The Magnus Protocol 2 – Making Adjustments
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Hi folks, Billy Hindle here, the voice of Alice Dyer in The Magnus Protocol. Today I just wanted to take some time to run you through some of the exciting Magnus merchandise, as well as affiliate links, a brand new way to support the show. You can find affiliate links in the description of all new episodes. If you are based in the UK, be sure to check out Phantom Peak, a unique, immersive, open world adventure in London. Use the link in the show notes or code RUSTY to get 15% off tickets.

perfect for fans of escape rooms. Next up, be sure to check out our bespoke merchandise from our partners, including exclusive perfume scents inspired by John and Martin and ex-Altiora. Find out more by going to www.rustyquill.com forward slash S-B-P. Find Magnus and Rusty Quill themed TTRPG accessories, including dice trays, dice towers, and beautiful coasters from Harpscore by going to harpscore.com forward slash rusty dash quill.

See the Magnus Archives polyhedral die set from Dice Dungeon, including an exclusive D16 featuring icons representing the fears. Visit thedicedungeon.co.uk forward slash collections forward slash rusty dash quill to find out more. There are also new designs available on our official merchandise stores for t-shirts,

Stickers, posters and more. Check the links in the description or go to www.rustyquill.com forward slash support. Thanks for listening. We hope you enjoy the show.

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This is the perfect time to really kind of give a perspective that Eileen and I think that we have, we certainly hope we have, on using Apple products as regular folks. And to really kind of ask the question, how is it really fitting in your life? Apple Vision Show is the new show. Join us, won't you? Subscribe wherever podcasts are found or at applevisionshow.com.

Acast helps creators launch, grow, and monetize their podcasts everywhere. Acast.com. This episode is dedicated to Christian, and also Coco. Rusty Quill presents The Magnus Protocol. Episode 2, Making Adjustments. Okay. Okay.

Dracula. V for vampires. Assuming you mean Count Dracula, a la the novel, I'd suggest subsection popular culture. And assuming he's behaving as I'd expect... He is. I'd guess a DPHW of... 7-4-7-5. Uh-huh. Close. 7-4-6-5. Okay. Okay.

Frankenstein? Assuming you mean the scientist, not the monster. I do. Then that would be another resurrection. Possible subsections obsession, medical pursuit, and... Hmm. Blasphemy, maybe? So that would make it four, two, three, seven. Um...

Now? Uh, um, five, three, three, seven. Pass that here. This thing is enormous.

We can't possibly be expected to just memorise all of it. You won't keep up if you're sitting there turning pages all night. But surely there's a system or something. Like, what does DPHW stand for? I don't know if it stands for anything. It's just an arbitrary index. You just gain a sense for it after a while. But someone came up with it, meaning there was a logic to it at some point. Sam? So if we can just figure out what links similar cases, then we'd know what the system was based on and... Sam!

We aren't here to decode the system. That's Colin's job. And you've seen what a delight it's made him. Just try to learn your codes and process your cases. But I'm never going to learn all of this. You've been here for years and even you haven't managed to... Then quit. No one's making you work here. I... Right. Listen, Gwen, I'm...

Ahoy hoy! Did you miss me? Was it torture? You're late. I'm sure the UK government found some way to soldier on without me for three and a half minutes. Whatever. Everything good here? Enjoying playtime with Auntie Gwen? Yeah, it's been fine. Cool. We'll unpack that ominous silence later, but for now we should probably get started. We've still not cleared your backlog. Sure.

If you're so concerned with backlog, maybe being on time would help. Hey, Gwen? Gwen! Annn! Time isn't real. Shut up. Hi, am I coming through? Yes, but there's no video. Um, I'd, um, rather not, if that's okay. That might be something to dive into later, but it's fine for now. Great.

I've gone over the paperwork that Dr. Khan sent over, and there's quite a lot to unpack, so... I'm not crazy. Of course. I'm not a huge fan of that word at the best of times, but I am interested in what makes you lead with that. The last guy used the word delusions a lot, but that's not what... I know what's real, and I need you to believe me. I think I can do that.

I can try, at least. And don't do that, either. I don't want your sympathy. I just want to get this over with. Normally, I'd caution against that attitude. But I understand these are sessions that are court-ordered, so the situation is a little more complicated. How about we start with you giving your own account of what brought you here? How does that sound? Oh, um...

I didn't think we'd be going straight into it. We don't have to, if you don't want to. No, no, no, that's... it's fine. Um, I just... I'm not sure where to start, you know? Take your time. Sure. I've always hated the way I looked.

I'm sure there's some deep trauma behind it that you're itching to unpack, but it's a fact. And it's not like I can avoid thinking about it. I'm a visual artist who gets most of her work from social media commissions. That means I'm spending four or five hours a day on Instagram, minimum, and that messes you up after a while, you know? Like, we all know it's fake. It's all filters and Photoshop and everyone pretending that they're the real deal, #MakeUpFree,

Just because you know that doesn't mean you're immune. And yeah, I'd ended up in a pretty dark place. And when I turned 30, I decided to do something about it. I started with my hair. Grew it out to make my face look longer. And it sort of worked. And then I chucked out all my older sister's clothes and dipped into my savings to get myself a couple of pairs of my own jeans that didn't make me look quite so much like an overloaded ice cream cone.

I even shelled out for acute LBD for when I did lose a bit of weight. Mum said I was being overambitious, but, well, it hangs off me now, of course. Well, most clothes do. Daria? Sorry, where was I? You were giving yourself something of a makeover. Right, yeah.

So I'm stood there in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, trying to figure out what's missing. And that's when I decide I need a tattoo. I had a couple already, just little things on my shin and my wrist, but I decided I needed something big. Something that really changed my look. So I started trawling insta for tattooists.

At first glance it looks like there's this huge amount of choice, but the more you look, the more you realise that the mostly recycled designs and even those were way too expensive for me. It was actually when I was looking for some inspiration for a commission that I found them. I was meant to be doing a portrait for some generic witchy alchemist character, and it was when I was researching the symbols and stuff that I came across Ink Soul.

It's like Ink Soul, but the S is a number 5. You can look them up. They're pretty popular these days. They didn't have as many followers back then, but the designs were great, and they offered a massive discount if you agreed to a photoshoot afterwards. I figured I had nothing to lose by reaching out, so I got on their site, filled in the About Me contact form, and got an immediate response inviting me into their prestigious London studio. I actually heard the studio before I saw it.

obnoxious dubstep was echoing out the far end of the corridor, and when I turned the corner, I found myself looking at the most influencer setup imaginable. A huge purple neon sign took up most of the shop front with "Ink Soul" written in cursive, flanked by a pair of ludicrously huge speakers. Looking beyond into the interior, it seemed like more of the studio was dedicated to ring lights and photography gear than tattoos.

Ink Soul themselves was... to be honest, they were kind of underwhelming. Not a lot sticks in my mind, except that they... well, they had an absolutely gorgeous floral serpent design running up their arm and into their neck. It was so vivid. It looked ready to slither off their skin and onto the chair. They beckoned me over, and we chatted for a bit.

It was weird. They didn't ask me about what design I wanted, they just kept pressing me about my life, about why I wanted the ink. I was honest, maybe uncomfortably so, but nothing really seemed to grab them until I told them what I did for a living. And then they broke into this huge grin and cried, "The artist becomes the canvas."

Before I could reply, they hit a button on their setup and suddenly we were live streaming with lights in my eyes and their arm tight around my shoulders. I don't remember much of what they said to their viewers, but they just kept telling everyone how lucky I was whilst they dragged me into the chair. And then suddenly they tilted it back and before I knew it was happening, I cried out in shock as the needle hit my skin.

They hadn't discussed the design or anything, they just started working on the inside of my left forearm, my drawing arm. I could feel panic start to rise inside me, but all I could do was just sit perfectly still. I stopped being able to think about anything at that point, as it was by far the worst pain of my entire life.

Vicious shooting pains let up and down my whole arm from my chest to my fingertips. Every muscle snapped taut automatically and my back arched on the chair. I wanted to scream but I couldn't even breathe as it felt like thousands of wasp stings ravaged my body whilst mediocre dubstep thrummed through my chest and Ink Soul chatted to their viewers completely unconcerned.

I must have passed out, because when I opened my eyes, Ink Soul was at the other end of the studio, cleaning their bloody tools. The stream was over, and I was apparently forgotten. The pain had dulled so I dared to look down at my forearm, expecting to see a tattered and bloody mess. Instead, a pristine paintbrush design spanned from the interior of my elbow to the inside of my palm.

A flurry of colourful floral patterns entwined with symbols I didn't recognise. Despite the pain, I twisted my arm back and forth to admire the work, and those symbols almost seemed to glitter in the light. It was...it was beautiful. Just as suddenly as the lights had turned on, they were off, and I was bundled towards the exit. No debrief, no aftercare.

They said they had the shots they needed and before I knew it I was stood outside, dazzled and unsteady. I considered going back in but I was so tired. Instead I just stumbled back home, my new tattoo still completely exposed. Back in my flat I cleaned it, moisturised it and then covered it as best I could but it was already pristine. If it weren't for the pain it could have been there for weeks already.

I stood before the bathroom mirror and looked myself over and, well, for the first time, I saw someone interesting. Someone I wanted to know more about. I went a bit manic at that point. For the first time ever, I wanted to attempt a self-portrait. Something real and physical. I wanted to feel the brushes in my hands and the oil on my fingertips.

I worked through the entire night with a passion like I hadn't felt in years. There were thick globs of paint all over the room, my hands, arms, face and clothes were covered. But when I surveyed the finished work, it was spotless. Not only that, it was by far my best work. A luscious impasto that leapt off the canvas.

I've been calling myself an artist for years but this was the first time that I had felt it. I don't remember falling asleep and I didn't wake up until past four in the afternoon. I was still tired and had a pounding headache along with my throbbing arm but I still awoke with a smile because when I opened my eyes my own face was staring back at me and for the first time I wasn't ashamed.

At least, not initially. As I stared at it though, I noticed that, whilst it was accurate, it wasn't perfect. The eyes were still slightly wrong, the angle of the smile was off, and obviously the nose still wasn't quite right. Looking around me, I realised that all of my paints were still out. I looked at my new tattoo and realised that I would be fine to just do a quick touch-up. Nothing major, just a slight adjustment, just for me.

Despite the headache, my hunger, my fatigue and my painful arm, I began to take a palette knife to the left eye. Just a small tweak. It was a subtle change, barely noticeable, but I knew I was making progress because I could feel when the knife scraped bone. When I went into the bathroom to check, I was pleased with the result. There was no discolouration, no bleeding, no damage at all, but the face around my eyes was definitely more symmetrical.

It looked so much better, but not quite perfect. I should have stopped then. I should have taken a break. I should have called my mum, put everything away and gone outside, but the power was in my hands. I could finally make myself perfect.

It was small tweaks at first. Giving a fresh gasp of pain each time, I slightly lengthened my fingers, made my ears a little more delicate, straightened my nose and re-angled my cheekbones, tapered my chin, slimmed my waist and increased my bust, narrowed my frame, lengthened my legs, adjusted my calves, thinned my wrists, oh and shortened my feet. I mean, nothing much really. But it was when I reworked my shoulders that I ran into a problem.

As my brush and knife made their alterations, the tattoo on my arm began to leak. Not out of my skin, but along my upper arm, spreading out and flowing its rivers of colour into the new contours I was creating. And the tattoo, of course, was the only thing so far that was actually perfect. So I had to work around it as best I could. I worked solidly for days,

Each time I slipped the knife into my skin and reshaped it, I got just that little bit closer to perfection. But each time I had to make more and more compromises around the spreading tattoo. I was close though. So close. It was almost there. That wholeness you only feel when the canvas is finally complete. I just couldn't bridge the gap.

Each time I would fix up one spot, only for two others to come undone. And the whole time the tattoo just kept spreading and spreading and my masterpiece just kept receding. That was when my housemate Sarah got back from visiting her parents. I'd lost track of time and didn't realise her trip was already over. I had hoped that I could show off my new look to her when it was finished, but I never got the chance.

She walked in the door just as I was finalizing my mouth, so I couldn't say anything. If I could, I'm sure I could have been able to explain and make her understand. Instead, she started screaming. And when I made reassuring noises and reached out to her, she backed away. I did manage to hold her for a moment, but the work I'd done on my hands the day before meant that I couldn't really grip her. That was when she punched me.

I'm sure she was just surprised, but it was still heartbreaking. Her hand went right into my cheek and undid days of work, and the way she carried on, you would think it was her face she'd messed up. Anyway, I'm sure you've read the rest in the court reports. When the ambulance came, Sarah told them I'd tried to kill myself with some acid she found in my art supplies. They put me on suicide watch and only agreed to release me when I agreed to attend counselling.

I haven't made any more adjustments since then. Just waiting for inspiration, I guess. I see. That's quite the story. You don't believe me either. I didn't say that. I would, however, like to ask you directly: did you try to harm yourself with acid? Of course not. I never wanted to hurt myself. I just wanted to be better. That's good to hear. If I'd wanted to clear the canvas, I would have used turpentine.

Problems? Hmm? No. Oh, good. It's just... Uh-huh? How on earth do you cope listening to all this stuff? Neither of you seem bothered by any of it. Oh, I see. You want to know how to handle reading and listening to all of it. Yes. The secret of the steel-trapped mind which keeps me stoic in the face of atrocities that would drive a lesser will to madness. Please. Just stop paying attention. Ugh.

Don't look at me like that. I'm serious. I just skim the case for keywords and if it's a talker, I hit play and get on with other work. Then when it's done being creepy, I process it and move on. You're never going to keep up if you keep actually taking it all in. Just surf the wave without being drawn in. But what if something comes up that you know might be true? Why would that matter? Plus, we're kinda specifically paid to not care. Yeah, but- You asked how to cope.

That's how. Alright. The sooner you accept it, the happier you'll be. Sure. Gwendolyn? Don't. Wow. What a rude way to greet your work bestie. I'm not in the mood. That's okay. We can just do small talk like normal people. So...

What if you could magically speak all languages but after every sentence you had to fart really loudly and declare "It was me and I'll do it again!" Would you take that deal? Lena's planning redundancies. What? Yeah. I was going past her office earlier and I overheard her on the phone. They're expanding external operations. And do you know what that means? Outsourcing. Redundancies.

That's absurd. There's only like three of us here. Besides, technically this is civil service. There's no way they could just outsource everything without an entire mountain of bureaucracy. You don't know that. You've seen how much paperwork this place generates. You've got to file a form and triple it before they'll let you take a piss. It'd take them years to pull off what you're suggesting. She could have started the process years ago. We both know Mina wouldn't think twice about dumping both of us.

You maybe. I like to think we have a rapport. He hasn't said more than ten words to you in the last year. I know, good isn't it? Anyway, what do you care? You should be happy. Nice big payout and you can finally ditch this job you hate so much. I don't hate the job. You could have fooled me. What I hate is that no one in this entire place will give me a single ounce of respect. Ah. Yeah, that's never gonna happen. Clearly.

Still, I do reckon you've got the wrong end of the stick. Lena's as likely to hire another Sam as she is to give us all the boo. Alice. Alice! Ow! What? Bone. Oh, cheers. Well, hello. What's got you calling so late, hm? No, not busy. I'm at work, so... Yeah, what's up? Right.

How is the crowd? Sounds like a solid gig. That's no way to talk to your big sister! Disgraceful! So is the tour actually on the cards this time, or...? Cool. And presumably, now there's proper interest, they're going to ditch you for someone who can, you know, play an instrument. Aww, you always say the sweetest things! Er... yeah? That should be fine.

It'll need to be after the 28th, though, as that's payday. Okay, no worries. Listen, I probably should go and actually do some work. It would be super awkward if I got fired when you're just on the cusp of becoming a drug-addled rock star. Yeah, no worries. I'll talk to you later. Say hi to Trotter for me.

So how's Luke? Oh, he's good. He's still playing with, um, bullets for St. Sebastian? God, no. They broke up years ago. He's with a new group. Dredgemen. Ah. Yeah, they're pretty decent. Well, I'm glad he's doing well. As far as brothers go, you could have done worse. He has his moments. What's that? Huh? The Magnus Institute.

You're looking to jump ship already? Oh! It's nothing. Just a bit of background research. Research? Sam, tell me this isn't linked to any of your cases. It's just something that came up on my first day. I've been trying to get it out of my head. Well, try harder. It's fine, honestly. I'm on top of my caseload and- It's not that. Then what's the problem? I wasn't messing with you earlier. You do need to compartmentalise for this job.

Make a box in your head and at the end of the shift you dump everything in there and hit the incinerate button, okay? You do not want to be thinking about this stuff outside of here. It's not good for you. I've seen people go weird before now. Then let me guess, I'm weird enough already? I'm serious, Sam. Alright, I hear you. Thanks. No worries. That's the general idea.

The Magnus Protocol is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Sharealike 4.0 International License. The series is created by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J. Newell and directed by Alexander J. Newell. This episode was written by Alexander J. Newell and edited with additional materials by Jonathan Sims with vocal edits by Lorianne Davis, soundscaping by Tessa Veroon and mastering by Catherine Rinella with music by Sam Jones.

It featured Billy Hindle as Alistair, Shahan Hamza as Samana Khali, Anusha Battersby as Gwen Bouchard. The Magnus Protocol is produced by April Sumner, with executive producers Alexander J. Newell, Danny McDonagh, Lynn C., and Samantha F.G. Hamilton, and associate producers Jordan L. Hawke, Taylor Michaels, Nicole Perlman, Cestius Duraven, and Megan Nice.

To subscribe, view associated materials, or join our Patreon, visit RustyQuill.com. Rate and review us online, tweet us at TheRustyQuill, visit us on Facebook, or email us via mail at RustyQuill.com. Thanks for listening.

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At Ashley, you'll find colorful furniture that brings your home to life. Ashley makes it easier than ever to express your personal style with an array of looks in fun trending hues to choose from, from earth tones to vibrant colors to calming blues and greens. Ashley has pieces for every room in the house in the season's most sought after shades. A more colorful life starts at Ashley. Shop in store online today. Ashley, for the love of home.

ACAST powers the world's best podcasts. Here's a show that we recommend.

This is the perfect time to really kind of give a perspective that Eileen and I think that we have, we certainly hope we have, on using Apple products as regular folks. And to really kind of ask the question, how is it really fitting in your life? Apple Vision Show is the new show. Join us, won't you? Subscribe wherever podcasts are found or at applevisionshow.com.

Acast helps creators launch, grow, and monetize their podcasts everywhere. Acast.com.