Well, Squall's clearly lost it. he's had a 66-post conversation with himself, taking on various roles, and not one of them cared to call off work today before deciding not to show. I'm not sure why I put up with him...or why I've allowed this...his antics were amusing at some points, but now they're a hinderence. I'll have to punish him...

I am thankful that this sordid ordeal is nearly over. This outfit, though covering most of me, is totally synthetic, and not at all comfotable. Walking outside is unpleasant at best. Still, I despise the singing the most. I don't like a lot of attention, get far too much of it already, and this damnable thing attracts it by forcing me to make noise and move around a lot. It's the bane of all things subtle.

...A contest? I detest this event enough, I will not engage in anything to further prove that point. At least they have the grace to run this further out of my earshot. I've already sung today, and I'd rather not repeat the incident more than necessary.

Squall is claiming to be called "Leon". I'm not playing along. I'm quite annoyed with him, changing temperment day in, day out, never getting anything done. Also, Mira's quite happy with her victory; I'll congratulate her when she's finished congratulating herself. She invited me to see a movie sometime...that's a new one from her. I suppose I should make good on that sometime; Paprika is a good movie.

Third...I can live with third place today. We're moving up in the ranks, as it were, so I'm overall rather pleased. My team played quite well for what they were handed as opponents, and I must say that I'm quite proud of Loz and Angeal. Excellent work, all of you. At this rate, we'll be at the top in no time.

Live performances are interesting at times. Backup voices being part of the ambient noise that arrives whenever the compulsion starts, I can at least have faith that I'm not the only noise during the musical numbers. What I could do without is the fact that the dress sphere makes me dance along. It's not a comfortable experience, especially when people join in. Then it's an entire musical number parading down the hallway with me at the lead, thinking only of fleeing. I think I danced with someone at some point, leading them down the hall, spinning them off...


I look forward for this week's end.

Hrn. Squall's had another change of mood, this time finding depression his choice coping skill. And possibly homicide, as he murdered Ultimecia and is currently in security's grasp. I'm impressed that he hasn't been hauled off to bedlam.

On my part, the performances seem to continue like clockwork. Today was a better song to reflect the conditions under which I've been placed, and it's a song I enjoy, so I can't complain too much. Still, high-heeled boots are agony. How to women stand in such impractical things, let alone walk?

Perhaps the blitz match will improve my mood.

I'll be more than pleased to see this week end. It's as if every time there's a mass of people, some kind of divine despot forces me to hop onto a table, counter, etc. and sing to a cheering crowd. They do cheer, though I'd rather they simply not be there.

One of the more interesting traits about this sphere is the musical backup from nowhere. It's a handy diversion, for the obligtory musical numbers I've had to put on, as it gives me time to find a quick escape route. I don't like being around once the fit is over, I'll be wanted to sign things and pose for photos, which would only make this condition worse. Today was terrible for that aspect, as I wound up performing a number in the food court, hopping on the counter of the Hot Dog Stand (it was handy) and all. I had to fly over the crowd to escape, which didn't help. They got more excited, as if I've never done that before.

This is a bloody nightmare.

I've had what I can suppose I can call my first concert...This wretched dress sphere at least had the grace to let me wear black, and I actually recognized what I eventually sang. Not a bad choice, subconscious. But it's awfully hard to ring up a customer's research books on anatomy and cloning when you break into tune. Fortunately, I think I managed to stay in key, as the only thing to make this worse would have been to be singing it poorly. The applause was unnecessary, however.

(OOC: His outfit: http://www.tsukiyo.hu/images/gallery/die/3.jpg )

The day had started out well. Blitzball was very easy. Kuja's team is comprised of idiots, and were taken out with ease, even with their cry of defiance goal near the end. I was having such a time time, until NORG decided we were boring, and that the only possible way to make us more interesting people was to enforce bizarre dress policy, which includes dresses.

I have nothing against transvestites or transsexuals (my beating one today in Blitzball notwithstanding), but I personally am not the type. That would eliminate "Lady Luck".

I'd take mascot, but getting through aisles, and ringing up customers is not an option in a macots suit, judging from the size and lack of tactile extremities.

Trainer? I'd have a beast doing my hair, preparing my meals? Never.

My only remaining choice is a wretched "songstress". It's a humiliation among humiliations, and apparently I'll be compelled to sing.."J-pop"? I'm not sure what that is, but I doubt it'll sound the same in baritone. At least I'm wearing what could be defined as pants.

Ugh...why'd these memories have to come back? I'd purged a good deal of them while in the Lifestream, so I thought they'd be gone for good. I suppose they returned after the end of Geostigma...but...this is hardly what I wanted weighing on my mind all afternoon. Perhaps thinking of Blitzball, a newer concept, will make it stop.

(For those wondering what he's griping about, they're likely memories concerning the lab, painful tests (to check his progress, because they'd want to keep tabs on that CONSTANTLY), and other such unpleasant things. I don't know. I don't plan these out, usually.)

Yes, all right...Blitzball. We play tomorrow, against the Terrans. As always, my goal isn't to win, so much as to play.

Well, I have to commend Squall: It takes a lot of effort to be so uniquely annoying. Now he's wandering about, humming inanely. What's a manager to do? I've rounded him up and sent him back to working in the stockroom. He seemed apprehensive about it, until I promised gifts for dong his jobs. I wasn't specific, however, so his gift may be his continued mortality, at least until I get some denect answers.

Oh, and as always, Hojo, you've done a spectacular job exhibiting your prowess at making a complete fool of yourself. Congratulations.

Tch...no Squall still. I hardly know why I tolerate him, save for his legal backup for remaining employed. However, I may find a way to circumvent that some day, so he neednt remain too confident. Luckily, Dr. B is covering the slack, so all is well. I may reward him.

This series of flashbacks is quite irritating, as my childhood and a large amount of my adolescence was taken up by military drills and odd medical exams. I missed a lot of the social events of the time, save for the major ones, so my memories usually aren't very interesting, so much as recalling social gaffs in classes by my classmates, or learning how to shortsheet a bed. Ugh...

Victory in laser tag was easy enough to get, even with an eight-limbed opponent. He'd do a better job if he'd aim, instead of attempt the shotgun approach. Loz works well as backup...he might have gotten the killing shot, as he uses a gun more frequently than I do. I don't specialize in the things; they're obnoxious to control and cannot be redirected in case of misfire. On reflection, I've never liked them much...especially after the Matrix was released, and everyone seemed to think that calling me Neo (due to my coat) was a good idea. I was even placed in a training simulations in which I was to dodge bullets...I sliced them in half instead and was awarded points for creativity.

Oh? Snacks...yes. Some were meant for Squall, who has obviously become unbalanced in his "medication" and ate too many Skittles. he's run off again...I'd deal with him in my preferred method, but being under such close scrutiny, I'm trying to decide what would be a better course of action in the onmi-present eye. I suppose I'll have to wait and see what he does before I make a decision, but the fact remains that he is in trouble.

Very amusing, having dinner with archfiends...they fear persecution at the hands of those who surround us, but they so easily forget that such "heroes" that they are are bound by laws that we are not. Also interesting that Genesis, true to his word, isn't here. he's the one claiming that we're monsters, and yet here I am with what he'd call compatriots. Still, dinner was tasty, and I declined to dance, simply because I'd spent the day on my feet, trying to keep myself from getting distracted by pointless mental anecdotes. Also, dealing with a stockroom worker who saw fit to stay home from work unannounced today had put me in a sour mood. I'll deal with that tomorrow.

It looks like things are going to be going late tonight...

Such unlikely survivors... it should be interesting to see what comes of this. Eitehr the scientist or the young psychic...it's hard to say who will win. Normally I'd suppose the scientist with the proximity detonator and laser would win, but considering the way this week had gone, it's more likely to fall in Ellone's favor. Things just seem to work out this way.

My day was as dull as it could have been expected to be, so why write about it? More, I'm interested in this party. It's been a while since someone I've murdered has been so willing to make amends. It's unusual, to say the least, so I suppose I'd best look into it, at least to quell my curiousity.

I suppose I got a bit blood-drunk...I'd forgotten all about the collateral damage of mustard gas while thinking only of murder...Such is the way of hubris: that my collar was detonated (I've had worse) and I was shooed from the mall by a mob of Moomba, after handing over my prizes to Ellone.

Now I'm on a "forced vacation", which is fine with me. I lost at the hands of the one truly in control, not to my fellow mall-workers. I am now told to spend the next few days relaxing at home. This is a lovely week indeed, save for the fact that cable is down wioth exception to the Western channel, which is playing a Wyatt Earp marathon.

It seems that some are concerned about my attacking after my elimination, but that's not going to happen now. I've had my share of killings in the past week; no need to be greedy. Best of luck to the eventual victor.

Henh...Just as I thought. Nobody in this mall is quite prepared when it comes to tactical warfare. Some may think it's not like me to hole up and set traps, but I'll refute that with the fact that survival is a common goal, even when your life is in no particular danger.

Despite having my actions pardoned, security still felt that I must be punished for my re-murders. I found a place to meet them. An office in an empty lot, and waited for them. When I read their approach on the GPS, I wired the doorknob with jumper cables and a car battery. They forgot to check for traps, and Steiner was the first to fall.

When they managed to move his corpse and open the door safely, I pulled on my gas mask and dropped one of my hamemade mustard gas grenades. Cid swore and fell, and I thought that Celes, who looked far worse for the ware, would soon follow. Imagine my surprise when she whipped out a distance taser. Those hurt..not much hurts, but there's something pervasive about electricity that can't be denied. Still, I can only thank my stamina for holding out against it. She soon collapsed, but wasn't dead, so I made things swiftter for her. Enjoy your freedom.

Then, to make the day better, that fool Locke asked me blitzball-related questions. I answered, and then proceeded to saw his head off with the toothbruch shiv. It was messy. And Noctis has been released, so to speak, from this game.

Only a few more to go...watch your backs, Selphie, Genesis...Squall.

After am amazing dismount from my motorcycle, which I can only hope is in good condition, I made arrangements for Dr. B to take care of the shop while I'm still in the game. He should hav an easier time of it now that Fran has been killed, and now has help.

I myself have taken the GPS from Loz. I'll trade it back to him later, once he gets bored with my DS. His attention span isn't that great. I've also got a bag of tricks, so to speak, but those will come to light as necessary. For instance, the security team wants to make a move, and I may be getting traced by assassins. I'd recommend that the assassins take out the people who have thus been ignored, so that we can get to the real bloodshed. For example, win or lose, I'm taking out Noctis, among others. ( Private )

On my part, I'm well ready for security...if they can find me. I've killed Lulu and Paine quietly, with piano wire that I brought. I'm not half so cruel that they'd feel a thing; they've been good to me. That Frimelda woman, she's gone too, as well as Gurdy...fashioning a shiv out of a toothbrush and platic wrap was something useful I learned in a movie I saw a while ago...( Private )

Find me if you can, Steiner. And remember: You're trapped with me, not the other way around...

OOC: When you find his, the door knob is hooked up via jumper cables to a car battery from the inside. The unlucky sucker who opens the door is probably going to have to flip a coin for survival. A saving throw.

Henh...so security doesn't like that I killed those fools? It's not as if I've done anything against NORG's rules. They attacked me first, anyhow. No justice...Oh well.

I made good use of my time away from the mall. A shower, feeding the rat, a nap, and of course, preparations. A small duffel bag filled with a few thing I'll find most useful, and none of which are weapons. That at least should keep them happy.

I'm sure that the knowledge that I made my reappearance in the mall via motorcycle, taking the opportunity to mow down people at high speeds while swinging a partition pole about. A few heads here, a few heads there...I belive that none were customers, as I can recall every one of my victims. Cyan, the security guard, as he tried to stop me. The ladies of the Group Room. Joe, from Chocobo's Paradise. Cait Sith. And of course, Cloud.

Heh heh heh...

As I was finalizing the list of things I'll be doing on my free day, I overheard a loud clunking noise, similar to a sack of cast-iron skillets falling down the stairs. It looked like the Rotting Pizza denizens decided to attack with some sort of slapdash robot, but were painfully inept in their planning. The automaton shuffled into the doorway, fired a toothpick about 15 feet, sputtered a flame, and promptly collapsed. Top notch entertainment. I killed them a second time as they stood, frantically pressing buttons on their controls.

Time to go...

A pass...Interesting. I'll make good use of it.

Word has it that I'm gaining a following of people wanting revenge. That's fine with me, as I don't care about my particular outcome. If my collar detonates, that's fine. If I'm killed, I'll have revenge. If I win, it's a bonus. If I'm trapped, taking my own life simply to spare someone else the glory is always an option. Either way, once my collar is off, I'm that much more free to murder as I please this week. I win, no matter who gets a vacation.

I'm glad to see that my employees are taking the initiative in self-defense. I've no intention of killing them any time soon, so long as they don't decide that I'm a good target. Only an idiot murders their assistants.

Making a list of what I'll need...