deductives: (she blinded me with SCIENCE)
[personal profile] deductives
[The video begins without a person in frame. A rather eclectic living room is visible, partially cluttered but with patches of order dotted about it where John took time to intervene on Sherlock's nonsensical filing systems. The focus lies however, not on the piles of paper or the crates of evidence, but a damaged black box lying on the coffee table. An image of a red volcano is painted on the sides. Sherlock speaks from behind the camera, setting it down to take hold of the box.]

By now, I'm sure you've all heard about the vigilante group calling themselves the Red Death. Despite their amateur status, this level of technology was recovered from a crime scene where they violently attempted to discredit their competition, the Phantasm.

[He's intentionally vague on how he had been the center of that. It's not really important, after all.]

This machine, when operational, sends out short pulses that block the powers of imPorts. Vulcanus technology. The caveman's equivalent of what was witnessed in New Vesuvius. There's no evidence to call it a harbinger. However, Vulcanus activity has increased since the lull after the Venezuela incident. [Something he'd researched, but fortunately avoided.]

Though I question how vigilantes managed to get themselves entangled with a group of international conspirators, and why our lovely hostess chose to subject us to their idea of a utopia, the most pertinent one remains: What is being done about them?

((BACKDATED TO MONDAY for the sake of masquerade people interested in replying))
deductives: (you suck at kidnapping)
[personal profile] deductives
[The imPorts may start to notice at some time around midnight, a video is starting to go viral in the area of the City. Untitled and clearly shot unprofessionally, the grainy feed displays a dark figure sitting in a chair. For a minute, there's the sounds of shuffling and murmurs until a light clicks on. The camera becomes unsteady in someone's hands before it focuses on the figure in the chair again.

Outfitted in his Phantasm disguise, Sherlock slumps in the chair and the only thing that keeps him from falling are the ropes holding him in place. Though it isn't immediately obvious who he is, one clear thing is that he's injured quite badly. One of his eyes is swollen and purple, while blood trickles down his chin from his split lips. It's a struggle for him to stay conscious, though his captors aren't letting him pass out, either.

A paper is shoved under his face from off camera, someone instructing him to read, but a defiant red grin slowly spreads across his face. Without a word, he spits a bloody gob onto it with a wet smack. The reaction is loud and immediate, shouting followed by the camera dropping to a concrete floor and the sounds of fists against flesh. It cuts there abruptly, but the feed returns with several costumed people standing around the now toppled chair that pinned a heavily breathing Sherlock to the ground.]

Cityzens, this is your ever loyal Phantasm, and tonight, we reveal a traitor in our midst. [The man speaks calmly, clearly the leader of the small group of men and women alike.]

You may have heard whispers about the Red Death, and the danger their powers pose to ordinary people like us. We've done you all a favor and caught one, hiding right under your noses and you didn't even realize. Sneaking through the shadows and trying to bring down all of our hard work to stop the madness in this town. The gall of that-- to take advantage of all of you in our colors. [He steps closer to the camera, a disingenuously imploring look on his face.]

Today, we're giving the power back to you, Cityzens. Rest assured that this fake will be punished. By the end of the week, we'll carry out whatever fate you decide for him. We're just proud to clean our streets of trash like this.

[The feed cuts a final time, leaving only a standby message with polling instructions for viewers. Every few hours, the feed returns, without sound, only showing Sherlock being rather unsuccessfully interrogated only to be beaten down again.]

((MINI PHANTASM PLOT IS GO. I'll the log for Sherlock's rescue up this weekend, but for now, everyone is free to discuss the ominous post, whether they recognize him or not!))
deductives: (txt it)
[personal profile] deductives
[The text announcement is sent out at a relatively late hour, and the style of writing isn't familiar to Sherlock at all. This is entirely intentional, as it is his attempt to sound like the well meaning but poorly executed group of vigilantes he and John intend to infiltrate.]

i've been here in the city for a while now, but i haven't really thought about using these powers we're given for what the porter asks for. it always seemed so cliche, you know? and there's people who are experienced in it who are way better.

but the phantasm has me thinking. if even the natives can try and pitch in to fight crime, why can't i? i made this anon for obvious reasons, but i figured you guys could help me with theme ideas. i've never even been good at halloween, but i guess i better start thinking.

and does anybody know people from phantasm personally? i know thoughts on them are mixed but i guess i should think about how things might go for them over time...

OOC note )
deductives: (words with friends is hard)
[personal profile] deductives
I'm not entirely sure why so many of you needed to abscond to god knows where for days just to plan a midnight nude flash mob in Times Square. But I suppose our reputation needed another good sink, didn't it?

[Sherlock, of course, knows that really isn't what happened, but he finds people are more informative when they're being defensive. Such are his superior social skills.]

Speaking of which, this 'Phantasm' group is making quite the stir lately. It's a pity so much inspiration from the ImPorts is getting wasted on amateurs. Well meaning amateurs, of course, but that matters very little once you're an inspired corpse. I suggest at least someone from the community starts to give them costuming advice. Could make a profit from it, really.

[He says all this because he's snooped the crime scenes of several murdered Phantasm members. None of them have been pretty, in any regard, but it's time to get to the bottom of it.]

Private to John Watson )
deductives: (prepared to do anything)
[personal profile] deductives
[The feed is silent at first, overlooking a deep precipice. Strangely, the bottom looks like the sky, but there's no water causing a reflection. When the camera shifts upwards, high above the ground a city hangs upside down. In between, on the cliff face, there are winding staircases and castle parapets assembled in impossible fashions, and those with a keen eye may notice rather large spiders creeping around them.

At last the view settles on an elaborate looking throne, where Sherlock sits. His legs are typically crossed and his fingers steepled, but the suit he wears is a bit too clean cut, as is his hair. A tie, already odd enough on him, is embroidered with tiny skulls. None of this may seem too unusual until he finally speaks.]

You know, you all are so very, very disappointing. [The voice is Sherlock's, but it also isn't, doubled with someone else's. Someone with a decidedly Irish lilt.] I've been in this city for months now, and none of you had the decency to point me in the direction of even one unusual murder. I've never been tempted until now to make up my own, but now I have a convenient place to store that bothersome, useless things people call hearts or consciences.

[His hands fall down to his lap, revealing several blood streaks trickling down his face.]

Ghosts have no need for those, luckily. That's all I might as well be at this point; it would certainly be more convenient. [He sighs dramatically.] Buuut, if some of my old pets want to come scratching at the door post, I suppose I will have to oblige them.

[The feed cuts, shorting out a bizarre, bark of a laugh.]
deductives: (gravewalking)
[personal profile] deductives
So is publicized bloodsport a rare occurrence here, or do I need to watch myself for an annual event?

[He's feeling a little more confident about posting on the Network, so everyone now gets to hear Sherlock's voice. It sounds merely annoyed, but the concept of this battle to the death scenario disturbs him. It must have taken planning, lots of it, to run, and some very suspect negligence on the behalf of the City itself. If he had been here sooner--]

I suppose then it's as good a time as any to offer my services. The name is Sherlock Holmes, and I'm a consulting detective. Whether you be the police or a private client, I am willing to take on the cases you don't believe you can solve. The more perplexing the better. I can be reached at this communicator or at the MAC, but I choose my cases at my own discretion.

deductives: (mother's maiden name)
[personal profile] deductives
I never was particularly fond of the quantum mechanics branch of the sciences, but if someone would like to explain how a man can fall asleep in London and wake up in New York without being in any sort of transport, I'd love to hear all about it.

[That's a lie, of course, but as long as he's in a foreign situation he sees no clean route out of just yet, he'll be as duplicitous as he sees fit. No one needs to know they're reading the words of a potential dead man.]

Or an even better question in the interest of Queen and Country, I suppose: Why is Big Ben visible across the Hudson River?

I also need painkillers. Strong ones. Surely this isn't too much to ask of a place apparently capable of either teleportation or interdimensional travel.

alldeduction: (Default)
[personal profile] alldeduction


Bored, bored, bored.

Feel like some codes, City?

[After the text, the video starts: a dark room, no figures in it - the camera is pointed at a blank wall. After a few seconds, glowing white notes appear.]

cut for image )

☼ 004.

May. 13th, 2012 11:18 am
ecphrasis: citadel_icons @ IJ (gross.)
[personal profile] ecphrasis
[The light in the morgue is bright; the glare on the comm almost completely obscures the video. But after a few seconds, a small, purple-gloved hand reaches up to turn the lamp to a different angle, removing the glare and revealing the inside of the local morgue. A pair of men’s feet, pale and stiff, are almost at the edge of the table. Luckily, only the subject’s legs are visible for all you kids out there. Molly is on the opposite side of the table, half-inside the shot. She has a mask on her face and a clipboard in her hands. She’s mid-sentence when the recording starts:]

--eaced shows signs of heart and liver failure, reason yet unknown. Blood samples are on their way to--

Poison. I already found the delivery mechanism. [He’s holding up a small bag as he walks on camera, before he tosses it down by the victim’s feet, stepping up to the body and leaning over it with a smile.] Run it through the tox screens, would you? It isn’t the type to be regularly checked for.

[He pauses, finally, and walks off camera, the sound of his heels scraping over the tile floor.]

The new make-up suits you, but you really should just give up dating entirely, Molly.

[The corners of her eyes lift; she’s smiling beneath the mask. She actually reaches up to pull it down before grabbing the bag.]

Wow, thanks. This will really speed things up, Sh-- [And then she hears his remark, and her face falls. Her cheeks flush. She cranes her neck to watch him walk.] Wh-what? What do you mean? Why would you say that?

Floyd. You’ve always had rather disastrous taste, haven’t you. [His voice is muffled for a moment, and his comments aren’t quite clear over the comm’s microphone until he steps back into range, though he’s still out of shot.] -- and those boots, surely. Genuine wachbatallion jack boots - they aren’t even replicas.

[She has completely stopped what she’s doing. There’s a scalpel hanging loosely in her hand, and she’s just staring off-screen, profile to the camera. She clearly has no idea what he’s talking about.]

You--you don’t have any right to--what do his boots have to do with anything? And my taste in men is just fine!

Nazi Germany, is the point. And he’s polished those boots within an inch of their life - it’s hardly meant for collection. It’s a point of pride.

[She has stepped away from the table now, looking completely unsure of what to do or say. But she musters her courage. her brows pull together.]

Sherlock, if you’re going to insult my--insult Pink, then you can just. Wait outside until I finish!

[Sherlock finally steps back into the camera view, up to Molly, hands in his pockets and an amused smirk on his lips.]

Just pointing out the truth. Isn’t that kinder? [He pauses, glancing, and then sees the light on the comm.] Ah-- you’ll want to turn that off, I suspect.

[Molly’s head snaps to face the comm and, seeing it, she struggles to rip off one of her purple surgical gloves before smacking her hand down over the camera. The feed ends.]
alldeduction: (surprise! science)
[personal profile] alldeduction
It's become increasingly obvious to me that the depth of knowledge on imPort powers is non-existent at best.

I mean to rectify this.

I am looking for volunteers for testing. Nothing invasive, you will simply be asked to display your powers, up to what you feel necessary to show. The tests themselves will be designed specifically to your powerset.

Note that this is completely voluntary, and that volunteers will be paid amply for their time, transport, and whatever else people feel necessary to spend money on .

Some of you I have already spoken to regarding this matter.

All results will be completely anonymous and confidential, unless otherwise stipulated by the volunteer.


Individual private texts to: Max, Tonks, and anyone else Sherlock previously spoke to:

If you're interested.

Private to Zatanna:

If you're still interested. Also, I found something belonging to your friend.
alldeduction: (tiny!sherlock: look at those eyes)
[personal profile] alldeduction
[Sherlock is twelve years old, apparently, as some of you have seen, and he's currently standing in central park.]

So. If all of you aren't complete morons, you might have noticed that there are a lot of strange things happening today.

I'm sure you've also come to the conclusion that it's likely based on the date.

While this has been fun, I'm getting a bit tired of police officers asking where my parents are.

Stop it.

[He's about to shut the comm off in a huff, but he pauses, looks at it, and then frowns.]

Oh. And is anyone here a pirate, back home?

alldeduction: (not so invisible gun)
[personal profile] alldeduction

[Sherlock's in his flat again, City. Isn’t he snazzily dressed? He must be on a case, he looks so good. The arm’s still bound but it looks a little looser, and he’s wiggling his fingers a bit as he talks.]

Hello, City.

Anyone feeling particularly happy today?

[He smiles, raises his good hand. Apparently he’s been doing arts and crafts - there is glitter all over his finger tips.]

I always feel happiest when I’m working, don’t you? And work has been so good.

[He turns slightly, the camera angling just enough to see that John is sitting across the room.]

We’ve been busy. Three murders in eleven days. Well. I wasn’t allowed on the first one, but that hasn’t stopped me before.

Have you been following the news? No. Unlikely. How much does a city full of vigilantes care when a murderer is killed? Or when three are. And that’s the point, isn’t it. Vengeance.

[He pauses. There is definitely something strange to his behaviour. This isn’t gloating, City. This isn’t the end of a case. This isn’t him gently unraveling the mystery and laying it before your eyes. This is a warning. This is predatory. This is a test.]

I don’t make exceptions. Murder is murder and a case is a case.

But someone out there does. And someone out there works too fast. Tell me, City, In a realm of super powers, who knows when something is going to happen before it does?

[He leans in, tilting the camera down to the table, and then he draws a smiley face in glitter on the wood.

Just before the feed cuts out, you can hear him mutter:]

But really? Ether? Who even uses ether anymore?

[he disconnects.]

alldeduction: (concentrate on the skyline)
[personal profile] alldeduction
It appears that my imposter caused a good deal of damage during my forced absence.

Luckily he seems to have put my work on hold, so I can return to my previous experiments with out too much sacrifice. If any of you attempted to bring cases to him or seek his advice, disregard it. If you believe you spoke to me any time after the evening of the fourteenth, you did not. I ask that you petition me again now.

I am currently open for new cases. Contact me or come by the flat.

Interesting cases only.


Here follows a few private texts. )
alldeduction: (welp i'm a skrull)
[personal profile] alldeduction
[He'd fiddled with the comm as he ran. He didn't know if the encryptions would work, but he had to get the word out and he had to get it out now.]

Out. And we're out of time.

Times Square. 9'oclock.

Li'litu - bring Nill.

[The feed winks out.]
drpsychosomatic: (oh shit what is he doing now)
[personal profile] drpsychosomatic
[He’s still not quite got the hang of this. There’s a fumble, the lens obscured for a moment, and then a blurry John Watson, slowly sliding into focus as the camera picks him out from the background. He’s still a little uncomfortable with video, apparently, not quite sure where to look- or it could be that he’s still not entirely sure where the actual camera is. He’s just about to speak when his eyes flick to the left- a sound on the stairs distracting him. Sherlock. Typical.]


John. I found a solution.

[John’s lips quirk and his brow furrows slightly- he doubts very much he’s going to enjoy whatever it is Sherlock’s come up with, considering how strangely he’s been acting since the discovery of the first Skrull. He’s heard a few of Sherlock’s previous ‘solutions’, too. He watches Sherlock move- though Sherlock himself remains offscreen.]

That’s... great, Sherlock. Can it wait? I was just-- [And he gestures to the camera.]

What? No. Turn that off. This is important. [He steps just inside the camera shot, still too far and out of focus to really see. Still, his arm raises, and he’s holding something in his good hand. Something metal..?]

[And apparently, John knows exactly what it is. His eyebrows raise incredulously.]

You’re not serious. Sherlock.

Completely. It is the only method I have managed to guarantee is a hundred percent accurate. Blood won’t suffice. It has to be tissue. [He steps closer into the shot, and it’s obvious now that he is brandishing a brand new pair of bolt cutters.]

No. No, Sherlock, you’re not-- I’m not going to let you lop off one of my-- Stop. Just-- no. All right? I refuse. Not happening.

Turn that off, John, there are children on the network.

[He gets up, instead, backing off out of the shot.]
This is insane. You know that, right? You can’t just go around cutting people’s-- Sherlock. Seriously. Stop it.

I won’t take the whole thing, John, just the last knuckle or so and then we’ll go straight to the hospital and sew it back on afterwards.

For god’s sake, Sherlock! Are you listening to yourself? I am not letting you cut any part of my bloody finger off to satisfy your paranoia! You don’t think this is exactly the kind of behaviour they’re hoping we resort to? Jesus...

You know as well as I do that I need to be sure. It’s hardly a sacrifice! Just shut up and stop being an idiot for thirty-- [He’s in front of the camera now, looking not very pleased at all, and he glares down at it.]

This is none of their business. [He grabs the comm and the video feed shuts off with a click.]

[[ooc: john’s rescue is reserved for charles xavier c: ]]
alldeduction: (flashlight)
[personal profile] alldeduction
[Well for once in a blue moon it looks like not only did Sherlock intentionally use video, but he actually has somewhat of an open comm purpose to this post.

He's standing in the living room of his flat, which is looking fairly neat, all things considered. The comm is apparently propped up on something a few feet away, maybe on the table. He's sharply dressed but his left arm is bound tightly to his side and his movements are incredibly stiff. But, he's standing, which given his condition two weeks ago is fairly miraculous.

The reason he is using video become apparent as the lights start to flicker to life around him. Like brightly shining holograms, the dark room suddenly is filled with light. Welcome to his mind palace.

The most prominent of these projections is a life size image of skrull, to his left. It is exact, down to the last detail, to the one that Tony showed on the network. Beyond that, there are hundreds of glowing white notes of his observations, as well as two strands of DNA dancing around each other - one skrull, one human. ]

There isn't enough data. However, what I have collected is available, should you have need of it.

My other cases are currently on hold.

If you have relevant information, I am conducting interviews. If you don't know how to get here, ask. [He left his address on the last intentional post, and god knows he isn't repeating himself. Even if it is impossible to find, now.]

[He steps right up to the camera, leaning in with an intense look. This is for you, Xavin, though he's smart enough not to say so directly.]

Understand that I stress all data is relevant, even if it contradicts popular opinion. Especially when it comes from a reliable source.

[The video feed cuts out.]
[identity profile]
[directly following this]

[There's, nothing, at first - a rustling of fabric, heavy breath, wind. Suddenly the screen shifts from black as Sherlock's arm pitches forward as he stumbles, and the video flashes a brief, blurry picture of Azrael.

There's a grunt as Sherlock's heel hits the edge, and then everything is tipping backwards, the half-constructed wall being no barrier.

The communicator slips from his grip - a brilliant flash of sky - two solitary stars, fighting against the light pollution - before it and Sherlock both plummet to the ground, three stories down.

The communicator twists as it falls, but Sherlock doesn't - back towards the ground and coat billowing - before the feed twists away.

It lands with a crack. He lands with a jarring thump.

Nothing on the feed but the building, stretching up toward the two lonely points of light.

A nearly silent groan.

Then the feed dies.]

[ooc: rescue is reserved for batwoman (max, not kate!). all other replies will be delayed by several hours.]
[identity profile]
[Well someone is at home sulking up a storm.]

Considering the rash of port-outs over the last few weeks, as we have endlessly been reminded of, I am interested in collecting any hard data that you happen to have on them. Therefore, name, approximate date and time of port out, relationship with poster, etc. Please also include whether or not you, or the person ported, have had any extra dealings with the Porter.

I am taking cases again. My new office is here: [the address of his house]. Interesting cases only.

To those that were sending case inquiries to my colleague John Watson: it will be necessary to forward them directly to me for the foreseeable future.
[identity profile]
[The video is dark with a flash of a ceiling - those more observant might note that it is the ceiling in the Porter room, but the camera isn't steady and there are strange tiny flashes of light every once in a while. They could almost be words, but too quick and out of focus to read.

The camera tilts and there is a flash of dark curls before Sherlock's face comes into view. His eyes are wide and fervent, his free hand gripping a pistol and rubbing it against the side of his head distractedly, as if he forgot what he was holding.]

John! John, if you're still here--

[The camera cuts out as Sherlock manages to fumble into private.]

Private to Dr John Watson - Video

Two days-- Only two days... Knew that such a time difference was possible, of course, but --


Porter building. Come at once.

[The feed cuts out.]
[identity profile]
Private to Captain Jack Bauer

[Sherlock is grinning at the camera, eyes glinting. His bottom lip is cut and bloody, but he doesn't notice or care.]

Captain Bauer, you may want to send a car.

[He turns the camera so that the scene behind him becomes clear. They are in a back alley, behind a bar. John Watson is there, of course, crouched over a young man leaned up against a wall. He's not visibly hurt, just unconscious.]

I caught you a serial killer.

Public, still video.

[The video is back on Sherlock's face. Still grinning, still bloody.]

It's been quite a night, hasn't it. I hear it's a holiday tomorrow.

[the video cuts out. Ten minutes later, text is added.]

Black Widow murders solved. Notes to follow.

Back in business.

[[ooc note: discussions of the case come with warnings of violence and sexual abuse. Individual threads containing these elements will be marked. If you don't want either of these elements to come up in a reply to this post, please mark thread with 'no triggers please' and I will make sure he doesn't mention them. :) ]]
[identity profile]
Private to Ghost. )
Public. Text.

It appears I've caught up on any sleep that I will need for the next year.

Given that it seems I have lost my previous contact, I would appreciate if an appropriate member of the police force would contact me.

I am also currently open for civilian cases.

incywincyhero: (Default)
[personal profile] incywincyhero
SUBJECT: Video; mid-afternoon City time

[The camera pans around to show a beautiful, yet desolate view: a snow-covered glacier plain lit softly by early morning sunlight.]

Well, we may be about to die of exposure, but at least the view’s nice.

Yes, because I always go anywhere for the view... [Sherlock’s voice from somewhere off screen cuts in, with biting sarcasm. He is hardly happy and doesn’t really care who knows it.]

I guess it could be worse. At least our comm GPS is working. Any luck with the website?

If you are interested in supporting them with a financial donation... otherwise no.

[The camera flips around to show Peter Parker, holding his communicator at arm’s length, his free hand tucked under his armpit. Evidently his thin button-down shirt and jeans aren’t warm enough for the weather conditions, despite the thick, expensive-looking blue scarf slung around his neck. His cheeks are a little pink and every once in a while the view jiggles when he bounces in place.

Over his shoulder is Sherlock, leaning intently over his comm. Luckily he is dressed in his usual dark wool coat, immaculate suit and white shirt. He’s lost his scarf, though... He is perhaps just a bit paler than usual, but otherwise he looks much more annoyed than he does cold.]

OOCly cut for length. )
[identity profile]
Private to Ghost. Encrypted. Book Code. )

[PUBLIC. Accidental video. Instead of turning his comm off, Sherlock is distracted and turns the video on.]

[A brief flash of a face - angular features, steel grey eyes and a mass of dark curly hair. He's wearing a thick coat and a long blue scarf - it's fairly obvious that he's only just gotten back to his apartment. He moves off camera. Instead, all that can be seen is the corner between two walls: one with a window, and the other with a couch pressed up against it. On the wall beside the window a bulletin board, but the angle is too oblique to read anything on it. It is apparent, however, that it is absolutely completely covered with clippings, images, and scrawled hand written messages.]

[There's a long moment of nothing, and then Sherlock strides back into view, coming to a stop with his back facing the camera, standing before the couch. He removes something from his pocket, and tosses it onto the couch just off screen. He does this five more times, from various pockets. He then strides back off camera and there is lots of noise of clicking things, as well as the sound of his scarf and then his coat being tossed on the chair. When he comes back into view, he's wearing a button up shirt with the collar undone, and he is rolling up his sleeve to above his elbow. He flops down onto the couch, remarkably gracefully for something so generally sloppy, and lies his head down on the arm rest. The angle of the camera just cuts off below his shoulders, so his arms are not in view. There is a pause, before he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.]

[He is completely still for thirty seconds.]

[After that, his eyes open slowly, staring at the ceiling. Then he abruptly bolts up right, tossing a sudden piercing stare right into the camera. In a flash of energy, he's up, off the couch, striding towards the table and then the video blinks off.]
[identity profile]
[[it's all text text text]]


I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. I do not expect you to be able to understand what I do, but understand this: I solve problems, and I solve them very well.

As I am obviously neither the first or the last (even of this evening) to be brought to this place, I would ask that you spare me the inane details. I can already read very well enough about all of your supposed kidnappings, and your half-baked theories attempting to grasp the reason why.

However, anyone with substantial information about the Porter, I would be very much obligued if you contacted me immediately.

It would also be invaluable to be put in touch with the doctor responisble for a morgue which is open to outside research.

Private to Lieutenant Gordon:

I understand that there may be some hesitancy with regards to my occupation in this place, but I have extensive skills that can be put to use immediately and efficiently.

If you have anything of interest, please do not hesitate to contact me.


[[ooc: if you can, please fill out sherlock's permissions post, here ]]
[identity profile]
[the audio hisses on, and the voice that begins to speak is brusque] I presume this device allows me to communicate with my captors. Very well: you brought me here against my will, but allow me to wander freely. You are confident, then, in your ability to track my whereabouts and the improbability of my escape. It also indicates that your reach extends beyond the room in which I awoke. The advanced phonograph which played upon my arrival was not recorded for my ears only; how many more have you taken from their homes? [a short clearing of the throat] I had a companion by my side when I was taken. I would ask that he is not involved in this affair; whatever your business with me, he plays no part in it.

You have yet to enumerate your reasons for my presence in your city, though the moniker hero implies you think me on the side of justice. In that, you are correct: I do uphold the law and use my not-inconsiderable talents to track those who would otherwise cause harm. Your mistake, however, was in the assumption I would not include you in that category.

[a pause, then he resumes with a studied, even tone] I eagerly await your reply, so that we may discuss the terms of my release


capeandcowl: (Default)

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