Out in space, an un-encrypted recording broadcasts on all public channels incessantly, repeating this message. "Day thir- *static* -ogress is... slow. It- *static* -not really compatible with their physio- *static* -only wait and see if the process will even ta- *static* -lose all our funding. End log." The signal seems to be coming from a planet not very far from Salazar. Occasionally, it'll stop, but within days, it would return. If one chooses to land on the planet, the signal would be stronger, and the message would be much clearer. "Day thirty-five." A heavy sigh. "Progress is.... slow. It seems that *static* not really compatible with their physiology. It's not doing a damn thing. We can only wait and see if the process will even take hold. If it doesn't... well... we're going to lose all our funding. End log." =========================================================================================== Once one finds the machinery responsible for relaying these messages, more will be found scattered about nearby, all playing at the same time. These are not broadcasted publicly, merely played from speakers. The man responsible for these logs is a graying Apex scientist, who does video recordings of himself. All videos found this way are made by him. On the first device: "Day three hundred." The Apex scientists laughs softly. "Big three-oh-oh. Nothing worth celebrating, though. We're making SOME progress, sure, but it's not enough to convince the higher-ups to give us more time or money." He takes off his glasses, rubbing his face. "Already the supply shipments are starting to come in late. Pushed down the list. We need nothing short of a breakthrough." A long pause. "...End log." On the second device: "Day whatever." The Apex scientist rubs his face, looking defeated. "They cut off funding to our branch. Didn't even have the courtesy to give us a lift back. We're technically stranded out here. At least we have our own ships. Just gotta destroy all this data..." He closes his eyes, sighing heavily. "We were SO. CLOSE. She was already responding to the treatment. God knows I want to continue this, but nobody else will. I-" Clattering and screeching can be heard, and he looks behind him. "What?" The video feed ends abruptly as the scientist turns his camera off. ============================================================================================= If one is able to retrieve data from the servers, some intact logs can be found as well. "Day 1." The Apex scientist is smiling with excitement. "Our project had been approved, and we've just finished setting up this facility. It's rather big and well-equipped. Even got our own guards. I cannot wait to get to work. If my initial theories are correct, we could be looking at an incredible- *static* -forces. We'll have to wait for our first batch of test subjects before we can really start, though. For now, it's time for the house-warming party." He winks at the camera, then reaches over to turn it off. "End log." "Day one hundred and.... twenty two." A heavy sigh is heard. "...We had some high-officials come by today to take a look at our progress. I feel like we've broke quite a bit of ground here, but... they were definitely not impressed. Weren't even trying to hide it." The scientist shakes his head. "Impatient, the lot of them. Wanting to see their new toys before we even fully understand how to put the gears together. They're not goddamn Apexes, and we have nobody on the team who is an expert on- *static* -ology. I've pleaded for a few more hands, and they've been kind enough to agree to that. But asking about an increase in funds seems out of the question now. End log." "Six hundred." The scientist looks older, hands resting on his temple as he mumbles his log. "This batch wasn't good, either. We're burning through them too fast. We actually have to hunt our own specimens now, which is proving to be incredibly difficult. They won't send us any more. And the guards won't even do it for us! They're asking us scientists to grab a goddamn weapon and subdue those.... savages all by ourselves!" He rubs his face in exasperation, quiet for a while. "...I don't want to do it, but the children would seem like a safer target, and perhaps give us the breakthrough we were looking for." "Day six hundred and seventy seven." A long pause. "...We lost another scientist to them. Chips. He was a really hard worker, too. Helped us smile a little bit each day. And now... he's gone... and left us with the new batch he was after. We told him it was too dangerous, but he wouldn't listen..." The Apex scientist buries his face in his hands, quiet for a while. "...No. No, I won't weep for him. He died for this project. I am NOT letting anything stop me. We have come too damn far to stop now. We're close." He pauses. "...We're close..." he says again, sounding uncertain. He shakes his head, then turns the camera off. ========================================================================================= This log can be found on a device hidden somewhere nearby. "It worked. I can't believe it fucking worked." The scientist is holding the camera in a selfie position, sweating profusely and looking tired but extremely happy. "We got it all wrong to begin with. We were looking at the wrong things! VEP can actually work on other things! Just... Just not in the same way as us! Oh my GOD, we almost burnt her! I KNEW she would be our ticket!" He lets out a whoop of joy, fist pumping in the air. "I gotta contact... No... No, they're not coming back for us.... We're considered a failure now..." Despite saying that, he laughs. "But you know what? You know what? I don't care anymore. I did it. I DID IT. The Miniknog can suck on my coconuts! HAHA!" His expression falters as his gaze shifts away from the camera. "...Ah..." The sound of growling can be heard off-screen. "...She's beautiful... my wonderful creation..." A split second later, the camera is flung out of his hands, and screams of agony can be heard along with ripping and crunching of bones. The camera would continue to record the sounds of carnage, video pointing at the sky the entire time, running for six hours straight before cutting off.
