The following are raw footage excerpts from Alex Kralie.

This is a good dream, especially considering some of the crap going on in earlier entries. Naked scientists and wall therapy sessions - what lunatic thinks of these things?

This is just Alex, on the mansion's beach. The tide's at its lowest, and in the thick, wet sand there are caterpillar trails of pawprints. A golden retriever comes bounding out of the sea, absolutely soaked and proudly carrying a stick. He trots towards Alex, holding his prize high off the ground.

Alex is laughing. "Good boy! Good boy, Rocky!" Then as the dog reaches him, he crouches and reaches out to fuss his ears. "Rocky, drop."

Obediently, the retriever drops the stick; then he steps back and shakes himself vigorously. Alex shields himself a second too late to escape getting coated in freezing salt water.

[The wall comm' is on, and so are the lights. Except that that's not electrical light. Alex's room now sports a broad bay window.

The cameras are all off, and most of them are gone, including the one in front of the door and the camcorder that usually sits on the desk. Only three remain, and one of them is in Alex's hands, tripod and all, as he carries it across the room and slings it into the closet.

A CD player provides poppy background music. Alex whistles along while he works.

Off-camera, there's a towel pinned over the mirror.]

((OOC: for convenience's sake, let's say all threads which aren't J's or the Operator's happen before those two.))

-----ey, is----

[Okay, what was that even? A few seconds later:]

-----ia? Ar----

[Nope. This blipping in and out of unfinished words continues for several seconds, then stops as Alex takes a break to try to fix his communicator.]

--?oN ?olleH ?won klat em gnittel ti si - htiw gnorw si tahw ,ekas s'dog rof h-----

[Then, when all else fails, to thump it.]

----rap, you'd better not be broken, I need to use - oh, there's the light. Sure, now you bother to work. [A pause; it occurs to him that he should ask the network in general for advice. He stops talking to his hardware and raises his voice, sounding irritated.] Hey, is there a workshop or something for communicators? I think mine's on the blink.

So now that it's actually letting me broadcast: hey Sof-----




[...]




------otherfuc------

((ooc: any new threads'll be taking place before the one with Masky.))

[He doesn't turn the wall comm's camera on, but he has at least not defaulted to text again. He considers it the cautious middle ground between text - where you can hide behind the lack of inflection and so on - and video - which just feels like he's inviting someone to come spy on his feed.

Over the last day or two, he's broadcasted several private audio entries consisting of little but background noise. They've gotten progressively more secure. If anyone hacked them and was wondering: he's been practicing locking.

Right now, he has reason to give the new skill a test run.]

[LOCKED TO BENNY STANGO; pretty damn difficult to hack, but not perfect.]

Hi, is that Detective Stango? Hi, it's Alex Kralie. Sofia said you wanted to make sure I was okay, so I'm... here I am. Thanks. For helping her look. And, uh. Can we talk?

[He sounds a little tense, but genuine in his gratitude. Then he clears his throat and flicks the feed back to a public one.]

[/END OF LOCK.]

Has anyone seen a guy around wearing a white mask with, you know, black lips and eyes and stuff?

[He wants to apologise for being kind of a dick during the event. Not that he's going to broadcast that fact to everybody.]