infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

[And probably well after those HOTEL SHENANIGANS. A certain psychiatrist had a nasty interaction with nearly-cosmic electroshock therapy.]

I have found scripture that mentions you. "Will Graham", it says, and "martyr complex".

Whose martyr are you, mortal?

[So grateful for those HOTEL SHENANIGANS, he's not currently drinking. This will be fine. He can't even be offended by that description.]

Martyr for the FBI. [Is Chilton going to remember this? Is this going to be forever?] Why do you ask?

What dominion is that of the Effbee-eye? Some vainglory human structure?

[Chilton shuts something with a thud -- his own notebook, filled with theories on non-patient imPorts, his little controlled kingdom. But what's a kingdom to a god?]

I do not answer to mortals.

[Wow, okay, Freddie's griping was totally warranted. Shit. At least it's better than Hannibal's god talk, this is so much more preferable.]

It is a very vainglory human structure, but one that seeks to uphold the law. [Grumbled, the next being much more grumbled:] I meant no offense.

[but he's not doing the My Lord bit without some serious divine intervention]

Will Graham. The seer has called you a noble knight. [Apparently, Chilton has accepted the conciliatory tone regardless.] One who is on an honorable, if desperate, quest.

Tell me, what god do you serve? Surely not Hannibalis, as he had taken that most precious thing from you.

[You can thank Freddie for all this material.]

[He is definitely thanking her, that's what the silence on Will's end is all about, giving her the face of thank you so much you won't believe what he's saying how dare you what the fuck were you thinking]

He is not. [Deep emotional bond being strained so much right now.] I've served only my knighthood. Never found a god worth serving.

[hahahahahahaha]

Well! I happen to be looking for mortals to serve me in my own quest, as it were.

Fr— [Shit, no, what was it she had said he called her?] —the Oracle of Tattlecrime and I have [er] delayed our quest. We will be there soon and we want to help you in whatever way you need.

[Or whatever way they think Chilton needs to be helped, more accurately.]

[The irony of Will Graham and Freddie Lounds possibly having Chilton committed to a mental health facility.]

A wise decision, coming to your god when he beckons. [Just in case anyone forgot that Chilton could be obnoxious, even with fabricated memories.] But as you can see, my godhood is in... Repose. I was forced into this mortal body, and I want back what's mine. That is the divine obligation I speak of.

[Desperate times!!!

Suddenly realizing just why Freddie had her foot to the gas so hard when they took off, this is...something else. But, hey, if Will Graham can work profiling serial killers who "honor" their victims by eating them and sharing that honor with the family, surely he can handle any level of crazy talk there is. Everything happens so much.]

I'm. Not sure how to do that. [The last time he helped anyone becoming what they thought they were, uh, didn't go so well. He doubts that's what even a god-tier out of it Frederick Chilton is considering. Too much pain to his person involved, even if it's a pathetic mortal husk.] Do you know? How we can help restore you to what you should be?

Well. I'm not entirely sure -- I have never been made mortal before. I thought we could harken to the classical methodology, perhaps a blood sacrifice of some kind... [A beat, as he considers. He needed to access his capacity once more, and perhaps it made more sense to invoke his prior kingdom.] Or a mind sacrifice. A way to enter someone's dreamscape.

[There's a hmm on Will's end, thoughtful. Trying so hard to help out this god, the most noble knight there is. Except not.]

What about our old friend, sodium amytal? [Hell of a drug.] For a small price of blood, you can enter most any dreamscape. It's an effective truth potion [don't look at him like that Freddie] that few can withstand. You've used it before with success.

[Make it easier to find out if Chilton's sincerely committed to the idea that he's a god or not. Why have him locked up, they could just drug his ass!]

[The words rang familiar in Chilton's mind, deep in the recesses of memory, concerning the subconscious battle between this fabricated self, and his natural memories. Sodium amytal. Familiar.

But in the forefront of his cortex, he could not recall. That battlefield was already seized by the god of dreams.]

This serum can open that gateway? You know this to be true? [Well, he was willing to try anything.] Then that is what we shall do.

[Noble, desperate knight seems a little perkier this time around. A vain god could assume it was because he had finally managed to find a way to serve said vain god. It...wouldn't be the first time a man who thought he was a god had come under a similar impression, but that's not something Will Graham likes to dwell on, okay.]

I know this to be true, as someone who's been under its influence. [Where is his bag of crappy gas station popcorn, why did they stuff the food in the back, it's so far to reach.] The Oracle of Tattlecrime and I should be back in your city [gotta feed that ego] this time tomorrow, perhaps even before. We can see it done then, if you would like.

[That's what he thinks. No one expects the De Chima lightning storm.]

[It's like they're living a comedy of errors! Or a tragedy of lightning -- rather than the tragedy of lighting they're so used to.]

My city. [He likes that.] Would welcome you, of course. Especially considering your tendency towards sacrifice. [Direct quotation from his scripture.] That comes from your long experience with isolation.

I anticipate this serum.

[The worst lighting that ever did grace modern television. Prayer circle for all icon makers everywhere.

Ugh. Ugh! There's a part of Will tempted to ask for more from this scripture, curious, but that's a bit much. He'd "sold out" to Chilton before, might as well go the whole nine yards. Hook, line, and sinker. Swallow any feelings about what just came out of Chilton's mouth and continue on like this is just normal conversation between the two of them, nothing out of the ordinary going on here!]

We'll be there as soon as possible. [Even the best laid plans to possibly drug one's former psychiatrist can be torn asunder. It's not like a godly Frederick Chilton could do too much damage on his own to anything but his reputation, right?] Anything else you wanted to ask while you have me, or is that all?

[Where did that gross sweaty clammy feeling on his palms come from.]

This shall do. [He says, his way of godly dismissal. Of course, whatever momentary finality seems communicated in his words, it's more an illusion than anything else; Chilton will most certainly discuss Will Graham, his martyr-knight, to anyone who's unfortunate enough to hit earshot range.]

If all goes well, you soon will find me in your dreams.

[Glad to end on a creepy note, compliments of Chilton still having that Chiltony foundation, implanted memories or no.]

[Dude no. Sir please why no. Like hole-in-the-face Chilton doesn't pop up in his dreams enough as is, those are his parting words? He's so thrown by that creepy note (does he know, is it coincidence????) that he can't bring himself to give more than a half hum, half grunt in reply. He's...not even sure if it went through, but knights are supposed to surly, right? That fits, right?

It's just fine that Chilton ends up discussing his martyr-knight to anyone within earshot, because Will Graham and Freddie Lounds are about to partake in a mutual griping session about Frederick Chilton, full stop. Maybe they'll even laugh at the idea of him cursing Freddie to get lightning fried. Confused sad laughter surrounded by veggie crisps and other meatless convenience store junk food.

Frederick Chilton totally never called out significant events before they happened back in Baltimore or anything, haha, oh wait, but no, it's different! No need to take his weird god talk right now to heart, haha—

—SON OF A BITCH!!!]

IC contact [Mask or Menace]

01.22.15 (evening)

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