JCL ARCHIVE – AUDIO LOG 0002
Date: 2000-08-07
Location: Unknown house
Subject: Unknown Man

[Tape begins. The same voice as the first recording. This time his tone is sharper, quicker—breathing heavy, a door being bolted in the background.]

Unknown Investigator:
This is follow-up number two. I don’t know how long I have to record this before I need to move again.

Yesterday—October 6th—two men showed up at my door wearing police uniforms. Local badges, crisp and clean, but their faces…too still. Too rehearsed. They weren’t cops. I’ve dealt with enough officers to know the way they stand, the way they talk. These guys didn’t move like cops. They moved like agents.

They said they were following up on “a break-in at a government facility.” The morgue. They didn’t say JCL, but I knew. They asked me where I was on the night of September 30th. Asked if I’d seen any suspicious individuals around my neighborhood. They smiled the whole time, like mannequins.

I played dumb. Told them I hadn’t left the house in days. Told them I’d been sick. Gave them nothing. They nodded, thanked me for my time, then left. But when they turned to go, one of them glanced at the back of my house—straight at the room where I keep my files. Didn’t linger, didn’t point—just looked. Like he already knew.

[He pauses, breathing heavier. You hear the sound of a zipper opening, papers being stuffed into a bag.]

They’re suspicious of me. I can feel it. Those weren’t police. Those were Joke Comic League operatives. They know about the autopsy report. They know I’ve been talking to the neighbors. They know I’m getting too close to Gayifier’s truth.

I’m not safe here anymore. If they come back, it won’t be for questions. It’ll be for everything I’ve gathered. Or worse.

I’m leaving tonight. Don’t know where yet. Motel, another city—just far enough to buy time. I’ll keep recording, keep documenting. Because if something happens to me, these tapes will be all that’s left.

[He exhales shakily, then lowers his voice to a whisper.]

I know how the JCL operates. Once they’re onto you, they don’t stop.

[Click. Tape ends abruptly.]