THE FOLLOWING IS ANOTHER TRANSCRIPT OF ONE OF BLAINE'S VIDEOS, RECORDED SHORTLY AFTER THE FIRST ONE WAS FINISHED.

--File 023: Solving Crazy Serial Killer Puzzles--

10/17/XXXX

The video starts up quickly, with Blaine in the middle of moving toward Emma's desk.

Blaine: "You couldn't wait five actual minutes, could you?"

Emma: "It's been ten, and this puzzle isn't hard. Come here and film this. I want to be able to remember what everything says."

Blaine: "Why?"

Emma: "Because we need to remember that this is a murder puzzle, and if some answer at a later date requires me to remember something that happened early on, then I think it's only fair I record everything."

Blaine: "Sounds good to me. Go ahead."

Emma: "First, I have to confess something."

Blaine: "Uh, oh."

Emma: "No, not like that. I'm taking creative writing courses because that's my major- you know that, right?"

Blaine: "Yeah, but what does-"

Emma: "Research is a big thing in writing. We writers research some pretty insane stuff. I wouldn't be surprised if I'm on a list somewhere, due to some of the things I've looked up."

Blaine: "Such as?"

Emma: "I've looked up 'What happens when someone is stabbed in the stomach with a rusty knife' before."

Blaine: "Point taken."

Emma: "I've done a lot of research into serial killers."

Blaine: "You- why? Why would you want to read about that?"

Emma: "To better understand true evil- and believe me, Blaine, a lot of those stories, it not a vast majority, start off tragic."

Emma holds up the game console, somewhat gingerly.

Emma: "The things this game is already hinting at are pretty damned tragic. Were going to get those answers the FBI wanted all that time ago, I think."

Blaine: "Anders is going to love this..."

Emma: "All right, pay attention. Get over here. It starts immediately. See this? It's a picture frame on a table."

Blaine: "How can you tell? It's so small."

Emma: "Because of the text. 'Daddy was so happy to show up for picture day'."

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Blaine: "That's not creepy."

Emma: "This is a book on a little coffee table in the entrance. 'Daddy needs coffee so he can function in the morning'."

Blaine: "I see. This was written by Anders's kids."

Emma: "This is the kitchen. 'Daddy made an amazing lasagna'. 'Daddy filled up the fridge with all of my favorites'. 'Daddy brought home these flowers and put them in a vase'. 'Daddy likes when the fire is running in the fireplace'. 'Daddy left this light on every night until I got home safe'."

Blaine: "Did Grantham really call him Daddy?"

Emma: "Not the point, Blaine. Listen to this one: 'Daddy had some money saved up, and got a good family portrait. She was sick that day'."

Emma pauses and looks up at Blaine expectantly. Blaine doesn't say anything for several moments.

Blaine: "All right, spill, Detective. I don't get it."

Emma: "Seriously? In all of these messages, something's missing, Blaine. What is it?"

Blaine spends a few moments thinking.

Blaine: "He... never mentions his mother."

Emma: "Precisely, Blaine. Jake's mother is never mentioned, except for once, in this entire level. All this flavor text? It's about how amazing Jake's father was. The only time his mother is ever mentioned is to say 'She was sick that day'."

Blaine: "Maybe she was terminal?"

Emma: "Look at the context clues, Blaine. The family picture was 'good', even though Jake's mother was sick. No- it was good because his mother was sick."

Blaine: "But... you mean to say that you think it was Grantham's mother who was lurking?"

Emma: "Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying. It's the only time in an absolute flood of perfection toward the father that the mother is ever mentioned."

Blaine: "So... now what? Do you just... yell the answer at the game?"

Emma: "Dude."

Blaine: "I'm just trying to keep the mood light."

Emma: "We tell his father upstairs. 'What lurks in my home?' I'd be happy to tell you, Captain."

Emma makes her way back upstairs in the little house, finds the mother character standing alone in the bedroom- as if waiting for him- and approaches her. Once more, a text input prompt appears, but this time, with complete and total confidence, Emma begins typing in a word with painstaking clarity, as the number of buttons she has is infinitesimal:

MOM.

The timer on the screen suddenly freezes, and then a cartoonish fly suddenly fills the entire window, the straw-like mouth dropping into a mocking laugh. Immediately, Emma places the game console on her desk and Blaine takes a step forward, as if to grab it away from her should it erupt into maggots or flies- but it does neither. The game rests on Emma's desk, and the screen is replaced by only a text box, now displaying a response:

ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE LIVED A BOY.

ALL HIS LIFE WAS FILLED WITH JOY.

HIS FATHER WAS THE GREATEST FATHER

WHO EVER LIVED.

THE BOY'S MOTHER, HOWEVER...

WAS NO BLESSING TO ANYONE.

A series of messages all flash across the screen, saying things like "Why can't you do as you're told?", "You'll never be as good as your father", "The only thing you share with him is your face. What a pity.", and "What a shame to my husband's legacy."

SHE LOVED ONE, AND ONE ALONE.

EVERYONE ELSE SEVELY THREATENED

HER PEACEFUL LIFESTYLE.

INCLUDING JAKE.

The screen suddenly goes dark, and the timer appears on the screen once more, indicating a timer already counting down. Neither say anything for a moment, until Blain heaves a heavy sigh.

Blaine: "Damn, I think you solved it."

Emma: "I did. What's interesting is that the timer keeps going, even after I completed the mystery. Look- nothing I do changes the screen at all."

Emma makes a show of mashing the buttons with as much energy and vigor as she dares, but the screen never alters from the quiet, unassuming graphics that make up the slowly downward ticking of the digital clock.

Blaine: "Anders is going to be both impressed and depressed."

Emma: "Call him up."

Blaine: "Roger. I'm shutting the camera down- if anything happens on that screen, Em, you get my attention fast so we can record it."

Emma: "Roger, roger."

There is slight shuffling, and then the game is cut off abruptly.

--END TRANSMISSION--