the footage to the several days in a row Lee was there at the start of August, shortly after they moved in. Kerry had his messages to him from that timeframe at the ready.

The one time he actually remembered Lee coming to the penthouse to talk was a Sunday. He didn’t even have a proper reason, apart from “getting to know each other a bit better” and discussing future plans and whatnot. Nothing they couldn’t have done over the holo. Hence why Kerry had been so pissed off, apart from Lee invading his living room unannounced. V hadn’t been there, thankfully.

The day after this incident Lee was on the footage again… No messages in Kerry’s inbox, but a calendar appointment for booking a recording booth. Kerry wasn’t home, and going by the footage, Lee didn’t get into the house either. He lingered in front of the intercom by the entrance a long while though, and Kerry noticed that he was talking – to V maybe, home that day, but telling him that Kerry was at the studio? Lee left the entrance area of the building with reluctance. Then he came back the next day, and again, Kerry couldn’t make a connection to his visit with any of the entries in his schedule or his messages. And then, August 11th…

“Lee… got a problem, forgot to fill the cat feeder this morning. I’ll be at the studio for a while still. Sending you a temporary access token. Cat food in the shelf next to the fridge.”

“You can never fully rule out human error…” shot through Kerry’s mind again. But yes, of course he’d give him access to their house, repeatedly, for stupid little tasks like that. Why wouldn’t he? Lee was a fucking pathetic little loser. He could never harm them in any way apart from maybe, psychological damage, right?

Kerry continued to stare at the screen, the timestamps. Lee arrived on the 11th and then spent almost 45 minutes feeding the cat. Kerry jumped forward to near the end of the collection of recordings, to a couple of days ago. The day he’d been at the med center and instructed Lee to feed the cat as well. Lee arrived at the penthouse quickly and sent his photo of Nibbles eating 5 minutes later. He was out the front door again after just over ten minutes. What had he done for the more than 30 extra minutes during the first “feed the cat” visit? Even his incompetence wasn’t great enough to need that long to locate the cat food and put it in the feeder.

Kerry’s ears were ringing as he watched himself in front of the computer from above. He hadn’t had such an intense out-of-body experience in a while. Trying to come up with a more logical explanation than “he probably searched for and swapped the pills during that time”, he was unable to even lift a finger. The thought ate itself into his brain like acid.

“Lee swapped the pills…” he wasn’t even sure if he said it out loud, so insane the mere idea. For money, for power, for chrome? What could a Mr. Blue-Eyes offer a small light like Lee… Well, everything he wanted, probably, and more. And Lee was dumb enough to believe him, too, if even V could be lured in by someone like that with promises big and times desperate enough.

 When Kerry arrived back in his own body eventually, his paralysis was slowly but surely replaced by rage.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill that bastard…” he muttered to himself, got up from the chair, and instead of drinking more, maybe having a smoke, he went to grab his clothes from the wardrobe and then his gun from the armory. V was still fast asleep and none the wiser by the time the Aerondight left the garage.

Of course, Kerry wouldn’t kill Lee. Not really. Probably. But at the very least he wanted to scare the shit out of him and make him talk. Even if he had nothing to do with all of this in the way Kerry assumed, something was up with him, and Kerry needed to give him a piece of his mind before he imploded for good.

He arrived in front of the MSM recording studio in Charter Hill much faster than anticipated… so much so that his impromptu plan to get Lee to talk was still somewhat fuzzy around the edges. He was in the mood to storm in, guns blazing, but there was no guarantee Lee was even there. Maybe he should’ve checked that before coming here. Kerry cursed between his teeth, slightly clammy hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he parked straight across from the building’s main entrance. Reluctantly he decided to simply call his manager, something he usually never did. It rang a handful of times, longer than he would’ve expected.

“Kerry?” asked the shaky voice on the other end of the line.

“Certainly not Lizzy Wizzy,” Kerry replied deadpan, “Where are ya?”

His heart was beating in his throat.

“I’m at the studio! I’ve been waiting to hear from you, been worried that –…”

“I’m outside the front door,” Kerry interrupted him, “Come down, let’s talk.”

He tried not to let his nerves show, and he was thankful for his AudioVox evening out the slight tremor in his words.

“Uh… why don’t you come upstairs to my office?” Lee evaded, “Vicki just dropped by with two new demos you can listen to, I think – …”

“No,” Kerry said sternly, but he was grasping at straws for a reason as to why they had to meet outside that wouldn’t leave Lee even more suspicious.

“Bring the demos with ya, we’ll listen to ‘em on the road,” was the best thing he could bullshit this quickly, “Been too stagnant lately, gotta move around a bit, get the creative juices flowing.”

Empty phrases he’d flung around a million times before, but they usually worked with types like Lee.

“Oh… okay?” Lee said, then there was silence for a couple of seconds, “Okay, I’ll be right there but… I need to be back at the studio at the latest in an hour, got an important appointment...”

Kerry didn’t reply and simply hung up. No promises.

Lee appeared at the building’s main entrance around ten endless minutes later. Maybe he was truly just very bad at fulfilling simple tasks quickly. Kerry’s doubts were loud in his head as his right leg bounced in a shaky rhythm, the gun in his jacket’s pocket, heavy as a brick, bruising his thigh. Lee jogged across the street, black and blue designer coat fluttering in the wind. When he approached the passenger side of the car, he tried to put on a smile, but it was slanted and forced. Kerry opened the door for him.

“Get in,” he ordered, demanded almost, and Lee slightly flinched, fumbling in his pockets and pulling out a handful of shard cases.

“Got everything with me, I thought maybe we could start with the song demos? But just in case I also brought the interview questions I mentioned, and some other things you can decide on for the upcoming promo events.”

“Wow, great. Now get in,” Kerry repeated himself with zero enthusiasm and finally Lee slipped into the seat. The same seat V had fucked Kerry in so gloriously yesterday… and now Lee desecrated the space with his presence.

Kerry closed the door again and sped off before Lee could say another word, headed towards the highway that would lead them out of the city.

Lee kept babbling without pause, played the demos for Kerry and recounted the producers’ notes on what needed to be changed still and what was good, as well as the opinions of the studio bosses Kerry didn’t give a fuck about. But he had to just nod and smile, because in the end they were the ones that determined his success to an essential degree.

About twenty minutes into their drive, with buildings left and right becoming scarce and nothing but the near-deserted Badlands ahead of them, Lee grew quieter. He stared blankly ahead at the CrystalDome screens.

“Uh, Kerry, at the latest at five I need to be back in Charter Hill,” he reminded him.

Kerry did not respond, only half heard him really, his thoughts racing, eyes scanning for a secluded place he could pull into, wary to not be tailed by gangers, or worse, paparazzi. His GPS navigation pointed out a little dead-end road not far ahead, leading to an old racing track. He remembered the place, knew where he was now. He’d been here with V, very early on in their relationship, blowing off steam after something V couldn’t talk about at the time. That was before Blue-Eyes even, Johnny was still around… In hindsight Kerry was sure it had had something to do with that whole Dogtown mess.

His Aerondight squealed and rumbled across the uneven dirt road, he physically couldn’t go much further than a couple of hundred yards away from the highway, so he pulled over to the side of the road behind a large rock and turned off the engine.

“Uh, Kerry, we still have a long drive back ahead of us, and I gotta – ,“ Lee wanted to protest and Kerry slipped his fingers around the grip of his gun. He tried to breathe away his shaking, but it was no use. They were here now, he had to seize the opportunity, because who knew when – or if – Lee would ever get into the same car with him again.

He pulled his gun and pointed it at Lee, who let out a brief but surprisingly controlled scream and immediately raised his hands.

“K-Kerry I mean… Let’s talk this through, I’m sure you don’t wanna –…”

“Shut your fucking second asshole, Lee, ‘cause there’s only shit comin’ from it anyway,” Kerry ordered sternly, somewhat surprised at his own bravado, “Turn off your phone and put it in the glovebox, and then get out. No tricks, no messing around.”

“Okay, okay!” Lee whimpered, pulled out his phone with a feverish expression and squashed it in the glovebox between condoms, unpaid parking tickets, and one or two satchels of colorful pills.

“Get out, hands on your head,” Kerry repeated, “And slowly start walkin’.”

“Okay!” Lee squealed, eyes big and teary, then Kerry unlocked and opened the door for him before getting out of the car himself.

He looked over his shoulder, listened into the distance, but the desert was quiet. No roaring engines, no gunshots, no yelling. Yet.

With his gun he gestured Lee towards the old racing track, and whimpering Lee obeyed and marched on, white syn-leather boots soon turned orange from the dust. They quietly walked on until Kerry felt there was enough of a distance to the road, and they were at least partially obscured by the tall coarse rock formations and sparse vegetation framing the location.

“That’s far enough. Turn around,” he ordered, gun still pointing at Lee, he gripped it tightly with both hands to keep it steady. His manager slowly did as he was told, turning on the spot, slightly hunched over and squinting against the sun and the barrel of the gun. Kerry just stared back at him, tried to make sense of it still… and wondered if he had maybe lost it for good now. In the end, he had only a vague suspicion, no proof, no nothing. The uncertainty began to gnaw on his to-begin-with shaky confidence in all of this.

“Kerry listen,” Lee then pleaded, “I’m sure this has got to be a misunderstanding of some sort! Let’s just… talk, okay? Without the gun, maybe?”

“Shut it,” Kerry ordered, “I’m makin’ the rules here.”

“Okay, okay,” Lee lowered his head slightly, whispering something under his breath Kerry didn’t quite catch. He never took Lee for a religious person, but a little prayer probably couldn’t hurt in a moment like this.

Kerry still didn’t have a plan of action in his mind on how to move forward. In a movie the hero would probably hold a dramatic speech now, confronting the villain about his crimes and all, but truthfully, Kerry wasn’t the hero here. Holding a whimpering mess like Lee at gunpoint at least had nothing heroic about it. So, he decided to just cut straight to the point.

“Did you swap V’s pills?” he asked, voice not nearly as firm as the grip around his gun. He didn’t even have his finger on the trigger, but the visual alone was intimidating enough, he hoped.

He expected confusion, more bargaining, or just downright denial from Lee. Not for his eyes to grow wide, the remaining color to fade from his face. And for once in his life, Lee was dead silent, stared at Kerry open-mouthed. He’d hit the nail on the head.

“You fuckin’ asshole!” Kerry hissed and took a step towards Lee, pointing his gun straight between the fucker’s eyes, near-blinded by anger at Lee’s reaction. Lee screamed and flinched back, stumbling almost. Now the bargaining began.

“Please, please, I had no choice, they threatened to ruin me!”

“Well, tough shit, guess I’ll do it for ‘em now!” Kerry barked, his chest tight and face hot, and Lee kept screaming, pleading.

“No, no, no! Please!”

“You fuckin’ son of a bitch! To save your own sorry ass you, you – …”

Suddenly Lee’s persistent fear of Kerry and V made even more sense. If he’d been behind this from the start, he’d probably been scared they’d figure it out somehow, sooner or later. Every time they were alone together the bastard was a shaking mess not because he was so bad at his job, but scared for his life. Well, a little bit of both maybe.

“Who told you to do this?” Kerry then asked, “And you better spit it out quickly and as detailed as possible, or I’ll leave your sorry ass to rot out here.”

Lee whimpered and now sank to his knees, hands still on his head, facing the ground and actually sobbing.

“I don’t know them, I swear!” he sputtered, “Never saw their faces, never spoke to anyone in person. It all went over the holo. Directed me to pick up spots and gave me a certain timeframe to do… to do the swap. And if I hadn’t, they’d’ve ruined my life. Oh god… they’re not gonna just ruin my life, they’re really gonna kill me now that you know!”

He tumbled over forward, face-first into the sand and his sobbing intensified. Kerry couldn’t help but feel sorry for him now, a pathetic little loser in way over his head. And his story sadly sounded plausible with the little Kerry and V knew about Blue-Eyes and his associates.

“Fucking hell…” Kerry muttered and lowered his gun, then he closed the remaining distance between himself and Lee. He bent down and firmly grasped him by the back of his collar to pull him back up. Lee neither resisted nor made the feat easy for Kerry.

“Get it together, man,” Kerry hissed through gritted teeth and Lee fell backwards on his ass and just sat in the sand now, a picture of misery. His face and hair were encrusted with dirt, wet streaks running down his cheeks, his hands rested in his lap in resignation.

Kerry knelt down on one knee in front of him, gun still at the ready just in case, and tried to catch Lee’s gaze.

“Hope they at least fuckin’ paid you well,” Kerry said, trying his best to remain calm, scared that Lee would actually pass out if he intimidated him even more. Lee shook his head and Kerry frowned.

“They blackmailed me,” he explained sniffling, “I don’t know how but… They have so much information on me that I was sure no one knew about. How I never went to a prestigious school, the shit my parents did, how many of my credentials are… polished at best, how I… I never would’ve made it this far up at MSM if I hadn’t… improved my background here and there. I’m gonna lose everything if that information reaches the wrong kinda people...”

Kerry sighed deeply.

“Why am I not surprised,” he muttered, but knowing that Lee acted for purely selfish reasons made this somehow so much worse than if he’d just done it for a huge chunk of money. Not that it surprised him though, that was Night City in a nutshell. He got up again and started pacing in front of Lee.

“Lemme guess, you also didn’t know what you were even swapping there, right?” he asked, anger creeping back in, “Cause, surprise, you didn’t exchange some ibuprofen with sugar pills!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths. They still didn’t even know exactly what these pills had been doing to V, but whatever it was, if they came from Mr. B, it couldn’t be good. Some kind of preparation to put V in that artificial body at best, mind control that was killing him even faster than his own body at worst. Everything in-between and beyond seemed possible and plausible, too.

“They said it was none of my concern and the less I knew, the better,” Lee admitted quietly, and Kerry couldn’t help but laugh out loud in frustration.

“You… pathetic shitstain!” he now yelled, so close to losing his temper again, “You’re the worst kind of scumbag, aren’t you? Messin’ with someone else’s life and health without asking any questions, just to save your own sorry ass. Believe me, you fit in just fuckin’ right with MSM and that whole fucking’ shitshow of a corporation. Such a brave obedient little corpo soldier, aren’t ya? Fuck!”

He kicked a small rock into the distance, swirling up orange dust, and its impact against one of the larger rock formations echoed across the desert. The sun was beginning to set over the city far behind them, and Kerry paced back and forth, back and forth, failing to find a solution. Lee held his head low and said nothing either, too shaken and guilty still, probably packing his bags in his mind already. Or shoveling his grave.

V would know what to do now, or at least be able to improvise something, but Kerry was at a loss. He eventually stopped in his tracks, still clutching his gun tightly, but despite his seething anger at Lee he still had no intentions of killing him. The guy had killed himself long ago already by weaseling his way into MSM through crooked schemes. Blue-Eyes was only serving him the bill for it now.

As if he could sense Kerry staring at him, Lee looked up and their eyes met.

“What now?” he asked shakily.

“Dunno, whaddaya suggest?” Kerry shrugged, “Wanna have me put ya outta your misery right away?”

“No no no!” Lee stammered and raised his hands again, hunching over in fear, “Please I… I know I fucked up, big time!”

“That’s the understatement of the century…”

After a moment of hesitation Lee looked back up at him again, carefully.

“I… if there is anything I can do to make up for this…”

Kerry couldn’t help himself but laugh.

“Well now I’m curious what in the fuck you’re gonna offer.”

“I… dunno…” Lee’s brief moment of confidence was blown out like a candle in a storm.

Kerry didn’t know either because, as usual, Lee was useless. Or at the very least he didn’t see a solution that could actually help them either. He needed to tell V about this. As soon as possible.

“Get back in the car,” Kerry then ordered, waving with his gun, “Takin’ ya to your stupid appointment.”

Lee’s eyes grew wider.

“What? Am I… I’m just supposed to continue as normal?”

Kerry frowned.

“What did you expect, that I’m gonna help you escape into a cozy exile somewhere nice and sunny while we clean up your mess and deal with the consequences?”

Lee just stared in response, but Kerry wouldn’t have let him answer anyway.

“You stay put and behave exactly how you always do, play the manager. And you sure as hell will not tell anyone anything about what we just talked about,” he ordered, “If your creep friends call you and ask you to run another errand, you will do exactly that, and don’t let show in any way that would suggest V and I caught on.”

“I… what?” Lee stammered.

“I’m not done yet,” Kerry interrupted him sternly, “Not done with you, either. You will make up for this shit you caused. And I promise you, if I get as much as a whiff of you tryin’ to rat us out or bail or whatnot… V knows people that will track you down to the dark side of the moon to blow your lights out, if necessary.”

The last one was a bluff, although he was sure, with some persuasive words and favors exchanged here and there, even that would be possible, should the need arise.

“Okay, okay!” Lee whimpered, “Understood. I… This meeting never happened?”

“Damn straight. Now back into the car, asshole.”

Kerry was elsewhere with his thoughts for the entirety of the ride back into the city. It wasn’t much, but if Lee managed to keep his mouth shut and not draw Blue-Eyes’ attention, they now actually were a step ahead. Kerry just didn’t know how to use this tiny edge yet, if they could use it at all… and all of course under the assumption that Blue-Eyes wasn’t listening in or watching them 24/7 through some fucked up means already anyway.

“Don’t forget your phone,” Kerry said when he stopped in front of the studio to let Lee get out. They were back early enough so he still had some time to clean himself up, get himself back together before his appointment.

“Yeah, right, thank you,” Lee stammered and stumbled out of the car and slowly started walking towards the building without further words.

The passenger door slid shut and the warm interior lights of the Aerondight engulfed him, but still, it was far from enough to soothe his nerves. Kerry rested his forehead on the steering wheel and let out a deep breath. Something in his guts told him that the studio would call him tomorrow morning to inform him of Lee’s mysterious disappearance or death, and that they already had the next replaceable guy lined up to take over…

“Fuck…” he muttered, smacked the steering wheel, and unlocked his own door. He jumped onto the street, a car passing by honking at him, but he ignored it. He turned to the main entrance of the studio building where Lee was just about to walk through the door.

“Lee!” he called, and Lee flinched and turned around with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights.

“Get back here,” Kerry waved, and hesitantly his manager returned to the side of the car.

“Yes?” he asked shakily, clutching his phone still. Sand was still dripping from his hair and the dirt on his face had dried.

“Get back in,” Kerry decided, and Lee gulped audibly, “Don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you alone right now. These guys that made you do this stuff…”

He didn’t have to say anything else, Lee nodded in strong agreement.

Edge or not, it was so small, so insignificant almost… And no matter how much he hated Lee’s guts sometimes, if Blue-Eyes snuffed him in his sleep tonight… Lee could know more than he let on, maybe even subconsciously. Him already being involved in this whole mess against his will also made him a better ally than any new manager that could be one of Blue-Eyes spies for real this time.

Lee got back in the passenger seat, and Kerry behind the wheel, turning on the engine. How the hell he was gonna break this to V he didn’t know yet. Right as he wanted to drive off, back home, he noted a dark van parked across the street, in good view of them. Kerry hesitated. This was nothing, probably, delivery guys, technicians. Although, no markings, names, or logos on the car.

Maybe this shit was getting to him more than he realized, seeing enemies where there were none. But it had ended with a black van with the Peralezes as well…

He tried to write the thought off as paranoia once again, but just in case, Kerry made extra sure they weren’t being followed before even getting into view of Watson.

*****************

>> Next Chapter

*****************

Notes:

It's been a hot minute, so much has happened since my last update, and I'm so happy I can finally share this ;__; I really had a lot of fun writing Kerry on his own little adventure for this chapter, and I think a few of you will be happy to see Lee back as well XD I've grown quite fond of him and had really been looking forward to this little reveal ever since I first introduced him xD I hope it came as a surprise but not entirely unexpected that he's involved in this mess a bit more deeply than he let on so far.

I hope the next chapter update won't take me as long as this one did, as with black vans showing up unannounced and Mr. B's schemes slowly becoming unravelled I can't wait to continue telling this story! :3

I put a little nod at Dogtown in this chapter, but to anyone who hasn't played Phantom Liberty and wants to continue reading: fret not! Since I started writing this story before the expansion and planned it out without any ties to it, the events of PL will not be majorly referenced here, not beyond what I did in this chapter.

Hope you enjoyed reading this, as always, and are looking forward to how it's all gonna continue (hopefully soon). I would say, we're about to reach the midway point of the story!

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[just-a-random-person24]

HERE TO ATTACK YOU WITH BARNEY'S MIND NOTES BOO!! (EP 1 PART 1+2, EP 2 PART 1+2, AMD EP 3!!)

Episode 1 (part 1)

• Hates the intercom for Black Mesa's transit system (calls it a computer) (you will see me mention things he hates *a lot*)

• says he needs a new job and thinks about being a radar operator, then days it would suck cause it's stuffy and you don't get chick's

• Late to work! Half Life protag curse

• you will also see me mention him getting side-tracked in what he says a lot

• Tells a scientist who can't hear him to make him a sandwich

• There's? an arcade??

• the dorms back in the barracks doesn't have a TV!

• thinks about bringing an Xbox to his dorm only to think that someone would steal it

• doesn't like being late *but* doesn't like getting up early

• says he'll point out lack of handrails anytime he sees it

• hates his job (L)

• wishes something interesting would happen

• mentions donuts only to get confused about why he's mentioning donuts

• cannot pronounce epileptic

• Black Mesa probably doesn't have a maintenance department

• unenthusiastic “weehee, fun fun.” followed by a deadpanned “I hate my job”

• wants Doritos only to settle for a Coke instead when there's no Doritos

• thinks Coke is better than Pepsi

• gets mad at a guard for not fixing the issue with the access panel, *only* to get mad when he's told to go fix an elevator cause it isn't his job

• says the helmet is too tight

• Lauren is a conspiracy theorist? Or at least sent books to Barney thinking he'd like them

• wants to break up with Lauren cause ‘long distance relationships don't work’

• leaves the air dryer running in the bathroom all day

Episode 1 (part 2)

• calls a scientist a bastard for getting mad about access issues

• hates elevator music, wishes it was techno or rock

• sees the video surveillance room is empty and says he should be the only one slacking off

• thinks the lady with the xen crystal (Gina? I think?? might be a totally different person) is hot and wants to get her number

• Gordon's ‘sup fool’ is audible!

• thinks Gordon's awesome

• is not paid enough to fix the elevator

• thinks the best perk of being a guard is shooting things, wishes he could shoot real things

• forgot he was told to go fix an elevator

Episode 2 (parts 1 + 2)

• Thinks soda is a good way to start the day

• thinks Pepsi and Dr Pepper sucks

• tries to tell a joke, gets brushed off

• gets very confused about a keyboard blowing up

• Says he's getting out of there to avoid taking the blame, only to run into management

• Mocks a scientist

• Hates maintenance accesses

• immediately gets distracted about the proper plurality of ‘access’ (it's accesses)

• thinks Black Mesa is going to get a lawsuit (or 12)

• fucks with an old computer. Stops thinking it would blow up or play Tetris

• thinks he knows G-man, gets confused about the tram working even though it shouldn't

• hates stairs

• threw his Coke can down a bottomless pit

• agrees the day *is* miserable

• baffled about the scientist never pushing the buttons before assuming it's broken

• “You shouldn't dabble in who-knows-what. It's sticky.” ???

• the actual episode's only 3:40. Rest of it is just credits

Episode 3

• This episode wasn't remastered like eps 1 and 2 were

• got knocked out from the elevator crash

• assumes one of the houndeyes aye a dead guards gun

• kills the houndeyes and goes ‘yarg’ right after

• Tells dead houndeyes to not go all Resident Evil and come back to life

• says he needs a new gun cause the pistol is not strong enough

• assumes they lose tons of things because none of the boxes have labels

• going to go back to Black Mesa to sell some of the stuff he finds when he gets out

• no emergency lights

• going to file lawsuits against Black Mesa

• headcrab guts taste like vinegar mixed with bacon. good to know?

• hates ladders

• says he needs coffee or red bull to focus

• “Caution! No handrails! Caution! You're a moron!”

• thinks pirates are cooler than ninjas

• says Vortigaunt electricity is like getting shocked with a dog collar or a taser

• Damn counter: 8

[planetpissed]

...Until his wooden doors opened moments after.

“Murderface, It’s time to rewrap that hand. Sit up, sir.”

The band’s doctor, more akin to a disappointed pediatrician with their shenanigans, walked into the room with a gear in assistance. He himself was carrying a bin of medical supplies. 

Flustered, William rolled his eyes before sitting up with a scowl. 

“You take your meds?”

“Yesch, I did.”

“Good. Thank you. How’s your wrist feeling, buddy?”

William shrugged. “The schame.”

The doctor unraveled his hand, eyebrow raised. 

“Itchy, huh?”

“Very.”

“Yeah, looks like you’ve been scratching at it,” The doctor tsked, squinting.

“Hm. The more you scratch at it, the more agitated it’s going to get, Murderface.”

The assistant scanned his temperature on the other side. 

Br-rr-rr-rr!

It seemed to be janky - he kept trying to get a proper read.

Br-rr-rr-rr!

Br-rr-rr-rr!

“If you keep messing with it, the infection is going to spread. You don’t have time for a medical emergency, okay?”

Br-rr-rr-rr!

“‘tthe fuck are you schaying?”

“I’m saying, if you want to play bass, stop touching it. You have a mild infection. Here.. This should help with the itch.”

The doctor, gloved, smeared a salve onto his wrist. It felt hot.

Br-rr-rr-rr!

The klokateer shook his head. 

“It keeps saying ninety-three.”

“Give me that,” The doctor spoke, taking the thermometer, scanning Murderface’s head.

Brr rr rrr.

“…?”

He threw a serious stare at Murderface. He was looking for symptoms of…something. He tried to scan him again. Brr rr rrr.

Brr rr rrr. Brr rr r r r Br rr rr!

“…Needs new batteries, or something. Hm.”

He sat the device down and finished wrapping Will’s wrist. 

Keeping the bin on the bed, the doctor rose and gestured for the klokateer to follow him. 

“Stay put, Will. We’ll be back in a minute.”

The two left. 

…And seconds later so did Murderface, going a different direction than the medical team.

No way was he going to stay any longer. What was happening? Why were they not communicating to him? Fucking assholes! That’s why doctors are scum. Murderface had enough. He needed to be alone. He couldn’t even have that privilege in his room, anymore.

He stomped to the dethgarage, his jaw aching from how hard he clenched his teeth together.

What did he need?

A few hours out of the haus. 

To drive around. 

Drink, come back. He drove better drunk, anyway. 

Fall asleep in his cozy, warm bed.

Forget Today.

Start New Tomorrow.

The hallways were so vacant. Nobody gave a shit about him to keep proper surveillance of him. They cared about the rest of Dethklok, but no, not Mr. Murderface!

Weird enough, he was glad this time around. Nobody would bother him this way.

“Willy!” God…damn it. 

It was Dick “Magic Ears” Knubbler, out of all people, he had to be the one that Will bumped into in the hallways. He nearly crashed into Murderface as he headed toward the elevators.

The bassist tensed up, blushing in self-embarrassment.

“…Dick. What’sch up.”

“Nothin’ much, I’m preparing for a conference with C.F.O. - Tomorrow, the studio’s gonna be real busy with this prophecy business. Exciting, huh?”

William wasn’t in the loop. He was, but he made it his job to ignore everything during the meetings. Was the band going to start saving the world tomorrow? No. Maybe they’d write up ideas of songs that were Brutal, but also full of Love, something real stupid like that. How was that even possible? Dethklok had to figure it out, he guessed. 

But Dick was prepping for a call with

“Charlesch? You’re gonna talk to him schoon?”

“Yep. He’s uh. Pret-ty dedicated with this High Holy Priesthood. He’s been outlining how tomorrow will go with all the Gears. Heheheh. And he’s got many videos of Facebones for all of you, too.”

“…Aweschome.” William reacted flat. “…I’ll erm. I’ll let you to it, then, Dick.”

The blonde stared with unblinking cybernetic eyes. The lenses narrowed, scanning the bassist. It made chills go up Murderface’s spine.

“You’re supposed to be resting, aren’tcha, babe? What’s up-”

“Dick.”

“…”

Murderface swallowed.

“I’ll be back before dark. I juscht need to be at a schitty bar by myschelf, to forget who I am. I’m not feeling well.”

“…”

Dick’s eyes turned yellow, concerned brows showing he felt sympathy.

“…William. I can’t imagine the pressure you’re feeling with this metalocalypse. If you need anything, we can shoot the shit. I’ll be high as a fuckin’ kite- hah, when am I not - but I’m a great listener.”

It was so awkward. Murderface was beginning to zone out. 

“…Alright. Thanksch.”

“You go. Get a drink, loosen up. Take as long as you need. If you succeed in ah, forgetting yourself? I’ll be here if you need a reminder.”

After a gentle grip to Will’s shoulder, Dick walked down the hall. 

Murderface had to dethaw before moving the opposite way. Fighting himself from looking back, he focused on getting to his car.

>>>

Murderface had been at the bar for a little bit, now. He had no hat for a disguise, but didn’t need it. 

He felt like a walking cadaver. A sitting one, currently. His baggy old band tee was more intact than him.

A mere beer. Will just wanted that, the least a shithole bar in some random hole in the wall could provide for him. 

Sitting on a stool at the bartop, he stared at his dethphone. 

Skwisgaar had tried to call him. No voicemail. 

Toki tried to call him. Murderface deleted the voicemails he had left before he could hear them. He regretted doing that.

Pickles was now texting Murderface;

u sleepin big man? :-J hey. you ok?  Nathan is having a klokateer play the bass tonight but i doubt he’ll be able to cock slap the bass as good as u haha wait the bassist stand in just got fucking electrocuted by a frayed stage light holy fuck   ask me to show you pics of this tonight its so bad  they’re getting a new stand-in rn lets go baby wait no the other understudy hasn’t kloked in they aren’t here wtf keeping you posted  mordland sewage department said there's a chance stand in 2 point oh got dissolved by a pipe that burst down there today that let out some boiling acid or smth but i bet he’s pussying out he knows he can’t top what the willy serves understudy number 3 is the charm they’re getting him rn Oh shit its a girl gear haha looooool :-? My man hit me up I know ur fat ass is lurking on mobile 

*phat  u shittin? send pics SEND PICS IM HUNGRY hooooo my supermans just hit brooits time to warm up. I’ll call after the show u better be sleepin cuz when u wake we r gonna party fuckface

Murderface sat his phone face down on the countertop, groaning to himself. His eyes locked onto a stupid cartoon beer hops sticker on said bar counter. Looked too silly.

Thirsty?

Yeah, little hops. You could say that. A cup of your fermented piss would be great about now. 

Which… a twenty ounce was right then served to him, crushing the hops cartoon.

“Oh, I didn’t order yet,” Murder sighed, about to grab his phone again.

“I know. Sal said he owed you one.”

The bartender pointed out a tall man sitting in one of the booths, by the vacant billiards. He had half a plate of the dryest looking chicken wings, and his own beer. This man was focused on a newspaper, working on a crossword of sorts. Round rim glasses sat on his nose, helping him read the finer print.

His face looked grim and nearly disciplinary. Yet… Murderface knew this guy.

This “Sal” was the one at Depths of Humanity - His biggest fan. 

<<<PREV - NEXT>>>

[parttimereporter]

Will this video destroy Diddy?

 2016 surveillance video obtained exclusively by CNN shows Sean “Diddy” Combs grab, shove, drag and kick his then-girlfriend Cassie Ventura during an altercation that matches allegations in a now-settled federal lawsuit filed by Ventura in November.

The footage, compiled from multiple camera angles dated March 5, 2016, appears to show the rapper, producer and business mogul during an incident that, according to Ventura’s complaint, occurred at the now-closed InterContinental Hotel in Century City, Los Angeles. CNN verified the location based on publicly available photos of the former hotel’s interior.

In the video, Ventura exits a hotel room and walks to a bank of elevators. Combs, holding a towel around his waist, runs down a hall after Ventura. He grabs her by the back of the neck and throws her to the floor. Still holding his towel closed with one hand, he then turns to kick her, the video shows.

As Ventura is on the ground, Combs retrieves a purse and suitcase from the floor near the elevators. He turns around and kicks Ventura again as she lies motionless on the floor. About four seconds transpire between the two kicks, according to the video. He then briefly drags Ventura by her sweatshirt toward a room before walking away.

[stlivingla]

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