#lhq.anonymous

[anonymousriverpoint-blog]

                                           // * @ncwcomer

it’s a KNOCK on the door, and bustle of movement. they don’t stick around for long, they merely leave what they needed to, and then as quick as the wind: they’re g o n e. 

what’s left behind is a brown mail package. it’s not very bulky, but it contains everything they need. and WHO they need it from is none other then everyone’s favourite wallflower. mr invisible. 

R E Y  N A K A Y A M A

they saw how the police looked right over them at the bonfire the other night. they heard how nobody seemed to know his name. he blended in, and stuck out, all at once. he was a nothing. a no one. and therefore, p e r f e c t. 

in the package is a disposable camera, with a typed note. there’s nothing else. no scent, no return address, not even any fingerprints. 

the note is direct, and straight to the point:

“MR INVISIBLE- rey nayakama.

congratulations, you’re able to do what even i can’t do: blend. become invisible. become nobody. don’t take it the wrong way. it’s not a bad thing, on the contrary, right now- it’s the perfect thing.

you see, you’re the perfect spy, in ways.

don’t get this twisted, you’re still very much a suspect of your own. you come to town, and weeks later, remi heath is dead? i don’t believe in coincidences. do you?

furthermore, i know you knew remi. you may have lied to everyone else, including the detectives. but i know everything. and you didn’t tell people. 

why?

that doesn’t matter right now. you’re not the only liar in this town.

so, unless you want me to tell everyone why you’re REALLY at river point, here’s what you’re going to do:

follow ava heath. 

photograph her. photograph her with her parents. photograph her crying. photograph her laughing. her kissing. her with friends, with enemies. with anyone and everyone. because i know something doesn’t add up there either. especially from what i’ve seen of her and remi’s so called ‘best friend’, hamlet atkins. do what you do best: blend. and get the photos.

then... print the photos, and send them straight back to me. PO BOX 7364. 

til next we meet,

- anonymous detective

[beulah-luna-blog]

Self-Para || A Star Collapsed

The text alone sent Beulah into a frenzy. They could have meant anything. But the inflection was enough to chill. How the fuck wasn’t she complying? Did she not go to Amber as they had asked? Was their power trip so self-orgasmic that the slightest question thrown their way sent them into a dictator-esque rampage? What kind of detective was this? What kind of detective cared more about petty retaliation--ruining a nobody’s life--than they did about the case they were supposedly solving? So much so that they were willing to break the law that they claimed they wanted to uphold? 

The text--and the revelation that followed--only confirmed what she’d thought about the anonymous detective. That they were self-glorified. That they had no humanity. That they took on the weak to fuel their own power trip--not a care for the truth or the justice or the value of another human being, but rather only caring about their notoriety. This wasn’t at all about solving what happened to Remi. This was about tearing everyone else down--psychopathic in the delivery. Did they really think they that there were any higher than killer that they were supposedly chasing? Like the killer, they tossed aside compassion, empathy, sympathy, and any value that the human soul held. Even staring in the face of her last moment of peace, Beulah still believed that whoever they were would only ever have 50% power. 

The only problem was that that 50% power was more than she had. More than she could contain and silence. 50% power was still enough to destroy her. After making her way outside--on a hunch that whatever they were referring to would be very public--a shock ran through the girl’s body. She first encountered her worst nightmare clinging to every inch of a fence just inside the park. She need not go any further. It was there. In her face. Screaming at her. Breaking her heart. A bench across from the scene is where she set herself down and begun to heave. In tears, in bile, in pain. 

Excluding the love of her family and friends, Beulah had grown up with nothing. Everything she’d had, she had to work her ass off for. And now, on the cusp of her fortune changing, it slipped out of her hands forever. She knew that a girl of her background didn’t stand a chance of recovery. And then there was Hamlet...and Ava...she lost her stomach over and over again.

She sobbed. She vomited. She lost herself. And, in the first time in what could very well have been decades, she lost her light. 

[anonymousriverpoint-blog]

                                      //* @hamletkins

they’ve been wanting to leave the best  for a while now. there’s just something FUN due to hamlet’s idiocy. it makes him almost too easy of a target. too easy to manipulate.

they almost scoff at the idea of him even being a SUSPECT, but they know they can’t rule him out entirely. not yet.

that’s why, they leave him with a message. it’s left with a waiter, who then drops it off to hamlet, when he comes for his coffee. it only cost them $20 to bribe the waiter to do, and it’s because they LOVE the theatrics of it all.

scrawled onto a few napkins, in black ink, that b l e e d s.

H A M L E T  A T K I N S,

“i’ve had my eyes on you for quite some time.

you were remi’s best friend. his other half. his brother, practically.

so, imagine my nasty surprise at learning about you and a certain other heath, and how close you two were.

could you two be in cahoots with each other? only time will tell. but don’t worry. i WILL find out.

you spend a lot of time lying, hamlet.

so now it’s time to come clean.

visit remi’s grave, before the end of next weekend. 

tell him what you never got to tell him whilst he was alive.

tell him about you and ava.

i’ll know if you don’t, and the end result will not be pretty for you.

i’ll be watching, so don’t bother acting, or playing anything up.

i want to see the real you.

kisses,

- anonymous detective.

[anonymousriverpoint-blog]

                                    // * @beulah-luna​

it’s a MESSAGE on an answering machine. well timed, if they do say so themselves.

they’re not s t u p i d. they would never use their REAL voice. anybody with $2 and access to an app store can buy a shitty voice disguising app. it’s almost TOO easy.

nobody uses answering machines anymore, and maybe that’s why they’re so determined to use it. it feels a bit SCREAM 1996-ESQUE.

the message is left by an unknown number, on a burner phone, which can never, and will never, be traced back. they take pride in that. unlike everyone else in this town- THEY can keep a SECRET.

the recording is relatively short. they purposely leave out details, because they don’t need BEULAH to know them. the point of this exercise is for them, and only them:

“you’ve always been a secret well kept, haven’t you, miss luna? well, maybe to everyone else. 

what’s got you so sad, beulah? after all, you never spoke to remi. you didn’t even know the guy. isn’t that right? that’s what you told the detectives, isn’t it?

WRONG.

i know the truth, and i know a lot of people wouldn’t be too happy to know you’ve been keeping secrets. the detective’s especially wouldn’t be happy to know you lied right to their faces. 

so, here’s what you’re going to do.

you and amber chen. together.

you two are going to talk. and talk.

you’re going to ask her about remi.

not just ask. you’re going to find out everything. every detail. every emotion. everything. i want to hear it all. pry it out of her.

you’re going to record the whole thing. i don’t care how you do it, or how you get her talking. but you have until the 1st of july. what a way to ring in the new month, right?

then, send the recording to PO BOX 7364. 

tick tock, miss luna. til next we talk. 

and me? you can call me anonymous.” 

a click. hang up. 

another thing: DONE. 

[anonymousriverpoint-blog]

                                            // * @teamrnate

this time, it’s a note in that silly ‘sacred’ lacrosse locker of his. it was easy enough to get in, and get the combination. even easier to write out a note to explain what needed to be done, and SAY what needed to be said. 

using people is easy. it’s becoming an art, almost. 

they wanted to go old school yet again, and cut out letters from MAGAZINE, to make it into a note. but instead, they settled for typing it out, like they did with rey. 

DANIEL KOO:

“ or as most people know you: the guy living in remi’s shadow.

even in death, he’s still probably a lot more liked, and preferable then you are, isn’t he? 

i should watch myself, though, shouldn’t i? last thing i’d want to do is get you angry. from what i saw and heard, you have a mean right hook. remi’s face definitely was on the receiving end of it sometimes, wasn’t he?

i wonder how your new drinking buddy, ava heath, would like to hear that. 

or maybe you and jude quintero can continue to bond over your fake masks of pretending everything regarding remi was fine.

alas, i digress.

you’re always so well kept together, aren’t you? you work hard.

let’s give you a night off.

how would you like to be bad for a night, daniel koo?

and who better to do that with, then aaliyah morgan? 

you’re going to be hers for the night. you’re going to smoke what she smokes. take what she takes. drink what she drinks.

you’re going to make her trust you. you’re going to make her introduce her to her shady friends, in shady places. i don’t care how. i do care when:

by the 5th of july. 

befriend them all. get initiated into the ‘gang’. come on now: it’ll be fun. dangerous? probably.

find out what they know about remi. 

i hear it takes a lot to impress them sometimes, so you better be prepared to lay it all on the line, mr koo.

don’t get in contact with me. i’ll get in contact with you.

have a great practice.

- anonymous detective.