Mask or Menace ☂ IC Phone Post

[numberthree]

INBOX Voice | Text | Call | Video | Surprise Me A flat computer automated voice comes on and states in monotone: "This is the voicemail box for Allison Hargreeves. Leave a message at the beep."

Luther

Diego

Klaus

Five

Ben

Vanya

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[numberthree]

[ Allison is busy ignoring the flies buzzing around her. Leaned back in a barely padded chair, as disassociated from her skin as she gets really. Patience is virtue she long ago learned she had no option with. She's gotten used to the Mental Network, both as a convenient distraction already behind her eyelids, accessible even more easily than pulling out a tablet. See can do most things without anyone noticing.

Still, Allison sat up fast, suddenly raising her hands and waving away the hands with wands and applicators in her vision. Staring at only those words written across her vision and nothing else. ]

When? How?

[ Maybe even more importantly. ]

Where are you?

[obediences]

The same way as always. How else?

[ The Porter, with all its goddamn whims, taking and giving and taking. Luther's accustomed to rolling with the punches, but he's getting tired of this particular blow. ]

I'm on my way home. Their usernames are deactivated on the network; I even swung by their apartment to double-check. Gone.