Klaus Wulfenbach

[Phone]

I must admit to being somewhat disappointed. Despite the usual slew of phone calls pointing out how obvious a trap this is, I have yet to see any evidence. Furthermore, my turkey has proved remarkably boring. I was expecting something at least as interesting as last year, but I suppose an infinite turkey loop was just too difficult for Mayfield to craft on short notice.

[There's a small pause.]

Now, this holiday does not exist where I am from; the concept of giving thanks is understandably difficult for a country of self-obsessed madmen to grasp. I would like to think, however, that being in Mayfield for over a year has made me somewhat less self-obsessed, even if its effects on my madness have been negligible.

I am grateful for my sons, the one that I fathered and the ones I have come to regard as part of my family since arriving here. I am grateful for their, if not forgiveness, at least understanding for my many faults. I was given a second chance here in terms of raising a son according to his needs rather than my plans, and I am grateful for that.

I am only sorry that it took a place like Mayfield to show me how badly I had been doing before.

[Residents of 729 Anderson, your turkey has been dissected. Carved. Whatever. Same thing, really. Klaus won't be eating any because he's not stupid and just because it's not coming alive or full of spiders doesn't mean it's not dangerous, but you're welcome to some. Waffles are clearly superior anyway. Waffles and alcohol? Doubly so. Who knew Klaus got sappy instead of getting tipsy?]

( Prose Introspection Goes Here )

A; Action

[So, people of Mayfield, there is a man sitting in the driveway of 729 Anderson next to an open wooden crate full of books. He seems to have sat himself down right there to read, and likely isn't going anywhere -- you're perfectly welcome to come up and pester him, if you wish.]

B; Phone

A question, Mayfield -- what is a Hero? Is a Hero by nature nothing but an embodiment of all that is deemed 'right' and 'good' within the culture he serves, or is he perhaps something greater and more difficult to define? 

C; Phone: Waver Velvet

[Well, this is awkward. But he feels it must be done.]

Herr Velvet, I would like to discuss what happened.

If you're willing.

[Hey, Mayfield! Guess who's no longer droned? This guy! Now, can you guess who is not at all pleased about suddenly having lost all of his hard-won regains? This guy again! And finally, can you guess who's looking at a certain letter while eating his morning waffles, and debating what the hell he should do about it? 

If you guessed half the people in Mayfield, you're probably right. But for the purposes of this post, it's this guy. One one side of his plate sits the letter, which he's read at least five times by now. On the other side sits the photo of Gilgamesh that came with it. He'll be here all morning, contemplating. Family, feel free to notice that the man of the house is no longer a drone!

And later on, he'll be making a phone call.]

Does anyone here actually believe for a moment that the person who wins this ridiculous competition will actually receive the prize offered, without a catch? 

A.

[Hey, family. Guess who's back from exploring the highway? This guy! Unfortunately, he had a run-in with a bear and... well... he's not doing so hot. But he's home! And sort of slumping against the entrance-way wall, not even bothering to kick the door closed behind him.  Car buddies, feel free to follow him inside, if you like, but he knows who he needs right now.]

Hiccup!

[You see, Hiccup knows where all of his tools are, which is good, because Klaus needs the next phase of his plan to go quickly. He's going to build a little healing engine, similar to the one seen here (or more accurately here, if you want a makeshift one) only it won't be quite as little seeing as it has to go around his torso. Rin may have cauterized his wounds, but that's only a temporary fix, and he'd really rather not resort to killing himself for an easy heal. That's not how Klaus Wulfenbach rolls.]

B.

[A phonecall! Your favorite Baron has survived, Mayfield. He's feeling terribly under the weather, of course, but he's alive, which is pretty awesome. And he'd like to know if he's the only one.]

Has anyone else encountered one of the bears in the woods adjacent to the highway and lived?

[He isn't bothering with a filter. That would defeat the purpose of this call.]

This is merely to inform that citizens of Mayfield that filtering one's calls no longer guarantees privacy. I was speaking to Elizabetheta not ten minutes ago on a filtered call, and she was droned halfway through the conversation for, I can only assume, saying something that displeased those in charge.

[He's not going to say what it was, of course; he doesn't want to be droned as well for repeating the offending plan.]

My advice is this: if you have something truly important to communicate to an ally, do so in person. The phone lines may no longer be safe.

[Klaus can't help it; he's always had a sweet tooth.

So he puts the candy on his waffles because clearly he is trying to rot his teeth out his face as fast as possible. They taste rather sour, but he has an extremely refined sense of taste when it comes to waffles and thus is perfectly fine with that.

Ten minutes later, he's blown up half the kitchen. Sleipnir? That microwave you wanted? Yeah. The pieces of it that aren't burning holes in things are stuck in the ceiling. Housemates (and pretty much anyone up and down Anderson Lane) can hear maniacal, uncontrolled laughter. You see, the candy did not make Klaus into an evil mad scientist. He already was one. The candy did not make him want to take over Mayfield. He already did. The candy merely gave him access to the Madness Place, and boy, is he mad.

So hey, Mayfield, have a phonecall. If this voice being broadcast to you were a door, it would be swinging crazily off its hinges. Hell, it wouldn't even have hinges.]

I, Baron Klaus Wulfenbach, now make an open declaration to the people of Mayfield! Too long have we suffered under the oppression of all that is wholesome and sweet and American! My rival, the Empress, would have you believe that she can bring about change through her powers of cuteness alone -- this is nonsense! NONSENSE!

Only I can fix this blasted hellhole, even if I have to KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU TO DO IT! Don't worry. I can bring you back. ♥

I shall unveil my plan within the next twenty-four hours -- until then, DON'T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE!

[Click.]

[Note: this is backdated to the morning after this. So, Tuesday.]

( [Action for the Household]  )

( [Phone; Filtered to Theta]  )

[Phone; Unfiltered]

Would the white-haired man who killed me for no discernable reason please explain himself? I am willing to listen -- for a quickly-closing window of time.