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[aluminumandash]

we love minimalism in this house (that's why there's no furniture)

RE419S

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audio | day 7

[salamanca]

[ This messages comes on early Day 7, while he's hiding. ]

Hey. Hey! Detective, pick up. It's me, Ben.

[aluminumandash]

[ A curt: ] Yeah?

[salamanca]

[ Charming as always, Detective. Fortunately, Lalo is undeterred.

Lalo's breathing on the other end of the walkie is labored. His voice is intent, almost commanding, different from how Rust has ever heard him before. His Mexican accent, although still faint, is a little stronger than usual. ]

Listen to me. I'm gonna need you to tell everybody to stay away from the area between the river just south of the drone building where Martin was held and the northeast coast where you were held. You copy? Stay away from [ repeats where he's at ].

Somebody doesn't want visitors.

call | later on morning 008

[salamanca]

[ this comes a few hours after the last text. it's "ben", again. his voice is raspy, and soft, but there's something harsh and jagged about the way he speaks; he sounds pissed. this, too, is different from anything rust has probably ever heard from him over the network. ]

Who the hell do you think you are? Telling everybody my business?

[ Hang on, he's gotta goofy-post some emojis and shit to distract everybody before he calls back immediately again to hiss at you. ]

You were just supposed to tell them to stay out of the area! Asshole! [ It sounds like he spit on the ground in anger.

Then he disconnects and goes back to posting random emoji shit at people. ]

[aluminumandash]

[ Well, this is unexpected. He's not sure what the fuck de Guzman's up to on the walkie—if he dwells on the thought of so many people standing around punching buttons in the middle of the fucking jungle it'll do his head in—but the other man hadn't seemed angry. Manic, sure.

Rust's voice is level. ] Figured it'd serve as a deterrent.

[salamanca]

[ Lalo's voice is harsh and ragged. He's quiet for some time. He tries to calm himself, take deep breaths. Remember his cover.

Why is he even bothering with that again? He'd thought initially that Fring might have something to do with this — the Chicken Man has friends in high places — but it's become readily apparent to him that's not the case for a while now. Why cling to a stupid fake identity?

There are a lot of reasons, but in his rage and frustration he considers ripping off the mask right then and there. But he doesn't.

He wants to call Tio. He wants to tell Tio what happened. He wants to say he's sorry he almost died before he could get proof — he'll be more careful, he'll help the other people on the island so they can help him get off the island too, he'll do what he has to do — but he can't call Tio. His cell phone is back but he can't call Tio. Or anyone. He can't call any of the cousins either. Ignacio is a traitor.

Cohle, he realizes, is the only person he actually trust here. Cohle did make the post for him, after all. Cohle listened to him die.

Deep breath. He realizes he's clenching the walkie so hard it almost breaks. He releases his grip.

The levelness of Cohle's voice helps. He's not angry but he's not giving in and getting intimidated either. ]

Okay, okay. [ Breathe. Swallow. His breathing is still ragged, but he's trying to calm himself. ] Fine. Okay. Si entiendo. [ That's the other thing!!! He wants to speak Spanish! He misses Spanish! But De Guzman is an American; of Mexican descent, yes, but still an American. ]

He shot me with my own gun. My own gun! He called me — [ Lalo's voice trails off. They both know what he was called. Lalo doesn't want to repeat it. ]

SS572S | VOICE | D010 or wheneverrrr.

[2199]

Romeo-Echo-Four-One-Niner-Sierra, this is Sierra-Sierra-Five-Seven-Two-Sierra, do you read me? Over.

[aluminumandash]

[ In an unhurried drawl: ] Yeah, I read you.

[2199]

I was told you spent some time in a bunker. Man-made, built before our arrival?

SU818C | text | night 017 (1/2)

[glencolans]

ffffffff

(2/2)

[glencolans]

u on the beech?

[aluminumandash]

[ No, but enough people are that— ] Yeah but Ive got cover.

JR005X | audio | n018;

[1797]

Hello? [It's tired.] Is anyone there?

[And, tacked on as an afterthought:] Over.

text | RE419S

[salamanca]

[ Even though Lalo is texting, this is coming from Rust's device, aka RE419S, the callsign Ren sent the message to. ]

Roger.

State your name and nature of business. Over.

[ It's a young-sounding voice, although gauging exact age over the walkies is tough. Slightly exhausted, but not panicking.

It'll be interesting to see how they respond to this. Their callsign, Lalo notes, wasn't there so many days ago. ]

[1797]

[His name? Fuck that.

He doesn't really want to switch to text, tired as he is, but he also refuses to give more of himself than he's getting from a total stranger.]

what does "sangre por sangre" mean to you?

text; night 17

[cactusy]

sniped again. you guys ok?

[aluminumandash]

[ Rust is no longer in charge of his own walkie, or his gun, or for that matter his hands. When de Guzman takes off the cuffs he's sure to rub his wrists, act relieved. He seems like the kind of motherfucker who'll like that.

After five minutes of back-and-forth with his captor about wording and specificity, Rust sends: ] You were gone for days.

Text | Day 018 | LO431Y

[lonelynotforsaken]

Hi, Cohle!
How are you holding up?
Things are pretty bad out there with the storm.
And I’ve heard from a couple of people now that Ben’s still not in a great way when they’ve met up with you two.
Are you trying to get him away from the area where he died?

[aluminumandash]

[ The walkie gets tossed Rust’s way, accompanied by a shit-eating grin and something about people skills. As soon as he gets his hands on it he’s not listening, he’s reading. ]

Martin! Sorry I haven’t been in touch. [ Maybe if he opens with an apology—after flat out refusing to give one before—Martin’ll twig something’s up. ] Ben’s calmed down. I think he likes playing house.

Day 18; AK324N

[wingbound]

[ He still has some reservations about using this "network" thing, but, well. He's already called someone (a moment of weakness, really, some terrified kid about to be hit by a storm), so it can be traced back to him now anyway... and Randvi said that this person might have valuable information about the trigger-happy locals, which would be immensely helpful if he hopes to get any scouting done and not get an arrow in his skull for the effort. ]

[ That's where he got the callsign, too. Of course, he doesn't know who this is, so he figures he's not going to send a voice message just in case it's somebody capable of recognizing him. Instead, he'll painstakingly type out a message, which takes him an obscene amount of time, but luckily, there's not exactly much else to do during the storm. Also it's funnier if there's a chance it's not immediately clear he's one of them-- ]

What do you know about the cabin north east

[salamanca]

[ Lalo's eyes open with interest at this message. Lalo remembers this callsign. He tried to contact this callsign. They ignored him.

He squints thoughtfully. Glances at Cohle next to him. The shrieking winds are relegated to the back of his mind as he zeroes in on who this person might be, what they might want.

They're asking about the cabin. The cabin. His cabin.

Why? Is this a tourist, like himself and the detective? One of the Glencolans? Someone else?

Only one way to find out. ]

Depends who's asking.

TO994M; text; day 28

[cactusy]

VL1 says she's seeing destructive swarms of crabs over by the airfield. You getting anything like that?

[aluminumandash]

[ He doesn't hear the walkie's chirp. He's witnessing the island turning on itself—the crush of bodies in the treetops, the churn of them. His own body taut with pain in way that feels, for a moment that seems to expand until it exists outside of time, sympathetic.

He keeps thinking—it's taking shape. A little longer and he'll see it.

Maybe she sends the message again. Maybe—gaze exhausted by the frenzy of movement—it finally occurs to him to check. Either way, it's a long while before Rust musters: ] yes

how bad

TO994M; audio; morning 35

[cactusy]

[Literally minutes after his callsign shows back up, Shaw calls him, sounding like crap.]

Report in.

cw: drug mentions ayyyy (also there may be scarring updates pending mod answers l o l)

[aluminumandash]

[ She catches him as he's checking himself over—plucking at the skin at his throat, testing the seams of his shirt where he'd cut off the sleeves. His reply isn't immediate, but it's not long in coming. ]

I'm alive. [ Part question, part confession. Bitter and despairing. His voice is low, raspy, like his throat needs clearing. It creaks out: ] Shaw—

[ Then he pulls in a breath. Report, she said. He reports. ] It's like a reset, like y'all were saying. Leg's fine, ankle. Wrist. Clothes, my, my hair's shorter. I'd just done a bump of coke and I can feel it, pulse is elevated. [ Likely apparent from the clip of his speech, though he does stop short after that. ]

Something's wrong with my throat. Where he shot me. Scar tissue, feels like, but I can't see it to know.