[ He won't make any secret of the fact that he'd been informed about him, during a conversation that had happened somewhat concurrent with this one. Quentin had been up front about it, and he hadn't been bothered by it in the least since then. Less so than the news that he'd be having his entire life NotThem'd like some sort of game whenever the Admiral bloody well felt like it.
But he does consider his answer carefully before he speaks. As carefully as he considers anything which, in some ways, isn't nearly as careful as he perhaps should be.]
The kind that feeds on secrets, on knowing, the same way I suspect some part of you thrives on the Hunt.
[ Lawrence Mortimer's words were still there, after all. He'd read them off the page and some part of them was still in him, just like all of them were. He could almost hear the sing-song recollection of the predator's words.
He understood that hunger more than he liked.]
Edited (slight clarification given thread timing) 2019-01-30 12:19 (UTC)
'Homicidal' was the primary word used. Specifically, that you tend to kill your wardens.
[ His tone, crisp as ever, is more wry and matter-of-fact than all that upset. Death and horror and monsters that tear at any cages they might have, even if those cages have faces-
It's business as usual, honestly.]
I was then quoted 'two to six corpses' a year as your average.
[ He takes a moment to clear his throat before continuing.]
If I do happen to be assigned your warden, I hope you'll at least do me the convenience of agreeing to some manner of schedule. I'd prefer not to have a project interrupted if it's possible by this 'death toll', as I've heard it called.
[Lark considers that and tips his head in a half-nod, a sort of 'yeah okay that's fair' gesture that needs no words.]
I haven't killed all my wardens. Tiffany and Buffy listened to what I needed them to do, and we did fine. Besides, I don't usually kill people who are good at things that I'm interested in. I'd be shooting myself in the foot if I interrupted your work.
How many projects are you even considering, right this moment?
[ He'll take that particular silence for what it is, and the warning for what it is as well. If Mr. Tennant doesn't mind him going about his business, then they should function just fine. He'd rather not die, if it's all the same. The idea of directions... that he's less sure of. He has noted before that he may not be a terribly brave man at points (which is questionably true) but he is a stubborn one (unquestionably true). And he knows his own luck when it comes to angering the sort of beings that go for the proverbial (or literal) throat.
He'd survived those, but not unscarred.]
The archive, obviously, as I mentioned.
[ And this would, in fact, be the first person he's mentioning the Leitner problem to,besides Miss Kal-El, but he supposes that that is fitting. The library staff should be the front line against this.]
And I will be combing the collection to search for a certain set of books which I'm familiar with from my own world. Very... unfortunate, dangerous books.
[The one thing Sims didn't mention was Lark's tendency to be in the eaves of sabotage and mutinous missions. He wonders now if whoever shared the information didn't add that in, because he's quietly surprised that any warden would tell him about dangerous artifacts.
But one thing about Lark is that he protects what is his, and the ship for now is the only thing keeping him alive. No one else will be allowed to harm it.]
[ He sucks in a breath, obvious enough, and lets it out again.]
I watched one of them devour a boy of eighteen years, two long hairy spider's legs reaching out, incredibly huge,snatching him before my very eyes. I have found a man's corpse with bite and claw marks that originated from inside of his body, ripping themselves outwards. I'm aware of one that slowly moves the date of your death backwards every time that you look at the last page, where you get to read the increasingly gruesome account of how you will die. Another that, with a single paper cut, putrified a man's entire system within a day.
[ A pause before- ]
Will you require more examples or does that suffice?
In that case, the book came to the gentleman with no warning and little information. I imagine reading of his own demise in a book gifted to him somewhat surprisingly by the death of an acquaintance struck a nerve.
[ Another long, tired sigh.]
At last count, before the place was destroyed, there were 978 books belonging to Jurgen Leitner, kept in his so-called 'prison' with the intention to contain them away from others.
[ There's a particular sort of anger in his voice.]
The man was a fool, a child attempting to contain forces he could barely conceptualize purely for his own pride.
[ He lets most of it go, the hint irritation in his voice remaining mostly because the niggling thought of 'George Icarus' and his remains will be on his mind for a while yet, at least until he's properly dug into the work here. Dammit, Elias...
He continues, though. ]
And while I have no intention of repeating his mistakes, I feel it would be... remiss of me not to at least make people aware of any which I find and the dangers they might pose.
[ There's the sort of pause that comes when one is rubbing at one's eye or the bridge of one's nose.]
Besides, at least one of them has a tendency to make the other books around it start to bleed. I'm sure we'd all prefer to avoid the extra mopping up.
There are people here you don't want to warn. People like... [so many people he's met who have gone, he has to think a moment to find the best current example] Like Bill. You've seen him? The little triangle? If he knew those existed, and if they were here, he would weaponize them.
[ There is a very particular flatness to his tone as he says- ]
I have most certainly met Mr. Cypher, regardless of the fact that I wish I had not.
[ He makes a noise, not so much a sigh as a soft huff, but it's just as obvious he doesn't mind continuing.]
I'm well aware of the fact that the books will, no doubt, be utilized in ways that I don't approve of, especially by beings such as 'Bill'. But I am equally aware that it is only a matter of time before the information disseminates regardless of my wishes and a proper record of what actually appears to be present here will at least allow for some manner of forensics in cases which might otherwise provide difficulties.
[ The next is something of a grumble, but it's not the sort that says he intends to hold back. On the contrary-]
What would you like to know about Mr. Leitner? Understanding, of course, that I only met the man in person once.
People will find out eventually. But if the books are here, spreading the information to everyone at once opens the door to a lot of problems. Share it a little at the time, with the right people, and we'll be better equipped when the trouble makers come forward.
[So that's the first point. The second is a little harder to clarify. What does he want to know? Lark prefers to cast wide nets, but in this case he needs to be precise.]
I want to know what sort of person collects those books, I guess. You said he told everyone he was doing it out of the goodness of his heart? And then you called him a fool. How did he get 900 of them without the books destroying him?
[ There's a short pause as he considers the words, takes a second to breathe instead of getting unnecessarily irritated over what he knows isn't a pointed insult, then lets it out.]
I've no intention to make an announcement about it; in fact, the only ones I've mentioned it to are yourself and Miss Kal-El. I've... learned the hard way that it hardly makes sense to keep secrets from one's co-workers. And as you recall, this whole discussion came about concerning my position in the library.
[ A longer sigh and now there's the sound of some shuffling on the other side of the communicator; he is going to make some tea.]
I said no such thing. In truth, his motives were utterly unknown to anyone save a select few both before and after the destruction of his library and his subsequent disappearance.
I called him a fool because he was one. For most of my life, I thought him the epitome of evil. Honestly, I'm not sure if one is an improvement over the other.
[ There's the soft rush of water, followed by a gentle -tunk- of the kettle on the burner, a click of the flame starting up. The next few preparations are quieter.]
He was a man with one great skill: finding rare items of interest. With it was one great boon: he had a great deal of money and no other family to share it with. This led to him building his library, made to certain specifications that he thought would neutralize as much of the books' various energies as possible.
[ The quiet rush of teabags being pulled out and a gentle 'ting' of china on china. Yes, he goes through this whole mess. Some things are ingrained from childhood.]
As for how he amassed such a collection, from what I was told, there were any number of assistants and servants and workmen who were, for all intents and purposes, 'sacrificed' to the effort'. That he avoided it himself for as long as he did was a combination of craftiness and cowardice."
I want you in the library. I just want to make sure my bases are covered whenever there are active grenades around. If things go to hell, you can leave this place. I can't. I'm trapped here with whatever wants to rip me apart from the inside or eat me whole.
So if you do find these books, even just one of them--what will you do with it?
To be fair, given that they're present in my world, I'd really just be going from one frying pan to another.
[ ...he's just saying. In this case, at least.]
But your concerns are... entirely valid, frankly. For all that I hardly think I'll be able to provide much comfort.
[ He goes to the 'fridge to pull out the milk, as he prefers it in the cup first, and the soft 'wump' of it filters through before he continues.]
As for my plan of action, it will very much depend on the book. And whether or not it turns out that this place has any effect on the relative strength or effectiveness of their power.
[ To his mind, he is even now in a place belonging to and entirely within the power of one of the Entities, specifically the one he knows as the End. ]
My... predecessor, back in my own world, made it a habit to try and find or purchase as many of Leitner's previous books as possible. She would then research how to destroy them properly and do so at her earliest convenience, from what I can tell. I'm... honestly not sure how effective that was. Nor am I sure whether she knew.
[ There is the soft whistle of the kettle that he stops quickly enough to move from the burner.]
The whole matter rests on the interaction between this place and the Entities that influence my world. Each of the books is, in Leitner's words, a 'pure' expression of their power given form.
And the fact of the matter is, having just arrived, my understanding of this place is very much at a hypothetical stage. So in answer to your question, I suppose I would bring the text to Miss Kal-El and yourself and we would decide what should be done about it at that point, determining our course of action by the effects of the book, it's destructive properties to other books, and how potentially harmful it might be to the ship at large to have it floating around.
I don't understand how you 'destroy' a pure expression of power. There's a law of physics about that, isn't there?
[Yeah, he's thinking about how that might go for the ship now. And he's thinking there's a slim opportunity in it that isn't worth chasing...not for Lark, not anymore. But there are other desperate inmates and he can't watch them all.]
Oh, there’s no destroying the power, but one can ‘plug up’ the ‘hole’, so to speak, between them and more physical realities by destroying the manifestation.
[ There is a sigh and the soft tinkling of a spoon in a teacup. ]
At the same time, who’s to say a, er, “fresher” hell, a new and potentially unknown expression that may or may not be created by the “gap”, is any better? Hence why I’m unsure if destruction is the proper route and containment, at least en masse most certainly isn’t.
[ Jon takes a moment to actually drink a bit of his tea before he continues. ]
And the fact of the matter is I don’t, but I’m not about to take the chance or rely upon the “Admiral’s” better judgement or even, possible means of control.
Suffice to say, I hope very much to be wrong in my suspicions.
[Lark smirks a little at the mention of the Admiral's judgment, because really, the creature has none.
Which sparks the bitterest part of Lark and he forgets the books, just for a moment.]
Did he tell you this isn't even his ship? Back when he offered you the deal? Did he tell you that he's being hunted down by his own kind because he's a mutineer? That he hijacked a Barge when people started asking too many questions, and inmates aren't just prisoners but hostages now? I just have to know how transparent it is to be in his employ.
[ That has him pausing, just a moment, but the fact of the matter was that he'd gotten the most important information, the most important guarantee, from Iris: his deal would be fulfilled. That was what he needed, more than anything. And given his own feelings under the Eye, he can't say that there's terribly much wrong with a rogue avatar of the End, at least in theory.]
He hadn't mentioned it, no. Then again, the whole thing has the air of a shady deal around reality's back, to be honest.
Though I'm certainly familiar enough with hostage situations...
[ That comes with a low, dark laugh.
He was, after all, trying to get quite a few people out of one.]
[ Jon's never been one to trust gentleness, especially not from monsters. He was hardly one to trust politeness, really. Or, to be frank, much of anything. At the same time, he's also not the sort of person to change who he is for anyone, which was probably why his friends numbered in... Georgie. There'd been Tim (been), and he'd thought for a time he at least had a working relationship with Basira but that had turned out to be her stringing him along in the hopes of him incriminating himself for Gertrude's murder. Elias was laughable, especially at this point. Melanie had always thought he was a dick, even before she'd met him, he was reasonably certain Daisy still vaguely wanted to kill him every once in a while, Sasha was dead, and then there was Martin.
Thus-]
Yes.
[ He lets it out in a breath.]
It means that when one of you do, actually kill me... I'll understand. I might even empathize, given my own predicament. But there's nothing you, or anyone else could say that could possibly make me leave. Not before I'm done.
You're not the only hostages. And I... I owe them that.
I understand. I do. We all have people we'll choose above others; even I do now.
So I really do hope you aren't paired with me. Especially not permanently. There's nothing I can do to make you leave, and there's nothing you can do to make me help you use me.
[A faint, sad smile] This is why I've had so many wardens.
[ There's a self-deprecating sort of laugh as he, on the other side of the line, rubs at his eyes. ]
It would be my luck, to be honest.
[ But he can't help- he is curious. And curiosity is like an addiction for him, as he'd somewhat mentioned before. He's careful because he doesn't know if what he does can be transmitted by the Admiral's devices, and he's learned from Jude Perry that dangerous creatures seldom enjoy having things forced from them.]
I would like to know, if you don't mind sharing, if the issue is simply that you refuse to allow anyone to profit from your stay here or if you merely have no desire to change.
[The answer, in a word, is 'both'. But if Lark wants to be honest--and for now he does--the answer can't be compressed into a single word.]
I have changed. I've carved out, and given up, and reshaped pieces of myself in order to survive here with my mind in one piece. I've dug around for things that are broken so that I can try to heal them, in case that will get me out--but also because I want to be whole.
But there are things about myself that make me who I am. Things that I love. I can't let the Admiral erase those or I wouldn't be me.
I've done all of that work. I've been the one who has outlasted warden after warden. Whatever progress I've made is mine. What right does some stranger, someone who didn't even know me when I got here, have to benefit off of my life? I'm not here bleeding and burning and fighting just so someone can show up at the eleventh hour and claim credit. They get a miracle--to save dead loved ones or rescue dying worlds. Do you know what I get? I get to go home. Home to a world that's trying to kill me and all of my people. That's all. That's my prize.
Some months back, my co-workers staged... well, an 'intervention', as embarrassing as the whole thing was. They were trying to convince me that I ought to stop trying to figure out who killed my predecessor, stop suspecting them of having been involved or possibly even having killed her. They asked me to put down my guard, to pretend as if the matter was dealt with, leave it to the police.
[ A careful pause. ]
I discovered not long after that that someone I'd once called a friend, one of my assistants, had in fact been dead for almost a year. That her murderer had overwritten everything we knew of her with a 'new' Sasha and taken her place. That she'd been feeding my paranoia in an attempt to get me to free her from an item that the Institute had in artifact storage.
[ A pause.]
I did. And she almost killed me, as well as both of my other assistants at the time. She would have if I hadn't been saved by, of all people, Jurgen Leitner.
[ He lets that hang in the air for a moment before he continues. ]
I don't suppose you can see where I might be going with all this?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ He won't make any secret of the fact that he'd been informed about him, during a conversation that had happened somewhat concurrent with this one. Quentin had been up front about it, and he hadn't been bothered by it in the least since then. Less so than the news that he'd be having his entire life NotThem'd like some sort of game whenever the Admiral bloody well felt like it.
But he does consider his answer carefully before he speaks. As carefully as he considers anything which, in some ways, isn't nearly as careful as he perhaps should be.]
The kind that feeds on secrets, on knowing, the same way I suspect some part of you thrives on the Hunt.
[ Lawrence Mortimer's words were still there, after all. He'd read them off the page and some part of them was still in him, just like all of them were. He could almost hear the sing-song recollection of the predator's words.
He understood that hunger more than he liked.]
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[ His tone, crisp as ever, is more wry and matter-of-fact than all that upset. Death and horror and monsters that tear at any cages they might have, even if those cages have faces-
It's business as usual, honestly.]
I was then quoted 'two to six corpses' a year as your average.
[ He takes a moment to clear his throat before continuing.]
If I do happen to be assigned your warden, I hope you'll at least do me the convenience of agreeing to some manner of schedule. I'd prefer not to have a project interrupted if it's possible by this 'death toll', as I've heard it called.
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I haven't killed all my wardens. Tiffany and Buffy listened to what I needed them to do, and we did fine. Besides, I don't usually kill people who are good at things that I'm interested in. I'd be shooting myself in the foot if I interrupted your work.
How many projects are you even considering, right this moment?
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He'd survived those, but not unscarred.]
The archive, obviously, as I mentioned.
[ And this would, in fact, be the first person he's mentioning the Leitner problem to,besides Miss Kal-El, but he supposes that that is fitting. The library staff should be the front line against this.]
And I will be combing the collection to search for a certain set of books which I'm familiar with from my own world. Very... unfortunate, dangerous books.
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But one thing about Lark is that he protects what is his, and the ship for now is the only thing keeping him alive. No one else will be allowed to harm it.]
Dangerous how?
cw body horror, child death, disease
I watched one of them devour a boy of eighteen years, two long hairy spider's legs reaching out, incredibly huge,snatching him before my very eyes. I have found a man's corpse with bite and claw marks that originated from inside of his body, ripping themselves outwards. I'm aware of one that slowly moves the date of your death backwards every time that you look at the last page, where you get to read the increasingly gruesome account of how you will die. Another that, with a single paper cut, putrified a man's entire system within a day.
[ A pause before- ]
Will you require more examples or does that suffice?
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[It's an idle, thoughtful question while he mulls this all over, shuffles the information into useful and less useful categories.]
How many books are we looking for?
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[ Another long, tired sigh.]
At last count, before the place was destroyed, there were 978 books belonging to Jurgen Leitner, kept in his so-called 'prison' with the intention to contain them away from others.
[ There's a particular sort of anger in his voice.]
The man was a fool, a child attempting to contain forces he could barely conceptualize purely for his own pride.
[ He lets most of it go, the hint irritation in his voice remaining mostly because the niggling thought of 'George Icarus' and his remains will be on his mind for a while yet, at least until he's properly dug into the work here. Dammit, Elias...
He continues, though. ]
And while I have no intention of repeating his mistakes, I feel it would be... remiss of me not to at least make people aware of any which I find and the dangers they might pose.
[ There's the sort of pause that comes when one is rubbing at one's eye or the bridge of one's nose.]
Besides, at least one of them has a tendency to make the other books around it start to bleed. I'm sure we'd all prefer to avoid the extra mopping up.
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Tell me more about Leitner.
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I have most certainly met Mr. Cypher, regardless of the fact that I wish I had not.
[ He makes a noise, not so much a sigh as a soft huff, but it's just as obvious he doesn't mind continuing.]
I'm well aware of the fact that the books will, no doubt, be utilized in ways that I don't approve of, especially by beings such as 'Bill'. But I am equally aware that it is only a matter of time before the information disseminates regardless of my wishes and a proper record of what actually appears to be present here will at least allow for some manner of forensics in cases which might otherwise provide difficulties.
[ The next is something of a grumble, but it's not the sort that says he intends to hold back. On the contrary-]
What would you like to know about Mr. Leitner? Understanding, of course, that I only met the man in person once.
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[So that's the first point. The second is a little harder to clarify. What does he want to know? Lark prefers to cast wide nets, but in this case he needs to be precise.]
I want to know what sort of person collects those books, I guess. You said he told everyone he was doing it out of the goodness of his heart? And then you called him a fool. How did he get 900 of them without the books destroying him?
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I've no intention to make an announcement about it; in fact, the only ones I've mentioned it to are yourself and Miss Kal-El. I've... learned the hard way that it hardly makes sense to keep secrets from one's co-workers. And as you recall, this whole discussion came about concerning my position in the library.
[ A longer sigh and now there's the sound of some shuffling on the other side of the communicator; he is going to make some tea.]
I said no such thing. In truth, his motives were utterly unknown to anyone save a select few both before and after the destruction of his library and his subsequent disappearance.
I called him a fool because he was one. For most of my life, I thought him the epitome of evil. Honestly, I'm not sure if one is an improvement over the other.
[ There's the soft rush of water, followed by a gentle -tunk- of the kettle on the burner, a click of the flame starting up. The next few preparations are quieter.]
He was a man with one great skill: finding rare items of interest. With it was one great boon: he had a great deal of money and no other family to share it with. This led to him building his library, made to certain specifications that he thought would neutralize as much of the books' various energies as possible.
[ The quiet rush of teabags being pulled out and a gentle 'ting' of china on china. Yes, he goes through this whole mess. Some things are ingrained from childhood.]
As for how he amassed such a collection, from what I was told, there were any number of assistants and servants and workmen who were, for all intents and purposes, 'sacrificed' to the effort'. That he avoided it himself for as long as he did was a combination of craftiness and cowardice."
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So if you do find these books, even just one of them--what will you do with it?
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[ ...he's just saying. In this case, at least.]
But your concerns are... entirely valid, frankly. For all that I hardly think I'll be able to provide much comfort.
[ He goes to the 'fridge to pull out the milk, as he prefers it in the cup first, and the soft 'wump' of it filters through before he continues.]
As for my plan of action, it will very much depend on the book. And whether or not it turns out that this place has any effect on the relative strength or effectiveness of their power.
[ To his mind, he is even now in a place belonging to and entirely within the power of one of the Entities, specifically the one he knows as the End. ]
My... predecessor, back in my own world, made it a habit to try and find or purchase as many of Leitner's previous books as possible. She would then research how to destroy them properly and do so at her earliest convenience, from what I can tell. I'm... honestly not sure how effective that was. Nor am I sure whether she knew.
[ There is the soft whistle of the kettle that he stops quickly enough to move from the burner.]
The whole matter rests on the interaction between this place and the Entities that influence my world. Each of the books is, in Leitner's words, a 'pure' expression of their power given form.
And the fact of the matter is, having just arrived, my understanding of this place is very much at a hypothetical stage. So in answer to your question, I suppose I would bring the text to Miss Kal-El and yourself and we would decide what should be done about it at that point, determining our course of action by the effects of the book, it's destructive properties to other books, and how potentially harmful it might be to the ship at large to have it floating around.
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[Yeah, he's thinking about how that might go for the ship now. And he's thinking there's a slim opportunity in it that isn't worth chasing...not for Lark, not anymore. But there are other desperate inmates and he can't watch them all.]
How can you be sure if they've followed you here?
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[ There is a sigh and the soft tinkling of a spoon in a teacup. ]
At the same time, who’s to say a, er, “fresher” hell, a new and potentially unknown expression that may or may not be created by the “gap”, is any better? Hence why I’m unsure if destruction is the proper route and containment, at least en masse most certainly isn’t.
[ Jon takes a moment to actually drink a bit of his tea before he continues. ]
And the fact of the matter is I don’t, but I’m not about to take the chance or rely upon the “Admiral’s” better judgement or even, possible means of control.
Suffice to say, I hope very much to be wrong in my suspicions.
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Which sparks the bitterest part of Lark and he forgets the books, just for a moment.]
Did he tell you this isn't even his ship? Back when he offered you the deal? Did he tell you that he's being hunted down by his own kind because he's a mutineer? That he hijacked a Barge when people started asking too many questions, and inmates aren't just prisoners but hostages now? I just have to know how transparent it is to be in his employ.
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He hadn't mentioned it, no. Then again, the whole thing has the air of a shady deal around reality's back, to be honest.
Though I'm certainly familiar enough with hostage situations...
[ That comes with a low, dark laugh.
He was, after all, trying to get quite a few people out of one.]
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But his tone is gentle, but perhaps a little lethal now.]
Does that change anything for you?
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Thus-]
Yes.
[ He lets it out in a breath.]
It means that when one of you do, actually kill me... I'll understand. I might even empathize, given my own predicament. But there's nothing you, or anyone else could say that could possibly make me leave. Not before I'm done.
You're not the only hostages. And I... I owe them that.
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So I really do hope you aren't paired with me. Especially not permanently. There's nothing I can do to make you leave, and there's nothing you can do to make me help you use me.
[A faint, sad smile] This is why I've had so many wardens.
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It would be my luck, to be honest.
[ But he can't help- he is curious. And curiosity is like an addiction for him, as he'd somewhat mentioned before. He's careful because he doesn't know if what he does can be transmitted by the Admiral's devices, and he's learned from Jude Perry that dangerous creatures seldom enjoy having things forced from them.]
I would like to know, if you don't mind sharing, if the issue is simply that you refuse to allow anyone to profit from your stay here or if you merely have no desire to change.
[ Only a brief pause before-]
I do understand both points.
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I have changed. I've carved out, and given up, and reshaped pieces of myself in order to survive here with my mind in one piece. I've dug around for things that are broken so that I can try to heal them, in case that will get me out--but also because I want to be whole.
But there are things about myself that make me who I am. Things that I love. I can't let the Admiral erase those or I wouldn't be me.
I've done all of that work. I've been the one who has outlasted warden after warden. Whatever progress I've made is mine. What right does some stranger, someone who didn't even know me when I got here, have to benefit off of my life? I'm not here bleeding and burning and fighting just so someone can show up at the eleventh hour and claim credit. They get a miracle--to save dead loved ones or rescue dying worlds. Do you know what I get? I get to go home. Home to a world that's trying to kill me and all of my people. That's all. That's my prize.
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[ His voice is softer, clearly contemplative.]
Some months back, my co-workers staged... well, an 'intervention', as embarrassing as the whole thing was. They were trying to convince me that I ought to stop trying to figure out who killed my predecessor, stop suspecting them of having been involved or possibly even having killed her. They asked me to put down my guard, to pretend as if the matter was dealt with, leave it to the police.
[ A careful pause. ]
I discovered not long after that that someone I'd once called a friend, one of my assistants, had in fact been dead for almost a year. That her murderer had overwritten everything we knew of her with a 'new' Sasha and taken her place. That she'd been feeding my paranoia in an attempt to get me to free her from an item that the Institute had in artifact storage.
[ A pause.]
I did. And she almost killed me, as well as both of my other assistants at the time. She would have if I hadn't been saved by, of all people, Jurgen Leitner.
[ He lets that hang in the air for a moment before he continues. ]
I don't suppose you can see where I might be going with all this?
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