JCL ARCHIVE AUDIO LOG 4471
Date: 1993-09-28
Subject: “Gay-Boy” (sidekick to Gayifier)
Recorder: Dr. Harold Vess, JCL Autopsy Division
[Tape begins, faint static hum. The sound of latex gloves snapping.]
Dr. Vess: Subject is male, approximately 19 years of age, legally registered under the hero alias Gay-Boy. Found deceased in an abandoned alleyway, discovered by his alleged partner Gayifier at approximately 02:13 AM. Gayifier claims he found the body in this state. Beginning initial autopsy report.
[Pause. Paper shuffling.]
Dr. Vess: First impression…blunt force trauma. Severe. The cranial cavity is completely collapsed inward, skull fractured beyond repair. Fragments are embedded into the facial tissue. Orbital sockets destroyed, jaw dislocated, most of the teeth shattered. Facial recognition impossible without dental records.
[He sighs, voice steady but strained.]
Dr. Vess: Neck shows signs of compression—possible strangulation pre-mortem. Ribcage is caved in, several ribs puncturing the lungs. Internal bleeding extensive. Evidence suggests subject was beaten with…significant strength. The brutality implies rage rather than precision. Almost…personal.
[Silence for a few seconds, only pen scratching against clipboard.]
Dr. Vess: Continuing examination. Tracing blood spatter on the uniform. Cuts along the abdomen appear defensive. Likely attempted to fight back. Multiple lacerations consistent with improvised weaponry, possibly a steel pipe or blunt object.
[Tools clinking. A sudden pause.]
Dr. Vess (lower voice): …Wait. This…this can’t be right.
[Paper rustles faster, tone shifting to unease.]
Dr. Vess: Collected tissue samples from the collapsed cranial cavity… running DNA cross-match now. Results are… oh no. Positive trace. The DNA belongs to—.
[There’s a long silence. His breathing grows heavier.]
Dr. Vess (muttering): …so he did do it. He…crushed his own partner’s skull?
[Sudden, loud knock on the morgue door. Dr. Vess freezes. Microphone picks up a sharp inhale.]
Dr. Vess (whispering): …oh shit.
[Tape ends abruptly with a click as he shuts it off.]
[The following is continuing audio recorded from the security camera inside the Morgue]
[Recording begins with faint static and the low hum of fluorescent lights. Footsteps echo as the morgue door opens slowly.]
Gayifier (calm, almost cheerful): Well, well. Hard at work, Doc?
Dr. Vess (startled, trying to sound steady): Mr. Gayifier. I wasn’t expecting anyone down here…especially you.
[Gayifier chuckles, light but unsettling, his shoes clicking as he walks closer.]
Gayifier: Relax. Just thought I’d check in. You know…see how my poor boy is doing on your table. He was a good kid. Real good kid.
[A pause. The camera mic picks up the squeak of latex gloves as Dr. Vess fidgets nervously.]
Dr. Vess: I…I haven’t finished my full report yet.
Gayifier (softly, leaning in): Oh, I know you haven’t. I heard you talking to yourself…into that little recorder of yours.
[Silence. The sound of a pen being set down on the metal table.]
Gayifier (tone shifts, slightly darker): Tell me something, Doc. What exactly did you find…inside his pretty little broken face?
Dr. Vess (hesitant, stammering): …I can’t—confidential—classified material—
Gayifier (interrupting, voice suddenly sharp): Don’t play with me. I asked you a simple question.
[There’s a long silence. Then faint, shaky breathing from Dr. Vess.]
Dr. Vess (barely audible): …some...foreign DNA.
[Gayifier laughs. Not loud, but cold, deliberate. He takes a few slow steps closer, his voice almost whispering directly into the mic.]
Gayifier: Good boy. Honest. I like that. But here’s the problem, Doc…sometimes the truth isn’t what people need to hear. Sometimes…it just makes the world uglier. Don’t you agree?
[The sound of metal instruments clattering as if brushed off the autopsy tray. Dr. Vess gasps.]
Dr. Vess (pleading):
Please…don’t—
[The metal door to the morgue creaks open, footsteps echo. The sound of clipboards being carried.]
Hazmat Tech #1 (muffled through respirator): Alright, let’s get the contamination swabs logged and—
[He suddenly stops mid-sentence. A pen clatters loudly to the floor.]
Hazmat Tech #2 (hushed, uneasy): Uh…what the hell…
[The mic picks up Jewman’s footsteps approaching, firm, steady.]
Jewman (stern, authoritative): Gayifier. What are you doing down here?
[There’s a beat of silence, then Gayifier’s tone instantly shifts—light, flamboyant, cheerful.]
Gayifier (dramatic, sing-song voice): Ohhh! Jewman, you caught me! Guilty as charged!
[He claps his hands together loudly, the sound echoing in the morgue. The hazmat techs flinch at the noise and back away.]
Gayifier (playful): I was just paying my respects to sweet little Gay-Boy. Tragic, isn’t it? Such a waste of youth, of beauty, of flair.
[Jewman doesn’t respond right away. He grabs Gayifier’s arm firmly. The metal stool scrapes back as Gayifier is pulled away from the body.]
Jewman (calm but firm): You’re not cleared for the morgue. You know that. Let’s go.
[Gayifier lets himself be pulled.]
Gayifier (laughing, flamboyant tone): Alright, alright, Jewman—take me away! But oh, how they’ll talk about this scandal…the grieving hero, exiled from his boy’s side!
[The hazmat techs shuffle awkwardly. One scribbles notes shakily onto a clipboard. The other still hasn’t picked up his dropped pen.]
Hazmat Tech #1 (muttering nervously to the other): …he shouldn’t even be here, man…
Hazmat Tech #2 (low, uneasy): Don’t say anything. Just…just keep writing.
[The door swings shut behind Jewman and Gayifier. Gayifier’s and Jewman’s voices fade down the hall. The hum of lights returns. Dr. Vess exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath.]
Dr. Vess (low, commanding): Alright. You two—eyes here. Listen to me carefully.
Hazmat Tech #1 (shaken): …Doc, what the hell was that? Why was he—
Dr. Vess (cutting him off, firm): Stop. Don’t ask questions. Don’t speculate. And above all—don’t repeat what you just saw. Not to your families, not to your supervisors, not to anyone. Do you understand me?
[The hazmat techs exchange nervous glances. One picks up his dropped pen. The other writes hastily on his clipboard.]
Hazmat Tech #2 (uncertain): …We’re not even supposed to handle DNA on heroes without clearance.
Dr. Vess (snapping, sharp whisper): I said quiet. You’ll log the swabs, bag the samples, and file them under case file 1993-G. After that, you’ll walk out of here like nothing ever happened.
[A tense pause. Latex gloves squeak as Dr. Vess pushes a tray of samples forward.]
Dr. Vess (lowering voice, calmer): …Look. I know what you saw. I know what you’re thinking. But if you value your lives, you’ll leave it on this table. Understand?
[The hazmat techs mutter faint “yes, sir” replies, collecting their samples. Footsteps shuffle toward the exit. The morgue door opens and closes. Their respirator breathing fades down the hall. Silence returns.]
[Dr. Vess exhales, mutters under his breath.]
Dr. Vess (to himself, bitter): …Goddamn Eclipse Syndicate. This is bigger than I signed up for.
[He paces, the sound of his shoes sharp against the tile.]
Dr. Vess (quieter, almost to the recorder): This news…once it gets out, the Syndicate will have their leverage. Gayifier, the JCL…all of it. But I don’t want to be part of this anymore. No more morgue jobs. No more clean-up. I nearly died tonight because of this circus.
[He stops pacing, voice steadier but laced with dread.]
Dr. Vess: …Next time, they can send someone else. I’m done working for the Eclipse Syndicate.
[His footsteps move toward the morgue door. The heavy door creaks open. He mutters one last thing as he leaves.]
Dr. Vess (fading): …If they even let me walk away.
[The morgue door shuts. The hum of the lights continues a moment, then the tape cuts.]
[End of Audio Log.]
End of Log 4471 – Classified: Level 10 Clearance Required