Jonsohn Smithy... a man of great value. His potential... unfathomable. His worth... exceptional. I took him in and taught him the nuance of patience, self-actualisation... he was going to be my Chief Human Resources Officer. And now... gone. For what? Of what merit was this death? He broke no seals. He made no enemies.
Know this, killer. You spilled holy blood. I don't care who you are; this will prove to be your final mistake.
Lesson 11: Spilling holy blood
Damage to my flock is damage to my investments. My personal projects. When a billionaire marks another being with the essence of a Hustler, it is expected that they will shortly ascend to the billionaire's social class. Your paltry attempts to discard this notion are an affront to the natural order. Smithy was simply a better person than many of you. Perhaps that inspired jealousy in you. Regardless, balance must be restored with ritual execution.
...Anyway. My testimony.
My first order of business, after leaving my dorm under the watchful eye of Miss Yawaza, is stock counts. My attempt to replenish my office equipment is thwarted, naturally, by Nashu, wielding a bladed guitar. We trade blows, and achieve nothing. Know this - there are no winners when the combat is unprovoked. Only losers. I appreciated her demonstration of prowess, but her foresight seems to be... unformidable. I depart, looking to demonstrate some prowess of my own.
Thanks to my successes yesterday, I am now capable of accessing almost every part of this facility. Such as Restricted Files, home to an array of secret business tips. There, I discovered the ninth page of the Traveler's Journal. I will present this when things have calmed down.
My next item on the agenda was to repair my Sigma Blades, which suffered some damage in yesterday's scheme. So, through I go to the Geology Lab, seeing a cracked power drill, presumably dropped. This was Smithy's drill. According to our investigations, this can only mean that our victim was ambushed here, and taken somewhere else while dazed or unconscious. How curious.
By the time I'm in the kitchen, I am attacked (metaphorically) by a blackout. Sight is a business winner's primary tool - the ability to observe a stock graph is known colloquially as a method of prayer. But, this is but a minor setback for me. I've faced ravenous investors in the overwhelming darkness of the Bezos underground dungeons. A small blackout in a domestic environment? Not a problem. With some effort, the blades are re-forged.
Next, I make use of my newfound accessability advancements to explore Lab Zero. Of note;
-The wretched chanting creature had been dispatched to the Holding Cell.
-There are many masks of poor make here. Modern manufacturing is impressive in its speed and accuracy, but the old ways triumph in more important aspects, such as... well, I like the old ways. My feelings on this matter are self-explanatory.
When I leave for the Facility Lobby, and the lights come back on, I spot Columbo heading to the dorms. Not particularly assured by his presence, I decide to invest in my own safety in the Armory. I am, in some ways, closer to immortality than ever before.
My final act on the schedule was to solve the Chapel's grand conundrum once and for all - a puzzle that, thankfully, had been solved by Pea before I even had the chance. We confront, we stare, we ponder. But for all my strengths, I am only mildly bulletproof, and he had a gun. The battle was not worth fighting, so I returned to sleep.
Beyond sigma. Life coach and trading consultant. V.I.P blogger and investigator. Trader in rare fish and various oddities. Contact for free business conundrums.