Martin Blackwood: If you're not up to it, Jon, we can do it another time.
Jonathan Sims: No, Martin. I'm up to it. I just don't think this belongs in the archives. I was mugged. There was nothing supernat- Don't look at me like that.
Martin Blackwood: It sounded supernatural the way you described it.
Jonathan Sims: Well, it wasn't. ...I don't think it was.
Martin Blackwood: Record it anyway.
Jonathan Sims: Fine. He sighs. Statement begins. Statement of Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, regarding a... it was just a mugging, Martin. This is wasting company time.
Martin Blackwood: It's a Saturday.
Jonathan Sims: ...It happened the night before last. July 4th, as I recall. Around half 12. I was on my way home.
Martin Blackwood: (muttered) Workaholic.
Jonathan Sims: I heard that... I had just made it to Archway. For some reason, there seems to be a lot in the Archives about the place, though I have never understood why. It is remarkably unremarkable for somewhere seemingly a hotbed of supernatural activity. Anyway, I digress. I was hurrying from the tube to the bus stop. I had, admittedly quite stupidly, got my wallet out prematurely. She must have seen it. I was eager to get on the bus and get out of there. Archway is.. well it's known not to be the safest place at night. As is proved by this statement.
It is not unusual to see a homeless person in Archway. There are a lot of them, there. The council needs to do more, needs to give them homes and jobs and food, but they never have. I call them sometimes, and ask them to. They just seem to move people around instead of housing them. It's a disgrace, in all honesty. Regardless, it is not unusual to see a homeless person in Archway, which is why I was not surprised when a woman approached me.
I couldn't tell her age but it didn't help that she was wearing a thick fur coat despite the July heat. Her hair covered her eyes, and I couldn't make out their colour. Not that it matters. I just remember it being... strange, that I couldn't see them. That was probably just my tired mind making things up.
She beckoned me towards one of the streets off to the right of the bus stop. Victorian housing, fairly dark but not that hidden. it was late enough that that wasn't really a concern, I don't think. I followed, out of curiosity I suppose.
Martin Blackwood: That's not what you said yesterday.
Jonathan Sims: It isn't, is it. Memory is a fickle thing. I... don't remember what I said.
Martin Blackwood: You said... you said you felt compelled by her. Like you had to follow - there was no other option.
Jonathan Sims: I may have said that. Regardless, after that it's all blank. I woke up the next day in bed, head pounding. The only logical explanation: I was mugged. My phone and wallet were missing, and I was still wearing my clothes from the night before. She must have given me a concussion and I must somehow have managed to get home despite it. End of story.
Martin Blackwood: What about the blood?
Jonathan Sims: I must have nicked myself on something. Or perhaps it was a result of the concussion. Perhaps there was a fight.
Martin Blackwood: One, you cannot punch to save your life.
Martin Blackwood: Two, If you'd nicked yourself, the wound wouldn't have healed already. Oh, you've forgotten to describe it.
Jonathan Sims: It's two small scars on the side of my neck. Near the same place on my jumper was blood stains. The two things are likely unrelated.
Martin Blackwood: (Sarcastically). Suspicious scars and blood stains... completely unrelated.
Jonathan Sims: Ignores this comment. I woke up, strange wound aside, late, with a pounding headache and came to the Institute. (Convincing that bus driver to let me on was a right faff, but I managed it. I couldn't exactly show him my Oyster card.) You found me, what was I like?
Martin Blackwood: You came in and almost collapsed. Sasha brought you to a chair and Tim grabbed you some juice. I know you hate orange juice, but it was all we had. You were really anaemic or something, all pale and dizzy.
Jonathan Sims: Or concussed.
Jonathan Sims: You're making it sound like I was bitten by some sort of... vampire. That isn't even what vampires are like, Martin.
Martin Blackwood: It all fits.
Jonathan Sims: No it does not. I was mugged. End of story. Statement en-
Martin Blackwood: We followed it up.
Jonathan Sims: I told you not to do that. ...Statement resumes.
Martin Blackwood: We were worried. I've never seen you like that, Jon. You looked half dead.
Jonathan Sims: I was fine.
Martin Blackwood: No, you weren't. I went back to the street to look for more information. The neighbours said... well one of them saw her... kissing your neck.
Jonathan Sims: They must have been mistaken.
Martin Blackwood: Someone else caught it- caught you on camera. But...
Jonathan Sims: Spit it out already.
Martin Blackwood: She wasn't there. In the footage. It only showed you.
Jonathan Sims: This is ridiculous. Statement ends. Recorder clicks
