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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Nov 19, 2023 6:20:55 GMT -5
I am curious, though. What sort of evidence did Bertrand find linking Lemony and Ellington? There wouldn't be much, with how ATWQ ended. You literally just unlocked a creative block with this question. My head just exploded! Thanks!!!
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Nov 19, 2023 6:44:03 GMT -5
I am curious, though. What sort of evidence did Bertrand find linking Lemony and Ellington? There wouldn't be much, with how ATWQ ended. But to answer your question more directly, books ?1, ?2, ?3 could have been reports sent by Lemony. They could be used by a desperate Bertrand as proof that Lemony had fallen in love with Eligton.
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Post by Tiran O'Saurus on Nov 19, 2023 7:29:20 GMT -5
Lemony always said the reports would have "practically none of this" in them, but he was never very good at hiding his feelings for Ellington. I'd buy that he described her in such glowing terms in one of them that it was kind of obvious.
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Nov 19, 2023 16:55:39 GMT -5
Lemony always said the reports would have "practically none of this" in them, but he was never very good at hiding his feelings for Ellington. I'd buy that he described her in such glowing terms in one of them that it was kind of obvious. Exactly, but not obvious enough for a smitten Beatrice to think he was actually in love with Eligton.
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Post by HAL 10,000 on Nov 19, 2023 18:57:14 GMT -5
Lemony always said the reports would have "practically none of this" in them, but he was never very good at hiding his feelings for Ellington. I'd buy that he described her in such glowing terms in one of them that it was kind of obvious. Lemony might've eventually gotten over Ellington and never mentioned her to Beatrice, and even if Beatrice had read the reports they wouldn't mention any of that.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Nov 20, 2023 8:49:25 GMT -5
So, where is this story going? There are several interesting concepts here. The question is how they will play into one another.
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Nov 25, 2023 22:21:32 GMT -5
Collateral 01 - Dr. Sandiego
It was two in the morning. Dr. Sandiego, the on-call physician aboard the Esperanto, was abruptly summoned to the emergency unfolding. Mid-dinner herself, she hastily grabbed her medical kit and hurried to the dining hall. She seemed to be the last to learn of the incident: A crowd of crew members surrounded a man desperately gasping for breath. It was Navigation Officer Logman, struggling amidst a chaotic scene. Food was strewn everywhere. A sailor cried out in anguish, "He was eating joyfully with us when he suddenly fell ill!" Approaching the man, Sandiego saw him laboring to draw breath, his mouth agape, straining for air, yet barely succeeding. His tongue, lips, and eyes were alarmingly swollen. An anaphylactic shock, evidently. Epinephrine. That was it. An injection in the thigh. She reached for her kit. The autoinjector, a bulky pen-like device with a protective needle cover, should have been there – five of them. But they were missing. Yet, they had been there. Sabotage, Sandiego deduced. She had checked the entire kit at the start of her shift. But there was no time to ponder how five autoinjectors had vanished. A life was slipping away. She donned gloves and picked up her scalpel, dousing the necessary equipment with 70% alcohol. She donned a surgical mask and protective goggles, urging the onlookers to step back. No suitable cannula was in the kit, so she sterilized a straw she found on the table. Logman had lost consciousness. Sandiego palpated his throat until she located the cricothyroid membrane, just below the prominent thyroid cartilage, the 'Adam's apple.' That would be the incision point. She steadied her fingers and made a cut. She recalled her professor's words from medical school: "This area is relatively superficial and free of major blood vessels," he had explained. "Don't go too deep, or you might damage the trachea," and lastly, "if you see things turning red, you've made a grave mistake." The doctor made a one-and-a-half-centimeter incision, inserted her fingertip, and calmly placed the tube. "He's breathing!" she finally announced. The crew erupted in applause. The rest of the medical team arrived at that exact moment. Thank God someone had the good sense to call for backup. The medical officer patted Sandiego on the shoulder: "Well done, Doctor. We'll take it from here." Sandiego stood up and removed her mask, sitting down exhaustedly. "It was the woman who brought my dinner. She was the only one who entered my cabin after I checked the kit. Thinking about it, I've never seen her before. I'm certain it was her."
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Dec 2, 2023 21:23:45 GMT -5
Collateral II
Dagwood finally spotted his prey: Beatrice. Once disguised as a cook, now, he observed her sinister silhouette dressed as a sailor, stealthily infiltrating the navigation cabin.
There was no need for Dagwood to hide in the shadows. The telegram he had received contained clear instructions: "Prevent Beatrice from causing the Esperanto Ship to sink STOP."
He remembered Beatrice in her youth: an imposing figure, master of disguises, fierce tamer of lions and eagles, a phenomenal actress. A jewel for the VFD. But now, she was just a puppet in the claws of something horrifying and deadly. "Kill Chabo STOP."
Dagwood refused to comply. He could not simply annihilate a human being. It was the moral question that plagued the VFD: "Should the nobles employ lethal force against those who disturb the peace?"
Lemony Snicket's theories spread through the VFD like a virus, but Dagwood rejected them. He had discussed this with Violeta before they separated. A temporary separation, he convinced himself, as his boots echoed in the dark corridor towards the cabin.
Upon entering, he confronted her. Her face was distorted with seriousness, her hands manipulating the nautical maps with diabolical precision. "If you don't kill Chabo, everyone on board will die, except Beatrice and Bertrand STOP."
Dagwood closed the door behind him, sealing his fate. "Beatrice? Or should I say, Chabo?"
"Do not reveal Chabo's existence to Bertrand under any circumstances STOP" - the telegram had requested. He thought that if Bertrand were with him, the situation would be easier. But, he was already planning to disobey the telegram too much. And he really wanted to avoid more trouble in his friend's marriage.
She turned around, her eyes were pits of darkness. "How do you know my true name?" He expected to hear that, but she simply ignored him, continuing her nefarious task.
"Do you know who I am?" Dagwood asked, but before he could get an answer, she was already erasing her tracks, a predator preparing her den.
She turned to face him, a twisted smile outlining her lips. "I've tortured you in every imaginable way. Broken your bones, bitten your neck, torn off your fingers with those scissors there," she pointed with contempt. "You are resilient, I must admit. You must be from the VFD, even without a tattoo on your ankle. I've tried everything, but you never reveal anything, not even your name. It's a pity... Your knowledge about Chabo will remain a mystery."
Beatrice advanced with supernatural speed. Dagwood was thrown against the locked door, hitting his head with brutal force. A piercing pain invaded him, and then he felt the deadly grip on his neck.
Memories of Violeta flooded his mind. "I'm tired of you!" - Violeta had said as she threw a glass at his head. Then she slapped his face several times. Pulled his hair. Kicked him. Cursed him. "I hate you!" she had said. "Why don't you die?" she had screamed. But he knew it was just talk. After all, Violeta loved him. He never retaliated. He never complained. He just cried silently in his room for a few days until she apologized. And then he pretended that none of it had happened.
But now it was different.
That creature was not Violeta.
"If the nobles don't react, won't they be eliminated by the wicked?" Violeta had yelled at him, using all the breath in her lungs. That had been the moment when Violeta decided to support the deadly fungus plan. A plan that Dagwood would never support.
What was his plan after all? To be a pacifist. That was his essence. He would try to convince Beatrice or whatever Chabo was, to give up the plan of sinking the ship. A dialogue could solve everything. But why had he brought that knife on his waist? Was it in case he changed his mind? "How pathetic I am... And how hypocritical."
Almost losing strength, he touched his waist. But the knife was no longer there.
Beatrice, using her free hand, lifted the knife and exposed it in front of him. "Last time, you almost managed to hurt me with this." She kept the knife with her and continued to suffocate him.
The force was overwhelming. Dagwood struggled, trying to push her away, but she was an untamable beast. His vision began to darken, silence enveloped him, and everything turned into complete darkness.
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Jan 10, 2024 10:42:05 GMT -5
Collateral III
In the dim light of dawn, Dagwood's eyes flickered open, revealing only a world shrouded in a disorienting, bright blur. A chilling doubt crept in – was he still tethered to the living, or had he slipped away? The passage of time remained a mystery, obscured like the world around him.
A sharp, agonizing pain throbbed in his neck, piercing through the haze. His vision, stubbornly unclear, refused to cooperate.
"Can you hear me?" a female voice asked.
He tried to respond, but no voice came out.
"I'm Dr. Sandiego. You've been the victim of an attempted murder. Someone tried to suffocate you. A woman named Beatrice."
A flood of relief washed over Dagwood, mingling with fear and uncertainty. They were aware of Beatrice's deeds. But the thought of Bertrand's reaction lingered like a shadow. Time for such worries was a luxury he couldn't afford – there were lives hanging in the balance.
"She was captured and confessed to killing you."
So Beatrice thought he was dead.
Another voice, male, said:
"When the Esperanto docks, she will be arrested and tried. We won't reveal your survival until then. But we need your help to understand something intriguing. Can you speak?"
No, Dagwood couldn't speak or see clearly. He sat up. Maybe moving his lips could help.
"I think I can speak this way," Dagwood said. He moved his lips slowly and made the air in his lungs come out in such a way that something resembling a voice could be subtly heard. After all, the VFD training in discrete communication had been useful.
"That's not very healthy," Dr. Sandiego stated.
The male voice said: "I'll explain the situation, so speak as little as possible."
"We received a strange telegram. It located you and informed us about Beatrice, the assassin, and Bertrand the accomplice. We found Bertrand unconscious, apparently drugged. He's a VIP, and Beatrice is his wife. When we found her, she confessed to your murder and the attempted murder of Officer Logman. Your telegram suggests you're on a mission against 'Chabo,' a codename for Beatrice. Were you here to kill her?"
Dagwood knew this was an interrogation.
"I wasn't going to kill her. But she was going to kill us all. I tried to convince her not to."
"She squeezed your carotid arteries, affecting blood flow. Your vision should improve soon. Your throat will heal, allowing normal speech," Sandiego explained.
"Who sent the telegrams?" the man asked.
"We call him JS," Dagwood replied, "that's all I know." There was no reason to hide it. JS always signed telegrams like that, whoever he or she was.
"We?" the man queried.
"Me and my wife, Violeta. She's not here." - A melancholy memory about his wife came to mind. How would she be if she saw him hurt like that?
The sad memory was interrupted by Sandiego: "Sir, we need to postpone this interview. Mr. Dagwood needs rest to avoid irreversible sequelae, especially for his voice. He needs two hours of rest."
The man left. Dagwood lay down, but Sandiego gripped his wrist.
"We have to go," she said. "I also received a JS telegram. We need to survive."
Dagwood stood, surprised.
Sandiego showed him a confidential telegram. "This document should hypothetically contain the medical history of another patient."
"I can not read."
She read aloud the points that mattered most:"
"For Dr. Cintia Sandiego: Beatrice is aware of Dagwood's status but fixated on an imminent maritime disaster. She's under external neuro-psychological influence, related to CHABO. CHABO indicates a recurring cognitive temporal disorder. Focus on resilience and well-being for you and Dagwood. Restrict interventions to outside the ship's primary nucleus. J.S."
"And did you believe it?"
"The message is in Spanish. No one's called me Cíntia in decades. My grandmother did. It all made sense with JS signature. Something unbelievable is happening."
"Definitely," he agreed.
They ran, Sandiego guiding Dagwood.
He stopped, pulling her hand.
"Where are we going?"
"To a lifeboat until the shipwreck."
"She might have sabotaged them. That's why no one will survive."
"Then we're lost. We can attack her now."
"We can't defeat Chabo directly."
"Right. My telegram said she can time travel."
"We have to make our boat." - Said Dagwood.
"How?"
"Take me to the library. I know a technique to save us."
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I Am Chabo
Mar 23, 2024 14:30:36 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Mar 23, 2024 14:30:36 GMT -5
Timeline 3 - Chabo Genesis Part 1
The caravan was heading down the Mortmain Mountains, very quickly, with no way to control or stop its journey, so Violet and Klaus felt more like fish in a stormy sea than travelers on a vacation.
But Sunny Baudelaire was in a situation that could be said to be even more desperate. The younger version of her was traveling uphill, toward the headquarters in the Mortmain Mountains, in an automobile that was working perfectly, but the driver of the automobile was a man who was reason enough for being deceiving. While her older version had just taken over her sister's mind.
"We have to stop this caravan!” Klaus screamed. Hurriedly, he put on his glasses, as if by improving his vision he might improve the situation.
"Help me get us out of these freakish pants we’re both in." - Violet said.
In moments, the two Baudelaires wriggled out of the oversized clothing they had taken from Count Olaf’s disguise kit and were standing in regular clothes, trying to balance in the shaky caravan.
Abruptly, Violet’s demeanor turned sinister.“Your glasses, Klaus, discard them,” she uttered, slumping down, head cradled in her knees.
Desperation etched on Klaus’s face. "What's wrong with you Violet?! If we don't do anything, we're going to die! And what's worse, Sunny is going to be in Count Olaf's clutches!"
Tears streamed down Violet’s cheeks.
"I hate having to do this, Klaus. I hate having to watch you two die. I've tried other approaches. I've tried a world where Mom and Dad survived, but everything got worse. Now it's time to try another approach. An approach where you and Violet die today."
As the caravan barreled towards its terminal cliff, Klaus’s complexion turned ghostly. It dawned on him; he was not conversing with his sister. “Who are you?”
The girl raised her head and looked into Klaus' eyes. "I'm your sister. Not this one, the other one."
"How can this be?” Klaus’s voice trembled.
"“Delving into tomes and crafting inventions... That’s my realm now... I'm trying to reverse the apocalypse. "”
Klaus, amidst sobs, disregarded her. His mind raced for a salvage.
"The fungus has changed... The symptoms take time to appear... and when they do, they kill you slowly and painfully."
Klaus roared, “Silence, Violet! Or whoever you've become!”
"“I cherish you, my brother. Our lives were splendid. Together, we fostered a child, amassed wealth. Yet, post-fungus, your suffering was prolonged... two harrowing months... I promise, this end will be swift... Thus, no soul shall endure our plight. You and Violet, martyrs of mankind.”
Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant, filled with odd waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don’t always like.
A flicker ago, it seemed Violet and Klaus were destined for a swift demise, tumbling from a ridge or plunging into a brook. Violet's essence was extinguished on impact, but when the caravan met its violent end, Klaus' suffering was neither swift nor serene. Buried in ice for 4 excruciating hours, beset by agony and blood loss, he finally succumbed to oblivion before death claimed him.
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Mar 29, 2024 10:30:21 GMT -5
Timeline 3 - Chabo Genesis Part 2.
The girl woke up from a nightmare. The dream was evidently stemming from a memory of her time on a distant island. The nightmare began with her in a cage, and Olaf throwing bone pieces for her to gnaw on while dining with that terrible woman and the other adopted daughter. The girl inside the cage tried to ask for real food as she felt a deadly hunger but had to content herself with completely chewing the bones in search of some marrow. She was still a child at the start of the dream. But, as dreams are inexplicable, years quickly jumped.
She knew it was not just a simple night vision but what she saw most nights was a record of the past years. After all, her life had been a great nightmare.
Perhaps God had some purpose in all this. Hugo told her about God while taking her to the cage on the day she menstruated for the first time. Hugo said, "God will one day adjust everything. Everyone will pay for their sins and be blessed for their good deeds. Everything will then make sense." But she did not know how.
The girl carried a faint memory of her early childhood, but this part of her life never appeared in her dreams, and that was a small blessing because her first memory involved the loss of her biological parents. They died in agony in a terrible fire. To make matters worse, she did not remember their names or what their faces looked like. Moreover, the girl was sure she had had two siblings, or was it a brother and a sister? They also died in an accident or something.
"I have to remember," the girl thought about this every day, and that morning was no different. Between tears, she closed her eyes. "God, please help me remember my family!" But it seemed that God had not heard her prayers, at least not regarding that specific request. "God, please help me remember my real name." But she could not even do that.
Instead of the memory of her name or her family's names, she remembered her suffering on that distant island. And every night, the events involving her stepmother and her sister Adorativa Carmelita seemed to haunt her. Those were memories she wanted to forget but could not.
"To the dogs, bones are thrown, and when the dog is lucky, the leftovers." Her stepfather, Count Olaf, would say, as the former stepmother laughed. The girl no longer remembered the name of her former stepmother, but she remembered her face very well. She had to admit, she was beautiful. Especially the neck.
"Eat without hands, Chabo, just with the fluffy one!" the stepmother would scream. Hugo, Colette, and Kevin were already living with them at that time. They were forced by the stepmother to laugh at the caged girl while serving Count Olaf, the stepmother, and Carmelita.
"Mommy, can I open a human zoo to exhibit Hugo, Colette, and Kevin?" Carmelita asked in the dream.
"Of course, my angel. In a few years, your daddy will have a lot of money, and if you want, you can show as many zoos as you want!"
Count Olaf was not always on the island. The situation was much worse when he traveled for work. The stepmother allowed Carmelita to play with Hugo, Colette, and Kevin. Carmelita took a large whip and enjoyed making Hugo remove his shirt and expose his hump. Then she whipped the man's back while ordering him to try to perform a contortionist performance. "The freaks will be more interesting in my zoo if they are very versatile!" She did the same with Kevin, forcing him to pretend to be a hunchback and Colette to be equally skilled with both hands.
The girl felt a bit of shame when she realized that she felt relief when Carmelita played with Hugo, Colette, and Kevin. But the reason was justifiable: when Carmelita's decision was to "play" with her instead of the others, the situation was much worse. In the dream, the girl relived one of those experiences. The stepmother shouted:
"Carmelita, take Chabo for a walk!"
Those words made the girl's heart race. As always, panic took hold of her.
"Look, mommy, Chabo peed as soon as you said she was going to walk with me. I'll have to teach her a lesson in manners. She needs to be trained."
The collar on her neck hurt, but nothing was worse than the fact that Carmelita always found a nettle branch to "discipline" the girl. In the middle of the forest in the interior of the island, that was the favorite place for Carmelita to inflict the blows with the plant's branches. And of course, she always brought one of the harpoon launchers to ensure that the girl would stay in line.
"Chabo, you were a bad dog," she would say with a smile every time and then would hit the semi-naked girl's body. The back and legs were where Carmelita preferred to strike. "If it bothers you, rub against the trees, Cakesniffer!"
The nightmare had been very realistic in depicting all of this. The girl could still feel the itch and pain she was forced to endure at least three times a week. Everything was a reason for "discipline": if the girl looked too much at Carmelita, if she felt weak and failed to interact with others, if she tried to speak any word in English, if she barked too loudly or if she stopped barking for too long. And of course, whenever she performed her physiological needs. No matter what she did, the stepmother and Carmelita would wait for Olaf to leave the island to punish her.
When Olaf was at home, he seemed to enjoy her presence in the cage. Whenever she barked and imitated a dog, Olaf smiled with his bright eyes, and his eyebrow seemed less frightening. The girl knew she should not feel comfortable with this, but she couldn't help herself. Olaf's presence on the island meant that Carmelita would not harm her. On cold nights, he would even gently stroke her head and order Colette to bathe her with warm water and dress her in a worthy sweater. Colette took advantage of these moments to hug and cry with the girl.
"If they didn't have those two harpoon launchers, we would have found a way out of this," Colette would say between tears.
Those days became the least bad, and apparently, her stepmother realized this. In the dream, the years advanced. The days that followed Count Olaf's departure from the island to take care of his business became even more painful for the girl. Carmelita and the stepmother forced her to run barefoot around the entire island several times until she was exhausted before giving her water and food. And of course, they would beat her feet afterward, to increase the pain from the injuries caused by the rocks and thorns on the path.
Then came her first menstruation. It was horrible, painful, and embarrassing. Carmelita, who evidently had gone through it years earlier, mocked the girl:
"Mommy, the magee has come into heat! Can I play with her today?"
Olaf would only arrive the next day. Therefore, the stepmother allowed Carmelita to go to the center of the island with the girl, taking one of the harpoon launchers with them.
The girl was wearing the collar, and once again, Carmelita picked up the nettle branch. But what Carmelita did not know was that the mandatory runs had made the girl very agile. So, Carmelita didn't notice how fast the girl moved when she turned around and bit Carmelita's hand holding the weapon with all her strength. The young girl screamed in pain and dropped the harpoon launcher. The force in the girl's jaw was so great and her teeth so sharp that the thumb of her adopted sister was simply torn off as if a scalpel had been used to sever muscles and bones. The girl tasted blood in her mouth, and chewed the thumb with the same ease she gnawed the bones thrown to her.
Hearing the first scream, the stepmother grabbed the other harpoon launcher and ran toward the center of the island. The screams did not stop:
"Mommy! Help! She bit me!! ... Mommy, Help! She's biting me!! Mommy..."
When the stepmother arrived, the girl who had entered puberty was on top of Carmelita, with one of her hands pressing the adopted sister's forehead against the ground and her knee on the young girl's stomach. The stepmother saw when the girl with great speed lowered her head and bit Carmelita's cheek with all her force, easily tearing off a chunk of red flesh from her face. Carmelita screamed in pain amid tears now unable to speak intelligibly.
Horrified, the stepmother ran and shot towards the grotesque scene, but missed the target. The harpoon hit a tree. The girl dropped the piece of flesh, abandoned her first prey, and, like a wolf, ran on all fours towards the woman. The woman fired another harpoon, which passed close to the girl's ear and hit the ground. The girl then leapt at high speed with her mouth open. The woman extended her arms to defend herself, but faster than that, the girl grabbed the woman's arms and in a single movement sunk her teeth into the stepmother's neck. The woman tried to scream but the quick closing of the jaws, the girl pierced her trachea and one of the carotid arteries.
When the woman fell to the ground, a red pool formed abundantly from the fatal wound. The girl growled. Carmelita still made sounds. The ferocious girl felt guilt and happiness. Soon she heard footsteps: Colette approached the girl slowly.
"Easy, Chabo... Good girl, good girl." The "good girl" began to cry while kneeling in the warm and red pool around her.
Hugo approached. Kevin ran towards Carmelita. He extended both hands to help her get up. She tried to say something among the grunts while her deformed face was dripping blood abundantly.
Hugo said, "Kevin, try not to leave marks, so it looks like an animal attack."
Carmelita tried to get away and run, but Kevin's skillful hands quickly grabbed her by the neck. He squeezed hard enough to block the blood flow to the brain, so Carmelita only struggled a little before losing consciousness and life.
"Colette, give the girl a bath and dress her. I'll take her to the cage. I want to talk to her," Hugo said as if the death of Carmelita and the woman didn't mean much.
Hugo's plan worked. Olaf found the bodies of Carmelita and his wife the next day, while the girl was quietly sleeping in her cage. She remembered noticing a mix of sadness and joy on her stepfather's face. Colette, Hugo, and Kevin buried their bodies in the center of the island.
The stepmother and Carmelita were dead, but what they did left deep marks on the girl, and for that reason, Chabo would never cease to exist as long as she herself was alive.
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