[ audio ]

[brutalcartography]

[ This recording starts off quiet, the "air" sounds gritty. Light pops and scratches can be heard. The silence is broken a few seconds in with light breathing from your friendly neighbor agent of justice. His calm breaths soon become shorter and shakier. As if the agent suddenly found something to be nervous about. ]

I do not like hotels very much. They can be unpredictable- very unpredictable. I felt it was best to have as little contact with the mattress as possible.

[ He pauses for a moment. ]

This will be the... third consecutive night where I will not get more than four hours [ Takes a deep breath ] of sleep. I don't suppose there is someone out there who knows a remedy to fix this.

[ ooc; totes affected by the virus. have at it! ]

Comments

[sandinmyboots]

Tell me an interesting story!

going to stick a warning/nsfw label here for the violent descriptions

[brutalcartography]

[ He takes a moment, staring at the burgundy carpet floor. Interesting for Milton had lost its' significance long ago. Past experiences strongly imprinted yet he just continued one, just business as usual. ]

May 14th 1989...San Pablo, California. I was sent there undercover to investigate a series of murders. There had been reported events of cannibalism. Not just two- seven cases of some person devouring flesh. No one suspected who the murderer was. She was just a middle-aged florist running a shop just at the end of town.

'Seventeen bodies' she said. Seventeen bodies to acquire the power of Tantalus. Consuming blood and flesh from those bodies supposedly gave Ms. Clara Ganis the ability to control things with her own mind. Manipulating matter as if it were a mere afterthought. [ He smirks to himself. ]

June 7th-- My last encounter with Clara was at the back of her flower shop. I gave my body to her on a silver platter, starting with my right arm. She wanted to filet all of it right down to my bone. Like all of the other victims, she conducted her ritual with a butcher’s knife and a spoon. Clara starts with the knife, leaving her spoon neatly on top of the table on a folded handkerchief—she wanted to cut my tongue off. Needless to say we [ He swallows. ] I struggled.

And then she died. She had overdosed on hallucinogens. But right before my [ disdainfully ] back-up came, there was that spoon. It went untouched throughout the entire affair yet-! The top of the spoon was bent backwards at just 7 degrees.

Just another unexplained phenomena by some drug addict with a thirst for blood.

[sandinmyboots]

Interesting.

[And the thing is - ]

[Blue magic, the magic of monsters, is gained by watching monsters, by fighting them, by eating them. If Kefka had the first kind, his life would have been so much easier, but he'd had to work with the third kind. He hadn't even realized he had it until one day, eating a plant-beast he'd helped kill, his mouth had gushed poison.]

[He rarely used his blue magic after he learned the standard kind. It had turned eat into kill and drain, suck the life out of victims. Monsters, espers, and sometimes humans.]

[Ha, he's a criminal on his world and the next. But unlike others, he knew what he was doing. Unlike Clara, he wasn't so stupid as to draw the deaths out. He didn't take drugs, not when the high of a kill could leave him floating for hours. Not a thirst for blood but for power, life and death in his hands. No rituals but a fight to the death.]

[Is there a difference between serial killer and soldier?]

[It doesn't matter. He's both.]

It's a good story, a good story. A good payment.

[He smiles; it's an uneasy smile, but it's as likely to be from subject matter as from knowing you're a worse criminal than the one in the tale told.]

I'll have the staff prepared for you by tomorrow night. Do we have a deal?

[brutalcartography]

Deal.

[ It's one of those few moments in his life where Milton feels a slight weight off his shoulders; key word being slight. But enough to have him notice that he isn't maneuvering around his chair so much. The story itself is a mere sprinkle among others coated on the flesh cake of pain that is his career.

He looks off to the side of the window. A magic stick, huh? Does this really mean some other supernatural force lingers from beyond this very plan of existence? In any case- ]

Try not to kick off my closet door too loudly this time.

[sandinmyboots]

[Kefka's smile widens.]

[He's fooled him, fooled him, he's gotten away with murder and he always will!]

I won't! Your closet will be safe from me!