Document 1278803-4576b

-Keypad initiated-

Entry 7 -

Time does, as the old proverb says, heal all wounds. I find myself in a better state of mind, and I feel as though I am now capable of communicating the host of disastrous encounters that I have endured this day.

Currently, I write as I wait. Already, Thaal has (of course) once again accused me of "journaling," a frivolous pursuit which I attribute to an inflated sense of self, an egoistic practice with which I refuse to associate myself. I am not "journaling," I am merely recording the day's events in an attempt to make sense of what has happened, what I have witnessed, and what may become of it - much like a scientist takes note of everything that occurs during the course of a day in the lab.

I am my own subject, and the world - or in this case, New Metropolis - is my laboratory.

Today, I believe that I have acted foolishly. Yet somehow, I have felt more alive than I have for some time prior to today's events, regardless of the trouble they have caused me. But I'm getting ahead of myself. It started out so very innocently, with Thaal and Arno racing about the Heritage district of New Metropolis like two children set loose in a candy store.

I, however, had already spent quite some time in the Heritage district during my time as a Legionnaire. As such, I felt no desire to dash hither and yon, point at random museum exhibits or unfortunate bystanders, shout after my companions, or generally behave in a juvenile manner. Since I was not engaging in the reckless frivolities of my companions, I found myself alone for extended periods of time. I often found myself gazing at whatever happened to catch my eye while I waited for Thaal and Arno to realize that I would not overly exert myself following them on their multitudinous flights of fancy.

I was reclining against the wall one such time when Thaal and Arno had taken off in opposite directions in almost the same instant, when I caught sight of a young man acting peculiarly. He was glancing around agitatedly, shoving his hands deep into the folds of his curious attire a billowing, yet somehow form-fitting robe. After several furtive glances in all directions, the young man pulled an odd device from somewhere within his billowing robes and laid it against the case of an unusual exhibit.

My interest was piqued. What was this young fellow doing? Was he trying to steal something in broad daylight? Did he not realize that this museum had top-of-the-line security systems, guards, and probably various other advanced technologies to protect their exhibits?

Something in me seemed to say "you should get closer." A foolish notion, indubitably, but I followed my "gut instinct" and sauntered towards him, though of course I paused at an exhibit where I did not have a clear view of him. However, if I turned at a thirty-eight degree angle and edged left two steps (two actions which I performed in a most unobtrusive manner), I could make out what he was doing perfectly in the reflection of the base of the holographic projector that I was standing before. The image was, obviously, rather distorted, but I was able to determine what his actions were by carefully analyzing the movements of the reflection.

It appeared that the young man slid his odd device across the thick transparinum case, once again glancing around furtively. Of course, I gave no indication that I saw what he was doing. A light on the device flickered green- or so I thought. I was beginning to wish that I could actively improve the clarity of my vision through the use of a simple algorithm- but as I had no onboard computer with which to actually make use of the algorithm, my knowledge of it's efficacy proved quite meaningless under the current circumstances. I bit my lip lightly in irritation, focusing my attention quite fully on the reflection. It seemed as though the young man had somehow managed to retrieve a second device, though I wasn't entirely sure what he was doing with it, as he'd turned his body slightly and I no longer had a clear view of his hands.

I edged along to the next display, hoping to get a better look at what he was doing. He appeared to be… reaching into the case. In the next moment, his hand slithered out, and I saw a glint of something in his right palm- then it disappeared into the folds of his cloak. But I could see nothing absent from the display case. Unless… Perhaps a hologram? He could have slid in a small holographic projector, and replaced whatever he'd stolen with the projector. If I hadn't been watching him so closely, I probably wouldn't have noticed what he'd done, and since nothing appeared to be missing from the case, I doubted anyone else would have noticed. My mind ticked off possible conclusions, and I quickly settled for the most logical conclusion.

The device he had used must have countered any security system related to the case (as no alarms were ringing and no security guards had come running). Therefore, I concluded that he had likely found a blind spot in the cameras. It appeared as though he were just going to turn around and walk out of the museum as though nothing had happened.

I gritted my teeth. It wasn't right, to fool people into thinking that they are gazing upon a piece of their history, and instead they are only looking at a cheap holographic projector. Additionally, it isn't right to make money by stealing something that should be considered an object for the people, not a private collector. And he was stealing. Stealing is a crime. Personally, I felt as though his actions and how they reflected on his consideration for the museum and its patrons was somehow worse than a simple burglary. If he had stolen a souvenir from the gift shop instead of a possibly priceless artifact, I probably would have been far less upset.

As it was, I whirled around and stalked towards him as he ambled towards the exit. I scrambled for something to say that would catch his attention but would not scare him off. Fortunately, Thaal did it for me. "Hey Bvril!" he shouted from the top of the stairs, "Do you have any money for the gift shop?"

I made general shushing motions and gesticulated in the young man's direction, but at the moment, Thaal was deeply entrenched in a state of mind that I have since termed "oblivious tourist mode"… Hence, he had absolutely no idea what I was attempting to convey. I endeavored to make use of a form of hand sign communications about which I'd read a book several years prior, but all I received for my efforts was a confused look from Thaal. Meanwhile, my antics had caught the attention of a few of the other individuals who were viewing the exhibits in the front hall.

"What are you doing?" Thaal shouted from the upper floor, mimicking me by waving his hands around in mock octopus motions and dancing around in a circle. "Did you forget that the flash mob is tomorrow?"

I pointed frantically at the young man, trying not to notice that I was now the center of attention, and that several people were edging for other wings of the museum. I likely appeared to be a lunatic, gesticulating frantically and still trying to stay on the heels of the young man, who was attempting to appear "normal" and meander towards the door.

If I hadn't been leaping about and waving my arms like a lunatic directly behind him, he probably would have looked very normal. As it happened, he was the only one who hadn't turned around to see who was addressing "Bvril" regarding a "flash mob" that was supposedly occurring one day hence. I didn't know what to do. I had no evidence that he had actually stolen anything, merely that he may have possibly pocketed an artifact. I wanted a security officer to apprehend him, but all that appeared to be happening was several other museum goers decided to flee into adjoining exhibit halls.

I paused my antics, slumping in defeat. How was I supposed to stop him from doing something illegal if I had no legal right to detain him, or evidence that he was even doing anything wrong? Suddenly, I felt foolish. Just as I turned to walk away, feeling dejected, a Security guard burst into the room, shouting "Halt!" in a loud voice.

Two things happened at once.

I threw my hands up in the air and shouted "Finally!"

The young man whirled around and caught sight of me less than a pace away. He froze, spotting the security guard, and glanced at me. I lowered my arms slightly, turning to face him. He spun around to run, and spotted two more security guards at the entrance.

"Surrender yourself," I advised him quietly, "It would be more beneficial for everyone involved, including yourself."

At my words, the young man froze, his eyes widening with something that wasn't quite horror, but also not surprise. The look in his eyes was one of… desperation, and it seemed almost frightening to me.

"Get away!" he hissed, hunching his shoulders, still glancing back and forth, searching for an exit route. "I have no business with you."

"I believe you do," I replied swiftly, feeling angry. "You deactivated the security systems on an exhibit, replaced one of the objects with a holographic projector, and now you intend to walk out of this museum with the valuable object." My mind racing, I continued to speak before I could consider the ramifications of what I was saying. "If you confess, I am certain that-"

I was cut off by the singularly most unpleasant sensation of a knife being held to my now human, very vulnerable throat. I swallowed nervously, watching the young man's hand. "Er…"

"Shut up," the young man rasped. "You don't know what you're doing, trying to mess with me."

No, I thought weakly, I really don't. This was a foolhardy thing to do. Outwardly, I shifted my gaze to his face and locked eyes with him. I tried to keep my face calm, and appear unafraid. Somehow, despite my vulnerable position, I didn't feel afraid. I was rapidly calculating possible outcomes, trying to discern how best to disarm him, pondering what it might feel like to have my throat slit, determining how long I would live should my throat be cut, and wondering how this young man managed to sneak a knife past the security at the entrance. All of this I thought at once, but surprisingly enough, I was not afraid.

The young man, however, was panting shallowly, and sweat had broken out across his brow. His eyes were wide, and his hand was shaking ever-so-slightly. I was slightly concerned that his shaking might cause his blade to break the skin on my neck, but otherwise I felt remarkably calm and in-control.

"You don't want to do this," I said ever-so-quietly. "Do you?"

His eyes narrowed and he pressed the blade a bit harder against my throat, sliding around behind me so that his arm was wrapped around my neck, knife still resting against my jugular vein. "Shut up," he said again.

I swallowed, and tried again. "Do you have a contingency plan for getting out of this?"

"Yeah," the guy snarled, "It's called 'taking you hostage'."

"That only works if I cooperate," I told him quietly. "Who is to say that I will willingly accompany you as your hostage?"

"You wouldn't risk your own neck," the guy growled, glancing around the room frantically.

"Why not? There's no guarantee that you'll actually be able to sever one of my jugular veins or carotid artery," I said calmly, though my statement was certainly debatable. I had never really found that particular probability a vital statistic… not that he would know the difference if I'd had the time to actually research the topic.

The guy's grip slackened ever-so-slightly. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What kind of guy just follows some thief around, and has the gall to not be afraid when he's being held at knife point?"

It was a good question, though I hardly felt up for a conversation regarding my mental state at that point in time. Meanwhile, the six-or-so security guards had exchanged concerned glances, and were currently shouting for people to clear the room. Some small part of me noted Thaal shrieking from the upper floor, and a few more security guards were entering the room.

…the security guards were…they were entering the room…

…Thaal was being obnoxious…

As I was trying to say, the guards were coming in and Thaal was being obnoxious…

…though not nearly as obnoxious as he is being at this moment in time.

I must endeavor to educate him regarding the many virtues of silence. Though perhaps I should refrain from making comments until I have heard everything he has to say. Nevertheless, he had no reason to label me an "antisocial nitwit who is having a love affair with his Journal"

… I fear I must rectify this immediately.

In this case, Thaal was, unfortunately, acting rightly in his untimely interruption. I have pressing business to which I must attend. There is, of course, still more to this story that I must work through before the night is up. Therefore, I will postpone this tale until later, when I have the time to continue.

A/N: Firstly: Thank you all for your kind reviews, and stay tuned for the next chapter, which IS FINISHED, have no fear, I'm not going to leave you hanging from this cliff for overlong. PLUS, since Brainy is writing this afterwards, you at least know that he's going to survive the encounter, and that's good news when he's being held at knifepoint… right? Right? Just put the rotten vegetables down slowly, very good, thank you…

You don't know how many times I had to edit this dialogue between Mr. Villain and Brainy. Plus, I brought back the dreaded "Bvril" for old times' sake! (I do find it amusing, which is mostly why it randomly reappeared. Just imagine that between this entry and entry five, Brainy reminded Thaal and Arno to cease referring to him as "Brainy," to which Thaal replied, "Sure thing, Bvril!" - Of course, I had nowhere to put this in the current chapter, and it rather interrupted the flow of entry five also. So use your imaginations as to how or when this brief snippet of conversation occurred, 'kay?

Back to previous topic: the reason why the dialogue was so hard for me to get working right is that Brainy kept changing his mind as to what the heck he was doing. One minute he was apprehending the criminal barehanded, then he decided he was actually too timid for that, then he was impersonating a plainclothes security guard, and then decided even that was too forward, and also immoral. (Tell a lie? Never! I did chop down that cherry tree! …wait… ) So then he started dancing around and flapping his arms and attempting to send landing signals to wayward airplanes, or something like that. Anywho, that's how this scene ended up. And no, Mr. Villain does not yet have a name, hence the oh-so-creative title. (It was either that or "young man," and there are already entirely too many "young men" in this fic to just say "the dialogue between the young man and brainy" at the beginning of this Author note… :/ meh.

Thanks for reading, folks. Including the too-long author note, haha.

PS: Speaking of too long, I wasn't planning on cliff-hanging you when I started this story, but the entry got too long, and I'm trying to keep them below three pages apiece. Sorry… I just figure if Brainy's sitting and "journaling" for much longer than three pages, Thaal would be poking him and bopping him on the head, and would never let him live it down…