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@the-hatchetfield-hermit
Hello, World!
I figured now was as good a time as any to introduce myself, since a lot of my friends, and even my co-workers have a Tumblr now! Decided to join in on the fun, juuuust for kicks!
My name is Michael Vescor, but please, call me Mick. I'm a Forensics Scientist at the Hatchetfield PD, though I would much rather be doing anything else. No matter! Very, very excited to be here...
Send me questions, if you'd like! :)
Good eveninggggg... :)
OOC + Ref below the Cut
So at what point do I start charging my friend for all the baked goods he steals from my kitchen? I’m serious he is EATING ME OUT OF MY OWN HOME I CANT KEEP BAKING FOUR DOZENS EVERY WEEK
I never Steal, I jusssst..... Take things without asking. Nothing Out of the Ordinary. Mhmm.
A couple of weeks ago I finally went back to school after months and someone wanted me to look up something for them on my phone
….how do I do that?
goggle
Bing :)
meat
Ohhhh, I'm invested!! Hehehe!!
[Phone call] Hey Conrad, it’s Blair. I hate having to do this as much as you’re gonna hate having to hear it… But I need your... help with Simon. He’s been acting weird about that damn radio station you lot have been buzzing over, and now he’s gone off trying to… I don’t know? Stop it??? Basically I can't find him anywhere and he won't answer his calls or messages, and I'm just worried he’s going to do something stupid. I just… yeah… help would be… nice… please?
Wait outside yer house I’ll pick y’up in my truck ‘nd we’ll find ‘im.
[He hangs up without a further word, already pulling his jacket on to leave.]
-The shock of Conrad actually agreeing to help him made Blair fail to realize he probably didn’t need to be outside that very second, yet he found himself standing on the side of the street anyway the moment the call had ended. His attention is drawn back to his phone as he waits, jamming his thumb over the call button as he tries to reach Simon for the hundredth time.
[After around ten minutes, an oddly short amount of time considering how far the Witchwoods are from Downtown, Conrad’s old truck screeches to a halt, kicking up the dust under his tires as he rolls down the window, calling to a very worried looking Blair.]
Right, in y’get, Birdie.
[Blair looks up from where he had been staring at his feet, his worried expression flickering from a look of surprise to one of knowing as he steps up to the truck. Had it been under any other circumstance, he’d have commented on Conrads awful habit of speeding, and would have happily called him a ‘Shitty Cop’ as always, but for once he was more or less grateful for it. He does as told and gets inside]
I keep getting his damn answering machine. If we find him, i'm beating the absolute shit out of him… Also stop calling me Birdie.
[Conrad’s habit of speeding was one he’d had for years, he wasn’t gonna stop now, and hey, it was comin’ in handy, wasn’t it? He started driving as soon as Blair stepped in, eyes fixed on the road.]
Where’d y’last see him? He been workin’? I’ll stop callin’ you Birdie when y’stop lookin’ and actin’ like a lil’ birdie. You ain’t gonna beat him. Watch for anythin’ outta yer window.
[he sighs heavily,] I last saw him when i left for work this morning. I have no idea where he could be now, especially if he's having-... A Simon moment. [Blair realized he isn't actually sure how much Conrad knows about Simon, so he decided he wouldn't expand on what he meant by that as he looks out the window. Not because he was told to.] He could literally be anywhere at this point... I just hope it isn't those damn woods.
[Simon Moment. The hell was a Simon Moment. Conrad shrugged, mostly to himself.]
I live in those damn woods, Birdie. I’d have seen ‘im. Or some trace of his dumbass. We’ll go to fuckin’. Radio station first. If he’s been there, they’ll know which way he went.
[He thinks for a moment before wordlessly picking up his phone and dialling an unsaved contact and holding it to his ear, keeping one hand on the wheel. Through the phone he speaks to @the-hatchetfield-hermit with a flat but authoritative tone.]
Pallazi’s gone awol. Nah. Not yer not. Th’ radio station. Uhuh. Seeya in five.
[He tosses his phone into his pocket, letting one of his arms rest on the window as he drives with one hand, eyes on the road, speeding but not in a ‘we have places to be’ sort of way, just in a ‘this is how i usually drive’ sort of way.]
Mickeys comin’, if anyone can spot a needle in a haystack it’s that fuckin’ freak.
[Somewhere, in downtown Hatchetfield, a phone is ringing, displaying an unsaved number. The dimly lit apartment is filled with horrid sound for one moment before the phone is picked up, and answered. Mick barely gets a greeting out, before he's cut off.] Oh. I'm busy I-
[He frowns at the answer, rolling his eyes and pushing his hand under his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose, turning to a large coarkboard on the wall. Pictures stare back at him, accusing and silent.]
Well where the Hell do you expect-....
[The Radio Station. He looks over to the radio at his dining table, listening to the static pouring out for a moment. A mystery.] Pick me up in Five.
[He starts getting ready the second Conrad hangs up, grinning the whole way through.]
Oh, and what? You got eyes all over the damn woods suddenly? [Blair scoffs] But, right. Your right. Checking the radio station makes sense. [He just needed to focus on calming down. Maybe then his brain would stop jumping to the worst possibilities like the woods, and instead focus on the obvious. Blair stays quite for a bit, though he listened curiously during Conrad's call until he heard who exactly was on the other line. Despite his best attempts at hiding it, his face turned sour as he turned away from the window.] Oh. Cool. Cool.
[There was a pause for a short moment.]
But, uh, I'm sure there's no need to let loose the hound quite yet, right? [He let out an awkward laugh.]
I’d-a seen him on my way out, Birdie. Hardly a hound, more like a lil’ rat that can see more than our asses combined. Yer fine, he’ll get in the back.
[And with that Conrad’s truck screeched to a halt again, he tapped the outside of his door with his arm through the open window, ushering Mick inside]
Right, In y’get. Nope, Sparrows here, in the back.
[He gestured behind him, his tone unwavering, not panicked or worried, but not as cold and harsh as it tended to usually be.]
[Illuminated by a flickering street lamp stood a man, glasses gleaming in the flash of the headlights. He smiled, though it faded as he was told to sit in the back.]
Don't Touch anything up there, Sparrow, the front seat is mine.
[He grumbled, situating himself in the middle seat, glaring at Conrad through the mirror. His eyes couldn't be seen through his glasses, but he seemed content and watchful.]
Radio Station... He's been worried about the Broadcasts. Not like him to venture out though. Soft man like him? He'll get killed, or worse... Mhm.
[The small man glances over at Blair.] Look on the Bright side.... [He puts a hand on the man's shoulder.] If we find him Dead, at least we'll have found him! And maybe what or who killed him will be close by too! Two birds with one stone, mhm...
[Phone call] Hey Conrad, it’s Blair. I hate having to do this as much as you’re gonna hate having to hear it… But I need your... help with Simon. He’s been acting weird about that damn radio station you lot have been buzzing over, and now he’s gone off trying to… I don’t know? Stop it??? Basically I can't find him anywhere and he won't answer his calls or messages, and I'm just worried he’s going to do something stupid. I just… yeah… help would be… nice… please?
Wait outside yer house I’ll pick y’up in my truck ‘nd we’ll find ‘im.
[He hangs up without a further word, already pulling his jacket on to leave.]
-The shock of Conrad actually agreeing to help him made Blair fail to realize he probably didn’t need to be outside that very second, yet he found himself standing on the side of the street anyway the moment the call had ended. His attention is drawn back to his phone as he waits, jamming his thumb over the call button as he tries to reach Simon for the hundredth time.
[After around ten minutes, an oddly short amount of time considering how far the Witchwoods are from Downtown, Conrad’s old truck screeches to a halt, kicking up the dust under his tires as he rolls down the window, calling to a very worried looking Blair.]
Right, in y’get, Birdie.
[Blair looks up from where he had been staring at his feet, his worried expression flickering from a look of surprise to one of knowing as he steps up to the truck. Had it been under any other circumstance, he’d have commented on Conrads awful habit of speeding, and would have happily called him a ‘Shitty Cop’ as always, but for once he was more or less grateful for it. He does as told and gets inside]
I keep getting his damn answering machine. If we find him, i'm beating the absolute shit out of him… Also stop calling me Birdie.
[Conrad’s habit of speeding was one he’d had for years, he wasn’t gonna stop now, and hey, it was comin’ in handy, wasn’t it? He started driving as soon as Blair stepped in, eyes fixed on the road.]
Where’d y’last see him? He been workin’? I’ll stop callin’ you Birdie when y’stop lookin’ and actin’ like a lil’ birdie. You ain’t gonna beat him. Watch for anythin’ outta yer window.
[he sighs heavily,] I last saw him when i left for work this morning. I have no idea where he could be now, especially if he's having-... A Simon moment. [Blair realized he isn't actually sure how much Conrad knows about Simon, so he decided he wouldn't expand on what he meant by that as he looks out the window. Not because he was told to.] He could literally be anywhere at this point... I just hope it isn't those damn woods.
[Simon Moment. The hell was a Simon Moment. Conrad shrugged, mostly to himself.]
I live in those damn woods, Birdie. I’d have seen ‘im. Or some trace of his dumbass. We’ll go to fuckin’. Radio station first. If he’s been there, they’ll know which way he went.
[He thinks for a moment before wordlessly picking up his phone and dialling an unsaved contact and holding it to his ear, keeping one hand on the wheel. Through the phone he speaks to @the-hatchetfield-hermit with a flat but authoritative tone.]
Pallazi’s gone awol. Nah. Not yer not. Th’ radio station. Uhuh. Seeya in five.
[He tosses his phone into his pocket, letting one of his arms rest on the window as he drives with one hand, eyes on the road, speeding but not in a ‘we have places to be’ sort of way, just in a ‘this is how i usually drive’ sort of way.]
Mickeys comin’, if anyone can spot a needle in a haystack it’s that fuckin’ freak.
[Somewhere, in downtown Hatchetfield, a phone is ringing, displaying an unsaved number. The dimly lit apartment is filled with horrid sound for one moment before the phone is picked up, and answered. Mick barely gets a greeting out, before he's cut off.] Oh. I'm busy I-
[He frowns at the answer, rolling his eyes and pushing his hand under his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose, turning to a large coarkboard on the wall. Pictures stare back at him, accusing and silent.]
Well where the Hell do you expect-....
[The Radio Station. He looks over to the radio at his dining table, listening to the static pouring out for a moment. A mystery.] Pick me up in Five.
[He starts getting ready the second Conrad hangs up, grinning the whole way through.]
TL172-1118-20520
Michael Vescor will have a nightmare tonight, the fruit is ripe. Abigail Easton will get into a car crash outside beanies, this will change if she takes the long way home. Bill Woodward's left eye is hurting. If Bill looks into the bathroom mirror at Eight Thirty PM tonight he may remember an old expression. "An eye for an eye, Bill." Ã̴̔N̵͆͘ ̵̉̾E̶̽͛Y̵̅̍E̵͗͒ ̶̌FOR AN̔ ̷͂͂Ẻ̷͒Y̴͊̔E̴͆.
The station was Correct. Very interesting.. :)
I'm excited to keep listening!!
Conrad J. Cooper is aware of the frequency.
Whichever fuckin’ freak at the radio station did this y’can knock it off before I find ya myself.
Ohhhhohohohoo!! This is so much fun!! I'm so Excited!! It's like our own little mysteryy!!
We literally solve mysteries every fuckin’ day, Mickey. It’s Hatchetfield.
Nooo, those aren't Mysteries! They're Crimes, that's Easy. This, however, This!! ohhh, this has some Meat to it.
Conrad J. Cooper is aware of the frequency.
Whichever fuckin’ freak at the radio station did this y’can knock it off before I find ya myself.
Ohhhhohohohoo!! This is so much fun!! I'm so Excited!! It's like our own little mysteryy!!
TL34-7510-009
You are now listening to this. You’re confused, but you keep listening anyway. As you listen, you begin to understand that this moment is coming to an end.
Someone fuckin’ with the radio?
I think it's delightful!! I'll be tuning in more often :)
‘Course you do. Not in the office yer not.
Mm... It'll drown out the tickinggg! Plus, you might learn some things about your fellow man! Who knows!
Personally, I'll be tuning in when I can. I'll be eagerly awaiting every word that breaches the static...
Someone fuckin’ with the radio?
I think it's delightful!! I'll be tuning in more often :)
TL172-1118-20520
tick-tick Snap tick-tick Snap tick-tick Snap tick tick The clock in the HatchetField Police Station is-
Sweetheart I love when you come for visits but can you please stop trying to pick my locks I promise you won't find anything - Laia
But how else will I become better at picking Locks, hm? Plus, if you suspect my arrival, I won't ever see your apartment in it's natural state :)
Whoever the fuck did this to m’trailer last night know next time I’ll find you and stick a bullet through your damn skull. Y’got away lucky. Silent Bastard.
Whooh! Looks like a Crime scene!
Also, your Clock's off, whoever put it there did a Bad Job.
Why is Mick and a Fake-Peanuts the Squirrel arguing under my peanuts picture? Honestly…
Hatred of Fake Idols will not convince God, but it will convince the Crowd.
Heading out early today to help cameraman Hatchetfield’s morning cup’o news! Very excited because we’ll be interviewing Peanuts, the hatchet field pocket squirrel at the park! Hoping I'll be able to get a picture afterward =)
Had to be quick, but I got one!
Hmm... I always thought he would be more... Pocket Sized. He seems abnormally Large for a Squirrel. Freakish, even. And he is Dearly Beloved? A Symbol of Hope? Bitter, disgusting Rodent. No no no. No.
Put him back in the pocket he unjustly crawled out of, let his humanoid hands grasp nothing. Filthy beast.
Are…Are you jealous…..of…Peanuts..??
Is a room in any way Jealous of the garbage disposal? No. The room observes, the disposal consumes. Such is the way when man takes things into his own hands.
PLEASE DONT DISPOSE OF HIM HES ALL WE GOT
kskceee skce ksce?
Oh and the Wretched Beast rears it's head...
kskdkckkskeek ksce ksxe kscr ksscec wccces kksecc cessk ccessseck skec
Ohhhh Oh you come to MY Friend's post, and say this about MY Livelyhood?? You foul creature, rotted rodent heart of hatchet-town, hungry for food you should not have. Think twice before speaking, if your brain will allow it, Pest.
KSC SKCEE SCKE KSCE kscre dckee esckkse eecsk
One day the god who saw you fit to live will also see you killed, and I know for certain he won't weep for you.
In other words
Fuck You.
skcwkeke skceeks cskcke kskse eksjcjxem ksceke kscee ksxske sxxecl SS e xcseeeexk scekekskce kcks kcseec ksece skcs kcsee sscse kees cke
kskckee zckcs ckksee sksceeks
Ah, oh so that is how it's going to be? That is the extent of your attacks? Really, I thought you'd be more adept, seeing as though you've been leeching off of your father ever since you fell into his arms. You have eaten the fruit of Hades and now you must live with the Sin and the Filth. You're no better than a Man.
kskckekekskckd???? ksk CFC kckckejke .,.,., kskckekekek akckjcs xkkskcke skkksekck skkckekes skckk kskck
I'll insult whatever I want.
Good day, Squirrel. Relish in the life lived in luxury, and despise all Natural Life.
