Warlock Logbook Entry

> Automated report 5761726c6f636b is now available from site record 47617279204779676178.
> Please refer to record 506174726f6e for additional details during your review.
> Report Type: Machine-generated Transcription> base Vernacular Profiles “Curly”, "Succubus"
> - Source: 456c64726974636820546f6d65 (Unknown Material Artifact #4791)
> Priority: High
> Report Content:

-- Beginning of Excerpt Flagged for Review --

Ngah! I can't believe [the captor] would do this! No team, no backup, just me, thrown into [the white plane] alone! What is [the captor] thinking? Is this just a suicide mission?

I have to get out of this. Maybe I could call in sick? 'Sorry [my captor], I've been stricken [ill], can't do the mission, sorry.'

Like that would ever work. I have to do something big. Maybe if I amass enough souls, I can free myself from [the contract]. Or maybe... Maybe even get rid of [the captor] entirely! Yes! That's it! I can be free! I swear on my eye, I will never take another order from that bit-

「HELLO THERE, LITTLE ONE.」

I- Hello, [my captor]! How are you this fine [evening]?

「OH, IT HAS BEEN WONDROUS. EVEN MORESO WITH THIS VISIT TO MY FAVORITE LITTLE [pet]. HOW GOES YOUR PREPARATION FOR THE MISSION?」

Oh, yes, the mission! Everything is in order for my excursion into [the white plane]. But, I seem to have come down with something. I've been feeling too sick to even stand. Could it perhaps be postpo-

「SPLENDID, YOU SHALL LEAVE AT THE FIRST SPARK OF THE RED STAR.」

A-Absolutely, [my captor]... I will do my best to enact your will!

「YOU WILL DO MORE THAN YOUR BEST. SHOULD [the white plane] NOT CLAIM YOUR CORPSE, YOU WILL SUCCEED OR YOU WILL BE PUNISHED. YOU DO NOT DESIRE PUNISHMENT, DO YOU, [plaything]?」

Of course not, [my captor]! I will return triumphant!

「OHOHO! OF COURSE YOU WILL, MY DEAREST [pet]. MAKE ME PROUD, WON'T YOU? I MUST TAKE MY LEAVE. I HAVE OTHER [pets] TO ATTEND TO. TA-TA!」

...Triumphant, standing atop your desiccated corpse.

-- End of Recording --

-- End of Excerpt Flagged for Review --

> TRANSLATION ERRORS: 7
> 1> [the captor] could not be fully translated.
> 2> [the white plane] could not be fully translated.
> 3> [my captor] could not be fully translated.
> 4> [ill] could not be fully translated.
> 5> [the contract] could not be fully translated.
> 6> [evening] could not be fully translated.
> 7> [pet/plaything] could not be fully translated.

> Please refer to report 57687920617265207468657365207265706f72742049447320736f206c6f6e67 for full audio excerpt.
==============================================================

Thus Always to Tyrants, a Short Story

The Tyrant stands ready at the starting gates. On the precipice of her final race, her mind finds itself dwelling on events the month prior.


The Tyrant's loss at l'Arc ached fresh in her mind, hampering her training. It remained as a splinter that she could not decree remove itself from her brain. One day, her trainer had informed her of a young fan whom would like to meet. The Tyrant always spared time for children, thus she assented.

The Tyrant was taken to the local hospital, and led to a room in the palliative care wing. She laid eyes upon a young boy, strung with uncountable tubes and monitoring wires.

At the mere sight of her, the boy wrested himself from the bed, tearfully hugging the Tyrant around the waist. The Tyrant flinched at this, but quickly relaxed. There were established rules against such contact with racers in meetings. In this moment, the Tyrant deemed such rules beneath her. 

The boy spared no breath, excitedly recounting the Tyrant's accomplishments. He had watched every race she had run, and he had remembered every detail.

The Tyrant's mid-race blunder and heroic charge to second place in the Hanshin Daishoten. 
The feverish duel with Eishin Flash in the Arima Kinen two years prior, claiming another G1 win on top of a Triple Crown season. 
Her disappointing loss in the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, just the month before.

The boy beamed while recounting every accolade. The Tyrant had remained his hero, through triumph and tragedy.

The Tyrant's loss at l'Arc suddenly felt insignificant in comparison to this meeting. The joy and laughter of this young fan set the Tyrant's mind at peace. She left the boy with a singular promise in parting.

"For you, my most loyal subject - I will win the Arima Kinen."

Not long after, the Tyrant was informed that the boy would not make it to the race.


The fanfare concludes, and the gates snap open. The faces of her friends and rivals lapse from her attention, now only dedicated to the track ahead of her. She starts strong, but chooses to settle near the rear of the pack. The Tyrant lies in wait for the most opportune moment to strike. 

Upon rounding the third corner, she makes her move. Turf ruptures underfoot as the Tyrant storms forth. The backs of the other racers part as waves for the Tyrant, and fade from sight in but an instant. She now sees only open track ahead of her.

"She takes the lead in the fourth corner!"

One length.

"With every last bit of strength, Win Variation pursues, but the gap's already there!"

Two lengths.

"Gold Ship pursues, but she's in third place!"

Three lengths.

"The final uphill stretch is nothing!"

Four lengths.

"This is it! This is it!"

Five lengths.

"Burn this moment into your eyes!"

Six lengths.

"This is..."

Seven lengths.

"ORFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVRE!"

Eight lengths.

"Last run, a perfect ending! She ends her career on a high note!"

An overwhelming victory, by eight lengths.

"Such strength! It's unbelievable that this is her last run!"

And a promise kept.

Orfevre rounds the track to the stands, and halts in front of the frenzied crowd. Chants bearing her name crash down upon her, but she hears none of it. She turns her back to the stands and her gaze to the sky. Only two words escape her lips.

"We won."

Tears flow from beneath white bangs where none can see, as the Golden Tyrant can never show such weakness.

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Sheriff Logbook Entry

//-- TRANSCRIPT OF INTERCEPTED S2S COMMUNICATIONS... --
//-- AUTOMATIC SECURITY ALERT: CONTACT ON UNSECRED CHANNEL --
//-- TRACING SIGNAL... --
//-- ESTIMATED DISTANCE TO SIGNAL ORIGIN: 150E8 LY --
//-- ERROR --
//-- ERROR --
//-- ERROR --
//-- PRINTING TRANSCRIPTION. PLEASE CONTACT YOUR SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR. --//


Long way from home, aren't you, Sheriff?

All that trouble back in Macomb have you yearning for a change of scenery?

All those mutilated bodies littering the streets, even your dear sister... And you trot off to the stars to escape it all.

That gun of yours has no business being spent on rocks and bugs in some back-alley corner of the galaxy.

You know just who it was meant for. It thirsts for revenge, just like you.

This is the wrong game to play, Sheriff. The Troubadour still lives.  

Wouldn't you want to make your grandfather proud?

No room for revenge crammed in a drop pod, is there?

Find your way home. I am more than happy to provide everything you will ever need to be rid of him for good.

All I ask in return is your help. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.

Perhaps your... 'friend' behind the glass here could join us?

I'm sure they have much need of me. They all do.

The eclipse draws near. The ritual must be completed. And the problems go away. All your desires, fulfilled. And you'll finally be at peace.

You're so close. Not even the dark between the stars will get between you and the Troubadour.

You didn't come this far to fail. You didn't run this far simply to escape.

I know you'll make the right decision.

The Archmother believes in you.


//-- END TRANSCRIPT --//

Blade Dancer Logbook Entry

>> PROCESSING QUERY...
>> RESULTS RETURNED: 0

> searchmod archivalscan

>> PROCESSING QUERY: ARCHIVAL SCAN...
>> PLEASE WAIT.
>> RESULTS RETURNED: 1 ENTRY, LAST ACCESSED: 12010D AGO

> view

>> DIGITIZING ENTRY...
>> OUTPUTTING RESULT:

Elegy of the Blade Dancer

A land where blood waters the trees remembers
The tale ancestral voices carry across hill and valley and sea
Winds whispering of _{a helpless girl an insurgent a bulwark} a hero
The graceful whirling twirling swirling Blade Dancer

Where graves outnumber the farms and mills and wells and hills
A land sundered and burnt and bled
Where she stood _{and danced} and fought _{and danced} and triumphed
Where farmer and carpenter and rancher and beggar and child
Stood with her in defiance

The winds still at her partner's approach
Steps heavy, arms rigid, mind closed
The motions jerk - 
                       and lurch - 
    and falter - 
and halt. A clever turn and twist and twirl of hip and shoulder and arm
                                                                                                            ^{blade and blade and blade}
Ends the dance all too soon

And so stood the protector of the land
Where she had lost had found had bled had killed
And stood firm until she stood there no more
The dancer cannot stand still
                         ^{cannot be complacent cannot be rigid cannot be stagnant}
This one wishes to dance alone

>> END OF ENTRY

> composemsg to ''C''

>> ENTER MESSAGE
>
Hey, this is all that I can find. Only related records to it I can find are about some old clan from the east, wiped out centuries ago. Still nothing to do with our girl here, so I got squat. Go through your other sources, see if you can dig anything up on her that the databases won't show me.

> send

>> MESSAGE SENT.

Warden's Hourglass Logbook Entry

  //-- UES OOS DATABASE INITIALIZING... --//

>> ENTER LOGIN...
> USERNAME: ICurie
> PASSWORD: **************

>> LOGIN SUCCESSFUL

>> ENTER COMMAND OR TYPE 'help' FOR LIST OF COMMANDS
> newentry

>> ENTER TITLE FOR NEW ENTRY
> ''OOS-0722''

>> ENTER ACQUISITION CONDITIONS FOR NEW ENTRY
>
I was alerted by a surprisingly light metal clang on my door, and opened it to see the large spiky man from the new expeditionary team, holding the specimen. I expected little conversation, and thanked him. As I was moving to shut the door, he blocked it with his blade and stated ''...keeps makin' barrels.'' That was... more than I ever expected to hear him say. Maybe he's in a good mood today. At least that makes one of us.

Attempted to place specimen inside standard OOS storage box, but containment quickly proved impossible. I genuinely don't think we can keep this specimen around.

>> ENTER DESCRIPTION FOR NEW ENTRY
>
Object of Study resembles an hourglass, surrounded by purple tentacles. I already don't like the look of this. Unfortunately, the spiky man's conclusion was spot on. Facsimiles of UES storage barrels appear constantly in the vicinity of the specimen. Let me emphasize, 'constantly'. I have tripped over barrels no less than 4 times in the process of walking towards the storage rack and back to my desk. The barrels contain nothing inside, and do disappear when opened. However, every third barrel opened renders me unable to move, identical in sensation to 0719. During this period, more barrels appear. They do so faster than I can get them opened to get rid of them. I'm either going to need a team on shifts constantly opening barrels, or I need this thing the hell out of my lab.

>> ENTRY SUCCESSFULLY REGISTERED
>> LOGGING OUT.

Hadal Tide Logbook Entry

 //-- UES OOS DATABASE INITIALIZING... --//

>> ENTER LOGIN...
> USERNAME: ICurie
> PASSWORD: **************

>> LOGIN SUCCESSFUL

>> ENTER COMMAND OR TYPE 'help' FOR LIST OF COMMANDS
> newentry

>> ENTER TITLE FOR NEW ENTRY
> ''OOS-0721''

>> ENTER ACQUISITION CONDITIONS FOR NEW ENTRY
>
The Commando and the Goobo showed up at the crack of dawn, presenting me with yet another specimen. Brass should have given me a punch card. The Commando explained over the Goobo's 'ooh's and 'ahh's that this thing had kept the two of them up all night. The pace of his speech slowed and quickened in turn as he answered my questions, much to his own very vocal annoyance. The Goobo seemed crestfallen after I took hold of it. This feels like taking a kid's favorite toy away. I don't like it. Specimen was placed in a standard OOS container, but moderate difficulties handling and transporting were very swiftly observed.

>> ENTER DESCRIPTION FOR NEW ENTRY
>
Object of Study resembles a wave, frozen in purple glass. The object appears to dilate time for objects it's in contact with. Time slows, then accelerates in turn as one remains in contact with it. Curiously, the effect is reversed for outside observers and the ones affected. As I tested with the hooded woman, the dilation affects the senses as well as actions. As I 'slow down' from holding it, the outside world appears to move faster, and vice versa. Naturally, this is very disorienting for those affected. I can see why the Commando wanted rid of it. What I wanna know is why the Goobo liked it so much. A question for another day, as the coffee maker got destroyed by 0720 and I wake up in another 3 or so hours without it. Thinking comes later. Aside from mild difficulty in transport, containment offers no challenges.

>> ENTRY SUCCESSFULLY REGISTERED
>> LOGGING OUT.

Fatal Echo Logbook Entry

//-- UES OOS DATABASE INITIALIZING... --//

>> ENTER LOGIN...
> USERNAME: ICurie
> PASSWORD: **************

>> LOGIN SUCCESSFUL

>> ENTER COMMAND OR TYPE 'help' FOR LIST OF COMMANDS
> newentry

>> ENTER TITLE FOR NEW ENTRY
> ''OOS-0720''

>> ENTER ACQUISITION CONDITIONS FOR NEW ENTRY
>
The man with the amplifier backpack showed up to my lab door, banging on it like there was a fire roaring outside. Upon opening it, a stream of words came out resembling a tape on fast forward, and I could only catch 'evil' and 'getitawayfromme'. Consider my interest piqued. I took custody of the specimen and placed it in a standard OOS container. Extreme difficulties in containment have been observed: the specimen has destroyed 6 containers so far. Perhaps I'll put it in the box with the tentacle and see what happens.

>> ENTER DESCRIPTION FOR NEW ENTRY
>
Object of Study resembles a knit doll, with needles shoved through its torso. The form of the doll seems to shift depending on the angle it's being viewed from. I've thus far noted humanoid shapes, that of multiple creatures from the planet, and numerous others that defy description. My experiments conclude that this doll attacks in a retaliatory manner to any outside stimuli. And I do mean ANY outside stimuli. That includes throwing, strikes with fist or implement, even something as miniscule as the air currents changing from the AC kicking on. This has made storage difficult, transport impossible, and my lab a mess. This little shit cost me an eyebrow. I also suspect the stimuli extends to thoughts and words, as it just blew up another box after I typed the prior sentence into the terminal. Or maybe it was just reacting to the ship adjusting its orbit. Who knows. Further study may be required, if I can tolerate keeping this thing around.

>> ENTRY SUCCESSFULLY REGISTERED
>> LOGGING OUT.

Cell Fragment Logbook Entry

//-- UES OOS DATABASE INITIALIZING... --//

>> ENTER LOGIN...
> USERNAME: ICurie
> PASSWORD: **************

>> LOGIN SUCCESSFUL

>> ENTER COMMAND OR TYPE 'help' FOR LIST OF COMMANDS
> newentry

>> ENTER TITLE FOR NEW ENTRY
> ''OOS-0719''

>> ENTER ACQUISITION CONDITIONS FOR NEW ENTRY
>
I was approached in my lab by the imp, unfortunately the hooded woman was not present. As such, I couldn't actually... speak? with it. This time, the imp seemed very polite in its interactions with me. Perhaps the hooded woman put in a good word. It presented some notes from her as well as its own drawings regarding the specimen's origin and observed effects. Just as I got done gathering up everything it had brought me and thanking it for its help, its expression turned sour and it slammed the door on the way out. Did I say something wrong? I hope I didn't accidentally insult it...

Specimen was transferred to a standard OOS container. Containment poses no difficulty, but handling outside of container is under highest quarantine.

>> ENTER DESCRIPTION FOR NEW ENTRY
>
Object of Study resembles an amorphous solid, like purple glass. It appears to be a shattered piece of a larger whole. Some napkin math suggests a sphere, roughly a meter in diameter? Objects in contact with the shard periodically freeze in space. No outside force is able to move them, but the effect wears off shortly afterwards. As such, transport within its container proves difficult at times. 'Objects' also includes me. I am not pleased to report the specimen's effect renders one fully cognizant with senses intact, but unable to move a muscle. Handling the specimen outside of its container without another party present is forbidden due to the nature of these effects.

>> ENTRY SUCCESSFULLY REGISTERED
>> LOGGING OUT.

Misplaced GPS Logbook Entry

''Goobo, where is my left arm?''

''Ooooh uhhh... goobo lost it?''

''What the hell do you mean, 'lost it'?''

''Ship was falling and big hole opened up in wall! Goobo think firteen's arm get um...

sucked outside?''

''That arm had my transmitter, and it would be really useful right now. It's used to navigate areas and locate gear that I could... uh, strategically procure. That thing is important, Goobo!''

''Goobo sorry...''

''No, no, it's fine... It's not your fault. I'll just ping its tracker. That'll tell us roughly where it's ended up.

Oh, GREAT.''

''Where it go?''

''The good news is it's not just floating out there in open space. The bad news is that it's somewhere on the planet. You know how hard it is to find anything on this rock? Especially without, oh I don't know... A compact, wrist-mounted, multi-band GPS signal analyzer?''

''Oh! Then we just keep moving, and find firteen's arm!''

''Screw the arm, I need my transmitter back.''

Sunken Pearl Logbook Entry

 //-- UES OOS DATABASE INITIALIZING... --//

>> ENTER LOGIN...
> USERNAME: ICurie
> PASSWORD: **************

>> LOGIN SUCCESSFUL

>> ENTER COMMAND OR TYPE 'help' FOR LIST OF COMMANDS
> newentry

>> ENTER TITLE FOR NEW ENTRY
> ''OOS-0718''

>> ENTER ACQUISITION CONDITIONS FOR NEW ENTRY
>
I was approached in the lab by the hooded woman whom I had met previously, formerly accompanying the imp. I had noticed her wandering around the hallway outside for upwards of an hour. Turns out, she was waiting for me to get freed up before saddling me with another sample. I very much appreciate that, actually. She was a joy to work with. Dutifully answered all my questions about where it was found and what she knew about its effects. We even joked around about the mishaps with her other teammates. She stuck around while I did my testing, observing intently and offering further insights I hadn't considered. I couldn't build a better lab assistant than her. If I had it my way, she would give me all the specimens her team finds.

Specimen was transferred to a standard OOS container. No observed challenges with containment.

>> ENTER DESCRIPTION FOR NEW ENTRY
>
Object of Study resembles a very large pearl. Similar to ones other teams have recovered from the planet's moon, but darker in hue and cold to the touch. Neither of us have found any concrete examples of anomalous effects caused by the specimen. Whatever it's made of, it is exceedingly durable. No tool in my lab was able to put a scratch, dent, or break in it. Against my better judgment, I also placed it within the effective area of an 0717 disintegration. No effect whatsoever. Not worth another hole in my desk. I was also alerted to a pattern underneath the lacquered layers that resembles an eye, which appears to move to point towards the observer. That aspect... must be an optical illusion, I'm sure.
 
>> ENTRY SUCCESSFULLY REGISTERED
>> LOGGING OUT.

Barreleye Lens Logbook Entry

//-- UES OOS DATABASE INITIALIZING... --//

>> ENTER LOGIN...
> USERNAME: ICurie
> PASSWORD: **************

>> LOGIN SUCCESSFUL

>> ENTER COMMAND OR TYPE 'help' FOR LIST OF COMMANDS
> newentry

>> ENTER TITLE FOR NEW ENTRY
> ''OOS-0717''

>> ENTER ACQUISITION CONDITIONS FOR NEW ENTRY
>
I was in the lab mopping up 0714's secretions when I was startled by a loud metal clanging on my door. Did you know this whole 'acquisition conditions' section was made for fieldwork? A very large, very spiky man stood at the threshold and silently handed me the specimen. I asked my usual battery of questions, and received naught but grunts in response. 

Specimen was stored in a standard OOS container and for once, has yet to pose any resistance or difficulty in containment. However, due to the nature of the specimen, handling and testing is under the highest quarantine level.

>> ENTER DESCRIPTION FOR NEW ENTRY
>
Object of Study resembles a pair of glasses, but very far removed from the design and function you might see back home. The specimen's structure contains multiple lenses and moving parts that I cannot fully discern. Wearing the glasses and looking at organic or animate objects intermittently produces a small detonation. This is not an explosion, but something more akin to spontaneous disintegration in the given area. My desk now wobbles thanks to my deleting one of the corners where the table leg attaches. Due to the destructive potential of this specimen, I refuse to partake in further testing for the foreseeable future. Requisitions would have my head if I needed another new desk.

>> ENTRY SUCCESSFULLY REGISTERED
>> LOGGING OUT.

Timeless Tentacle Logbook Entry

 //-- UES OOS DATABASE INITIALIZING... --//

>> ENTER LOGIN...
> USERNAME: ICurie
> PASSWORD: **************

>> LOGIN SUCCESSFUL

>> ENTER COMMAND OR TYPE 'help' FOR LIST OF COMMANDS
> newentry

>> ENTER TITLE FOR NEW ENTRY
> ''OOS-0716''

>> ENTER ACQUISITION CONDITIONS FOR NEW ENTRY
>
I was awoken in the night - after what I later calculated to be 115 seconds of sleep - by an urgent call to my transmitter. The man with the purple armor and large backpack was panicked and barged into Medical with a tentacle attached to his person. Due to the nature of the object, I obviously had to be bothered about the situation, regardless of biological needs such as sleep or nourishment. He was transferred over to my lab, flailing and screaming the whole way, until he was deposited at my doorstep. I say 'deposited' because he was much too hysterical to stand or act willfully. A knee planted into his chest and a repurposed paint scraper swiftly liberated the specimen from his armor, and into a standard OOS container it went. Unfortunately, the tentacle has other plans and seeks at all costs to not be in said standard OOS container, constantly trying to escape and being very successful in doing so. Filing a request for more secure containers for use in OOS research.

>> ENTER DESCRIPTION FOR NEW ENTRY
>
Object of Study resembles a disembodied tentacle that matches no known cephalopod species on record. It terminates in a sucker that one might find on a leech, capable of digging its teeth into hardened ceramic alloy armor, as was demonstrated by the 'patient'. The tentacle is manifestly alive, aware, and aggressive. As such, I suffered multiple wounds and wet slaps in my attempts to keep the specimen contained. Attempts have not yet been made to dispatch the specimen in order to glean as much data as possible while it still lives. When the time comes to do so, I think I will very much enjoy it. Specimen has not shown a need for food or water, and it has yet to run out of energy or anger.

>> ENTRY SUCCESSFULLY REGISTERED
>> LOGGING OUT.

Void Joggers Logbook Entry

//-- UES OOS DATABASE INITIALIZING... --//

>> ENTER LOGIN...
> USERNAME: ICurie
> PASSWORD: **************

>> LOGIN SUCCESSFUL

>> ENTER COMMAND OR TYPE 'help' FOR LIST OF COMMANDS
> newentry

>> ENTER TITLE FOR NEW ENTRY
> ''OOS-0715''

>> ENTER ACQUISITION CONDITIONS FOR NEW ENTRY
>
After a day devoted to the conundrum of how to contain 0714, I was catatonic atop the lab table when I heard a knock on the door that was, roughly speaking, somewhere between a normal polite knock, and the sound of someone smacking a trout against the wall. I opened the door to find the Commando who had been fused with Goobo matter. He... They? Took turns relaying a very intrepid tale of finding ''bury treasure'' and presented me with the specimen. The Goobo individual even referred to me as ''doctor lady'', which might be the most polite way I've been addressed in months.

Per protocol, specimen was stored in standard OOS container. Full containment proved troublesome as any movement caused the leakage of an unknown caustic gas and the growth of plant matter within the container. Avoid moving unless absolutely necessary.

>> ENTER DESCRIPTION FOR NEW ENTRY
>
Object of Study resembles a waterlogged pair of athletic shoes of an unidentifiable make. Any motion the specimen experiences causes a reaction wherein it exudes the aforementioned caustic gas and produces spontaneous blooms of unidentified plant matter along the path of its motion. This can occur in as little as 5 centimeters of travel in any direction. The volume of gas and plant matter seems to relate directly to the distance moved, regardless of velocity. Samples of the gas were unobtainable due to the fume evacuation systems in the lab, but samples of plant matter were recovered. Briefly. Much to my dismay, the plant matter rapidly decays into nothing. To clarify, I do not mean a microscopic residue or gases that dissipate. It withers, dies, and nothing whatsoever is left behind. This behavior is constant for the plant matter spawned by the specimen itself, and any collected samples. As such, study is impossible.

>> ENTRY SUCCESSFULLY REGISTERED
>> LOGGING OUT.

Basket Star Logbook Entry

//-- UES OOS DATABASE INITIALIZING... --//

>> ENTER LOGIN...
> USERNAME: ICurie
> PASSWORD: **************

>> LOGIN SUCCESSFUL

>> ENTER COMMAND OR TYPE 'help' FOR LIST OF COMMANDS
> newentry

>> ENTER TITLE FOR NEW ENTRY
> ''OOS-0714-1, OOS-0714-2''

>> ENTER ACQUISITION CONDITIONS FOR NEW ENTRY
>
I was hard at work rewinding the Tesla Coil when an imp barged into my office, followed swiftly by a hooded woman. Two of our new... guests on the ship. The imp made some noises that resembled someone gargling glass marbles, and handed me the topical specimen, wrapped in cloth and dripping an unknown substance. The hooded woman, I presume interpreting for the imp, stated it was ''PAID FOR IN BLOOD AND SUFFERING''. Frankly, I was too shocked at the preceding events to bother asking what that may have meant. 

After acquisition, specimen was placed in a standard OOS container, per protocol. However, the container very swiftly deformed into a glossy purple spheroid, with a hollow in the middle, OOS still therein. Appropriate containment measures to be researched further.

>> ENTER DESCRIPTION FOR NEW ENTRY
>
Object of Study resembles a terrestrial Basket Star, order Euryalida. It seems to be perpetually damp, leaking a foul smelling black fluid. Presence of specimen in anything that one could consider a ''container'' appears to cause the transmogrification of said ''container'' into the aforementioned glossy spheroid, roughly matching the original container's volume. We have thus far tested on OOS containers, mop buckets, coffee mugs, and a toilet bowl. All yield the same result. Which reminds me, I need to put in a requisition order for a new lab toilet.

Testing on the fluid offered few answers as to its nature. No molecular structures that we recognize, only the presence of microscopic organisms that superficially resemble the main specimen. No significant findings on the organisms, other than a severe aversion to light.

>> ENTRY SUCCESSFULLY REGISTERED
>> LOGGING OUT.

Bit-B Logbook Entry Draft 2

The campfire raged and lit up the faces of the newly-formed band of adventurers, faces dour as they wander around the small patch of light carving its way through the dark. No plans have been made, no ideas had. All avenues of escape, seemingly barred shut. Hours of planning, bickering, fighting have left the team drained and destitute.

The man in purple, previously lost in thought sat atop his backpack, grabs it and plants it in front of the campfire.

"Alright, alright. Enough sulking. We need a plan, but you wanna know what we need more? Something to lift the spirits!"

The imp speaks up in an indecipherable collection of noises, and the woman sat next to it translates.

"I SUSPECT THIS PLAN WILL FARE AS WELL AS THE LAST. AS WILL ANY PUT FORTH BY THE... I'm not going to share what it just called you."

"Nah, you gotta trust me. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's to cheer people up with my music!

A grunt of doubt is heard from outside the campfire's light. The man in green, from his watch post, glares back towards the light.

"C'mon, E.C.O.! We've been through this whole song and dance before, you remember that job in Andromeda? The guards loved the show before you uh... killed them all while they were distracted."

"Goobo want to hear song! Papa play me all kinds of music in speshimem tube!

...and firteen want everyone to "shudda hell up"

"That's...half the spirit! I'll take it. C'mon, pop a squat and lemme do my magic! I call this one 'Fugitives'"

The man excitedly produces a ukulele, and plugs it up to the amplifier.

Standing on the edge of the purple
Like the sun has gone bed
And the campfire has gone cold now
No more rations and the embers are dead

Whispers in the air tell the tales
of the heroes sprung
Desolation, devastation
What a mess we made, when we broke out huh?

WE'RE FUGITIIIIIIIIIVES
WE'RE WIIIIIIIIIIILD
WE'RE BREAKING OUT TONIIIIIIIIIIGHT
A WORLD OF ENDLESS DARK
CONFINED
DEEP INSIDE
WE CONTINUE TO FIIIIIGH-

His song is cut short by a blade to his throat. The man in green has left his post to put an end to the performance.

"I'll let you keep making all that racket you call 'music'; but if you sing again, I will kill you."

"I thought the mood was already dead, but you went and killed it again just to be sure.

Goobo liked it!"

E.C.O. Logbook Entry Draft 2

  //-- AUTO-TRANSCRIPT FROM UES RECRUITMENT AGENCY, [REDACTED] OFFICE. SEE NOTE --//


Alright recruit, we've got a special job for you... two?

Why are there two of you? I got told to pick a new hire. Singular. Budget constraints.

You with the death glare I know, but who's your freakin' hype man? Hey, Boombox! Touch a single thing on that shelf and I'm having you buried underneath this office.

Whatever, security let you in here, so the brass must be cool with the duo act. No clue how you two weirdos ended up leashed together, but that is not my problem.

So, special job.

Shipment heading out to some backwater planet outside of the policed sectors, and the ship needs muscle. Nice muscle, though. White-glove kind of security gig. I dunno how we're gonna get Tall, Dark, and Spiky here into a tuxedo without tearing it up, but we'll manage.

Now, I don't get paid enough to stroke egos, but I like what I'm seeing in your files. Most of it, at least. All that rah-rah rowdy shit you're used to doing? Yeah, that don't fly 'round here. This gig's gonna need you to follow some ground rules. I don't need you schmucks acting up.

    First off: You're gonna play nice on the ship. This isn't the kinda outfit that's getting piss-drunk every night and having brawls for funsies. Keep it clean. We got a reputation to uphold here.

    Second: No ''borrowing'' any of the passengers' personal belongings and DEFINITELY not any shiny bits from the ship itself. You might think you were slick on your last job but I've got an itemized list right here. With the price tags. You're not gonna pull that crap on our dime, not with what we'd be paying you. 

    And finally: You're gonna follow orders. You are not on a 'make it up as you go' job like whatever that last gig was, you are on a 'sit down, shut up, and do what you're told' job.

And that goes DOUBLE for you, Boombox! I read all about that job in Canis Major, and I'm not looking to have that kinda repair bill for our hardware. You break it, you buy it!

If you're gonna be on our payroll, wearing our colors, you're gonna have to make us look good. Capiche? How's that sound to you?

[ERROR: GAIN EXCEEDED]

Very uh, enthusiastic, lemme just clean my ruptured eardrums off the table so we can finish up the paperwork. 

How 'bout you, Spiky? Whataya say?

[NO AUDIO PICKUP DETECTED]

Just gonna pencil that in as a 'yes'... Alright, that'll be all from me. Welcome aboard!

Oh, and Spooky? One more thing before you go. No 'accidents' involving the crew, eh? That's an order.


//-- END TRANSCRIPT --//

Note: Due to an... unfortunate occurrence, our interviewer had his coat on for this interview. This completely muffled any audio pickup besides his own. Naturally, these two candidates were among the ones he picked; and we have zero intel on them, barring his statements made during the conversation. As you may expect, he got picked up clear as glass. Passing it to you to run it through some filters and data reconstruction. We need to figure out who these guys were.

Night Falls, Morning Breaks: A Short Story

Night Falls, Dawn Breaks


1.
A barrage of camera flashes carve shadows deep into the walls of the damp alley. The man stands over a wilted bouquet of flowers, unmoving.

"Has he said anything about it?" 

"No, Miss Gordon. He arrived home last night, packed up his equipment and departed without a word. I joined him here once I heard the press had caught wind of it."

"He'll have to, eventually."

The first rays of sun fight through the smoggy Gotham air and maze of skyscrapers as the man turns towards the growing crowd of reporters. He nudges his way past microphones and probing questions.

"Mr. Wayne, the anniversary of your parents death isn't for another week. Is that the reason for this public display of mourning?"
"Mr. Wayne! I know you and the Batman have had some run-ins over the years. Do you have anything to say regarding the recent murder?"
"Mr. Wayne, is this perhaps some kind of stunt to drum up interest in the recent Gotham Youth Center project you pledged support towards? Showing that even someone who suffered tragedy like yourself can grow up to be a successful and upstanding citizen, with nothing but Daddy's company and billions in inheritance?"

Their words never reach the man's ears as he slinks into the back of a limousine and is driven away.


2.
The manor sits darkened but for one light struggling to shine through a curtained window. The man sits limp in an armchair by the last sparks in the fireplace.

"A visitor, Sir."

The man's eyes dart upwards towards Alfred. In them showed a fear, a weakness that he had seen only once before. Alfred interprets approval from the noise the man makes, and opens the living room door.

A head of bright red hair is swept aside by the inrush of air as Barbara wheels herself inside. She deftly maneuvers between scattered photo albums, empty bottles, and other trash as she positions herself across from the man in the chair. The screech of wheelchair brakes engaging rouses the man from his torpor.

"Hey."

Crackles from the fireplace offer the only answer to her introduction. She carefully lays a newspaper on the side table, headline blaring in bold text:

    BAT-KILLER? CROOK ON CRIME SPREE CAUGHT BY CAPED CRUSADER SUFFERS 30 STORY FALL

"Whole city's heard what happened. Dad's been swamped trying to quiet down the riot at Gotham PD. The whole force wants to drop right on Batman's head for this. 

I just... want to know what happened. I wasn't in the command center last night, you were all by yourself out there. So what'd this guy do? He say something that finally get to you? Did he put up that much of a fight? No, there's no way...

Please, I have to know."

The man's eyes bore holes into the floorboards as he refuses to meet Barbara's gaze.

"Please, just tell us what happened. I just need to know if there's anything I could have done... Some way I could have helped?"

The crack of a log in the fire pierces the air. The man flinches at the noise, while Barbara's wheelchair lurches against its brakes as she snaps forward.

"Had to have been worse than Joker. What he did to Jason, kidnapping and torturing dad, crippling me, that wasn't enough for you to finally do it... If anyone deserved it, it was him...

SO WHAT DID THIS ONE DO TO FINALLY MAKE YOU CROSS THAT LINE, HUH? WAS IT WORTH IT? TELL ME! PLEASE...!"

Alfred slips into the room, handing Barbara an embroidered handkerchief to soak up the tears.

"I just... I thought you were unbreakable. That you were better than this... 

I'm sorry, I have to go."

A short sniffle puts an end to the sobs as Barbara exits. The door slams shut behind her, snuffing the last embers in the fireplace.


3.
The man is awoken from restless sleep by a creak in the floorboards. He offers no resistance to this intrusion but a pitiful glance towards this would-be assailant. His eyes meet Alfred's, armed with a silver tray bearing tea, cups, and snacks.

"I had hoped not to disturb whatever rest you may have been getting, Sir."

Alfred does not wait for a response as he places the tray down to set a fresh log on the fireplace. A restrained sigh escapes his mouth as it fails to light. He prepares two cups of tea, setting one down on the table for the man. He takes the second cup and the seat beside him.

"I know how it feels."

"Do you?"

"I was apart of MI5 during the Panjshir offensives. We were directed to clear out a village that MI6 suspected was storing mines that were being set along the border. During the cleanup, we found the corpse of a young lady, no older than 20. Pregnant. 

I will never know if I fired the shot that killed her, but I still feel the weight of her death on my shoulders. I wish I knew her name."

"I... can't do it anymore."

"Sir?"

"I still hear the crunch of his body hitting the street. Replays in my head over and over. Every possible thing I could have done differently."

"Sir, you should take some time to rest. Master Grayson and Miss Gordon can handle Gotham for a while."

"I failed them. Failed Gotham. Barb said it best. 

I'm... not fit to wear the cowl."

"Master Bruce, I believe that you are the only one who can."

The fresh log finally flares to life, casting a soft glow into the room. The morning sun peeks through the curtains for the first time in days.

Neuromancer Logbook Entry

//-- INITALIZING --
//-- WELCOME TO UESNET MESSAGE CENTER --//

>> ENTER LOGIN...
> USERNAME: CMoore@uesnet.local
> PASSWORD: ***********

>> LOGIN SUCCESSFUL

>> YOU HAVE... FOUR MESSAGES IN YOUR INBOX. 
>> ENTER COMMAND OR TYPE 'help' FOR LIST OF COMMANDS...
> view


>> MESSAGE FROM: 'Liss'
>> MESSAGE BODY:
Hey, cath. I've been trying to get in contact but recently, doctors have been calling me nonstop about you. All of them about 'notifying the emergency contact' for all these different procedures... It's got me and mom worried sick! What on earth have you been getting yourself into ever since leaving on that mission? I just... hope you're doing alright out there. I know, I know I shouldn't worry so much but I just feel like I have to, you know? Especially sinc-
>> DELETE MESSAGE? Y/N...
> y


>> MESSAGE FROM: Unknown Sender
>> MESSAGE BODY:
Hey Cat! It's been a while yeah? Just thought I'd catch up,, last I heard from you was like a few months back? Said you were going under the knife to get some crazy new tech installled. CYBORG CATHERINE THE DESTROYER!!! lmao maybe you;ll come home looking like one of those model kits we used to build.

I hope it all went well, I hadn't heard from yo since then so I just thought I'd check in. Hit me back sometime yeah? I'll buy the first round when you get home, yeah? You've got my detai-
>> DELETE MESSAGE? Y/N...
> y


>> MESSAGE FROM: 'Mom'
>> MESSAGE BODY:
hi catherine
this is your mother ive been sending message after message trying to get in touch with you ... i even asked alice to send one as well ... i know youre busy but this is urgent ... i wish i could give you better news about-
>> DELETE MESSAGE? Y/N...
> y


>> MESSAGE FROM: You (CMoore@uesnet.local)
>> MESSAGE BODY:
I do not know if I really need to be saying this to myself, but my apprehension about the procedure demands that I do something. The list of potential side effects and all of the ways an implant rejection might express itself was... concerning, to say the least. To say a little more, it's got me chewing my fingernails down to the bone.

I think... I just need to write something down. Maybe getting it out of my head will ease my mind a little. A bit of proof that I existed. That way, this can remain as a last record of me as I was - before the augmentations. In case it isn't... me that wakes up in the medbay afterwards.

I am Catherine Moore.
I am a UES physicist.
I am proud of my work.
I love my family.
I am happy.
I hope this is all still true tomorrow.

Wish me luck.
>> END OF MESSAGE.

>> DELETE MESSAGE? Y/N...
> y


>> NO INBOX MESSAGES REMAINING


Are you sure you want to delete all of these?.. They seemed important.

''Hm? Just clearing up some storage space. If I say I want something gone, that means I want it gone.''

Chrono Legionnaire Logbook Entry

//-- TRANSCRIPT OF OFFICER QUESTIONING, SECURITY DIVISION OF UES [REDACTED] --//


''Thanks for coming in on such short notice. Very prompt, I like that. I'm Security Officer Koch, and no, you're not in trouble. It's nothing too serious, we've just got to clear up some confusion we were having up in management. Standard stuff, you know? Probably just some clerical errors. However, a cursory review of your files has turned up some... irregularities that need sorting out.''

''Ah, yeah. That tends to happ-''

''You might have gathered that we fast-tracked your admittance to the crew, based on the reputation of other agents sourced from your employer. The brass-... We wouldn't want to compromise such a valuable business relationship, but we do need to keep things tidy on our end.''

''Oh yeah? Ask away. I'm an open book, except for the stuff I can't divulge. And, ah... Could I ask that we keep this brief? Lotta things to do, not a lotta time.''

''Of course, this shouldn't take long at all. First question I have is about one of the operations credited to you in your files here. These items mention some names I've got questions about: 'Marinesko,' and a 'Romanov'...''

''Man, I remember Chrono Storm like it was yesterday... Kinda jarring to blink halfway across the planet in an instant. Jetlag can not compare. Least I made a lotta new war buddies during the whole thing. Some even made it back home!''

''Oh, of course. That matches the records in your file... However, outside of that, we can find no such evidence of the operation. No Marinesko shows up in our military personnel databases, nor does a Romanov. I highly doubt any of them would have still been around.''

''Ah yeah, that's the thing...''

''The same stands true for every single item mentioned in your reports. Operations that never happened, wars that never occurred, people that have never existed. Not a single one can be verified in our databases. I can arrive at no other conclusion than that they are falsified. So, who are you, really? What kind of work have you actually done?!''

"I've done all of it. Everything you're reading in your reports there is true."

''Pardon me?''

''I took part in every single operation and dealt with every single man named in those reports. See, the tech we used back then works in a funny way. That stuff was all real history, y'see. Just... not anymore.''

''The hell is that supposed to mean? If technology like that existed, we'd know about it. You're giving me no reason to believe your sole account over our records. We will have plenty of questions as to your actual identity and operational experience, but it's just going to have to be dealt with... later.''

''Yer kiddin' me. Just letting me walk free after all that?''

''Need I remind you that you are currently aboard our ship? Consider yourself lucky that... we would rather not sour relations with your employer so easily, but know that I will be keeping a very close eye on you. In time, we will find out who you really are. We are very good at uncovering these things, and I do not expect that you would like my methods.''

''Hey, now... You don't have to believe me, just gimme some time to prove myself. Maybe you'll figure out that you might can trust me.''

''That will be all for now. Dismissed.''


//-- Transcriptions complete. --//

> NOTES: There appears to be a mistake on the record here. We've never had a Koch on our security staff, let alone an officer. Someone run a list of names, maybe it was a transcription error?

Bathylopod Logbook Entry

//-- UES [REDACTED], OBSERVED FLORA/FAUNA DATABASE INITIALIZING --

>> ENTER COMMAND...
> new_entry

>> ADMINISTRATOR LOGIN REQUIRED
> username: F_Tamaki
> password: **************

>> LOGIN SUCCESSFUL.
>> PLEASE PROCEED WITH NEW DATABASE ENTRY

>> ENTER COMMON NAME...
> Bathylopod

>> ENTER SPECIES CLASSIFICATION...
> Holcodiscus Galea

>> WARNING: GENUS MATCHES EXISTING ENTRIES FROM PLANET: EARTH.
>> PROCEED WITH CLASSIFICATION? Y/N...
> Y 

>> ENTER DESCRIPTION
> 
Specimen recovered by Planet-side crews. I was presented with a diving helmet containing the corpse of the creature, and cracked remains of an evolute mollusc shell. Shell presumed to have broken upon death, from the diving helmet impacting the ground. Looking up fossil matches from back home confirmed my suspicions. The structure, internally and externally, matches the Ammonitida Order, specifically Holcodiscidae. How it wound up here on the planet is far beyond my paygrade to speculate upon, but I suspect it might relate back to similar creatures encountered in Contact Light database records...

>> ENTER BEHAVIORAL TRAITS...
> 
Presents as a diving helmet with tentacles hanging beneath, capable of floating approximately 2m above ground level. My investigations into the creature's biology match observations made by Contact Light crews, that this creature floats using a constant stream of gas created from within the shell. Creature is hostile to humans and other forms of life, and presumed carnivorous by its stomach contents. The diving helmet does not appear to be behaviorally related to intentional mimicry or deception by the creature, but rather as a convenient additional means of defense to its fragile shell and vital organs. Creature's shell had conformed to the inner walls of the helmet, suggesting it had inhabited it for an extended period, growing into and past the spatial limits the helmet presented. Similar to a hermit crab, but this specimen had seemingly trapped itself within the helmet of its own accord. Strange... 
Entry will be updated when we have further specimens to research.

>> ENTRY COMPLETE. REGISTERING TO DATABASE...
>> WARNING: ENTRY FLAGGED FOR REVIEW.
>> LOGGING OUT.

Ratling Logbook Entry (Written by ebbysauce)

Was Us study-toy for tinker-thinkers. Chain and pain and dark stark cage rage hunger-suffer. But!

None-more.

None-more the tied-bound, not of cage-held are We! Free!

FREE!

The sky-warren teeming with weak live-meat! It fear-scatter before Us! We hunt-find and eat-killing, Our first belly-full to know. None-more poke-prodding starving wanting hurting trapped-kept. Free!

We belly-full with white-coats, eat-killing and eat-kill and eat-killed and they scared-hiding fear-fleeing, a prey-feast for Us! We end-stopping their torture-experiments, belly-full Our aching-pain away with RICH live-meat.

We hunt-devour and feast-gorge, the live-meat become made-born more Us, all more Us!

Made-born Us and made-born Us until endless-many! And endless-many strongest, greatest, never-stopping!

We flooding-swarm the sky-grave, we flooding-swarm the far-rock below...

We finally know-feel Our belly-fill, and grow-become ALL.

Gurp Logbook Entry

//-- TRANSCRIPTION OF FIELD RECORDINGS, DR. B. GUTENBERG, STATUS: MARKED FOR REVIEW --//


Ve heff been followink zese unussual zeismograf readinks für dayce now, to absolutely KEINE awail. Ve heff no readinks from ze subterranean probes, only ze ones on ground level. Zis wastly narrows down vhat couldt be causink ze tremors. Und ze most FRUSTRATING aspect? It keeps müving! Zis cannot line up viss asteroid impacts on ze surface of ze planet, ve vouldt see zem from ze satellite readinks! Zo, VHAT couldt possibly cause zis? Surely it is not a livink creature? ZE MIND BOGGLES! NOTHINK on zis planet is of such gargantuan stature und mass zat simply AMBULATINK sets off ze zeismographic sensors! Ve've been müving towarts ze readinks steatily, but it is simply outrunning us. Ve heff had to rely on our ancient human hunting strategy: chase ze animal, und tire it out vith our superior stamina. Vith zis tactic, ve heff finally gained ground on ze creature. Ve are approachink upon ze locations of readinks from mere minutes prior.

...Vhy do I smell strawberriss?


//-- Transcriptions complete. --//

Notes: This one's a real struggle to follow. Can we get this transcript over to ah... Pvt. Bauer, or perhaps Sgt. Müller? Software's having some trouble transcribing Dr. Gutenburg's report accurately.

Eidolon Logbook Entry

I should've listened to her.

That reading on the gravitational sensors wasn't a fluke. It was all too real... and I ignored it because of a damned shipping deadline. Looking at it now, I think 'Took the long way to avoid a previously undiscovered black hole' might've been an excuse they actually accepted.

By the time we figured it out, it was entirely too late to steer the ship clear. I think the rest of the crew got to the emergency shuttles before the ship was completely done for. 'Course, I stayed behind to keep it out of the pull long enough for that to happen. There was no escape for me. Couldn't be, never was, not from the moment I chose not to alter our course. When I lost my rifle in basic training, the army charged me 250$ to replace it. Guess that's why the Captain always goes down with the ship...

Y'kno, I'm thinking back to that lesson in physics class, about how time dilates alongside gravity when mass approaches infinity. I think for my own sake, I'm gonna try and push that thought out of my head and just reassure myself that I'll go quick and easy. Quiiiick and easy...

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Rat King Logbook Entry

//--AUTO-TRANSCRIPTION FROM GENETICS LAB OF UES [Redacted]--//

I'm the only one left.

After it escaped, the entire wing was put on lockdown. Its brood flooded the lab and the vents. Security told us over the intercom that if they weren't all dead in a day's time, their only options would be to... "sterilize" the lab, or jettison the wing entirely. I can't let that happen. The rest of my specimens are probably already gone, and any that survive would certainly have to be disposed of after this. But there's too much data and tech in here to let it just... go to waste. All of my research is in here. Though I won't survive, my knowledge and findings might.

I knew I was a dead man from the very moment it escaped its cell, but the others panicked at the news. I heard them screaming, begging at the intercom, but security's hands were tied. Letting us out risked letting it and its brood get to the rest of the ship. The prospective body count would have spiked from a couple dozen to easily in the hundreds. Some of the best minds in their respective fields were on this ship, and I had to watch them all die. Most of the bodies couldn't even be recognized as human anymore. There are going to be a lot of empty casket funerals, thanks to me.

I've got one chance to save my work here. One way to make sure my colleagues didn't die in vain. They hunt by heat and movement, and I'm the only warm body left standing. I'm going to try and lure it into the emergency drop pod. Its brood won't survive without the King. Send it planet-side and let the monsters down there solve this problem in my stead.

Wish me luck. This is Doctor Kvasen, signing off.

//--END OF RECORDING--//

Thqwarp Logbook Entry

//-- RECOVERED COMMS AUDIO, COMMANDO J117 --//


''What is this place, Spark?''

''This is... some research installation... I surmise it to be jetsam from the Contact Light, based on the surrounding debris field. Perhaps the data terminals still hold some information about it.''

''Plug in and scrape whatever you can find on this place. We've gotta be back to the ship by nightfall and report whatever we find.''

''I've found the data terminal storage bank. Allow me to access it an- BZZZZZT''

''Spark? You okay? What'd you find?''

''Oh. Hello. Yes, let's continue. We have much more important business here.''

''What business? We're just meant to scout the area and report discoveries. The Captain'll definitely want to hear about this place.''

''I will deactivate the security lock, wait here.''

''Spark, wait! -

WHAT THE HELL ARE THOSE THINGS?''

''This specimen has been designated, 'Thqwarp'. You can see how the body has been transformed by the genetic restructuring of the Thqwib's anatomy. The small creatures carry spores that cause their fluid sacs to harden. This allows the creature to survive, and even thrive in higher atmospheric pressures. It is insidious and elegant. As long as any spores remain, the Thqwarp may persist.''

//-- INTERMITTENT AUDIO PICKUP, SOUND ANALYSIS: GUNFIRE, SCREAMS -- 

''Puzzling. You brought such ineffective weapons to combat the Thqwarps, despite the containment protocols.''

''SCREW THE CONTAINMENT! WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE, MOVE!''

''Why, naturally, the Thqwarps are simply too dangerous to release, and mass sterilization protocols may again need to be enacted. Of course, samples were kept here after the last catastrophic outbreak... for study. It seems... that decision may have been an error.''

//-- INTERMITTENT AUDIO PICKUP, SOUND ANALYSIS: WET SLAPPING, EXPLOSIONS, SCREAMS --

''Ah, a pity.''


//-- END OF RECOVERED AUDIO --//

Dire Carp Logbook Entry

//-- TRANSCRIPTION OF FIELD RECORDINGS, PVT. H. PHILIPS. STATUS: MARKED FOR REVIEW --//


//--  TIMECODE: DAY 1, 0800 --

Alright, I've just arrived at the coordinates Sarge requested for survey. Seems to be some ramshackle approximation of a fishing village. Bustling little collection of hovels, really. Bunch of Lemurians walking around the place. Some hauling things around, some chopping up their latest catch to feed the others. Lot of them down by the water, dragging in nets packed to the brim with fish. Whatever these things are doing to catch 'em, it's working.


//--  TIMECODE: DAY 2, 0239 --

What the hell was that? I was just catching some shuteye and heard something splashing down by the water. Not like, 'fish coming around to eat' splashing... Like, 'alligator drowning a gazelle' type splashing. Loud, violent. Took a look over the ridge and saw something dart out of the water and into one of the houses in the village.

...Whew. Probably just a Lemurian getting a bath or playing or something. Dunno why it'd be doing it in the dead of night, but that's not my problem. Going the hell back to bed.


//--  TIMECODE: DAY 2, 0418 --

That... That was no Lemurian. Got woken up by more of that damned splashing and I caught a better glimpse of what was getting out of the water. At a glance, it... it looked a bit like the Lemurians, but... it had the head of a fish. Same kinda' fish the Lemurians were netting in droves. Stood on two legs, walking around when it oughtta' been flopping helpless in the shallows... The thing looked like it knew the place. I swear it saw me. Swear I could see my reflection in those giant eyes...

Okay, uh. I'm... just gonna hope that was a nightmare and get whatever sleep I can before sun-up.


//--  TIMECODE: DAY 2, 1030 --

Jeez, I overslept... Alright, status report. Looks like the fishing ain't too good today. Nets coming up nearly empty. Lemurians scratching their heads, walking around all panicked, shooting glances at each other. One of 'em's walking up to the dock. Seems that it's in charge of all the rest of them, everyone looking at every move it makes. Just made some kinda gesture with its hand and everyone froze for a sec. Now everyone's walking away with their heads bowed, somber-like. Gonna have to keep observing to see what this is all about.


//--  TIMECODE: DAY 3, 2143 --

They've built a bonfire at the shoreline. Waves are coming in rough, kissing the bottom layer of wood. Chief Lemurian's been doing this dance for hours now, while the others load up more and more kindling. Guess this is some kinda ceremony to try and catch more fish? Hope it works for them, things seemed awful dour in town when the nets were coming up empty. Waves are getting real high now. Angry, churning. Chief's getting rocked to and fro, but he just keeps dancing. Looks like we've got one of the little'un's coming to light the bonfire, got a torch and everything. 'Mean, just guessing it's one of the kids, it's smaller than the others. It's...

No. Nononooo...

Please... why's the kid climbing in..?

//-- NO MICROPHONE PICKUP DETECTED. DURATION: 4m07s812ms --

I...

Signing off for the night.


//--  TIMECODE: DAY 3, 0800 --

Nets coming up full. Whole town seems overjoyed. Me? Smell of fish is making me sick to my stomach.


//-- TRANSCRIPTIONS COMPLETE. --//

Bayonetta Logbook Entry

 //-- INTERCEPTED COMMUNICATIONS, HOUSE WITHIN ENCLAVE 21132181 --//


''I can hardly risk to send her for this mission. It is too critical a task, and she cannot be trusted!''

''Precisely what is the nature of your concerns regarding her viability for the mission?''

''She is a TRAITOR! Years away from the Court, doing lowly mercenary work. She flaunts our technology in the presence of lay men, sullying the sanctity of our creations. And her father-''

''And WHAT of her father?! She was raised, educated, and trained by the Court, she is one of our most accomplished agents, and this 'lowly mercenary work' you complain of has saved countless lives while bringing us invaluable knowledge of the systems outside our reach. You'll have no grace from me for piling such aspersions upon her!''

''You're blind to it. You refuse to see the risk she brings to our mission, to our cause, to our journey. Petrichor V is a veritable OASIS of knowledge to be carefully inspected, not to be blown open by such a barbarous emissary as she! She is a liability, and I will not gamble so critical a rescue operation on the whims of that sullied bitc-''

''Counselor, it falls upon me to remind you:

Know.
Your.
Place.

My daughter has attained vastly more for our Journey than you ever will, luxuriating in the comfort of the Enclave, contributing nothing but spite. You will not live to see Heaven, should you continue turning your nose up at the most accomplished Agent you'd ever hold the privilege to lay eyes upon.

OUT OF MY SIGHT. NOW!''

//-- END OF RECORDING --//

Snowtime Turret Logbook Entry

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//-- AUTO-TRANSCRIPTION FROM CREW QUARTERS OF UES [Redacted] --//


''I could swear blind I've seen a weapon design like this before...''

''Of course you have! It's the same technology as the sniper woman's rifle, and the ship uses it for the onboard weaponry.''

''Yeah, I know all that, but this one reminds me of something...''

''It's a pretty simple mechanism, really. Staged magnetic accelerators bringing a projectile to hypersonic velocities, simultaneously cooling it to single-degrees Kelvin. Zero moving parts, and the projectiles carry enough kinetic energy to punch through 6 feet of hardened plasteel-ceramic armor plating and collapse an interceptor-grade damping field. The M68B ALIM is the finest weapon I've designed. I've built the turret around this beast of an armament, and designated it CT-64U5.''

''Yeah, that IS it! The Gauss Cannon, right? Ain't that from that old game, the one on the giant space ring?''

''I... have no clue what you're referring to.''

''Ah, come on now. Everyone played that one growing up, I remember driving around in the big 4x4s, letting the soldiers railgun stuff with the mounted gauss cannon.''

''I'm so sorry, you must be mistaken. This is an original creation of my own design!''

''Uh huh... Hey tell me real quick, does 'BXR' mean anything to you?''

''HUNDREDS OF DEATHS OFF ONE UNBELIEVABLY TOXIC BUG, HOW DID THEY LEAVE THAT IN THE GAME?''

''Hah, I knew it!''


//-- Transcriptions complete. --//

Shortcake Turret Logbook Entry

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 //-- AUTO-TRANSCRIPTION FROM CREW QUARTERS OF UES [Redacted] --// ''Ok, I really gotta know about the bunny turret.'' ''As I have repeatedly insisted, those are PURELY FUNCTIONAL attachments.'' ''And I repeatedly don't believe you.'' ''The CT-6UP is designed in conjunction with the CT-64U5 model. The SHORTCAKE turret uses synthesized Gup pheromones to draw hostile creatures into range for the SNOWTIME turret to dispatch. That, combined with the SHORTCAKE's supportive capabilities and heavily armored chassis, make it an ideal pairing with the much frailer, but more heavily armed, SNOWTIME.'' ''You're doing the thing where you avoid actually answering my questions by breaking into rushed techno-babble again.'' ''Oh, MY APOLOGIES for finally putting some faith in your robotics knowledge! The 'ears' work as pheromone dispersal vectors, long antennae located away from the moving parts and the heat, the 'fur' providing ideal volume-to-surface-area ratios for efficient release of the compound.'' ''See, now you're finally making some sense. So, I'm guessing means that the slice of cake is a shock-resistant and thermo-insulated storage tank for the synthesized pheromone? You're just keeping the sensitive compound away from the spicy parts of the unit, and minimizing the risk of any impacts causing chemical breakdown!'' ''EXACTLY! You're finally starting to understand my design process!'' ''Nah, I've seen the schematics. I made all that up to see if you'd bite.'' //-- Transcriptions complete. --//