[Text] 00.04
Babe -- we need to do that again. Real soon. ♥
By the way? Don't any of you dare go playing through room 226 of the office. That's mine. Touch it and you might not have fingers left. Just saying. Or typing. Whatever.
[The Rumor sits in a beaten up chair behind a desk of her new office, the PDA propped up in order to record what's going on, focused on the hero. A frown creases her face, words begrudging.]
I think that Doctor Horrible guy had a thing going with that blog of his. I'm not keeping this as diary -- just to record the events going on here. I'll begin with the important parts.
[At this point, she grins broadly, any melancholy leaving her face.]
My codename is The Rumor, originally 00.03, real name undisclosed. I'm part of a team called The Umbrella Academy and am one of seven of forty-three. It's basic history in my world -- it's irrelevant here.
I have the power to prevaricate -- I can bend reality with my words to make what I say come true. It comes in handy. A whole lot.
[The grin is lost and the serious face returns.]
From this point on, this will be used to record any of my findings in this place, whether they pertain to the events that brought me here or to how I manage to escape. Because believe me, Warden. I will.
I would like to add this:
I heard a rumor that should I be killed before I can return home -- and the real me dies, not some shitty copy -- then any of my unhackable entries will become viewable to anyone out there, I don't care who.
My kind don't have a long lifespan and I will not be forgotten.
[There's hesitation -- she feels like she's said too much and is unsure of how to end this. After a good half minute of silence, she starts talking again, trademark impish grin quirking at her lips.]
Rocketship.
The Rumor, over and out.
[The feed ends as she reaches out to switch the PDA off.]
((If someone's taken room 226 in the office building already, please let me know! I'll change the number of the one she's picked, if that's the case.))
By the way? Don't any of you dare go playing through room 226 of the office. That's mine. Touch it and you might not have fingers left. Just saying. Or typing. Whatever.
[The Rumor sits in a beaten up chair behind a desk of her new office, the PDA propped up in order to record what's going on, focused on the hero. A frown creases her face, words begrudging.]
I think that Doctor Horrible guy had a thing going with that blog of his. I'm not keeping this as diary -- just to record the events going on here. I'll begin with the important parts.
[At this point, she grins broadly, any melancholy leaving her face.]
My codename is The Rumor, originally 00.03, real name undisclosed. I'm part of a team called The Umbrella Academy and am one of seven of forty-three. It's basic history in my world -- it's irrelevant here.
I have the power to prevaricate -- I can bend reality with my words to make what I say come true. It comes in handy. A whole lot.
[The grin is lost and the serious face returns.]
From this point on, this will be used to record any of my findings in this place, whether they pertain to the events that brought me here or to how I manage to escape. Because believe me, Warden. I will.
I would like to add this:
I heard a rumor that should I be killed before I can return home -- and the real me dies, not some shitty copy -- then any of my unhackable entries will become viewable to anyone out there, I don't care who.
My kind don't have a long lifespan and I will not be forgotten.
[There's hesitation -- she feels like she's said too much and is unsure of how to end this. After a good half minute of silence, she starts talking again, trademark impish grin quirking at her lips.]
Rocketship.
The Rumor, over and out.
[The feed ends as she reaches out to switch the PDA off.]
((If someone's taken room 226 in the office building already, please let me know! I'll change the number of the one she's picked, if that's the case.))