RE419S | audio/text sent to everyone but DI481O | Night 23

[aluminumandash]

[ Hours—several—after Q&A with the anonymous callsign's come to an end, Rust breaks his walkie silence for the first time since the storm. He sounds raspy-voiced but keyed up, intent. His drawl's more clipped than usual, but he doesn't rush. ]

Bout a week ago, the man who's been calling himself Officer Ben De Guzman pulled a gun on me, knocked me out when I fought back. He then cuffed me, took my shit, and up till today had me leading him around that fucking cabin to the Northeast. Ah, this included forcing me to help put together a bloody arrow, leave it out for the guy living there like some kind of a fucking love note.

His callsign's DI481O. [ He repeats it for good measure. ] Mid-forties, Mexican, six feet. Muscular build. He's got a mustache, a grey streak in his hair. He dies, he'll come back in jeans, a button-down workshirt, red bandana. He'll have sustained a gunshot wound to his left leg and he'll be limping. His gun'll have four rounds, but I don't think I gotta tell anyone how easy it is to pick up new weaponry around here.

Most of what he said on here was bullshit. As you mighta gathered.

His name's Eduardo Salamanca. He's cartel, top of the fucking food chain. Drug manufacture and distribution, wide-scale killing on his say-so. This is a powerful man used to getting his way. He's also— [ The merest pause, a huff of breath. ] obsessive. Vengeful. Prone to fixate on people he sees as having wronged him or diminished his status. Capable, too. Not a hunter, but he can survive alright on his own.

[ Another, longer pause. When he comes back some of the weariness from the past week bleeds into his voice. ] I'm gonna type all this up for you. Ah, anyone who can write it down, please do. Tell anyone you know who might not be on the walkie.

Um, I took a print of his boot—I'll see if I can't get that out there. Anyone who's talked to him recently, I'd like to hear from you. You think he might come after you, I'd like to hear about that too. I've also got some questions.

Whos hurt/how bad?
Anyone familiar with Salamanca's name?
Anyone turn up something from his world during the storm?


[ OOC: True to his word, Rust will painstakingly type up a text version of this, which will take him a good twenty minutes.

He will ALSO be monitoring Lalo's walkie for a conveniently unspecified period of time, so if you want your char to look shady, now's your chance! Reply here with a message for Lalo and Rust will intercept it. (Or ignore this if your char is too smart for such ploys!) ]

Comments

private

[cactusy]

I'm fine.

[She says, from a place of enforced bed rest.]

How likely is it that he's going to come around and try to hurt the people here?

private

[aluminumandash]

[ Great, so's he! Moving on. ]

Mmmm, he's pretty tangled up with this guy out here. Got some grand drama in his head. [ A hint of contempt seeps into his voice. ] But I don't know.

Would he head over there, slit throats for the hell of it? I don't think so. Might follow me, though, or...seen him trying to cut deals with callsigns about other callsigns. Don't know what the fuck he thinks he's doing, but if he decides it's the place for answers, or to get his hands on something worth trading...those drones. He's already been putting them on offer.

private

[cactusy]

If he and this guy want to kill each other, I say we just let them. Them both distracting each other from us sounds like a pretty good deal to me.

private

[aluminumandash]

Only problem is once he dies he could pop up anywhere, rope in whoever's handy. [ Still: it's probably the cleanest solution to a messy fucking situation. ]

Ask you something? You saw what Anon said on here, yeah?

private

[cactusy]

You mean the stuff that made MZ1 freak out?

private

[aluminumandash]

Not specifically. [ His voice goes sharp. ] Something happen?

private

[cactusy]

Just a scared teenager being a scared teenager. She's fine. What were you talking about?

private

[aluminumandash]

Check on her after this. [ More plea than order, a whiff of desperation to it.

In other news, Rust is now in possession of a pen! Which means he can write an entire (short) poem on his forearm and send this fairly quickly. ] 3 18 19 41 40 11

9 19 40 1 2 11 8 19 1 ?

1 8 18 19 5 6 // 5 18 27 40 11 ?

[ Which comes out to: Martin

prisoners?

search cabin? ]

private; 1/2; still audio

[cactusy]

[This bit comes right away, picking at the code will take longer.]

You seriously wanna be asking me to do that?

basically a gag tag...

[aluminumandash]

Yeah. [ A jerky attempt at humor: ] Maybe don't go calling her a scared teenager to her face.

we love gagtags in this house

[cactusy]

Too late. I was around when she got the threat, and she basically threw herself into my arms.

private; 2/2; text

[cactusy]

Worth a shot. But dude, we're going to have to talk in person.

[aluminumandash]

Working on it.

[cactusy]

22 23 20 19 8 11 2 32?

[In an effort to throw off pattern-finding from any potential overseers who aren't in the know, she runs the words together without marking any sort of space between them, and she utilizes different instances of the same letter: 20 for the E from red, but then 8 for the first E in depends; 22 for the W from wheel and also 32 for the W in barrow. But she at least has the poem fully memorized now, with no misremembered words, so he should be able to easily decipher it as W H E R E N O W?]

[aluminumandash]

[ That shows sense; good thing one of them had the presence of mind to do it. Rust immediately follows suit, and—for the first time, incredibly—hits a snag when the letter he needs doesn't appear in the poem. ]

14 15 39 43 13 28 1 51 30 45 4 20 29 27 10 17 12

[ Yielding: U P H I S A S S R I U E R B E N D ]

[cactusy]

[A good place to be if he wants to search for potential prisoners. But a very bad place to be on his own.]

22 28 41 5 23 4 19 27 28 66 70

[W A T C H U R B A C K]