[>>video]

[Takeshi was pretty bad. Two weeks ago, he'd been under the heaviest effects of a mask he hadn't wanted in the first place—and yet it drove him into the darker hallways, made him leave 'missing' posters of loved ones, cry all alone, hurt people... He felt so badly about that. Lately he's kept mostly to his comm, but he's finally roaming freely again. He hasn't regained the same confidence he used to have... and it would be quite an effort from him to rekindle the magic his father spawned. It certainly doesn't help that he's still sheepish around his own friends, fleeting around unintentionally impending figures.


But things are better.

The screen turns on to reveal a hallway floor—the whirring little contraption that appears to be on screen is one of those good ol' roomba self-cleaning robots, rolling away from the boy holding the comm. He's following it, almost cinematically (most definitely, even). Meanwhile, Takeshi makes exploding noises with his mouth, swerving this way and that. The audio isn't distant, but it's not spoken at the screen. He didn't have the intention to film it, really, but there's only so many things he can use as a jet plane screen.]

Mecha-godzilla is getting away!! Pshrrr!! Whirrwhirr! Blam! If we make a shrink ray, we can stop him from stepping on people! Crak-cow!!

[It cuts a few times, leaving broken-up pieces of a child's imaginary game. One short excerpt is in his (much cleaner) room, where he's set up cans. He's apparently taken the roomba robot ransom, and has it topple cans he's collected over time. Finally the video cuts out entirely for a while, and an hour or two later, there's an audio entry. On purpose, this time.]

[>>voice]

I...



[Okay, it's not that easy like it was before. He has to muster up what he wants to say. He's been thinking of how to do this for a while now...]

I was bad. I should've listened and made the mask go away... I should've been good. I promise I'll try my best now; I'll be someone good. 'Cus dad's always watching... in—[he slaps his hand over his chest, unseen on the audio-only reply] in my heart, he'll always be there for me, so I have to make him proud. I have to make all my friends proud.

If you have friends, you should... 'stick with them'. It's really important.

I'm sorry if I hurt them before, when they tried to help...

[shuffle. silence.]

... I'm really sorry.

[mainly for you, kazama. he's not sure if you even wanna be his friend or talk to him anymore...]

[ a lone figure stands in the Oxygen Gardens (one of the higher floors) surrounded by trees that shadow and shield him as much as holding his back to the camera does. his celestial bronze sword is out and every time his wrist moves, his feet shuffle or the wind sways him, the blade glints. he's wearing cargo shorts and a Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, though his dark hoody blots out the bright orange. his voice (when he speaks) isn't louder than it needs to be, no more than his sneaker cracking twigs. ] A long time ago, I believed the gods had everything figured out.

They had misguided intentions because they couldn't directly interfere but they were trying; to be better, to do better than before. [ his head drops, heavy on his neck and his shoulders. ] But what's the point in being able to predict the future if you keep repeating the same mistakes? If you're so detached from the world that you can't be involved in it, that you can't stop a blade of grass from dying, let alone a person? What's the point of living forever [ he lowers his sword, sinks the tip into earth, glares down at it like it's the root of his problems ] if the only thing you're going to do - if the only thing you can do - is pat someone on the shoulder and shove them into harm's way, time and time again, to do your dirty work?

[ he's not drunk; he doesn't drink. but what he's saying, the conclusions he's uttering are almost out of his control, gone before he can pull them back. they're everything he's ever thought but never intended to say out loud, where he can't pretend it doesn't bother him, that it doesn't keep him awake at night. ] If your only purpose is to safeguard your family but you can't even do that right, what's the point?

[ Anaklusmos shreds grass when he rips it from the ground and he turns, looks into the camera and in the little burrowed patch that's half branch overhang but with a large enough field for one or two people to train in, it's dark enough to obscure his face but light enough to play tricks. is there- is that armor on his face . . . or? (or is he like so many others lately, fallen prey to a mask?) it doesn't matter because the feed times out when he adjusts his sword arm (rolls out an ache in his shoulder) prepared to swing at a dummy that's certainly seen better days, considering it's slanting off a pole, splitting on one side, half an arm missing and it looks suspiciously like its head (compiled of sheets and other miscellaneous gathered goods) is about to fall off. ]

[When she clicks on the device, she at least doesn't look all too bothered or off-guard. In fact, she looks perfectly in control of the situation. But talking on the phone is kind of a prerequisite for secretaries, so maybe that's not so surprising.]

I like the iPhone. Very classy, very sci-fi.

[That was clearly a necessary comment because how she feels about this new phone is very important, take notes, all of you viewers at home--]

But yikes, space, huh? 'For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea'--I'd quote Star Trek but I'm sure someone has beaten me to that one, so I won't. You can thank me later.

[She arches an eyebrow, eyes flicking to the ceiling temporarily.]

Hello, fellow space-kidnappees. I'm Donna, and I've heard rumors that this is an addendum to my job now, so if a certain Mike Ross or Harvey Specter have caused you any emotional trauma, please let me know.

[A slightly faux, very amused grin.]

Thanks!

[She'd better get a raise for this--

But she does have something of greater use to make this for though honestly she's curious about Yoga Club but hey. Later. Business first.]

I'd also like to inquire into the various departments here, if anyone would like to enlighten me. I've heard rumor of security, agriculture, science...But I don't know much more than that. Yet. Give a lady a hand?

[She would appreciate information so much, you don't even know. She might even want to help once she knows a bit more and because wow Edgeworth is such an earnest puppy, she's legitimately curious.

But the tilt of her head is entirely thoughtful and more than a little amused.]