Emma-Sophia Mondegreen, AKA Kathleen Schrödinger (Floccinaucinihilipilification)

Name: Emma-Sophia Mondegreen
Alias: Kathleen Schrödinger
Blog: Floccinaucinihilipilification
Details of Death: See "Messenger's Report" below.

From "Messenger's Report" on Floccinaucinihilipilification:

This is not going to be pleasant.

I’m here to report the death of Emma-Sofia "Kathleen Schrödinger" Mondegreen.  She died...sometime within the past few days. Thursday evening is our best guess. As I’m sure all of you reading her blog know, she was being held hostage by a certain “Cheshire,” and he proposed a little “game” to determine her fate.  Only problem was, he had five aces and he dealt us a hand of Monopoly money.  He never intended to honor his deal.

Cheshire just sort of disappeared, and a few of our Agents went in after him to check out what had happened.  They found a note in her apartment directing them to the cellar of a library…the same one, if I’m not mistaken, that Schrödinger mentioned in her post that featured my own blog.  Funny how those things work out sometimes.

When the Agents got to the cellar, Cheshire was already gone.  So was Schrödinger.  They…didn’t find a body.  Technically.  I can still, unfortunately, report with all certainty that Schrödinger is dead, because while there was no body, there was still a head.

There were also bones.  Bones that we’ve managed to identify as belonging to Schrödinger.  Bones that…how do I even put this?

The bones were covered in bite marks. Human bite marks. I’ll give that a moment to sink in.

I’m not usually one to pay final respects.  Sure I’ll make observations or post any final wishes that may exist, but final, parting words to the deceased?  It’s unprofessional and it requires getting attached to the victim.  But I guess there are exceptions for everything.

Kathleen, you made me smile.  You convinced me that, no matter how dark things get, it’s possible to remain optimistic.  You made me, and I’m sure so many others, curious.  But they’ve opened up the box, and I guess that same curiosity is what killed the Kat.  But you live on.  If not in their hearts, then in mine.  And for you to be able to impact someone who’s technically your enemy as much as you have?  Well, it’s an understatement to say that you’ll be missed.  No one deserves to go like this. But you least of all.

Blog's over.  Move along, people.  Nothing more to see.

 From "They've Opened the Box" on Don't Shoot The Messenger:

I'm not going to do

the whole post like this.

I just can't 

do it justice.

But the beginning?

That much

I can try.

Balance.

Let me make one thing clear...there aren't many of you that I actually give half a shit about.  So the fact that this is actually hard for me to write up...well, let's just say that it should give you a sense of how much of an impact Schrödinger tended to make on people.

Emma-Sofia "Kathleen Schrödinger" Mondegreen.  She's...dead.  Check the report.

I can't type it out again.  And if I could, I don't want it on my blog where I'd have to be reminded of it.

At the risk of being called a Quisling or Benedict Arnold or teamkiller...I would love nothing more than that Cheshire bastard's death right now.

Raymond Shaughnessy, AKA Reach (What You Are In The Dark)

Name: Raymond Shaughnessy
Alias: Reach
Blog: What You Are In The Dark
Details of Death: Died approximately April 29, 2011.  See details of Ava's posts below for information regarding the details of death.

From "Reach is Out" on Don't Shoot The Messenger:

Well, another one has fallen.  Reach.  Raymond Shaughnessy.  Irishman tricked into believing he had superpowers.  For a while, everything he knew was a lie.

He had a kid.  Has a kid.  ...Will have a kid.  I don't know if it's a son or daughter, and I don't know if the mother does either.  But hey, there's one bit of solace.  Reach is gone, but his kid will live on.  Hopefully.  From what I hear, Robert's trying to do everything he can to make sure of that.

He was a figurehead.  He was a hero.  He decided that he didn't want to work for The Boss anymore, and quit in the most spectacular fashion possible.

He was also just a kid.  Only seventeen years old.  That's younger than me.  And he and another kid were thrust into this together.  This shouldn't have happened to them.  This shouldn't happen to any of us.

Reach is living testimony that those of us working for The Boss are human, and can genuinely care about you guys (even if, like me, we refuse to switch sides).  He showed that, even in darkness, there is some light.

Goodbye, Reach.  It would have been an honor to sign you off.  Too bad that librarian bitch beat me to it.  Stupid cruddy connection cutting out on me.

And no, Ava, that was not affectionate teasing.  You're a bitch.  I understand that this sucks, yeah.  But grow up.  Get over it.

So to end on a more positive note, let's all remember Reach again.  A brave kid in way over his head.  We'll miss you, buddy.  And we'll always, always remember to

Reach Out.

From an untitled post on The London Librarian and "No Reply" on What You Are In The Dark:

I swore to myself that I wouldn’t fucking post here again. On this stupid blog. But I can’t just leave it and there’s no-one left to help me record things.

Ray is dead. I can’t process it. I can’t believe it. It’s so open ended... We were in the Magna, one of us keeping an eye on the entrance at all times, when we heard voices. Ray knew who they were straight off the bat, shoved me out of the way and stood infront of me. I scrabbled around a little before getting to my feet and seeing the two. Eulogy and Hammer. I knew their names from Ray's introduction I guess you could say it was. It was more of a mock casual greeting, I guess.

Of course then we turned tail and ran like hell, because I'm pregnant and Ray's human. It didn't work. Like, at all. When Ray'd shoved me out of the way, the two of us lost sight of the entrance. So it wasn't there. Like a fucking Weeping Angel. It buggered off the second it could. And of course the other two were like fucking Olympic sprinters and that bloody moron had to go and be chivalrous and tell me to "Run as he held them off." I really wanted to hit him then. But I realised something. I'm thinking for two. I can't be so reckless anymore. I can't...stand up for myself.

So I let him. I let him "Fend them off" while I fled like fucking Brave Sir Robin.

I had an enjoyable half hour/hour/month/decade trying to find the entrance again, because my senses were skewing themselves left right and center. I could smell and taste things that weren't there, feel things, see things. But I found it. I think it's more a case of wanting it and knowing that this is how the place works. I didn't exit though. I just sort of...hung about in the gap. I think I heard gunshots at a point, but it was so echoey and merely dropping a pencil could get that loud after a while...

Ray came stumbling out from a corner a way away about an hour later, something like that. His arm was bleeding heavily and he was clutching it, when he saw me he smiled a little and

And then there was this thick fog behind him and it made the air smell so strongly you could taste it. It tasted like novocaine.

The fog solidified into tentacles and thrashed around the narrow corridor we were in, I only realised that they'd pulled Ray back into the fog, where I couldn't see him after a minute. I think the fog did more than just TASTE like novocaine. I think they really did numb you...to your own brain screaming at you to flee.

He was screaming, Tony. He was fucking screaming his lungs out. And I felt rain on my face. I ran. I turned and fucking ran for my life, for my baby's life, for my sanity...

He can't be dead. It's too open-ended.

Even though I know he is, because I have Ray’s blood on my face.

I can’t wash it off. In some strange way it’s all I have left of him, so instead I’m left staring at myself in the mirror over the sink, hands bracing themselves for when I throw up. I never do. I’m too numb still. I don’t know if this has something to do with my coma, Redlight's fucking about in my head and it’s repercussions on my emotions, or if believing Ray dead once before was all my mind and body could take. Now it’s happened a second time and I can’t even think anything other than white noise. There’s nothing in my head. Usually there’s something in my mind, something going about, something that needs testing or doing or going to. I just can’t think like that right now, but there’s no grief either. I honestly don’t think I can mourn Ray again.

It fucked me up too much the first time round.

So I’ll stand at my mirror and stare at the blood on my face, and sometime soon , I’ll wash it off. I’ll say a final goodbye.

And then I'll be damned if I don't reassess my priorities. Because I’m staying in Egypt now.

My Anorexic Associate didn't just rip out Ray's heart.

...I found this when I went to post this on Ray's blog. He seems to have written it a few weeks ago. Stupid soppy cunt. (His fucking password was "spesproreliquo", for fuck's sake.)

Turtle's Notes #1

I should have actually written this up at first instead of writing it up now and backdating it.

Turtle is feeling all upturned tonight.  He'll update this thing tomorrow.  It basically boils down to a lot of the same things in the "About" page.  That's a good place to start reading.