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Full Version: Video Logs of the "Death Pays Well" - Con Vaughn
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As the video feed turns on, Con is plopped down in a plush-looking executive chair at what appears to be an old-style mahogany desk. The camera can only see part of the desk's surface, so it is likely perched on the far edge away from the young man. Sitting in his lap is a young woman, scantily clad but with all the important bits covered. She lays across his hips, her legs dangling off the left side of the chair, and his arm supports her back as she nuzzles into his neck. He's got a big grin on his face, and the tattoos on his hand shift as he grazes his fingertips over the back of her neck as he begins speaking.

So Emily here... Con's voice is interrupted by a fit of giggles from the woman. He looks to her, shushes her, then turns back to the camera I was saying. Emily here thinks I need to record some sort of log or whatever of this little voyage we're on. I don't know why, because I'd rather be dragging her off to my quarters about now, but whatever. I'll let her think she's in charge, for the moment.

At this point, the woman in Con's lap, with long brunette hair and blazing green eyes, looks offended. She slaps him across his chest, her nails leaving little marks in his skin where his shirt hangs open. She pushes herself out of his lap, puts her hands on her hips, yells out a couple of choice expletives and then disappears off camera. Con just stares after her for a moment, then laughs, shrugs and turns back to the video recorder.

Whatever. Woman is freakin' crazy. Maybe I'll bring Dan to bed tonight instead of her. That'll teach her... Con goes quiet for a second, thinking, then his eyes go wide and he smiles again. Right! Log file! I ran into this dude from The Order tonight. But not The Order. Apparently, there are two Orders now. Order A, or the one I know, is the "Overwatch." Apparently, they just want everyone to die. This dude was from Order B, or the "Legacy of Orillion," as he called it. Dude was clearly pretty smart, too. Callahan was his name. A Doctor and everything. I'm not sure I was as impressed as he wanted me to be, but the dude wasn't a total bore.

The man has a serious hard on for killing squids. I mean...I get it, man. I hate them too. They want to wipe us all out. They killed his kid and his wife left him because of it. They even destroyed a planet his people called home once, and killed hundreds of thousands. But...Christ...what is the point of all this if you aren't living some kind of life? I mean, sure...I may take it to the extreme...the men, the women, the alcohol, the gambling. I know I indulge in everything life has to offer, and get crazy...but there's gotta be somewhere in the middle. The Doc was convinced that he had nothing else in his life to give but to kill squids.

Yes, I get it. He's doing it in the name of "protecting humanity," which is sure as hell a noble goal. But that's too much for one person, or even one group of people. I could never give up a life worth living just to fight for the rest of my existence, no matter how worthy the cause. It's...just hell, man. Con pauses again, trailing his tattooed fingers through his hair, his eyes shifting from one side to the other as thoughts race through his mind. I would never have kids. I know they'd end up even more screwed up than me. But the Doc seemed pretty stable. Smart. Intelligent. Even with everything that happened, he seemed like the type of guy who's supposed to be a father. One death, no matter how tragic, shouldn't wipe out someone's hopes and dreams for their family forever...

Con reaches off screen. When his hand returns to view, he's got a bottle of Bretonian whiskey in it. The bottle is already at least half empty, and he takes a heavy drag from the bottle, holding it to his lips for several seconds. His neck bulges with several swallows before he stops, almost dropping it on the desk with a loud slam.

Forget this serious crap. I need to clear my head. I'm going to bed.

The recording cuts off at this point.