The following is an Audio Log, It's quality is rather crisp but a little bit airy: as if it was taken from a phone microphone or some sort of throat-mic with someone talking right into it. At times the volume increases to an overly-loud almost distorted screech, there is the occasional grain and lag in the log, the audio feeds from an mp4 file downloaded directly from a hard drive / a psyhical copy of said logs
"You know, its weird that I never did one of these; I've never really done an autobiography, I think this is a long time coming. I'd bet im supposed to start at the start, thing about that is it started way before I started: it started with a big ol' cult collective of proud boys from the south. These proud boys were a bit too proud of who they were, bunch of creeps and weirdos from all over the Southern US and Appalachia comin' together to do creepy weirdo shit in the woods: nothing abnormal. Except, something abnormal did come out of it when one day I popped out of some french girl and the boys decided that now was the time to perform a sort of blood sacrafice ritual one of them had read about on some alt-right conspiracy thread or something."
Theres a total detachment in the way this man speaks about himself, he sounds almost humored: whimsically ratting off the details of his birth and the condition of his being then, he changes tones and inflection multiple times throughout the recording to the point of where tellling if hes serious or not is something of challenge.
"When I popped out, they hailed me as a saint, a paraiah, the new baby jesus: I was beautiful! A porcelain baby, the whitest skin around: red eyes, I was a gift from God to these southmen but what they didn't know was that I wasn't some miracle of god: I was a miracle of nature. I was born an Albino due to all the freakyness in my Mother and Father's genetic trees, and I was born a hemophilliac at that: one cut and it was all over. I was a weak kid back then, let those guys bring me up and teach me all sorts of things: back then they had wanted for me to become some sort of white super-weapon or something: some weird deep-state shit. The things that these people tried to get me to do and say, or wanted me to do and say, were absurd."
He laughs it off, finding humour in the ridiuclousness of it all before taking on a little bit of a more somber and serious tone: getting a little closer to the microphone.
"I think its funny, I never really got to choose how I grew up: I didn't even get to choose my life. Foster homes, Schools, Friends, Church, all of this nonsense is shit that I never got to pick: it was always the decision of one of the "Court" cultist pricks where I was headed, I was too precious to let live. The only thing I ever got to choose was my music, and people can say whatever they want about how horrible my music is or isn't: its one of the only things in this world that I got to choose and make mine and I refuse to let anyone talk down on it."
Towards the end of that statement he takes on a malicious inflection contrary to the almost satirical-campy tone he's had the entire recording.
"Can't stand em Muddites, these guys call themselves the highest evolved form of life on this planet yet how many of these guys are dying from Cancer? How many of them are living in pigstys worse than actaul pigstys, how many of them are killing eachother over oil and street names? I've been everywhere, I've seen everything, These guys don't even get along with eachother. I started a company y'know, wanted to cure kids with blood disease much like myself, develop experimental treatments and solutions to the problems of the world at an affordable price out of my own pocket... You know what they did with it? They commericialized it, tried to get me to create sythenthic vampires, monsters, every little thing had to be run by a Board: it was never about Humans caring about Humans, it was about Money and Money. I feel about the same about Humanity, about the "Mud People" as I've dubbed them, as a farmer does about the livestock he raises: only to slaughter when its most benefiting to him. People claim that I've been making monsters, but the only Monster that's made is one of man: and he's speaking right at this moment."
The audio log descends into an almost nonscenical eeriely xenophobic rant about this man's hatred of humanity, he almost seems to speak as if he himself isn't human, or if hes a higher lifeform or some sort of delusion of grandeur: hes totally detached. It devolves into an irritated, and then angry, rant: before closing out on the last sentence as the audio recording ends.
Downtime I : La'chiar Leeches
Count Batimir Feratu
I've since learned how dangerous these Contracts can be, and how important it is to be able to recover one's self and injury. It seems that that Harbinger's promise of payment has come through: I've made a breakthrough recently and I've developed a new technique, a new art.
In many places across the world they use Leeches and sometimes even Maggots as a medicinal treatment and remedy, they eat/suck out the "Bad" in someone and prepare that someone for further treating. I've managed to compact both the pre-treatment, and treatment, into one piece: I've learned how to create little worms out of my own blood. These worms, when ingested, can and will "Fix" someone's body-and-bloodstream right up; though unfortunately most aren't keen on ingesting these bloodworms, and its rather taxing on typical minds to stomache.
I've begin putting my at-home gym to use; and I've been pumping all manners of iron-and-steel. It seems that these Contracts have imbued me with some sort of superordinary development, as I've grown in numbers in such a short amount of time. My body, which once was fragile, is now rather sturdy.
I'll have it explained to the Media as simply just being experimental treatments or growth-horomones or maybe even I'll leave it up to their interpretation. Its not uncommon for figures such as myself to grow-or-shrink massively in short periods, after all, that Bales fellow used to preform insane feats for his movies. Why would it be any different for me?
As it is now, I am entirely too weak and too unfit to do most anything. Im out of shape. I must improve my body, by whatever means.
Downtime II : Fitness and Flesh
Count Batimir Feratu
If my body cannot be useful to those around me I should atleast see to it that what I bring with my wealth is useful to those around; I've decided to put more effort into my inventory. If a Soccer Mom is what I must become, so be it! I'll bring blankets, I'll bring warmers, I'll bring crowbars, I'll bring Medicine, whatever I can get my hands on I'll be sure to bring! It is no difficulty to me, after all, I have money.
Fitness & Introspection
I've continuted to work out and preform manual exercises such as Powerlifting, Cardio, Resistance Training, and other various routines as prescribed to me by my personal trainer. It is very important that I train my body to be able to handle things like this better in the future, my weakness is a liability that will likely eventaully get me, and others, killed. I must see to it that I do not disappoint, after all, with an occult following like that of mine its very important to keep a high standard and a high record for one's self.
I don't know what I'd do if the Court ever abandoned me, the Count, sometimes I feel that perhaps I am not actaully worthy of their blind admiration and following. I was brought up to be a next generation of man, some kind of higher being, yet I find myself continously falling short of such a title...
For a majority of my life I have suffered from and been plauged by Hemophillia; ironic considering that my public persona is that of a Vampire, ironic considering that I am a practitioner of hemomancy, and ironic considering that I am the face of a company centered around blood work and a cult centered around... also blood work. It has continuted to hinder me throughout my entire life, and has hindered me even more so during these so-called Contracts, however recently thanks to the Harbingers and their "Gifts", I have awakened and evolved my blood into new form.
My blood now possesses some sort of sentience, it is now not only capable of clotting itself but it is capable of regenerating injuries and wounds of severe severity over periods of times that can be considered almost superhuman. I feel that even If I were to lose an arm, that my arm would somehow eventaully grow back over the course of of a week or two. Though such an ability can be considered to be rather weak and mundane in the grand scheme of things, I feel that it is a gateway to future powers that some may even consider to be dark or unimaginable.
Regardless, the potential of my own blood and body now intrigues me, if these contracts are able to awaken my blood and rid my body of such a condition; could these contracts to allow me to awaken latent abilities to cure the blood others? To what extent am I able to evolve myself using these games? To what extent am I able to evolve others? These are questions that I feel may soon be needing answer. I may look towards reopening the dungeons under my manor as a means of keeping people for experimentation, perhaps its time to put those secret rooms to use.
After the yacht party I decided to spend a little extra time making some valuable connections, as it turns out the Family was actaully quite apperciative of my efforts to prove their Don innocent: and apon realizing who I was, and that I had used one of my own employees as a scapegoat, made the connection that I'd sacraficed one of my own for theirs. I then decided to offer some of the Mafiosos legitamete jobs as members of my security team; should they ever need a "Clean" job.
Though I probably won't be able to assist or help out Thomas Ryder too much, as long as he, or someone, goes to prison and takes the fall for what the Don's done, I'm in bed with the mob. I'd say I value these Mob Ties much more than I value the one accountant, as far as im concerned thats one less loose end who won't be able to tell on me later, something I haven't been too good at discerning.
Being surrounded by all those guns and men-with-guns at the party has taught me a valuable lesson about staying safe; and fortunately for me with some help from the harbingers I've managed to awaken my blood's latent potential, my blood now serves as a sort of reactive-armour. Though it's only been trained to react against Bullets and Firearms, my blood now has the capability to take on the properties of Ceramic Plates: so long as it pertains to gunfire im essentially wearing a weightless invisible bombsuit.
Downtime V : New Hire
Count Batimir Feratu
After the events of the previous Contract I found that Mason Berkman, a fellow Contractor and aspiring mechanical engineer and proven college athlete, was stranded destitute with no place to go. I decided that I'd lend this man a hand, extending an invitation to him to accompany me on my flight back to the Feratu Manor Estate, which having no choice, he accepted. The man apon arrival to the estate began to ease into life here, gradually accepting his new position as a sort of "Fieldman" and "Handyman", and proving himself quite useful in fixing and maintaining all manners of contraption as well as proving useful in assisting the staff in more... heavy tasks.
He seemed to have his own devices for being here, however, as noted that in the nights he seems to sneak off to one of the worksheds / workshops to partake in his own machinations. I know not what he does in my Workshop at the dead of night, but I suspect he has his own projects to take care of; just as I have mine.
I approached him with the offer of evolution not long thereafter, I told him that I could make him better than what he was. Strangely, he seemed ecstatic to hear this proposal, eager even, and soon I put him "Under the Knife" so to speak. In his sleep, I ushered him into the dungeons beneath the Feratu Manor Home, and apon those archaic stone tables I began to do my work as I do it best. Though it was the first application of my Hemocraft, It proved rather fruitful and successful.
With the help of in-house therapists, and extensive rehab, I've gotten over my many fears: though the fear of ghosts has remained heavy in my heart.
These last few months have been very taxing, as I've been holed up inside my room unable to leave for fear of ghosts flying through the walls, for fear of slamming doors, my mind has been attacked and plauged by the thoughts of these horrible lifeless bloodless entities of haunt. I never wish to see another ghost in my life, such monsters are beyond this world and are beyond reason, they are the most horrible.
Between therapy I've been tuning into the news, hearing about some "Superman of Boise", a recently-illuminated "Super Hero" who seems to demonstrate abilities of superstrength, superhuman durability, and just general "super" nonsense. I hope to one day meet this "Superman of Boise", and observe him in the act, such a man is everything I want the people of today to become. He is clearly an evolved being, he is beyond the weakness that most people of the day possess, harbor, and spread and he is a shining paragon of everything I want to create in this world of ours.
Though the person he is seems to be rather annoyingly just, like a comic-book hero who'se blown himself way out of proportion, I am not one who cannot come to respect the strength of another. The things I would do to chain this man up in my basement for just a week, I'd do alot just to have a look inside him.
Flesh doesn't need to be a formed thing, as I have recently awakened: the ability to manipulate the flesh and blood of others to one's whim is by no means an impossible aspiration and through the awakening of certain Blood Magiks it is possible. I have now awakened the ability to manipulate and sculpt my own flesh, so much so that I am able to change my form and person to fit that of any occasion, I could be a Nun, I could be a craftsman, I could be a cleaner, I could be anyone I want. I've understood the process of which I do this to be rather horrific, keeping in line with my other talents, so its not something to show off to the world.
Additionally I've begun to practice a martial art, or rather many, as it's come to my attention that I should probably have some non-supernatural method of self-defense. After Inderpal's demonstration of CQB tactics, and the importance of martiality, I've realized that such a thing is worth looking into. The Martial art I've settled on learning, and mastering, has been Sambo: a russian post-soviet system that has been described as a "Mixed" Combat Art, an essential. I've spent quite the amount of time learning both Sambo, and different varied arts, from my security team at the manor.
Although I dread the occasion, I will soon have to visit the Board about that "Blog of Blood" that's been running a smirch campaign on my person. An occasion I most definitely dread, more than most things.
I went hiking in Appalachia for the past few months.I've spent alot of time navigating the woods, and lakes, and streams, and rivers; I've even spent time in caves.
I've met a few fellow hikers and exchanged kind greetings with them. I've even gotten some of their addresses.
I spent alot of time doing research into and buying the nessecary survival equipment, it turns out you can buy these satellite phones that actaully geo-guess your location using satellites and GPS coordinating. Its actaully rather useful incase you ever get lost in the woods or in the mountains because emergency services can actaully find you even if you don't have service.
Additionally I bought alot of multi-tools and useful gimmicky tools and high-power flashlights and night-vision gear: its all served me very well and have all been incredibly useful especially out in the woods. I was worried at first that Wendigos might attack me or I might get mugged by a crackhead or I might end up slipping and falling into like a trench or ravine. Appalachia is pretty beautiful though and I'd honestly like to build a mansion out here in the mountains: their nice and secluded and noone's ever coming out.
I spent about a few weeks out in Appalachia before returning to the mansion and returning to my posh lifestyle. I brought back a bunch of animal hides and hunted critters; my trip out to the wild has taught me much about the beauty of nature and survival tools.
Count Batimir Feratu
My lack of Dexterity and my lack of quickness has until now been a minor slight, but I've now realized how important it is to be quick-on-my feet and how important it would have been to have been just a little more nimble.
I've finally proven able to master my own form, I can now bend my body however which way I wish; through whichever which crack I choose, through whatever cranny I want. I've tested this development of mine in the dungeons beneath my mansion, through those old ancient sewers of which I've found myself walking through in recent months: not only am I able to quickly run laps im able to squeeze through insanely small gaps.
I am also now capable of extending my body to ridiulous extents, though my body has developed "Section Lines" as a result, a abnormality that I can and will explain away as cosmetic tattoos. These Section-Lines are capable of splitting off though, and by opening them up I am able to extend and protrude my body upwards of thirty feet away from me: as well as reattach and detach my limbs-and-internals however I see fit.
My body has become autonomous, even without me it will continute to function. Though it seems that I have developed a primal fear of the flame, I along with every cell in my body have learned to hate the flame, to fear it. If one were to come up on me with a flamethrower, I fear that would be the end of me and all that is me.
Once again I've put my home gym to use, though this time I've put it to use in manual training of finesse and dexterity. I've given a-go at Cardio and I've given a-go at reaction exercises, I've had one of my men post up with a ball and throw it at me to train my reaction speed for hours at-ends.
Additionally I've taken to jogs, walks, and sprints through the sewer systems underneath my Manor. Those systems run on for miles and miles uninteruptted and usaully empty. Whenever I do encounter a person though (usaully homeless or crackheads)... I make quick work of them and ensure to dispose of their bodies.
The sound of vehicles, of men, of chatter. The microphone begins to navigate through different people as the sound of shoulders brushing and alarmed men is heard. It's then that Batimir's voice begins to speak into the microphone as he begins to elaborate on what's going on.
"It's time to move, I've spent too long in this dusty old mansion doing fuckall. My expenditures into the occult have been somewhat wasteful, its time to pursue the human condition. I've spent too long trying to improve the condition of me, and my people, when I honestly should be helping Man out. I've ordered alot of people out here to help me move my stuff to the West Coast in preparation for taking back head of the company."
"Im ready to take back my role, and Im ready to make an announcement. It's time for a return to to the limelight: It's time to develop the Human Condition and it's time to better the world of Man! No longer will I hide away in the woods, no longer will I sit and daddle and do nothing: the world's had enough of Batimir sitting by! The Count will return, for the good of man!
The microphone then begins to shut off and cut out as Batimir begins to elaborate more on his plans and tribulations. He talks alot about Cancer research, Sickle Cell, Hemophillia, Make a wish, and a whole slew of other deals. It then cuts out as he begins to speak to someone.
Downtime XI : Flesh and Form
Count Batimir Feratu
Though in the past I have learned that my body and I now have the capability to mold, and bend, and squish into surfaces and spaces which before would've been normally impossible, I've also developed and evolved the capability to completely liquidate myself.
I may now transform myself into a pool of blood, turning my body into a non-newtonian visage-of-a-man, and I may even use this form to hide or bait enemies. I have also learned that while I am in this form I have the ability to Overrun one's body, each cell in my body will attempt to invade their own.
Through this ability I may also mend my own injuries, to an extent, should I incur them, through active reformation and reconstitution. I am so very excited for the implications of this ability and what it may entail.
I've begun the final processes of strengthening my body and honing it to it's peak performance and I feel that I have reached the capstone of fitness: My musculature and muscule density has condensed into double or triple that of a person. I am now able to lift things I otherwise would not have been able to years ago, and I have overall reached the pinnacle of strength: for people that is.
I consider myself to be above most other people in terms of power and bodily acuity, and now that I have
reached the cornerstone of what is possible for the unevolved: I should seek to push past it. Perfection is not too far away, and given time and effort, it seems that soon I have the means to actively pursue it: both for myself and for everyone else.
The following is an Audio Log, It's audio is very bubbly and "Airy": its clogged and soaked as if the audio were taken underwater or as if the microphone was waterlogged or soggy with some sort of liquid. The sound of waves crashing and a distant bellowing can be heard, as well as the scraping and scratching of metal resistance.
"V1 Missiles, back during the old war: during WWII, that terrible conflict not so long ago the Nazis developed these missiles to strike London from afar! from across the Channel! Unfortunately, that's just not how it went. How it went is these missiles would go up into the air, and they wouldn't come down: because they went to space. I've thought about it, maybe I could surface up and try to grab that engineer-guy I know, think his name was Malcom! or Berkley! His name doesn't manner, he doesn't matter until I need and want him to."
"Should I though... V1 missiles... Even if I get these working what am I going to do with it? Can I survive space, if I run away: if I flee to somewhere where noone can find me I won't be able to do these missions anymore. And I need them. And I want them!"
"No... I can't shoot myself into space, what I can do is I can shoot them at the president! At the white house! But, why would I do that, what do I gain? They'd fear me, they'd respect me, I'd lurk around the world's Oceans in my U-Boat ready to take out the fuckin' president at a moment's notice but I'd get nothing from it... I'd surely be hunted, more than I already am, I mean.. I'd be a public enemy #0, and Im already #1."
As usaul, Batimir is ranting. He's currently information dumping in the same tone as he used to give his old public addresses with, the same tone he used to address the board with: the same tone of excitement and anticipation that he had whenever he had something new to develop or some new project to start. It then devolves though, as he realizes that it means nothing: he's once again, shut down.
"Aquaman's not comin, Aquaman's not even fucking real. The Feds don't have an Aquaman, there's no way! I went down here for nothing, for nothing, I can't do this anymore. I can't stay under the Sea, in a wrecked ship, sitting next to Nazis for the rest of time! I've got to get out there, I've got to go do something! I'll wait, I'll wait for that bastard Atlantean, and if he exists I will have him and I will assimilate him: I'll be the better him! Its either that, or I get called out on another mission... For now though... I still have to rematch Officer Klaus at Poker."
*He devolves into a yelling match about Aquaman and the Feds, he seems to be delusionally convinced that the Federal Government has sent Aquaman after him and that at any moment Aquaman will swat-raid his U-Boat. He then begins to remark about his condition, almost breaking down, before he convinces himself that he'll just kill Aquaman and subsume him. He then gives a worrying last statement in the log that he's got to rematch an "Officer Klaus" : even though he's completely alone.
The whirl of blizzard, the sound of ice and snow. The wind howls into the log, it's almost impossible to hear anything for a few minutes though something or someone is audible through the wails of the world: it's not him though. It's an entirely different voice: but as soon as he starts speaking it's immediately obivous. The tone, the pattern, the dialect, the various tone shifts, it's him: it has to be.
"This is it, im back here! In Russia! I remember the last time I came here, I almost froze to death because of how cold it was... Thankfully, my body's developed: im ready. I've stepped out into the cold North and I am fine. My blood burns warm: like a built-in heater, most people can't walk with nothing but shitty pants and a jacket through the Russian Winter but I can. Im not like most people, im stronger, im faster, im smarter, im better, I am better."
"I've got a new body now to, figured out how to do something cool: every person I've ever eaten or subsumed is now apart of me, I keep a little bit of them inside me! By eating them I can gain their information, their instructions, their genetic information and makeup. Their DNA, Their RNA, everything that makes them them: I can get it and take it. This guy is someone I took a long time ago, I think he was a father? I don't care who he was though, Im him now: and he lives on in me. Sometimes I wonder, are the people I eat really dead? If their brain matter melds and incorporates into mine, are they really dead? Maybe their technically still alive y'know."
"It doesn't matter though, I've got somewhere to be. I need to find a bird or fish or something... I've got to get to the Arctic!"
The blizzard then begins to drown him out, as the audio log cuts out. It seems that he's very happy to be in Russia, and it seems that he's taken over or become someone else: he's Assimilated them. He seems in much higher spirits.
The whirl of nature, the thrum of life, the sound of evolution: the flow of a nearby river. The audio log carries the sound of something stepping through leaves and twigs, but obivously trying to disguise their presence: perhaps a hunter or a predator of some sort? The silence is only broken by the sound of an old woman whispering under her breathe.
"It is time to hunt, and im hunting... I need their eyes, I need their ears, I need their senses. I've hunted too many people, its time to return the favor to the fauna. There are many animals out there, many with different powers and affinities, each with their own special paths and trees and quirks and gimmicks: beauties of the walk of life. I've time to think about which of these I want to make apart of myself, perhaps bloodhounds? or maybe even dolphins? Chamelons would help me, but perhaps subsuming a larger predator like a bear or a lion might help me."
"Regardless, its the time to be silent: less gloating and more action."
The audio log begins to deafen as the sound of ruffling through leaves is heard further, its not long before the sound of a large animal's roar is heard. The sound of slashes through the air, as the currents of the air itself are slashed through and altered as the twinge of bones snapping and flesh cutting clean are echoed into the microphone. The microphone then cuts out, as the roars of the creature have died down and the woman is no longer audible.