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Jan. 17th, 2013


[Connor B & Dylan M]

[Voicemail for Connor B and Dylan M]
[Within minutes of this, using an unlisted phone, and just before crossing into her door at the hotel.]

I've trouble, I'm afraid. Nico took my mobile, so don't return my call. I'll forgive the rudeness. He knows, you see. I'm sure of it. There were texts upon it, so I left. I'll remain at the hotel until it's safe. [She can't remember if she ever mentioned the hotel before, but it's unimportant.] But I figured you both should know that he knows, and Leo likely, also. I've no idea what happens to the studio now. [A long pause, and she decides not to mention the three dead Giacoma outside at all, so as to not implicate Silver.] I'm dreadfully sorry. [Click.]

Jan. 8th, 2013



The police are doing everything they can to keep people safe. There is no need to panic. I would recommend that you stay in your homes, however, if possible, until the situation is better contained.


Connor B & Dylan M

[During the Giacomaness.]

[Voicemail left for Connor B & Dylan M]
Knowing about the explosives and the weapons prevented precisely nothing. All that bloody almost getting caught, and for what? What is the point in all of this? If you knew that he'd something planned, why not keep it from happening somehow? He's only a man, not some deity that can't be arrested and tried like the rest of us. They're incandescently happy. You should see them. A job well done, you see. [Click.]

Dec. 20th, 2012


daniel w., max m., connor b.

[Locked to Daniel W.]

[Locked to Max M.]
Seems you had some excitement while I was away.

[Locked to Connor B.]
Back in Vegas, partner.

Dec. 10th, 2012



I think the hotel gives weird dreams. Just saying.

[Private to Maggie O]


[Private to Connor B.]
[After a couple hours.]

Do you jog? I can never tell with you federal boys.

Dec. 8th, 2012


[News, Dylan & Connor, Peter G]

[For the third time in under a month, a delivery is made to the studio for the Giacoma. This shipment is larger than the rest, and Olive almost doesn't look to see what's inside, since she is still shaken from the explosives that were delivered a few weeks earlier. But, in the end, she does pop all three crates, and she manages to messily jot down the contents before any of the Giacoma henchmen come to collect.]

[Voicemail for Dylan (obliviously) and Connor]
[Slightly hushed.] Hello. This is Olive, and I'm afraid I've not called with holiday cheer. Quite the opposite, really. A shipment has arrived that's much larger than the ones previous. Uzis, a few sniper rifles - I believe that's what they're called - and guns. Smaller guns and larger ones. Three large crates, all packed full. And I've heard that the new head of the family has arrived in Las Vegas. I've no idea if he was here before, but I wasn't aware of it if he was. He's here now, and that can't be terribly good either, can it? [A long pause.] You're not going to be able to do a thing about any of it, are you? [Click.]

[Locked to Peter G]
If I demand my postcards immediately, will you take pity on me and comply, or must I threaten random destruction of all fragile items in the immediate vicinity?

Dec. 7th, 2012



[After this.]

And here I thought I moved into the part of town where gunshots weren't a real regular thing.

Dec. 6th, 2012


public, as adrian r.

Alright, i can get behind a free phone

but a car key without a car is just cruel and unusual punishment

And i definitely didnt sign up for fuckin Jiminy Cricket yapping inside my skull like one of those annoying tiny dogs.

still not so sure this isnt me slowly losing my mind, but at least i know im clean so it cant be fingers crossed for sanity.

Dec. 4th, 2012


[locked to vince m]

Any victims of small explosives come through your office recently?

Nov. 17th, 2012


[locked to dylan m]

I just met with our informant. She got a look inside the boxes they've been trafficking through the studio. She managed to get a piece of the cargo out. Compact, remote-detonated explosives inside. I sent the bomb squad to take care of the one she grabbed and got her away from it.

Any idea what the Giacoma want with remote-detonated explosives by the crate full?

Nov. 7th, 2012


[note left on winnie's desk]

[After receiving a slice of cake on his own desk, from Truman's retirement party. They've never spoken, so he's maybe a bit unsure as to why anyone would go out of their way to make sure he got a slice of so highly sought after a food item as retirement party cake. His print is bold and carefully legible.]

A little bird said you dropped off cake. Thanks, very thoughtful.

Nov. 2nd, 2012


[Public as Garrus V.]

Shepard, you out there? I'm not going to fall for the coming back from the dead thing again.

[Private to Thane and Tali]

Either you up for a recon mission?

Oct. 28th, 2012



I prepared myself some time ago for the inevitability of death. To have it superseded by a relegation to the inner life of another being, one of another species, is strange, to say the least.

I am left with the question of how to move forward, and I wonder how others have faced the same. The galaxy is still a vast place, and just as conflicted as it was before I left it, though some of its threats are for the moment less immediate. I have already learned the lesson of how to live on borrowed time - the question now remains what good that time might be applied to.

Oct. 25th, 2012


Connor B, Dylan T

[Voicemail left for Connor B and Dylan T]
There was a shipment of something last evening. Six boxes, all rather large. I didn't have a chance to look inside before they were whisked away again. I've no idea who picked them up, but they were impressively large, and they smelled of gun oil. The men, not the boxes, though I didn't have a chance to sniff them, either. The boxes, not the men. They didn't want tea, which I was thankful of, since they reminded me of people I didn't care for. I have to admit that I'm having seconds thoughts about this entire business. I've no desire to end up on the wrong side of the gun oil men. A girl mad as birds, Dylan Thomas. Connor, I've nothing to annoy you with but my prattle. Do be a dear and tell me what annoys you best in the world so I can- [And, thankfully, she's cut off.]


Voicemails left for Jack R. )


Okay, I'm officially creeped out. You win, Johnson. I understand elaborate pranks are kind of your thing, but this is bordering on psychotic. I mean, this journal is so detailed and geeky. I don't even know how you got this voice shit working. [...] If I find some kind of speaker on my bra, I'm notifying superiors.