THE FOLLOWING IS A CONTINUATION OF THE PREVIOUS FILE'S TRANSCRIPT. THIS TAKES PLACE AFTER THE PREVIOUS VIDEO ENDED.

The video picks up again, and Blaine looks troubled and contemplative.

Blaine: "Okay, so you're telling me that in all of those old crime shows that just love talking about the Maggot Man, the 'two girls' who helped pin him were in fact Wynona and her sister?"

Emma: "Yes."

Blaine: "That's fucking terrifying."

Emma: "That's not even the worst part. I'm recording again, by the way. The worst part is that like three days after she told me all of that, Jake Grantham was executed."

Blaine: "What?"

Emma: "Yeah. She told me about the Maggot Man on..."

Emma checks something on her computer for a few moments, presumably the data behind the video they recorded.

Emma: "Here we go- she told me about all of that on the 26th. On the 29th, Wynona goes home- and Grantham is executed."

Blaine: "Holy shit."

Emma: "When the cops were questioning me, they seemed really surprised that Wynona was only gone for three days."

Blaine: "Well, yeah, there was enough trash there to have started weeks and weeks ago."

Emma: "But she didn't. I know how her mom keeps that house."

Blaine: "They asked me if I'd seen Wynona's family recently."

Emma: "What did you say?"

Blaine: "I had. I saw them just three weeks ago-two weeks before this all went down."

Emma: "And the house...?"

Blaine: "It was totally clean. Top to bottom. Not a hint of dust. Her mom was super nervous about us coming over. She seemed..."

Emma: "Ashamed."

Blaine: "Yeah. I felt really bad. Seems like since Wynona's dad left years ago, her mom's been really struggling to keep things together."

Emma: "Brittan was so stoked about getting a job, too- a good job, doing her stage stuff. It's a serious shame that she just..."

Again, panic flickers in Emma's eyes, and her voice cracks. Blaine quickly steps up again.

Blaine: "So... what's the plan? Like this is all well and good, but what the hell are we supposed to do about any of this?"

Emma purses her lips, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and seems to successfully pull herself back down from a full blown panic attack. She reaches down under her desk and pulls out the gray hand-held game that she grabbed from Wynona's. Blaine looks at it for a second, before paling slightly and leaning away from it.

Blaine: "You got that from Wynona's."

Emma: "Yes."

Blaine: "The hell are you doing with it? You didn't give it to the cops?"

Emma: "I forgot all about it until I got released. It wasn't until a few days ago that I opened my bag, and there it was. I think the cops put it in there, when I was getting transported."

Blaine: "Shouldn't we let them know?"

Emma: "Know what? That Wynona was playing a game before she died?"

Blaine: "Is that a normal thing for people to do before they get infested by flies and maggots and die in weird positions?"

Emma flinches, but she maintains herself well. Blaine looks aghast.

Blaine: "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't know why I said that."

Emma: "This is a pretty tense situation. I get it. And no- it wouldn't be normal for anyone, let alone for Wynona. She doesn't game- like at all."

Blaine: "I don't understand- what are you suggesting, then? That the game killed her?"

Emma: "I... I don't know."

At this point, Emma looks really subconscious as she pulls a notebook toward her.

Emma: "Look. I looked up the Maggot Man. There's a lot of things about him, but there's something really important here. I wrote it all down."

Blaine: "Hang on, you don't think-"

Emma: "Fifteen years ago, the Maggot Man traveled across the United States of America and murdered roughly 66 young girls between the ages of 6 and 10. Every single murder was exactly the same: a young, always blonde little girl who was strangled to death, and then eaten alive, generally from the inside out, by maggots and flies."

Blaine: "Jesus."

Emma: "Every crime scene was absolutely infested with them- but that's not all. These were weird flies. These things were completely unusual in every way. He bred them, Blaine. Bred them by merging fly species together, like some kind of fucked up Dr. Frankenstein, only the monster wasn't some attempt at bringing back someone from the dead. It was flies."

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Blaine: "Did they ever find out why?"

Emma: "No. His life was a total secret. He had a mother, but no one had seen her in decades. The only answers anyone ever got out of anyone who ever knew him was that maybe his mom had just... left him at some point, and then he'd grown up alone, and then he left, and when he came back, he was a serial killer."

Blaine: "That seems really... weird."

Emma: "You're telling me. No one from his hometown wanted to talk about him at all to anyone. They gave vague as shit answers, gave nothing away, and no one had anything to say about him or his family. It was really, really weird."

Blaine: "My mom was really into true crime for a while, when I was a teenager. I remember her listening to podcasts and stuff about him, and she always used to get super frustrated over the lack of information on his past."

Emma: "No one would give it up. It's like they were afraid that talking about him would bring him back home or something."

Blaine: "Okay, so he left flies at the crime scenes. Big deal."

Emma: "You don't understand, dude. It wasn't just a few flies. He left thousands- millions. Pest control had to be called, and the media never reported on this, but infestations plagued the cities he'd stopped in with these flies. They had all these traits of extremely horrific flies- like the Human Botfly."

Blaine: "I'm sorry, the what?"

Emma: "It's called that because when it lays its eggs, they're first laid on a mosquito, and then when it bites a human, the larvae are transferred into the skin of the human. The larvae bore down into your pores, where they'll incubate, and after a very painful incubation period, they'll emerge at I think up to an inch in length each."

Blaine: "That is.. Fuck. Fucking hell."

Emma: "Sound familiar? This dude's flies could eat their way out of a horse, though. These things were meat eaters. Flies are supposed to eat by regurgitation- they spit up their stomach juices, wait for it to dissolve and liquify whatever they're trying to eat, and then they suck that back up."

Blaine: "How in the flying fuck are you just sitting here, talking about this?"

Emma: "If I keep my brain busy, I won't have to think about anything that's happened. Look, these flies don't do that. They don't bite people, but they do eat their way through people. It's why the hospital was freaking out so bad when they discovered that I had- that I got- that some-"

Blaine: "Don't say it."

Emma: "Right. Yeah, that's why they were rushing me out of there like we'd contracted the bubonic plague. If I had- you know- in me, I'd probably be dead by now."

Blaine: "All right, I need a point. What is the point to all of this?"

Emma: "You already know the point, Blaine. Those were his flies at Wynona's house. The Maggot Man got her. He got the girls that turned him in, got him caught, and ended his nightmare murder spree."

Blaine: "That is impossible. He is dead."

Emma: "We have two options open to us at this point."

Blaine: "He's not dead, and a copycat?"

Emma: "Three, then. He's not dead, or there's a copycat, or... he's dead."

Blaine: "And... what, acting from beyond the grave? Why the hell would you even suggest such a thing?"

Emma: "This."

Emma holds up the game again.

Emma: "One piece of information that was long withheld by the media for use in pinning the right suspect was a very particular calling card left at each scene of the crime."

Blaine: "What do you mean, 'withheld'?"

Emma: "The only times it's ever been talked about is in these two books- these memoirs by people who took part in these crimes. It was never released to the public before then."

She pages open one of the books- the one by the FBI Agent, it appears- and gestures to a series of crime scene photographs printed in the book.

Emma: "He left these games at each and every single death."

Blaine: "You're telling the flies wasn't the calling card?"

Emma: "No. Some people theorized it was all very ritualistic. The game was his calling card, but the FBI Agent guy says they all showed the exact same thing on each and every single game: 'GAME OVER'. There seemed to be no point to them."

Blaine: "And this one?"

Emma flicks on a side switch. There is a pause, the screen lights up- apparently a fresh, LCD screen- and there's a strange buzzing sound as the handheld boots up.

Blaine: "I don't know why I'm surprised that his boot up jingle isn't a jingle at all, but basically the sound of a fly."

Emma: "Look."

She holds up the screen for the camera for a moment, and then hands him the game. The screen is black, and the words GAME OVER are displayed in pixelated white letters across the screen.

Emma: "I tried fiddling with it, but as far as I can tell, nothing's changed. In the book, Agent Bartosz talks about how they could never figure out how to make the game do anything else."

Blaine: "What is the point of these? Why would he leave them, if that's all there is? Just game over? The flies weren't enough?"

He is turning the game over and over in his hands, looking perplexed and frustrated. He taps the buttons, shakes the device, and then begins closely examining the shell of the machine.

Emma: "I don't know. They didn't know, either. Grantham was tightlipped. He barely reacted when they sentenced him. He walked into that court room and supposedly never said a word, not even to his lawyer."

Blaine: "So, again, what is the point you're trying to get at with all of this?"

Emma: "I need to know what happened to Wynona. I need to know if somehow, Grantham got her. I need to know if the Maggot Man is actually dead or not."

Blaine: "I'll check local papers and the news, but I can't think of a single reason why that would be faked."

Emma: "Me, either."

The two fall silent for several seconds, before Emma shakes herself, looks up at the camera, and sighs.

Emma: "I think I need to try to sleep, or something."

Blaine: "Having trouble?"

There is a wry, bitter tone to his voice that suggests she is not alone.

Emma: "Oh, yeah. Big trouble. Sleep is a myth."

Blaine: "Yeah. I think I'd better try, too."

He looks at the game for several long seconds.

Blaine: "Is it okay if I take this with me? I want to look at it and fiddle with it."

Emma: "Don't lose it. If you can't figure anything out, let me know. I've got a friend in game programming who might be able to help us."

Blaine: "Got it. We should probably keep the details to ourselves."

Emma: "Obviously. I just- you're with me on this, right? I can't do this alone."

Blaine: "Let's first see if there's anything for us to be together on in the first place. It could all be one really huge... weird coincidence. It's unlikely, but still. We could be thinking demons, and it's just some vengeful, obsessed copycat supposedly enacting vengeance in the name of Jake Grantham."

Emma: "Fair. All I need to know is that you're willing to try to figure this out with me."

Blaine: "My conscience would never let me say otherwise. One thing."

Emma: "What?"

Blaine: "We use my cameras."

Emma: "It was a handheld, Blaine. Hardly the sort of thing you'd see on the set of some big wig film."

Blaine: "That's for traveling. Just trust me on this and say 'yes'."

Emma rolls her eyes, but seems like she's trying to fight a relieved smile.

Emma: "Fine. I agree."

Blaine: "Excellent."

Emma: "All right, that's enough of all of that-"

With that, she leans forward and stops the recording, once again without any preamble.

--END TRANSMISSION--