Work Text:
I know, I’m sorry, you make it very clear that statement givers should use their real names to “preserve the chain of information” and such, but. Well. I doubt you’d be able to keep my name on record, so let’s just call it extenuating circumstances, shall we? Besides, I’m sure the mystery will keep your foundation rather busy for a good while.
Where to start? It’s hard to pick just one instance that made me quit my job. Was it the constant misgendering of my coworkers? The harassment from my manager? The complete and utter inaction of the higher-ups? So many to choose from. In the end, they all just piled up until I had a mental breakdown at work one day. I knew I couldn’t keep working in that goddamn office anymore, rent money be damned. So I quit. To be honest, all that seems so far away now.
I was… adrift for a while after that. But without that soul-sucking corporate data entry job taking up all my energy, I could actually get back to focusing on things I enjoyed. I started to do stage makeup again, something I’d picked up in high school but hadn’t had the time for since entering the ‘real’ world. I threw myself back into it. I started making videos, tutorials to teach others how to change themselves to be utterly unrecognizable. That had always been what drew me to it. The idea of changing myself so completely that no one from my life before would know me if they saw me. It was… intoxicating.
A few months into this, I was actually making a good amount of money from it. Some of my videos had gotten monetized, I was doing commissions, I’d even been asked to do some makeup for a couple local stage productions. I was happy, for once. I kept practicing on myself, eager to develop new techniques. I got more and more realistic. The scales were always my favorite. Snakes have always fascinated me. Shedding the old skin for one completely new and fresh. I started wearing the makeup outside the house. I reveled in the looks of shock and horror I got from passersby. I could appear monstrous by my own choice. One of my favorite tricks was to make myself look just slightly off. Eyes a bit too wide, teeth too white, that sort of thing. Just a shade off from normal. The stares filled me with a sickening joy, as eyes bored into me, trying desperately to figure out what was wrong.
As I got better and better, I began to realize that it was harder and harder to remember what my original face looked like. I would stare at myself in the mirror, trying to recall if I had put on makeup or not, and completely unable to. It was horrifying… or at least, it should have been. I instead found myself relieved. It was like a weight had been lifted from me. No more worry, or fear. I could be anyone or anything I wanted. Even past records had changed to reflect my… condition. Every photo of me had a different face, every official document a different name. I was completely and utterly unknown. I found that I didn’t have to use makeup anymore. My skin would shift and change to the form I wanted it. I could even change my body, though that took more getting used to.
Of course, then I fell in with the circus. That was a nasty business, though at the time it seemed like a spot of good luck. Here was a performing troupe filled with people like me, and what do you know, they’re hiring makeup artists. All I had to do was walk up to the tent. Nikola took one look at me and immediately brought me into the fold. She taught me so much about myself, about what I could do. About the world beside humanity. She was a bit like the big sister I never had, except she was a mannequin with a human skin suit. No family is perfect, I suppose. Then there was that whole thing with the failed ritual, and the blown up wax museum, and I abruptly found myself unemployed once again. I knew it couldn’t last forever, I just didn’t think it would end so soon. Regardless, I now consider myself to be self-employed. Some people will do just about anything to change themselves. I’m perfectly happy to help them disappear.
Statement ends.
Supplemental: As expected, no follow up was able to be done on this ‘Deceit’. Few verifiable details were mentioned; except for the remarks about a circus run by a Nikola, there are no leads on this statement. Although I strongly suggested he take a day off, Logan came in today. He said he needs to keep his mind busy, which is fair enough, I guess. I still worry though. Anyway, Logan did a bit of cross-referencing and found some interesting documents from one of our sister locations: the Magnus Institute in London. They apparently have quite a few statements about a possibly paranormal circus run by one Nikola Orsinov, which seems to fit the details of this case rather well. I also managed to turn up several new articles referencing a gas pipe explosion at a wax museum. I can’t say I understand what she meant by ‘ritual’, though it sounds… concerning. Perhaps we’ll be able to do more research on this in the future.
End recording.