twinsanity: (You don't know me like you really should)
[Anonymous Text]

[The text that hits the device tonight is the sort that obviously comes from some sort of hacked ID - it's poorly done, but at the same time well-done enough that you're just going to get a lot of static and glitching if you're going to try to work out who it is. More of an obviously anon setting than a device that's pretending to belong to someone else, basically.]

Tell me about recurring dreams you've had.

Not necessarily nightmares, though I suppose those are fine. Just those dreams you've had over and over again, the ones your mind keeps coming back to.

If you're expecting psychoanalysis you won't get it, since I'm not being paid nearly well enough to do that for the lot of you and I've no interest in it besides. I'm just interested in talking and hoping you'll say something interesting.


[...okay then.]



[Action - Goldenrod City]

[Well, abrasive texts or not, Alfred can actually be found outside today; it's warm today (even if his internal clock is still yelling at him that it shouldn't be, and he is never going to get used to the damn weather in this hemisphere) and he's taking the opportunity to spend time in the park, watching his Pokémon...play? Are they playing? It looks like they might be; it's either that or it's a level one slapfight that's more ineffectual than anything, between a Sewaddle and what looks to be a male Combee.

After a bit of watching it'll become clear that this is, in fact, a slapfight, and one that the poor Sewaddle is not going to be winning; it keeps getting a shot of Gust in the face and unfortunately Tackle isn't landing too well right now, due to the abovementioned...well, Gusting to the face, and after a few rounds of this the Sewaddle is basically ending up spending more time kind of lying on the ground in a universally understood gesture of "I have run out of fucks to give" rather than actually fighting.

Alfred, unfortunately, seems to be taking no pity whatsoever on the poor damn thing - he's sitting on one of the benches nearby, leaning idly over his legs where they're crossed at the knee, chin propped in his hand while he watches; he's also got at least one bug he's not particularly interested in deathmatching, if the ever-present Joltik on his shoulder is any indication. As it is, said Joltik apparently gives no fucks about what's going on and Alfred himself just sort of rolls his eyes when the Sewaddle flops over, reaching out for the bag he's got with him and spraying it in the face with a Potion.]


Oh, no, you don't. Get back in there.

[Alfred, that thing is going to hate you before it even reaches level 5, what are you doing.]
twinsanity: (Behind my smile is my IQ)
[Alfred actually seems pretty calm over the video feed today - and it is Alfred today, as opposed to Alexia; it's overcast but it's warm enough, and he's currently settled under one of the trees in Ilex Forest. He's not looking at the camera, but rather his gaze is downcast, focused on the...thing he's got draped over his lap. No, it's not one of the Bloobers, but admittedly a three-eyed pink slug the size of a fairly large dog with a naturally-occurring Viking helmet isn't much better, because what in the good hell is having normal pets.

At least he's smiling, kinda. For once.]


So...

[And from that one word alone, we are clearly in for a bit of a story. Why? Because why not, that's why. Just let him pet his giant sea slug and talk for a while, okay, don't crush his dreams.]

Once upon a time in a faraway country - as so many of these stories tend to begin - there was a King who was noted for his benevolence and charity to all his subjects. He was loved by all who knew him, which was fortunate for him, really, as he was also naive and, while well-meaning, easily taken advantage of.

A short time into his rule, he took a bride; the Queen he chose - for reasons that were surely only known by him - was one who was notoriously cold and had a reputation for being nasty in personality, and was just generally difficult to get along with. The respect she commanded was gained through fear, not love; it seemed no one loved her but the King, in fact.

[He pauses for a moment, tipping his head a bit before going back to petting the slug.]

To his credit, he loved her completely.

[That's better, apparently.]

Now, the King had a tendency to take walks through the garden every morning at a precise time, such that he could have an hour or so to himself every day before seeing to his duties as the ruler of the country. Which is well and good...until one morning, when he didn't return.

He was found a short while later, lying dead in that garden he loved so much, a single arrow piercing his heart.

[...okay, judging by this pause here, either he's collecting himself or the damn thing literally ends there; let's have a moment and pray that he's seriously not - ]

...You know, I've never known it to have an ending outside of that; that's always how I've known the story to go.

I suppose that's why I've always liked it so much, really; the ending can be taken any number of ways, depending on how you feel that day.

[Goddamn it, Alfred.]

It's one of those weird stories where I don't know where it came from, though...I mean, I suppose my father had to have told me at some point, since I can't imagine the scientists telling me anything of the sort - but I've no idea where he got it, if that's the case. My sister and I both know a version of the same story put to music; I just don't remember hearing it.

[...]

Is that common, do you think? Having something that you've known for so long that you don't remember where it came from, and it's strange for you to try to imagine there being a time where you didn't know it...?
twinsanity: (That will never do)
[You know, this is really the sort of thing that most would want to leave anonymous...but since Alfred has surveyed the available fucks he has to give and found them numbering entirely too many, he seems to have thrown them out in the window in favor of just being an abrasive idiot because he is the pride of the Ashford family like that.]

Well, since you all like text, I thought I would join you all because I was starting to feel a little left out. And we certainly can't have that, now, can we?

So we've had people trying to get the resident Hero Squad moving, people trying to poke the resident Villain Squad into doing...something and somesuch, I really have no idea what's going on there...

Do any of you people actually do things, or do you just kind of poke at each other? Some explosions here, shameless grandstanding there, assaulting a theatre and tying up women over there (though that last one isn't so much a crime as it is too much information about you people, I think)...

Are you going to actually get some sort of full-scale battling going on, or are you content to just tap at each other a bit? Really, at this rate I propose the formation of the Disinterested But Somewhat Amused Third Party in the name of messing with you both.


[...ALFRED...]
twinsanity: (So don't call me baby)
[AUDIO]

[As with the last post to the network from this particular frequency, the voice that comes over the feed is soft but firm; it seems that she's not exactly in the mood to waste too many words today.]

I'm looking for information on Pokémon that are geared more towards protection, particularly of their trainer. It seems my brother has been more accident-prone than usual, and I would like to avoid finding out about any more...mishaps that he's caused.


[PRIVATE AUDIO - ROCKET FREQUENCY / POSSIBLE ACTION - GOLDENROD BASE, LABS]

[A while after that goes out, there's a second message locked down to the Rockets; judging from the sigh that precludes it, it's looking to be a winner, let me tell you.]

You know, this place is awfully vague about who we're supposed to be testing on.

[...Seriously, Alexia is just a veritable ray of sunshine today; she sounds rather bored, and those in the labs can see her making the damn post at the table she's sitting at, chin propped in gloved hand.

Her other hand has been lying idle in her lap far more than usual, and she's been seeming rather averse to using it, but that's clearly neither here nor there right now.]


I mean, outside of the data my brother has so kindly provided me with, I've no idea who to turn to when it comes to actually wanting to test certain hypotheses - am I to assume some of you will just volunteer yourselves, no matter how questionable the test, or is there some other alternative?

After all, we're a villainous organization, aren't we? Is there anyone I can hire to...I don't know, kidnap a child or something?
twinsanity: (You don't know me like you really should)
[There's an anonymous text hitting the network sometime after the clock rolls over to the fourteenth of the month; it's one of those hours that's either extremely early or extremely late, depending on one's point of view. The ID is an unknown one, of the sort that's obviously hacked-together but poorly-done; at the same time, its owner isn't exactly caring about quality right now.]

If anyone is still alive, send me something. A message, a story, some stupid file you have lying around, I don't care. Some sort of contact. Who I am doesn't matter. I don't care if we've never spoken before.

Just send me something. Anything.

Please.

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Alfred Ashford

September 2020

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