fuckitybye | 023

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023

[Individual messages addressed to Damon, Costigan, Bela, ~~and Ana~~, all with minute variations on the following text. Some may have more gratuitous f-bombs than others. Ana's message is deleted during her conversation with Malcolm.]

Right. I've got a list of all the new arrivals who have come on board in the last week; verify and let me know if I've missed anyone. [Pretend it's attached here.]

So what's fit to fucking print, then? Obviously the Undead Party Conference and the resulting fallout, and I see we got some scuffles—Judas and Rex. I'd be really fucking interested to know if there was some dirt about how the wardens handled that one. And it looks like we got some people who've picked up some fucking superpowers, yeah? Any leads on that?

Anything else?

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Malcolm stepped aside to let Ana in, the movement a slight parody of chivalry, and closed the door quickly behind her.

"What's going on then, love?"

As soon as they were inside, Ana's polite smile hardened a bit. "Don't contact me over the journals; my warden reads everything I write and I don't think any of us want to suddenly find everything we've done falling apart. If you need to get in touch with me, urgently, send a message to James McCullen, otherwise we'll set up a time and I'll bring news to you in person." Ana smirked a bit.

"The wardens have been handling everything incredibly badly this week, don't you think?"

"Oh fucking hell." Malcolm glared for a second at Ana, almost as if he blamed her for his not realising this before, but reminded himself: not someone to be alienated or fucked with without ample ammunition. He rubbed his hand over his face and looked almost repentant. "Reckon she can read that, or should I take you off the fucking list?"

He went over to his journal to pull up the entry and edit it, continuing to talk as he did so. "They're all a fucking mess, best as I can tell. Reckon a lot of shit's flying around where we can't see it."

"I'd take me off the list. Of course, I'm interested in who else is on the list as well." All and all? Ana suspected that it would be her people. Well, the MARS/Cobra people. "The infirmary is about to self-destruct, I think, given everything that's going on."So there is that. It's funny, really. All of this started happening when people were in the infirmary after the death toll. Gotta wonder about that, I think."

Ana considered for a moment. "The Rex and Judas scuffle was caused by wardens, which is why it's rather... delicate at the moment." There was a little smile. "I think I need to come up with a drop system for a my communication in general."

"That'd be telling. Thought you'd appreciate the value of a certain amount of decentralisation, yeah?" Malcolm typed as he talked, and soon the message to Ana was deleted from the system.*

"Drop system I can do," he said. "Reckon the infirmary meltdown's the result of all those fuckers cooped up in there at once? After getting fucking ... chewed on and all? Can't have helped." He looked up at her, curious. "How 'delicate' we talking here, anyway?"

*[Up to y'all if you want anything to have been seen in the interim.]

"This is true. I do value decentralization; and of course, discretion." Ana was the sole of it, but it didn't mean that she wasn't going to work to find out who the hell the other people were. She wanted them controlling the flow of information, and it had better be just them that he was getting it from.

"The infirmary accused Rex of something baselessly, suspended him and Judas got involved. I think he was defending someone's honor. He did something stupid, hence the scuff up. No one caught him in time to make sure he didn't do something stupid. The wardens definitely should have handled it better." And they should have; Ana was imagining that even they were thinking so at this point.

"Nothing like a good fucking baseless accusation to stir shit up," Malcolm replied, almost cheerfully. "What was it, if you know?"

"It was, in fact, entirely baseless and I know that because I'm the one who did it, and I confessed to it nearly immediately after seeing what had happened." Ana looked down, her entire posture appearing contrite. "And the good wardens merely used one of the few good relationships that anyone on the barge has as proof of his guilt, because they thought that I was covering for him."

Ana paused, and her features hardened. "Then, the doctors in the infirmary accused McCullen of lying. All of this, zombies, burns, bites and death tolled and then he got abused by the doctors who are meant to be overseeing our care."

Malcolm was slowly starting to develop his own suspicions, not the least of which was that just possibly he was being played; Damon's advice to not trust anything as far as Rex was concerned had made an impact. (Why he felt he could trust Damon at all was another story—it would be more accurate, perhaps, to say that at this juncture his instinct told him to distrust Damon less.)

Not that he was going to give any of these thoughts away to Ana. He merely listened with an appropriately sympathetic expression and tsked a bit when she'd finished. "What a fucking mess, eh? What exactly did you do, if you don't mind my asking?" Pause. "Strictly off the record, that is."

Edited 2010-06-29 14:07 (UTC)

She thought that he didn't believe her, and that was fine. "Strictly off the record?" She asked the question softly, and then she stood up and touched her chest. Ana didn't have claws or anything like that, but her nails were well tended, and she scratched a straight line across her chest. Her voice was soft when she started to bleed.

"Watch it." There was a quick movement to wipe the blood away, and it wasn't instantaneous by any means, but the wound healed rather quickly. "I've got this stuff in my blood that heals me and I thought it would help James." Her voice dropped a bit, and she did look incredibly remorseful. "I had no idea that injecting him with my blood would cause this."

Jesus fucking Christ, what was it with women in this place and fucked-up regenerative healing powers? At least Claire hadn't seen fit to fucking demonstrate.

And damned if she didn't look really fucking sorry. Either she was a world-class actress (which he had by no means ruled out) or she was telling the truth really did feel bad about the whole fuckup. "You did what you thought was fucking right, I reckon," he replied, still slightly discombobulated by the demonstration. "Now since this is all a pretty fucking delicate situation, I have to ask how much you feel about keeping the record straight, yeah? What's the need-to-know for people?"

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