[Voice; and accidental video.]
[The Forge clicks on, and there is fumbling before a very clear, firm female voice rings over it.]
This is Naomi Misora, formerly with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I-my current whereabouts are unknown. If there is anyone from the Japanese Task Force investigating the Kira murders listening on any channel, please acknowledge this message. [Waits.] Repeat, this is former Agent Naomi Misora of the FBI. I have valuable information concerning the Kira case in Japan. If anyone is listening in on this message, please respond.
[Finally, she sighs in defeat; unknowingly she leaves the voice communicator running, and she's activated the video component. Oops. In her defense, this isn't like a cell phone.
On the screen, she's in her trademark leather, arms crossed and glowering to herself.]
Think…think…
The last thing I remember is walking home as the snow was beginning to fall. There was...this terrible feeling of dread and hopelessness. It was like lead in my stomach.
I don't remember actually getting home, or walking in the door. But I must have…I must have. [Onscreen, she touches her neck lightly with her other hand, as if there are phantom rope burns that she can still feel.] I must have…
[The pain of dredging up the memory is too much for her, and she stops, purposefully blanking it out. The hand lifts to brush a lock of her hair over her ear.]
But now I am here, in this room, wherever here is. And just before that, I imagined there was some kind of stone archway, with pictures flickering in and out…it could have been my imagination, though.
Here, in this building, there is no one I know around me.
Is this some sort of…afterlife? If this is what I am resigned to, it is going to be a very lonely existence.
This is Naomi Misora, formerly with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I-my current whereabouts are unknown. If there is anyone from the Japanese Task Force investigating the Kira murders listening on any channel, please acknowledge this message. [Waits.] Repeat, this is former Agent Naomi Misora of the FBI. I have valuable information concerning the Kira case in Japan. If anyone is listening in on this message, please respond.
[Finally, she sighs in defeat; unknowingly she leaves the voice communicator running, and she's activated the video component. Oops. In her defense, this isn't like a cell phone.
On the screen, she's in her trademark leather, arms crossed and glowering to herself.]
Think…think…
The last thing I remember is walking home as the snow was beginning to fall. There was...this terrible feeling of dread and hopelessness. It was like lead in my stomach.
I don't remember actually getting home, or walking in the door. But I must have…I must have. [Onscreen, she touches her neck lightly with her other hand, as if there are phantom rope burns that she can still feel.] I must have…
[The pain of dredging up the memory is too much for her, and she stops, purposefully blanking it out. The hand lifts to brush a lock of her hair over her ear.]
But now I am here, in this room, wherever here is. And just before that, I imagined there was some kind of stone archway, with pictures flickering in and out…it could have been my imagination, though.
Here, in this building, there is no one I know around me.
Is this some sort of…afterlife? If this is what I am resigned to, it is going to be a very lonely existence.