RE419S | audio | Day 7

[aluminumandash]

[ Rust's voice comes over the walkie, urgent and forceful. ] Anyone in the area between the concrete structures where Martin and me were held—that's the foothills with, ah, a river to the south and the jungle ten hours to the west of the northeast coast, check in right the fuck now.

[ He thinks to type the rest out—some semblance of a record, something for people to refer back to for the while it's around—but five minutes punching little keys and he can't take it anymore. So his voice returns, matter-of-fact. ]

Officer de Guzman's dead. [ If anyone was hoping for a eulogy, it's not fucking happening. ] Took an arrow to the shoulder then was executed, from the sound of it, likely with his own firearm. He was in the region I just described, about a kilometer away from a wood cabin with no defenses or occupants he could discern. Guessing he walked into some kind of a trap. [ He concludes, irritation seeping into his voice. ]

Much as I hate to state the obvious, circumstances compel me to say: do not seek out the cabin. Hell, I'll say it twice: do not seek out the fucking cabin. You find yourself in an area suspiciously quiet and bereft of animal activity, turn around and go back the way you came.

The individual who killed him had a message for us. It follows.

[ After a short delay: ] The next animal I find here will die a much slower death. Tell your friends for me.


OOC: Replies subject to even more robust threadjacking than usual from Lalo!

Comments

[lonelynotforsaken]

[Martin refrains from pointing out that he worked with someone named Basira Hussein who is, as far as he knows, extremely English and knows no other languages. There are other indications of Kokichi's nationality. His clothes, for one thing.]

Mm... maybe? [He can't help sounding dubious.] Or something wants us to be connected, possibly so it can listen in.

[salamanca]

[ Clothing, Lalo would argue, means absolutely nothing, because you can take it on and off. Anyone can put on clothes from any country. Names aren't a 100% guarantee but they're more telling than clothes, he would argue, unless someone is lying about their name.

He would know about the clothes and lying about your name, after all.

The theory Martin does propose is interesting, though. About someone wanting to listen in. Lalo mulls over it. It's not a bad idea; there's a distinct possibility of it, in fact. ]

"Listen in?" What, you think... like a TV show, like the kid said? [ His heart thuds in his chest. A TV show would be very, very, very bad for him. But just because it would be bad for him doesn't mean he can discount it out of hand. ]

[lonelynotforsaken]

No. More like... like something that's looking for something particular. Listening for something. It doesn't know what it is, maybe, but if it brings enough people here and gives them radios, maybe it'll hear it?

[salamanca]

[ Lalo's blood runs cold. Ice cold. ]

Looking for something in particular, you think? Or... someone?

[lonelynotforsaken]

I'm not sure.

[If it's the Dread Powers, they're probably looking for the Archivist. Is that why he hasn't shown up here? Self-preservation?]

I don't want to say it's someone in particular, just because that gets into the whole, uh... issue that Shaw raised. Which is-which is why is any one of us more important than the others? I think we'd just drive ourselves silly with worry trying to figure out a who. What... Maybe something about... other universes where it might be good to pull people from. Or-or go if this world ended and it's trying to get out.

[salamanca]

"Other universes"...

And here I was, imagining a multi-government sting on one of us. [ Chuckles. ] I didn't think I would ever say this, but somehow, your idea makes more sense. Some of these things you all talk about on here make me feel very small indeed.

[lonelynotforsaken]

Ultimately, we're all pretty insignificant. That's not a bad thing, though. There's a poem by Tim Minchin I really like called "Storm." It's the sort of thing to make you think.

I am a tiny, insignificant, ignorant lump of carbon.
I have one life, and it is short
And unimportant...
But thanks to recent scientific advances
I get to live twice as long
As my great great great great uncleses and auntses.
Twice as long to live this life of mine
Twice as long to love this wife of mine
Twice as many years of friends and wine...

We're nothing in the grand scheme of things. But that-that doesn't matter, does it? I think we all have value, even if we're small and disappear. Just existence, making your infinitesimally miniscule mark on the universe?

That's important.

To the people you touch while you're alive. To the people whose lives are touched when you're gone. We're all stardust, Ben. Think about that. Every atom in your body used to be part of a star. I think that's pretty neat.