Statement taken directly from subject on July 30th, 10:00 AM sharp, Pumpkin Hollow. Statement begins.
"Hahahahaha, hahaha...ha...I've been trying to figure out where to even start since we arranged this meeting! No one here seems to understand things that seem obvious to me, but - well, Madam Princess Zelda said - she - I think I've got something for you! It's just gonna be a bit of a hike!" Jean had asked for tea for this interview, and now stirs their cup - black, there's nothing to stir into it, and yet - with a distant expression in their wide eyes. That resting slasher smile hasn't been on their face this whole time.
They're grappling with something big enough that its mere motion is knocking over the shelves in their mind. Maybe this will help. They hope this will help.
"...The thing you have to understand about the City is we talk about it like it's carved into Districts that are ruled by the Wings of the World, the corporations that govern us, but that's not quite right! Every District is surrounded by the Backstreets, those parts of the City no Wing claims, and it gets...it gets...it's bad there, Agent Jon. There's not enough food and resources to go around. You get blackouts! Usually you grow up under the governance of one of the Syndicates but they're, hahaha, they're...they're fun..." The spoon clinks as Jean stirs slowly, one finger on the end of it to make a smooth and regular motion. "For three hours a day in the dead of the night there's the Night on the Backstreets, when all crimes are legal by writ of the Head. No matter who supposedly owns the place, or sets the taboos, Syndicate or Wing or what have you, it's all legal, and if you try to report whatever happens? The Head takes you. You just die, screaming. It's always screaming, for hours and hours..."
Their free hand is tapping the table. That motion is far less regular, far less controlled. Every now and again Jean twitches, and every time they do they try out a sunny smile, the effect somewhat spoiled by all those strangely sharp teeth.
"All that's just context! People will do anything to get off the Backstreets! I know I sure did! To work for a Wing, and live in their Nest, never go hungry again, not just get your organs harvested so someone else can make rent - that's the dream, right? And I did it! I signed up with Lobotomy Corporation - L-Corp - and moved into Nest L, and there was just, so much, so much going on all the time. The food, everywhere, people going to and from their jobs without getting attacked in the streets, the bars - the karaoke! Oh I miss that! I haven't done karaoke in...doesn't matter, I suppose."
Jean clears their throat. Their normally manic voice is slowly dipping down, becoming pained, if still very energetic. Those wide eyes slide past Jon's shoulder, and stare into the wall. "I was...hahahaha, ha, I was so feral when I signed up! Surviving the Backstreets makes you tough as hell, don't get me wrong, but L-Corp's Agents were a whole different level, guys were tougher than some Fixers - uh." An interruption in the pained recollection as Jean realizes they've dropped another Proper Noun. "Fixers are...they're...warriors for hire? Mercenaries is sorta the right word except not every Fixer Office owns an army, is the thing! And not all of them act like it! But if you take money in the City to fight things and people, you get really good at it or you fucking die! Anyway, they trained me up. It was nuts! They even had guns, and those cost a fortune! I could sell my whole house in the Nest and buy one bullet and still need to get the gun! And here L-Corp was spending bullets like water to teach us how to parry them!"
The stirring pauses, and Jean looks down at the tea.
The stirring resumes, and their eyes slide back to the exact same spot on the wall. "L-Corp was a power company, providing energy to the entire City, and I was an Agent in the Disciplinary Team. Every department had a set of Abnormalities, these...they're not people, not even the ones that really, really seem like people, but 'things' doesn't sound right either. All kinds of shapes and sizes. Trees and spiders, self-styled 'magical girls', headless suits of armor, plants...the birds...the birds were awful. They all need things, want things, do things that they shouldn't be able to do, and if you put them in the right kind of cell, and develop the right kind of relationship with them, they produce Enkephalin, and L-Corp turned that into cheap, clean electricity. Sometimes that just means taking care of them like a pet - feed them, water them, clean their cell, some of 'em really love that. Sometimes it means getting a personal relationship with them, you, you listen to their stories, or share your own, you hug someone that seems like a sad girl, or, or give 'em advice, whatever. Some of 'em just want to be studied! Isn't that weird? Super happy just for you to walk in with lab instruments and go to town. And. Sometimes they need to be repressed. Talked down to, beaten, restrained, denied...I was good at that job. Repression work. Must be the Backstreets, huh? Ha...ha..."
The spoon wobbles. Jean closes their eyes and exhales slowly and gently, then breathes in deep. Their eyes open again. "...Electricity isn't the only thing L-Corp derived from Abnormalities though. Hike's over, Agent Jon, we've arrived where I was going with this. The Enkephalin could be used, somehow, I never knew how, to manufacture E.G.O. equipment - weapons, and armor in the City style. That stuff handles like a dream! Every Agent eventually had their own set that they wore, and boy, we needed it! It helped us survive! It always fit perfectly, always comfortable, and some of it just, it did things, above and beyond the other things it did. Some of those weapons could carve up the body like it was gelatin, some of them attacked the mind directly, some would decay both...and then there's PALE damage..." A full-body shudder. "...Mine was Crimson Scar, derived from the Little Red Riding Hooded Mercenary. Little Red. How to even..."
"...Abnormalities aren't people. Not even the ones that seem like people. Little Red really seemed like people. This young lady with a rough voice, always wearing her red hood and her armor and this mask decorated with wolf teeth that only showed one yellow eye. I was assigned to handle her in day to day operations. Easy to get along with, really, she's...a professional? Little Red had no grudge about being in our cell, even got authorized to help us with containment breaches! What a sight! Red could carve her way through other horrors, cash out her Enkephalin paycheck, and walk right back to her cell! Just um. You gotta not stand in front of her. Little Red doesn't understand friendly fire. Or. Maybe. She does. I never...never did ask..."
The stirring stops. Jean goes to pick up their tea, and they just...can't. Eventually they give up and resume stirring it, breathing shakily. "She had this relationship, with another Abnormality, the Big And Will Be Bad Wolf. Said it had maimed her as a child, and she hated it. If it ever broke loose, she'd breach containment too and hunt it down. Get anywhere near that fight and you'll just die. If they'd been outside...the collateral was bad enough in the facility. I learned to hate it too, at first. She talked about...she'd always be saying, 'I've been grinding this axe instead of picking flowers since I was sixteen'. I made a mistake, hahaha, I thought...I thought she was a person. But they're not people."
"Wanna know how I know?"
"I was given the first set of E.G.O. derived from Little Red, Crimson Scar. Two parts, a copy of her weapons, and a suit a lot like her armor. Moved like a dream, and if you pair them together you get faster, faster and faster, you can run to a fight like you're flying! The gun and sickle meant I could join a fight from far away and then get in close and protect people! I loved that. I miss it. The weapons here are...the equipment is so bad. I'd do just about anything to get a real City weapon! But I hadn't been paying attention to the company literature."
"She talked to me, when I wore her E.G.O., is the thing. All the time. Her angry voice in my head, talking, always talking. 'Look how they're hurting your friends'. 'Take your revenge, kill them, kill them again and again, make it hurt a new way every time'. She hated. That's all Little Red really was, is the thing, hate. Whatever made her, whatever happened to her, she's just hate and anger and sorrow and she wanted me to, to be like her, she'd talk about my life on the Backstreets, every wrong an Abnormality ever did to me or my co-workers, every time, her voice, in my - in my fucking head -"
Jean spills the tea when their hand twitches. They don't seem to even notice. "...I wore Crimson Scar until the end of my employment, Agent Jon. Clock in. Fight Little Red about who I am. Fight Abnormalities. Meet my quotas. Clock out. Clock in. Fight Little Red..."
Statement of Agent Jean, Pumpkin Hollow Recovery Task Force, regarding workplace dress code policy
"Hahahahaha, hahaha...ha...I've been trying to figure out where to even start since we arranged this meeting! No one here seems to understand things that seem obvious to me, but - well, Madam Princess Zelda said - she - I think I've got something for you! It's just gonna be a bit of a hike!" Jean had asked for tea for this interview, and now stirs their cup - black, there's nothing to stir into it, and yet - with a distant expression in their wide eyes. That resting slasher smile hasn't been on their face this whole time.
They're grappling with something big enough that its mere motion is knocking over the shelves in their mind. Maybe this will help. They hope this will help.
"...The thing you have to understand about the City is we talk about it like it's carved into Districts that are ruled by the Wings of the World, the corporations that govern us, but that's not quite right! Every District is surrounded by the Backstreets, those parts of the City no Wing claims, and it gets...it gets...it's bad there, Agent Jon. There's not enough food and resources to go around. You get blackouts! Usually you grow up under the governance of one of the Syndicates but they're, hahaha, they're...they're fun..." The spoon clinks as Jean stirs slowly, one finger on the end of it to make a smooth and regular motion. "For three hours a day in the dead of the night there's the Night on the Backstreets, when all crimes are legal by writ of the Head. No matter who supposedly owns the place, or sets the taboos, Syndicate or Wing or what have you, it's all legal, and if you try to report whatever happens? The Head takes you. You just die, screaming. It's always screaming, for hours and hours..."
Their free hand is tapping the table. That motion is far less regular, far less controlled. Every now and again Jean twitches, and every time they do they try out a sunny smile, the effect somewhat spoiled by all those strangely sharp teeth.
"All that's just context! People will do anything to get off the Backstreets! I know I sure did! To work for a Wing, and live in their Nest, never go hungry again, not just get your organs harvested so someone else can make rent - that's the dream, right? And I did it! I signed up with Lobotomy Corporation - L-Corp - and moved into Nest L, and there was just, so much, so much going on all the time. The food, everywhere, people going to and from their jobs without getting attacked in the streets, the bars - the karaoke! Oh I miss that! I haven't done karaoke in...doesn't matter, I suppose."
Jean clears their throat. Their normally manic voice is slowly dipping down, becoming pained, if still very energetic. Those wide eyes slide past Jon's shoulder, and stare into the wall. "I was...hahahaha, ha, I was so feral when I signed up! Surviving the Backstreets makes you tough as hell, don't get me wrong, but L-Corp's Agents were a whole different level, guys were tougher than some Fixers - uh." An interruption in the pained recollection as Jean realizes they've dropped another Proper Noun. "Fixers are...they're...warriors for hire? Mercenaries is sorta the right word except not every Fixer Office owns an army, is the thing! And not all of them act like it! But if you take money in the City to fight things and people, you get really good at it or you fucking die! Anyway, they trained me up. It was nuts! They even had guns, and those cost a fortune! I could sell my whole house in the Nest and buy one bullet and still need to get the gun! And here L-Corp was spending bullets like water to teach us how to parry them!"
The stirring pauses, and Jean looks down at the tea.
The stirring resumes, and their eyes slide back to the exact same spot on the wall. "L-Corp was a power company, providing energy to the entire City, and I was an Agent in the Disciplinary Team. Every department had a set of Abnormalities, these...they're not people, not even the ones that really, really seem like people, but 'things' doesn't sound right either. All kinds of shapes and sizes. Trees and spiders, self-styled 'magical girls', headless suits of armor, plants...the birds...the birds were awful. They all need things, want things, do things that they shouldn't be able to do, and if you put them in the right kind of cell, and develop the right kind of relationship with them, they produce Enkephalin, and L-Corp turned that into cheap, clean electricity. Sometimes that just means taking care of them like a pet - feed them, water them, clean their cell, some of 'em really love that. Sometimes it means getting a personal relationship with them, you, you listen to their stories, or share your own, you hug someone that seems like a sad girl, or, or give 'em advice, whatever. Some of 'em just want to be studied! Isn't that weird? Super happy just for you to walk in with lab instruments and go to town. And. Sometimes they need to be repressed. Talked down to, beaten, restrained, denied...I was good at that job. Repression work. Must be the Backstreets, huh? Ha...ha..."
The spoon wobbles. Jean closes their eyes and exhales slowly and gently, then breathes in deep. Their eyes open again. "...Electricity isn't the only thing L-Corp derived from Abnormalities though. Hike's over, Agent Jon, we've arrived where I was going with this. The Enkephalin could be used, somehow, I never knew how, to manufacture E.G.O. equipment - weapons, and armor in the City style. That stuff handles like a dream! Every Agent eventually had their own set that they wore, and boy, we needed it! It helped us survive! It always fit perfectly, always comfortable, and some of it just, it did things, above and beyond the other things it did. Some of those weapons could carve up the body like it was gelatin, some of them attacked the mind directly, some would decay both...and then there's PALE damage..." A full-body shudder. "...Mine was Crimson Scar, derived from the Little Red Riding Hooded Mercenary. Little Red. How to even..."
"...Abnormalities aren't people. Not even the ones that seem like people. Little Red really seemed like people. This young lady with a rough voice, always wearing her red hood and her armor and this mask decorated with wolf teeth that only showed one yellow eye. I was assigned to handle her in day to day operations. Easy to get along with, really, she's...a professional? Little Red had no grudge about being in our cell, even got authorized to help us with containment breaches! What a sight! Red could carve her way through other horrors, cash out her Enkephalin paycheck, and walk right back to her cell! Just um. You gotta not stand in front of her. Little Red doesn't understand friendly fire. Or. Maybe. She does. I never...never did ask..."
The stirring stops. Jean goes to pick up their tea, and they just...can't. Eventually they give up and resume stirring it, breathing shakily. "She had this relationship, with another Abnormality, the Big And Will Be Bad Wolf. Said it had maimed her as a child, and she hated it. If it ever broke loose, she'd breach containment too and hunt it down. Get anywhere near that fight and you'll just die. If they'd been outside...the collateral was bad enough in the facility. I learned to hate it too, at first. She talked about...she'd always be saying, 'I've been grinding this axe instead of picking flowers since I was sixteen'. I made a mistake, hahaha, I thought...I thought she was a person. But they're not people."
"Wanna know how I know?"
"I was given the first set of E.G.O. derived from Little Red, Crimson Scar. Two parts, a copy of her weapons, and a suit a lot like her armor. Moved like a dream, and if you pair them together you get faster, faster and faster, you can run to a fight like you're flying! The gun and sickle meant I could join a fight from far away and then get in close and protect people! I loved that. I miss it. The weapons here are...the equipment is so bad. I'd do just about anything to get a real City weapon! But I hadn't been paying attention to the company literature."
"She talked to me, when I wore her E.G.O., is the thing. All the time. Her angry voice in my head, talking, always talking. 'Look how they're hurting your friends'. 'Take your revenge, kill them, kill them again and again, make it hurt a new way every time'. She hated. That's all Little Red really was, is the thing, hate. Whatever made her, whatever happened to her, she's just hate and anger and sorrow and she wanted me to, to be like her, she'd talk about my life on the Backstreets, every wrong an Abnormality ever did to me or my co-workers, every time, her voice, in my - in my fucking head -"
Jean spills the tea when their hand twitches. They don't seem to even notice. "...I wore Crimson Scar until the end of my employment, Agent Jon. Clock in. Fight Little Red about who I am. Fight Abnormalities. Meet my quotas. Clock out. Clock in. Fight Little Red..."
"...And I...still want Crimson Scar back. I'm weak now. I can't. Protect anyone."
Statement ends.