fuckitybye

Entry tags:

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?

Threaded | Flat

I died.

Infirmary
- No one returned zombie

Powers:
- Man with metal head.
- Healing blood - Judas.
- Electric O'Brien
- Sneeze magic.

Misc.
- People have gone, dead in port? Possible?
- WHERE REX IS INVOLVED TRUST NOTHING [underlined, like, five times]

What are you, the Barge's news network?

Considering Uhura is reading all her private messages, Ana just shows up and knocks on Malcolm's door quickly. She's annoyed that he might have endangered things, but considering her week, she decided that she should head this off as soon as possible. It is, after all, hard to pretend that you're not a spy when people are offering you up spy things. After another knock, Ana's arms cross behind her back, and she looked up and down the hall quickly, hoping to avoid being spotted. One good thing about the leather; people tended not to notice her anymore when she wore it.

[In flowing, curly script: Julius Caesar, Shakespeare. 1911, Mifflin.

FOLLOW THE NOTE TO THE LIBRARY, MALCOLM. SEEK AND YE SHALL FIND.]

Threaded | Flat

[Private - Written veeeeeeeeery messily]

Private

Spam. Yay tracking with a different account,

[A note, tucked under his door]