IC Contact - LJ Old

[thecrowingtobe]

[All Text messages, Emails, Notes, and recorded Holos can be sent to this box. Please post here only through IC means in order to get a hold of Claudio for private or personal reasons. Thank you.]

[This is a connection directly to his NetVice. If he is busy on the other line it will ring four times before going to a phone message. Otherwise it works much like Network recordings and videos]

[If you get his voice mail it will simply say:]

This is Claudio. Leave a message and I'll get back to you if I can.

Comments

[Call]

[mademyhell.livejournal.com]

Whatever. You pull the ghost act nine times out of ten. Denying it's stupid.

[Pause...Trauma is catching up with things, give him a minute.]

...Hunter. The Hunter? ...That what I think it is? Sure th-

[Trauma starts off walking again and stops short when the light changes and he curses under his breath.]

Shit. Claudio. One of us at least's got to check in tomorrow to feed Cat.

[Call]

[thecrowingtobe.livejournal.com]

[Walking. He's barely heard, but he's moving still, up a street] Yeah, yeah. Fine. So i'm gonna s care someone. Not that anyone is around. [The sounds of someone jogging by, feet carrying them fast down the street. It means nothing...]

Yeah. The Hunter. Might be a good place to check. No one else can check as easy as I can. I know the place well enough.

[A pause] ... I'll take care of Apollo... tomorrow.

[Call]

[mademyhell.livejournal.com]

Claudio....

[He is quiet for a moment, trying to think of a goddamn reason to tell him not to be stupid and go. And finding nothing cause someone should probably check. Fuck. Fuck. There's a clank sound in the background as Trauma kicks the lightpole and starts pacing as he waits for the goddamn thing to change.]

Just...Check the fuck in when you're back from there. We really don't need anyone else pulling a disappearing act.

[Call]

[thecrowingtobe.livejournal.com]

I ain't going to go missing! [He snapped back and was silent for a moment after, walking faster]

...

I'll be fine. They ain't got a chip in me no more so they can't track me. S'not like before. I'll be fine, but if there is a change... yeah well, gonna check it out.

[Call]

[mademyhell.livejournal.com]

[He stops to process that one for a moment. Chip. Tracking...Microchip. That's something right out of a fucking dystopia nightmare. It made sense. In a twisted fucked up way. If someone wanted to treat people like animals they would probably track them the same way you'd track a pet.

The idea doesn't sit well with him, and then he finally goes past the initial idea to deal with the rest of it. And he's pretty sure that if he thinks about this on top of every fucking thing else he's going to be sick. But that doesn't stop him from asking.]

...Like before?

[Call]

[thecrowingtobe.livejournal.com]

[I like how i typed Change instead of Chance... oh well -- A short reply, muttered mostly, he's starting to jog as he moves] Yeah... like before. It's different now. I can get past his security. I'm sure of it.

[SO not helpful, hmm?]

[Call]

[mademyhell.livejournal.com]

[Trauma sounds pretty close to the end of his rope, and he's close enough to the road that the cars are pretty loud over the phone.]

What do you mean "Like befo-What the hell, Claudio? They had you tracked?

[Call]

[thecrowingtobe.livejournal.com]

I told you this!!--[A pause. AH, it hit him. Crap. He told Edgeworth and... ah... his voice drops, like a bit apologetic as he realized...] I... didn't tell you about that, did I?

[Sighs...] Look. It's not as... bad... as it sounds. I'll be fine out there.

[Call]

[mademyhell.livejournal.com]

Not as bad as it sounds? Doesn't cover much!

[Trauma makes an annoyed sound that borders on being a growl before he continues.]

What do you mean you don't have it any- What the hell happened?

[Call]

[thecrowingtobe.livejournal.com]

[shit shit he's growing at him. Last thing he needed was the man getting mad at him again. he paused, huffed a bit, and leaned back on a tree, staring down the street a moment. Hand pushed through his hair, trying to think. How to tell him.]

Look...

[He... frowned, finger running over the scar on his neck. If he told him he'd have a fit. if he didn't tell him he'd have a fit, right? Maybe.]

That place... they keep people in cages. When they... set me out they said there were weapons all over the grounds and... to be proper game. That the chip in my neck would keep me from escaping... or blow my head off. I ... took it out after the shot. I managed to get out. that's all. It's not a big deal. Because that ain't there no more I can just... pop in, check it out and pop out...