SAFE AS HOUSES --- communication network

nothing i could do, nothing i could do, too late too late already cold

blood drips it can’t be stopped it goes drip drop drip and then you die if you don’t have blood – it makes sense i mean because blood is life its

you need it for oxygenation rejuvenation vitals hearts go lub dub lub dub drip drip drip

hello hello hello hello hello where are you say hello you always say hello i need you i need you to be my best how will i be my best? when you’re not here

don't be

drip drip drip drip hello

Totally wasn't me this time, guys.

I need Julian and Juliet in the infirmary immediately.

I'm issuing a mandatory quarantine effectively immediately. There's a large room on floor five; I suggest anyone who is sick or has been in contact with somebody who's sick be held there until we've worked out a course of action.

Can I go now?

Edit: And now I'm stuck here. Fucking great.

We need blood donors in the infirmary.

[Medical Staff:]
We're also going to need to expand. I have Kilo and Mr. Dominic here, and we're out of room.

Did I fall asleep?

ATTN ALL MEDICAL STAFF:

I'm bringing Ava in

Badly hurt, lots of blood

Alpha attacked - be ready, be there in 5

DOMINIC: We need a strategy; we can't just act, go in blind.

SAUNDERS: I don't know what you want me to do.

DOMINIC: Do you trust me?

Long pause.

SAUNDERS: With my life.

Are we having fun, children?

Medical staff please report to room 306 immediately.

[Five minutes later, ETA:] Also, anyone with O neg blood type.

OKAY. Folks. Listen.

We have some refugees from the Boston Dollhouse on their way to "Safe Haven." Seven of them. I don't know where we're going to put them. I tried to dissuade them but this could be an opportunity. We get up the elevator shafts, we man the doors, we wait for their arrival. Door opens, we find a way to keep them open. If someone's coming in it means there's an opportunity to get out. Apparently a couple of them need help. I don't know if they're all Actives. We can help them, and they can help us. Let's get this ball rolling. They'll be here sometime soon.

I can't exactly be climbing elevator shafts. I'm putting Royce, Ballard, and who else is gonna volunteer for this?

[ EDIT, 5 minutes later: ] On second thought, let's stay here. Why don't we stay here? If we try and get out they're just going to slaughter us, I'm talking a lot of blood, a lot of mess, and at least in here if we play by the rules we have a better chance of getting out of here alive and maybe letting Rossum cool down and maybe we'll all be fine if we just behave you know and let them in, let's just let them in and keep them as safe as we can in here because if we go outside who knows what's waiting for us out there we were told not to contact anyone out there who knows what the consequences might be, okay?

[Filtered to Claire:]
You didn't kill anyone, did you, darling? I just...heard you shouting about it.

[Filtered to Henry:]
I think it's entirely possible that my fiancée killed someone. That's bad...isn't it?

Long after the residents of the mansion had retired for the night, a commotion rose from the conservatory. It was where Death had set up his quarters; Doctors Claire Saunders and Julian Frost had made it their morgue. Two bodies lay on the table and the room stank of preservatives. Saunders was overcome with grief at the death of yet another colleague, but Julian was steely in his repose.

"Perhaps," She had mused, "Perhaps this is a murder." She was gesturing towards the body of Mike Masters. "After all, it would be foolish of me to deny!" He was shot in the face.

Julian took a long draw on his pipe, looking with disdain at the scene before him. "Perhaps?" He had scoffed, twirling a scalpel absently between his fingers, "Of course it was, just look at the blasted scene. Foolish, yes, it would be foolish, doctor. Just as it would be to ignore the fact that the first death was undeniably a homicide!"

"This man was not murdered!" She cried in despair, clutching her hand to her heart as she staggered around the table to once again examine the countenance of her deceased friend. "I assure you wholeheartedly, Mister Frost, I have examined him again and again and I have found not one sign of foul play!"

"Have you really?" He murmured, running his finger over the chart that lay on the table beside the unfortunate soul. "Not a single sign." And with that he thrust an accusatory finger in her general direction; "J'accuse!"He bellowed, "And j'accuse again! How could you have missed the supply of your very own neurotoxins pumping though his veins! A supply, might I add, that only you, the town doctor, could access!"

"Sir I assure you, I had no hand in this, and unless you have, I don't see how that could possibly be!" Saunders replied in her passive way, pressing her hand to her temple in a fluster of emotion. "I have found no evidence of these neurotoxins you so tempestuously insist exist. No evidence, sir, and yet you rabble on. Perhaps! Perhaps you are merely trying to frame me for a crime not my own. Perhaps you are the murderer."

"Don't play the jester, Saunders, you know what this means!" Slowly, hesitantly, and very dramatically, he announced his conclusion. "If it was not you, nor I ... then who?"

These were the events that lead to the screaming match they found themselves in now, Saunders advocating their own innocence and Frost vehemently insisting it had indeed been murder. Their argument was so loud and passionate that it drew the attention of their housemates.

I believe somebody called for a doctor.

I still want to run away. I can't stand this place. I can't sleep here.

I'm not a real person and there's nothing I can do about it. I hate everything and everyone and I hate that it's my fault. I'm running out of excuses.

I can't stand being locked in. I feel like nobody except that group of Actives has been trying to get out. Everyone's complacent.

I have three little girls. I've missed two visits with them. I don't even care where my ex-wife might think I am----running off, shirking responsibility, avoiding child support----but I'm afraid to think what my daughters think. What's she told them? That I don't love them? Are they scared? Are they angry? I'm afraid that one day this will be over and they'll be taken away from me, because I was trapped here with no way to contact them.

My youngest daughter is going blind. The last time I saw her I was angry with her for acting out. I didn't apologize. Even if I get out of here, what if that's the last time she remembers seeing my face?

For God's sake, children, pull yourselves together. Behave like the adults you are.

Topher...I've sort of been a little in love with you for a while now. And I know you don't even notice me. I doubt you even know my name. And why should you...I mean...you're a genius and you're so great...and I just fetch lollipops and file things...

And when Whiskey said she was going to make me into Dr. Saunders...I was scared. But I also thought it might be okay...if it weren't for the killing part...because at least then you might know I exist.

I resent my child.