Strange Behaviour

Kalika here. I have seen multiple instances of strange behaviour while running, in every party imaginable. Some speculate it is a result of the rakshasa's influence, and some speculate it is from the psychological strain that is present with feeling under constant threat. Perhaps these things are one in the same.

So, Min's brand of strange behaviour caused a slight ruckus. It was around 3 in the morning. She puts on the radio sometimes while cleaning out weapons. There is not much to be said for nighttime radio, even by radio standards, but it does fill the silence, so I don't mind. Even though she never puts BBC4 on.

"...clear skies. Unusual, we've just had a music request from an Aidan. You're up late. Enjoy this eighties classic..."

At the name, Min looked up, and checked her phone. Aidan, I had heard that name before, possibly when she was on the phone. (I'm not eavesdropping. I simply have excellent hearing and a tendency to sit near the door when she takes phone calls.) The opening chords of a song began. Her eyes widened.

"...Bad Medicine by Bon Jovi."

That's when she just crashed, sobbing hysterically. She fought for a deep breath. I stood to see what was happening. A surge of vomit smothered a would-be scream from her. She crawled through the putrid grit and snatched up the radio, trying to change the channel but accidentally breaking the dial off. So she pounded it against the wall. As the radio grew damaged, the song morphed into a horrifically distorted version until it finally stopped. Her muscles gave, she lay there for a few minutes. I went to see to her, but she pushed my hand way, pulled herself up and wiped the vomit off her mouth with her sleeve, breathing deeply still. Staggering, she grabbed her coat and her Colt.

"I'll be back. Don't follow me," she muttered, and slammed the door behind her.

I would have followed, but I felt it best to recount this first otherwise I fear the details of what was said on the radio would slip my mind. If I can gather more information, this will make an interesting addition to my notes on psychological effects of running.

Mutated Maenads and Uncertain Loyalties

Kalika here.

The mutation of what I estimate is 30% of Maenads into grotesque humanoids is a relatively unexplored subject. I plan to spend some time studying this but I wanted to discuss something of interest: the eyes of Maenad that Min brought have tapeta lucida.

The tapetum lucidum is a reflective layer found in the eyes of many animals that operate in low-light conditions, such as cats, aye ayes and wolves. If you have ever seen a photograph of a cat or dog that was taken with flash, you will notice its eyes appear to be glowing. This the tapetum reflecting the light back. Light is reflected back through the retina, increasing visibility in dark conditions. The "pay-off" is usually a lower clarity of vision. In some creatures, mutated Maenads included, this can be negated by strategic distribution of rods and cones.

When I associated with my previous group, one member claimed he had fought mutated Maenads by shining a bright torch in their eyes. We never discussed it in great detail, but on the basis that mutated Maenad eyes might not adjust as quickly to light levels as humans, it is now worth consideration.

Min is due back soon from getting the Timberwolf. I sent her after a very specific one and got into the CCTV there. I needed to witness it for myself. Why? Well, to be honest, while it is partially true that I needed all these samples, I sent Min to do this primarily to test if she was a servant or not. I had good reason to suspect as such that I will detail in a moment.

Min, I have some questions about your loyalties, and if you try to silence me by deleting this then I will know you have something to hide.

-Why did you delete that file? I checked and the folder it was in was last edited just after you got a hold of it and I hadn't seen it. So I know you deleted it, now what's on it, and why did you deny it?

-Who are you hiding from when you walk down the street with the green neon sign?

-Why, like clockwork, are you going out every 4pm on a Friday?

Now, I am headed out on a field trip, so you have time to think about your answers, and I find out if it is bullshit.

Kalika

I have a room mate of sorts now, although I don't know how great that is if you both hold a gun at your sides when interacting.

She contacted me by email asking to study the substance. Since I've made no progress and she seems to have the know-how, I agreed. We settled on a meetup at an alley behind the bar and immediately pulled guns out on each other. I showed her the emails and let her go through my entire phone just to prove who I was. That basically set the tone for the ensuing hidden weapon checks and our tense walk to where I was staying. Things settled a bit after. At least, once a certain amount of time had gone by without anybody shooting or stabbing anything.

"You can call me Kalika." She set up a fold-out table and got out a micro burner and some test tubes.

"Kalika. OK. That's a pretty name."

"It's not my name. It's what you can call me." Kalika pulled out what looked like a small microscope, and held it up to show me. "I lived off nothing but one Pot Noodle a day for months to afford this, so if you break it, I break you. And for when you put this on your blog, the same goes for Graham and any of those other bumblefucks."

"I'll make sure I post about it. How long have you been running for?"

"From the rakshasa? Twelve years, maybe. Since I was ten."

"Ten? How did you survive?"

"I had a group I ran with who protected me, showed me the ropes and the guns," she said shortly, tossing a sealed bag of azoth on the table. "I was raised on bullets and wack theories on just about all the rakshasas you can think of. And my group ain't here now, so don't bother asking. We're not friends, and I don't need what happened publicised."

"Right."

"Anyway, I've got a pretty good idea of what this stuff might be based on those letter emails you got. It fits into a theory I had. I'd say those emails basically confirm it."

"What's the theory?"

"It can wait. Need to translate it anyway." She pulled out a notebook.

"What's that test tube thing with the stuff in it?"

"It's not a test tube. It's a gas chromatograph."

Not knowing what any of the fuck that was, I decided to leave her to it. Now she's hard at work, and I'm typing this up while guarding the door. Hopefully this gets somewhere.