Friday, 24 February 2012

eleven shillings and sixpence a day

I'm honestly not paid enough for this. Running the Cafe and leading an investigation, for the record, is bloody well IMPOSSIBLE when you're still expected to make quota, which should come as a surprise to no one, except, apparently, the Highers, who felt it necessitous to inform me that yes, I have not sent my Squad into the hell that apparently is the world that we live in lately, and yes, I have not met quota for three months running. Despite my impassioned plea (which may or may not have involved a great deal of cussing  and threats involving the multitude of things one can do with a cricket bat), it would seem that unfortunately, Baker Squad, we are still expected to hunt.

Absolutely absurd. Truly, the pinnacle of productive Organizations. 

That being said, we recently got a lead; a location to a time and a place. It would be very stupid of me to outright state who I sent my entire squad after, especially with Stories of all types floating around and about. And although the units of quota placed on their collective heads is enough to mean no more hunts for almost a year,  I've been instructed that even an attempt at disposal will be enough to stave off the Highers for another month.

... Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of this clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle...

And for those of you who have the intellect greater than a brain damaged goldfish; it's nothing personal.We all have to survive out there and I'm sure the group I sent my Squad after appreciates that. Their Boss is absent, and I'm rather good at utilizing the power of timing. 

Really. It's just business. That I can assure you.

Speaking of business, I found myself yet again making coffee for a guest; although I keep myself constantly loaded with caffeine, it's rather rare that I have someone pop in these days. As it stands, the Cafe is in a state of consistently organized chaos. The long, wide windows that usually let in the seemingly overcontrasted light of the loop have maps plastered at various angles, pictures and hastily scrawled notes layered over certain marked points, threads linking one location and event to another. Long mahogany counters have papers and documents stacked on either end, fairly out of the way; though weren't those counters cherrywood a while ago...? The investigation is taking its toll, and most days it's Moriarty central. 

Regardless, I found myself pacing; hair hanging listlessly after another sleepless night, thinking about one thing or another when the door opened, bells chirping cheerfully.

I can tell you with complete and total certainty that Nightscream is a very interesting person, and an even more interesting proxy. We discussed a few matters -knowing both of our stances on our current employment, as well as the demands based upon us, it doesn't take much to imagine the specifics of that tirade -and I followed up on the course of drugs I had suggested following the cult situation; to be honest, without them, yet another brilliant mind would be dead.

I was rather surprised; yes, I did preform a short examination and yes, Nightscream did allow me to do so. While taking someone's pulse may seem to be insignificant to some, the level of trust that is required is more than one would probably imagine. Likewise, I found it surprising that it was willing to allow me to inject a course of antivirals, a booster, and a flesh eating disease anti-tetanus cocktail that I've developed for my squad. I suppose that birds of a feather flock together. Or something ludicrous like that; american sayings and idioms tend to be ridiculous, at least in my view.

Regardless, I sent it with a healthy supply of the first two syringes. It was... shocking, really, to see what the Highers do to those they are not fond of. Now I'm left wondering; was that supposed to be some sort of warning? A threat, perhaps? It doesn't matter what its intent was, since the message was clear.

... I'm hardly one to back down. A shame, but it's true.

(On another note, Nightscream was kind enough to confirm some of my suspicions regarding a rather jarring sequence of current events. It is certainly useful and appreciated to have someone assist with connecting the figurative dots, especially with the gravity of what may be to come.)

And that's pretty much it. I suppose things have been rather quiet lately; not that I'm complaining. We've had a few more reports of Squads going missing, but nobody has found bodies yet. Concerning, but I unfortunately have larger matters to attend to. Can't pay attention to every little kill and death. Work to do, things to see. 

Best of luck, Baker Squad. I'm looking forward to the reports once you're back.

Win or lose, it'll at the very least be entertaining. They tend to put on a good show.

Monday, 20 February 2012

This Shit is Getting Old

So, someone has to update this shit with how things've been going down since Knight Squad bit it, and I guess I drew the fucking short straw or something, because it's my damn turn. Though at least for you lot's sake it isn't fucking Photo again, dumbass barely speaks English anymore, he's so damn mechanical.

It's been quiet, mostly. The boss is fucking running around trying to deal with this Moriarty douchefuck-though how bad can he be? He's a fucking man. A gay man. So presumably he likes fucking. Worse, maybe he's got a fucking boyfriend or something. I dunno, but he's gotta be a lame motherfucker. The boss' dumbass tendancy to romance aside, he'll wipe the floor with these fuckers. I don't know why he's so damn worried.

Otherwise? Fia's a whore, Photo's a fucking robot, Ronin's so fucking retarded it's a miracle he's still breathing. Hamish is surprisingly charming, he stays in my room sometimes and all I have to say is that clearly male cats aren't half so bad as fucking human men.

Friday, 10 February 2012

the valley of fear

The title seemed relevant under the current bloody circumstances.

... so. A few days after the fact and I'm still a fucking mess. Damn it. Damn it all. Haven't slept in... no, that's not important. Though I need more cigarettes. Horrible, nasty habit. But as long as it keeps my hands from shaking, well, to each their own, no?

It's tossing convenient that Jan ended up on the Squad right before this, because it made the subsequent investigation a lot easier. And by a lot easier, I mean slightly less difficult than trying to get Ronin to read "Crime and Punishment", because whoever did this, well, to put it simply, they're good. Horrifyingly good. Barely left anything conclusive behind. In fact, most normal investigative teams wouldn't have found anything. But normal investigative teams aren't Thomas and I. So before any of the evidence decayed or was removed by unknown factors, we got straight to work.

What we found was downright disturbing.

Traces of para-aramid synthetic fiber were found on the bullets found to belong to the Knight Squad. And since we're hardly outfitted with body armour, it's obvious that it came from the aggressors. 

The reports we've gathered described... military like tactics. The Squad didn't notice they were being hunted until it was too late. They were slowly corralled into the building like animals. And once they were in position, well, it seems they didn't stand much of a chance. As we mentioned before, there is evidence of a struggle and multiple bodies being removed, but right now, it's... not looking good. 

And what we found? Barely identifiable. Morgan was shot expertly in the joints, got an artery nicked, and was apparently e-e-executed when he didn't bleed to death fast enough. Not only that, but the sniper that went after Photo and I seems to be using something like the AWM. Army gun. Bloody hell.

And as for the official status of all this? The word went out about an hour ago; the syringes are believed to not be in Moriarty's property based on eyewitness accounts, but as of now, they're... unaccounted for. Nobody has found a trace of the missing members of the Knight Squad.

To make matters worse, another proxy has turned up dead. One bullet, right in the brain. From behind. Blood splatters imply that the poor bastard didn't even see it coming.

... We're being hunted. Gargoyle is right; I've been in service for quite a long time now, and we've never seen anything like this. Killsquads that must take an incredible amount of resources and money to run. Whole teams being wiped out in one fell swoop with clinical accuracy. 

With one man seemingly behind it all.

Let me make something perfectly clear for all of you out there. Goldstein is not your friend. He is not your saviour or companion. He is not a friendly face. Fuck, I'm, I'm really only starting to realize how far his reach is, how big the scope of this all is. But, from what I've seen, he's barely even a man. Inhuman, scheming, like the spider in the centre of its web. Motionless, until it feels something get caught within it. Unseen of until it wants to be seen.

Well I see you. All your genius for the world to see. Happy with all the chaos you've created, you fucking bastard? Pleased with a job well done? You should've just stayed quiet, not bothered with games. What do you want? What do you stand to gain from this? Truly, enlighten me. Feel free. I'm bloody well FUCKING waiting!!!

... Megalomaniac prick. I... suppose I'll report back in soon. Especially if I find anything. If... If you're a proxy, I'd suggest getting to a safe place and staying put. We're still not sure of the scope of this problem, but better to miss a quota then get a bullet to the face. And Runners? Be tossing careful as well. We're not sure how friendly these people are.

Now if you don't mind, I have an investigation to get back to. 

Thursday, 9 February 2012

"Losing my religion"

My room is a mess. The cat has found its way in here a few times over the last few days. I do not feel like picking up the things it has removed from the shelves. I have secluded myself to my room since the other night.

I have been reading, though. I regret the loss of Recluse. She was a good woman.

It is odd. "Joseph"... Sherlock... He has taken care of me when he is not busy. He is very busy at the moment, of course. He and my work are what I have now that Nerina is gone. I was assigned to the Baker squad after being deemed... unsuitable for solitary work without guidance after I lost Nerina and hunted the Runner who took her, like the animal he was. She was my "team" before. My older sister.

It is the past, though. Such holes are hard to fill, and despite my work, it is one that I miss. Being something more than a "tool" to a person. I am good at what I do, but if I can for a moment, fool myself into believing that they care for me. It is silly and childish, I know. "Joseph" says I have a right to be childish and irrational sometimes, though, and that I should not apologize for it.

I am currently rather... disillusioned when it comes to attraction to others due to certain things that have come to light recently. That was part of the discussion that "Joseph" and I had, though. That I should set my sights on someone younger, for one thing. I have taken it into consideration, as I expected nothing to come of the other attraction, even though I felt snubbed by the things that came to light.

I can get all the physical gratification I need. Easily. There are members of the Organization that are closer to my age to interact with on such levels. Not Ronin, of course. Ew.

I will heal, and I will be useful again.

Wednesday, 8 February 2012

II. A lot of blood

It had seeped into the walls of the warehouse. I personally would have burned it, but the highers seemed to want to keep the place intact. Fire used only as a last resort.

So I cleaned it up. Well, most of it. It's still taking some time. Thankfully it's in the middle of the woods. If this was a rush job I would have had to torch it. But for the most part the building is clean.

A hose got rid of the first layer of blood, while heavy mopping and scrubbing took care of the deep set in blood as well as brain and assorted viscera. The whole situation looked pretty violent, based on what was left behind. Too much blood for one person. I'd say at least three, though depending on how injured they were it could be more. If they aren't dead, they are pretty badly injured. A further inspection of the area will be needed.

This was followed by disinfectant and more scrubbing. Another round of hosing down the place. Some more scrubbing. I had to use a great deal of deoderizors on the place. The state of the building sucked in smell quite well. I will probably have to continue with that. The smell of blood is faint, but it's still there. What little furniture there was is gone. The windows are replaced.

The body, or what's left of the body anyway, is buried.

I get the impression that not many people liked him, but I said a few words for him anyway. Marked the latitude and longitude of where I placed him. Just so that someone could remember him. We're gone too quickly in this business and all we get is unmarked graves. It's not fair, really.

While the warehouse would not hold up to any serious investigation at the moment, a casual observer wouldn't notice anything. I don't think it will take me more than two days to get things up to standard. It was a challenging cleanup for certain. But it wasn't the worst I've seen.

Mission progress: adequate.

Tuesday, 7 February 2012

(Dead Air)

Transcript of Conversation with Sherlock at 19:04 local time.
"Report will be required."
"A report of this incid-"
"Photo, we were just nearly bloody well KILLED and you want me to write a bloody REPORT?"
"A repor-"
"Bollocks to that. Write it yourself."
Incident Report follows.

At approximately 17:30, Baker Squad began investigating the communications silence of Knight Squad. Reports indicated Knight Squad involved in some manner of Altercation. Was dispatched to Knight Squad's location in order to ascertain nature of problem, if applicable.

oh fuck

753381046 here. Under area 392 of my jurisdiction, there was a report of the Knight squad being engaged in combat. More accurately, it was reported that they were "being hunted".

I'm invoking a code 157, to be carried out IMMEDIATELY. All squads deployed to adjacent areas, get out of sight. NOW. Do NOT engage in combat, I repeat, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ASSIST THE KNIGHT SQUAD. Get out of the bloody area as fast as you can after you receive the all clear, not before. YOU ARE LIABLE TO BE SHOT IF YOU DON'T FOLLOW ORDERS. Jan, you're to follow the convoy in once the investigation is completed. We'll keep you posted. Photo, you're with me.


oh my god its all going wrong all at once

Saturday, 4 February 2012

(Onomatopoeic Cat Noise)

Pursuant to the aforementioned feline; no ill intentions are held towards the cat. This is a Domestic Feline, not an Irregular. We are not Knight Squad.

Observations follow:
[20:23:17] Cat has been removed from the second floor lavatory.
[20:47:03] The second floor lavatory is now available for use.
[21:16:29] Cat currently resides in the kitchen. Permanence of this arrangement is Questionable.
[05:27:52] Lost track of Cat. Cat refuses to remain Contained within the kitchen.
[05:38:23] Cat located behind bar. Cat re-located to kitchen.
[05:41:44] Investigated: unclear as to what method of egress the Cat is using. All kitchen doors were Secured.
[05:53:38] Lost track of Cat.
[06:35:20] Third Parties seem to have been releasing the Cat from the kitchen. 
[06:47:23] Believe Fiametta or Janitor responsible for release of Cat. 
[06:56:51] Suspicions lack concrete proof. Observed Cat Investigating stairwell.
[07:01:19] Cat has taken up residence near Nat's quarters. 
[07:04:33] Apprehension of Cat deemed Unwise. Cat remains unharmed.
[07:32:58] Lost track of Cat.
[12:03:19] Cat rediscovered within the interior of grand piano. Unknown as to how Cat came to be located inside of the grand piano. Lid was closed upon earlier inspection.
[12:11:26] Believe "Joseph" may be responsible for Cat being lodged inside of grand piano.
[12:32:46] Cat refuses to approach the third floor of the Cafe Loop. Do not blame him
[12:40:11] Observed cat learning to open doors.
[13:09:32] I have named the cat Hamish.

. . . . . -

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

I. Introduction

I'm called the Janitor. Obviously that's not my real name, but I've been here a while. It's something I've gotten used to. I have recently been transferred to the Baker Squad, and have been instructed to introduce myself.

I can't think of much to say.

I work damage control. Which is really just a fancy way of saying that I clean up the bodies. I also create cover stories and work with the media, but most of the work is about getting brains out of the carpet. We don't usually work with only one squad, but I've been told that the situation was bad enough.

And it did give me a chance to see "Joseph" again, which is quite refreshing. We used to live together, back when we were both fresh. It seems like such a long time ago now.

At any rate, there really isn't much about me that is interesting. All you really need to know is that I'm here.

there is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact

... wait.

Everyone shut up and wait one bloody second.

The entire division is in tossing shambles. Everything's gone to hell while everyone is attempting to figure out what the hell happened; now that the situation is being examined, we've obviously had a major breach. It's apparent that we were all being censored; though reports of  66342-O being notoriously hard to kill had bled through, WE all had startling amounts of evidence that pointed to the contrary; that those reports were falsified or explainable. Well, THAT evidence that has now vanished into thin fucking air. Something, or rather, someone, has been leading the entire eastern branch of the Beaurocracy on a wild goose chase; the damage is so bad that the best damage control in the area has been permanently assigned to the Baker Squad . It's so bad that most of the communicational lines have been shut down, making everyone resort to the physical archives. It's so bad that the coordinating Highers haven't even GOTTEN to my "punishment for acts of insubordinative nature" yet, and they usually jump on those kind of things with childlike glee; they're too busy trying to root out the proxy who did this, as obviously it's an internal job.

That's. Too. Easy.

Well, "Highers", you're about to be eating out of my palm, because you'll never find out who did this without the information I've compiled in the past twelve hours. Don't look at your monitors like that; did you really think I was going to sit here and let you humiliate both myself and Mr. Banks like this? I've survived through the night, and that's all what was needed.

Now, let me tell you what you all are going to consent to, because everyone needs to be told their guidelines and parameters, correct?

You're going to consent to having all charges against me and my squad dropped. You're going to consent to doing so by reading the information below. You're also going to consent to dropping quota and allowing my Squad and I to do our TOSSING jobs. You're going to consent to giving me all the resources I need, and you're going to consent to me continuing the hunt. And if you choose not to? I'm sure that our target will either destroy you or move his game elsewhere.

.. Aha, excellent. Not even finished the draft, and yet I've received all the written documentation of "Forgiveness" I need. I knew you were watching, gentleman. I suppose this means that I should uphold my end of the bargain?

You've slipped, creepy Anon. I didn't even consider all of this being you until you started dropping little clues. Did you think you were being clever? "Mr. Goldstein". It's a nice name, I suppose. If slightly unassuming. Non-threatening. It's almost funny, I'd figure for you to go with something more flashy, you strike me as the type. But that's not what this was about, was it? You wanted to be noticed, to give a little bit of name to the oh-so-biting words. One name, a label identity, only so others could appreciate your genius. Not consequential in the slightest.


"655321", was it? I'd made the connection between you two a while ago; your anonymous comments stick out like a sore thumb. It seemed, at the very most, to be something of very little value. Just another clue that you allowed me to have, keeping a solution just out of grasp.

But 655321 doesn't go exclusively by that number, does he? No, he goes by "Double-5".

6+3+2+1 = 12.

Mr. Goldstein12. You didn't even hide it from a simple search engine.

You've been watching us for quite a while, haven't you? Periodically checking in, logging your thoughts, out of nothing. But. Hubris. Well, we all see you now. We all see what you're capable of. And we're very, very pissed off.

The game is afoot, Goldstein. No, rather, Moriarty. No use in hiding. It's all open for us to see now. Let's give them all a good show.

Your move.