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 Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2009 8:49 pm
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Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2009 8:52 pm
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Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2009 8:53 pm
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Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2009 8:55 pm
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2009 8:59 pm
MIB incident report
Filed by: Agent J. Shapiro
Date: Jul 4 / 2xxx
Myself and Trainee Agent L. Jenkins arrived at the Moreau residence at approx. 4 PM to investigate various reports of disturbances in the neighborhood, and to question her over the whereabouts of her son. While never officially reported missing, Quinton Moreau has not attended the school he is registered at in over a year. Neighbors have indicated strange characters entering and exiting the house at all hours of the day and night.
Mrs. Moreau answered the door but quickly became resistant to our inquiries, refusing to speak english and becoming increasingly frantic. TA L. Jenkins made to restrain her, and Mrs. Moreau fought back. TA L. Jenkins panicked and fired a usually non-lethal stun gun at her chest. The location of the hit, in conjunction to Mrs. Moreau's questionable health and agitated state, lead to the spontaneous stoppage of her heart and her death not long after.
As per standard procedure, we phoned in an emergency call and left the scene before district police arrived. We left our card.
Adversare et Obtegere.
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2009 9:06 pm
Heya! I’m Quinton Moreau, but most people call me Quinn. There are people here, and yes, you should probably find your way home. Says the kid proposing to his chocolate bar. Or did you think you were just naturally born with all those colors? What are you doing to our wall? Keep an eye out, there might be blacksuits around. The key to the entire game is Australia, I’ve got a feeling about it. Calm down. I will help you, child. Pretty far from Middling, aren’t you? Don’t mess with bouncers. They can break your spine four different ways to next Tuesday. I couldn't help but notice a strange...er, protuberance from your pants. And not the usual kind. The scene attracts an…unusual crowd. V’alk v’ith me? You’re tired, delirious, and stoned. You must help this poor injured teenager! My beanie! My ******** beanie! Alex. My name’s Alex. Yours? Fish hates me. Vale hates me. Ciro hates me. Who the hell doesn’t hate me? I don't hate you. V'ell. Maybe I do. I don't know. You make me angry, and I v'ant to kill you, so I guess that counts as hatred. I’ve got your ******** chicken soup. Open up. Whoever it is! He did it! He will pay for all of this! Hello there! Who are you? I brought some soup for you. I don’t know what you saw, but this was my fault. I am going to kill him. Seth, huh? That’s a nice name. Why can’t I ******** remember anything? Seth, huh? That’s a nice name. And do not call me catnip. Ee’t ee’s Valeriu. Seth, huh? That’s a nice name. Well…You have nice hair. Who did this? I will kill them. How does she know Vale’s mom? The agent of Tezcatlipoca is dead! I will forgive you, if you have breakfast. Long live Quetzalcoatl! Australia won’t capture itself, right? Long live the bright morning star! You have to apologize for what you did! If he could kill Ciro, he could kill you. And I don’t want you to die. You were not supposed to fall in love with him, Quinn. Do you v’ant to? Quinn, a growing boy needs his rest. Do you? Sorry. I v’as playing. Well, that was fun. Seth, huh? That’s a nice name. I’m going home. I’m going home and taking a bath. YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF s**t! I’m going home. I’m going home and taking a bath. Hey, Writ. Hey, a*****e. I’m going home. Heya! I’m Quinn. Yeah. The only ‘something going’ I had was with a guy who was basically destined to be my mortal enemy or some s**t. I’m going home. I’m going home. I’m going. I’m. I. . .
Red.
Orange.
Yellow.
Green.
Blue.
Indigo.
Violet.
Quinn, Vale, Writ, Fish, Tepin, Faylen, Vale, Quinn, Seth, Writ, Fish, Tepin, Faylen, Ciro, Tepin, Writ, Seth, Fish, Faylen, Quinn, Vale, Marie.
Vale, Fish, Faylen, Tepin, Quinn, Seth, Faylen, Ciro, Vale, Writ, Fish, Quinn, Vale, Marie.
Vale, Quinn, Fish, Tepin, Marie.
Quinn, Vale, Fish, Marie.
Quinn, Vale, Marie.
Vale, Marie.
Marie.
Roy.
G.
Biv.
It was all he could trust, really. All that would remain constant. The only thing that was the same. The only thing that couldn’t betray you. The only thing that couldn’t hate you. The only thing that couldn’t die. Roy G. Biv. His best friend. His truest friend. Even as the walls were covered with buckets of paint that splattered across the furniture and the carpet and the tile and himself, there was no real reason to stop. Even as his screams echoed throughout every small hallway, every corner of the house, through the walls of surrounding houses, there was no reason to stop. When he ran out of liquid paint, he got his spray cans. There was no method, there was no order. There was just color. Everywhere. Roy G. Biv. No one else mattered. Why should he pretend like they did? No one else mattered. No one. All that mattered was color. Limitless color. Everything in the world could be represented with the stroke of a brush, the spray of a can, the scratch of a pencil. Everything. Why would you need anything else? Nothing else mattered. Nothing else was necessary, nothing else was needed. No one else was needed. Just him, and his paint, and the walls, and the splatters, and the colors, and Roy G. Biv, and his only friend, and the colors, and the splatters, and the walls, and his paint, and ******** it all.
The card. That card, that damn card, and here’s what I think of your stupid card, and his paint, and him. And the card, the damn card, and the picture that will always be frozen in his memory, and Adservare et Obtegere, and his paint, and him.
“And God said, let there be light! And there was Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet.” Another slosh of paint on the wall.
“And God saw that the light was good, and God separated the light from the darkness. And there was Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet, and darkness.” Another slosh of paint on the wall.
“God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And he called Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet up on his cell and told him to watch out for Valeriu.” Another slosh of paint on the wall.
“And God said, ‘Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.’ And that’s when God stopped making any damn sense.” Another slosh of paint on the wall.
“And then God created blacksuits to ruin Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet’s life. Because he had nothing better to do.” The spray of a can.
“And then he laughed. And there was much rejoicing. Up until Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet said ‘******** you, God.’” The spray of a can.
“And there was.” An empty can.
“But what God really forgot,” The can, tossed to the floor. “Where he really, really screwed up,” Quinn, regarding his masterpiece. “Was that, when you toss all the colors together unevenly, you get s**t.” Quinn, spitting at the wall. At his creation. “Brown, shapeless, ugly, s**t.” Quinn, turning away.
“Figures.” Quinn, opening the door, and slamming it behind him.
“You can’t even trust Roy.”
“Hm,” he glanced down at a bucket that was completely empty, and knelt down to see the label. “I’m out of crimson.”
His face contorted into what could only loosely be described as a smile.
“Guess I ought’a go make some.”
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