"Bullshit log 2: What a load of crap. I don't feel any different, I just still feel cold. Nobody's come to give me the compensation we discussed, no call, no check in the mail. It had to have been a dream, chill be damned- it's probably some sort of mental reaction, and I don't have time for therapy. Who does? I'm just trying to work through it, fuck." 

The clicking in the background is of Archie's mouse and keyboard- he is still at work, and something in his voice says he hasn't let go of the mouse for awhile now.

"It is 1:15 am, by the way. Here I am, putting in the long hours, like I said. We had five people on the floor call out today, five, saying something about food poisoning from the snacks that got brought in. I ate those bagels, and I'm fine, but I don't have the evidence or energy to argue with them over it, even though I think they just wanted an early weekend. I'm covering their slack. At least Alex didn't call out either- can't eat gluten anyway.

And if I did have food poisoning, I mean, it's not contagious. You can still work even if you're running to the bathroom every once in awhile. It's disappointing is what it is- I don't think I've ever taken a sick day. Not at school, either, my parents would never have let that happen- the school gave me a perfect attendance award and I was proud. It was respectable. College, too, through the degrees, no award there but I was proud again anyway. I don't care about the money so much- I mean yes, the money is nice, it gets me places, but I don't have an attachment to it. I like getting work done more than anything else, and watching the systems I put into place run smoothly, seeing a schedule full and complete and balanced, that's what's important. My employees have respected me more lately, despite that little hiccup with the food poisoning. I can see it when they start working faster when I'm around- I'm proud of them, too."

Archie's voice is light and hoarse throughout the recording this time, tired, perhaps, or stunned, or both.

"What a day... Bullshit log four. 11:40 pm. I might actually need sleep tonight. There was some sort of glitch that made clients account numbers switch display places with their savings, an app update gone wrong or something, and christ, I feel like I can still hear the phones ringing even though we sorted it out. Brian sat in his office all day doing fuck-all. I swear to God I could hear him playing minigolf. Ughhh...

I guess I can call it a silver lining that I certainly got my payment from Ma'ii. Teri was slacking- I could hear George talking about it with Alex, but Alex had more important things to attend to than to pass it onto me like they normally would, because of course they were busy, EVERYBODY was busy, except Teri apparently. I needed to see him, get something to tell her to do specifically- I thought it was a stress headache until I could see her. He had a goddamn video game open. The company has a messaging app, and the first thing I did when I came back to my own senses was text her to get off Warcraft or whatever and do her fucking job. She didn't respond, but I didn't hear anything else about her. New hires.

So maybe I lost the first one. That bone-chilled feeling never went away, I realized, I just got used to it, until it sort of pulsed and calmed down before and after that. I don't know what to think."

"Bullshit log eight, 12:02 am. I know what makes me useful in the workplace. I hardly need to go into it- I'm experienced, studied, resourceful, capable. I know the system and how to fix parts that aren't running how they should, even when others can't figure it out, the solution seems obvious, if a little tiring. But I never went to school to be supernatural black ops- so what's going on? What's the criteria for people I work with?

'Called together because we're special' is a comic book answer, I need something more specific. I doubt the people running the show have made a mistake... If we're not experienced and studied (at least from the start) then is it just about capability? Capacity? Potential?"

Archie takes a sip of something, and you can hear a glass being set down on desk- definitely  not a paper cup of coffee. He's speaking faster and less clearly than usual.

"Does everyone I work with feel that same bone-chill? It's familiar now, and comfortable. Is that what makes me special?

My shots fire silent, and I can see what people far away from me are doing. It's a very useful combination, and I can see that my teammates have similarly weird abilities, and I know those are the 'rewards' the Harbingers talk about. But that doesn't tell me why. The best answer I can think of is that in some way, we all just have our uses, but I hate not being able to see the whole picture, I want to know what's going on now, I need to... I need to speak with someone. Vasili, maybe, but I don't trust him to give me a real answer. Dammit. Get- get-"

He lets out a frustrated, hissing sigh, and takes a moment to compose himself.

"I'll find out eventually. I will live to get the whole picture."

This recording, like the last one, is in French and accompanied by the beeping of medical machinery and the occasional footsteps of passing nurses and techs.

"The hoodie came in safely, as well gloves I requested, and a drawing from Izzy. I... I think she tried to draw me as an anime character. I'm still trying to make sense of that. The gloves were retrieved from Deshawn, making him, Alex, and possibly Brian (if he even realizes I'm gone) the only people who know where I am from the company. My wounds are getting better, as is my French- I've been brushing up on that and Russian in my spare time, as well as some cryptids and superstitions- it's all they'll let me do here, really, is read. I can say again that I appreciate E for the hospital bills- a stay this long would be... detrimental to my own savings. I've also gotten better at 'looking around', whatever I should call it- I can multitask, see what I'm seeing in front of me better or keep talking.

I tried to call and check on the chupacabra we captured, but they gave me some bullshit on 'Research and Development'- I can't say much, I know what they were doing there, I do that all the time. A non-answer to brush someone off; it's a respectable skill to be able to bullshit like that. Oddly enough, it makes me want to trust her and her people more.

I'll be out of the hospital soon, I'm sure. I don't think they've picked up on it yet that I know Spanish, and they talk more directly to each other- I prefer that to the customer service voice they give me, but again, I can't blame them- and I think it'll be less than a month now."

As before, this log is being recorded in a different room. Archie is heard to be accompanied by a large, very close dog.

"Bullshit log fourteen!"

If you listen closely, you might hear a woman's laugh in the background.

"I'm here! I'm in Lilith's apartment, on her couch, with her dog. Her very good pretty wonderful dog, hi baby."

The dog chuffs.

"I am here because I bought a bottle of wine and got injured and refused to be scared of blood and people who can control it, like Lilith, and it was her fault I was scared of her. However! We talked it out. I watched her heal herself with surgical precision. I watched her heal me with blood even though at the time it was very uncomfortable. Then she started pouring wine, which was delicious, and is still delicious, and had been admittedly very useful in getting me to talk with her. She gave me her notes on blood magic to read over. It's like a formula, like algebra, or code, and I can understand that. Or respect it. I can respect it more than I can understand it.

We talked about blood and Alex and why each of us are here, and we seem to be similar minded. I think I get along with her well and would like to work more with her in the future, especially if she brings Naamah... We talked about how she wants to own a house, and I gave her some references for legal associates. She demonstrated some of what she could do once I was comfortable, and eventually I had her cut my arm so I could be sure, but I think breaking these thoughts down to boxes or numbers within the formula was exactly what I needed."

Archie yawns, as does Naamah. You can hear him shift and rustle some blankets. After about 30 seconds of no speaking, the recording ends.

"Bullshit log 14.5. I have the worst hangover. Do not buy wine in small Belgian pubs."