“A callout post,” Raskolnikov muttered to himself, “a callout post! About me!”

He had not yet seen it - perhaps never would, since such slanderous rumormongery was no longer fashionable among the blue site’s regulars, too inured to them after so many false accusations. Besides, Raskolnikov was a careful poster. His ships were not problematic, and he kept most dutifully to his lane. But if, he though, if, if these accusations were false, they had been deliberately fabricated, or perhaps willful misinterpretations of some anodyne comment. It was entirely possible - no, it was now proven that Raskolnikov had an unseen, unknown enemy who wished to bring him down. But who could it be?

Oh, what a horrible bind in which to find oneself. Being aware of a callout post against his own person, his reputation and standing amongst his peers, the only useful resource that he could obtain by his own unimpeded labor, why, he absolutely must do something to protect himself. Yet he knew that reacting too vigorously at such an early juncture would only raise further suspicions. They would wonder, why does this man exert himself so strongly in opposition to every bit of tittle-tattle that passes by him? Yet they would be the same jackals that, were he to post nothing, would find suspicion in his silence - why does he not react with more vigor, is he unconcerned with his reputation? Does he say nothing because he has no defense to offer?

He let out a shuddering, defeated sigh. He would have to delete his blog.