[ The feed opens on a redheaded woman in business attire looking somewhat confused, but putting up a good composed front. ]

Damnit, Tony, I thought I told you to stop switching out my phone for the new model without asking me.

Uh, Tony? Where am I and what did you do? [ Because this is so his fault. Just try and convince her otherwise. ]

[The camera shakes a little bit, then focuses on what might be a ceiling. Apparently it was turned on by something hitting it, because very shortly afterward something else lands on it more directly, blocking out the screen. You might have caught a brief glimpse before it landed. It was a... bra? No, it might have been one of Judith’s shirts...

There’s a bit more rustling to be heard before any words are spoken.]

You would think I would have something in here that wasn’t quite so revealing.

[Someone seems frustrated with her wardrobe.]

[occ: Judith got hit by the sexuality reversal curse. Regularly scheduled flaunting of boobs will resume tomorrow at the normal time. Open to action for housemates.]

[Voice:]

[The sound of the heel of his shoes hitting the table, there is a soft sigh and a light snicker followed by a muffled sound of a gulp.]

Another year... [He snickered again.] Another fucking year. Haven't had enough of me yet, I take it? Though I suppose I have unfinished business here as well. There is still much to be had after all.

To a successful year. Cheers citizens.

[ooc; Backdated to the 21st, sat! He's cursed with Windows to the Soul. If anyone is interested in trading something with him, let me know! Thanks~!]

( Cut for picture )

[A king cobra can be seen in the background behind Slick. He seems to be keeping his distance from it.]

Okay, so, I'm not fucking crazy or anything - you guys see the talking snake, too, right?

You're not fucking crazy. There, it's on tape and everyone can validate you. Can we move on now?

As soon as someone else says I'm not hallucinating.

Maybe you need to lay off the drugs a little if that's what you think every time something weird happens.

Yeah, thanks mom, I'm not in kindergarten.

Whatever. Just find someone other than me to yell at for a while. Invite someone over and I'll bite them.

This is still recording, genius.

Oh. Well, that was sarcasm. Yeah. Nothing to worry about here.

Fuck.

[Yes, ladies and gentlemen. That's the first word Charlie greets the City with today. She's staring quite intently at a group of candles on a table, eyebrows furrowing slightly and she's mumbling to herself.]

Come on. Come on, Charlie. You can do this. Just let it out and--[Nothing. Fuckall. Zip. The candles do not do a thing. They're unlit, they stay unlit and Charlie's head thunks onto the table, a groan of dismay escaping her.]

FUCK!

(ooc: guess who's been Average Joe'd and is hating it?)

[ The video's originating from Rhodey's device, sure, but it shows a young boy man looking nothing at all like Rhodey; and also with considerably more hair: ]



This looks nothing like me when I was this age. Nothing. [ Frowning ] Does this body belong to anyone, or can I shave off all this hair?

Tony, if you laugh, just remember that I can kill you in your sleep.

[voice/action for household]

[ The recording is quiet at first. If you listen closely, you can hear breathing. In her quest to figure out exactly what's going on, Toph has knocked the device to the floor and turned it on. ]

[ Her breath hitches. When she speaks, her voice is wobbly, like she's ready to cry. ] I don't know where I am. This isn't my house. Mom? Dad? Hello? [ A sniffle. ]

I never got to leave before.

[ With that enigmatic statement, the recording ends. ]

[ ooc: Responses may be slow as I'm writing a paper and they will come from littlestbender! ♥ ]

ekjasskjge asjh.././////l;/;dsui m,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,


sssssssssssssssssasssssssssssssssssssaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[ You'd think there was something stepping on the device, but no. After a while of button pressing, the video feed turned on, and instead of something stepping on it? A much smaller, eyepatch-less Akito shoving his face really, really close to the screen. ]

..'s not right...

[ Beeeeeeep, beep, beep. Que a lot of button pushing, which continued up until the feed switched off. ]

Accidental video;

[Ciel is seen quite happily going out into the estate gardens with Alois- a walk couldn't hurt, could it? He seems relaxed, not at all upset over their previous exchanges, simply enjoying being outside. It's chilly but he doesn't feel the cold so much anymore.

Perhaps he'd had a change of heart.

Or he might just be trying to see how Sebastian reacts to it. Afterall he seemed so terribly uncomfortable with what Ciel had had him doing, cleaning the estate, restoring it fully-- even his morning bath had left him scrubbing Ciel's face harder than usual. Revenge could be so sweet when it was this simple.]

The gardens are not quite as impressive during the winter, I am afraid.

[Then it flickers off.]

[He hasn't even been here more than a couple of days and Sebastian has already found the need to throw himself into something more productive than planning the ways he would get rid of certain...nuisances. It only so happened to coincide with an order that his master gave him. He had just finished giving Ciel his bath and had nearly scrubbed his face raw.

That foul creature, that sad excuse for a human being, had put his lips there. The thought of it alone made Sebastian want to go out and break him in two. Instead he focused more on cleaning, scrubbing everything furiously and at a pace that was inhuman.

Regardless the thought wouldn't leave him and soon he was scrubbing one part of the floor so much he was nearly wearing through the wood.]

[Video Post]
[The usual interference and noise starts the recording, as ever, but it only lasts a moment. It all starts with a start--as most videos do. There's a slam or a slap or a strike--something hard and harsh and sudden and ringing in a hollow space. A fist on a table, perhaps--something to knock the device open and start it recording. Like it always does.

And there is a dark view of of one of any number of raw-boned, raw-wood, smoke-stained establishments that hold themselves up on the edge of town--the sort of place that has sawdust on the floor and mirrors that don't work and cheap liquor and cantankerous men in them. There's silence for a moment. Then the sound of two footsteps...with spurs on them. Silence falls again, save for some quick scuffling as a handful of patrons see to seeing themselves out. They disappear into the brightness outside the door, but they probably haven't gone far.

Silence. Two steps more. Two more in echo. Now, silhouetted against the brightness of the mouth of the place with its hanging doors, stands a man--aggressive but uncertain. He has something in his hand; he waves it. The shape changes in the light, but it should be clear that this is his weapon. He sways a little. He holds his ground.

Then and only then does one see the back of a man perhaps more familiar to those watching this spectacle. He's dressed in a long, worn, tan duster and he has a bundle tied to his back--a green, cloth bundle, nestled nice and safe and warm in a little pack or sling.

He stands still. He says nothing. The man in the doorway shifts uneasily. Our Man flips aside the duster he's wearing--for convenience's sake. The man in the doorway shifts again. Silence.

Silence and silence and waiting. They consider one another. Then:]

I don't think it's nice...you talking that way in front of my son.

[The tenuous silence and fragile stillness holds. They stare at one another. Somehwere, a bartender is cowering.

It holds. It holds. It holds.

It breaks: two shots, in quick succession--one that goes wild and one that hits true.

The man's gun goes flying, his shot goes wild.

He collapses on the floor, clutching his hand, and all but crawls through the doorway again, following after the rest. The doors swing after he disappears and then are still.

The man with the bundle on his back stays facing the doorway a moment longer. After a while, he turns to look at the bundle on his back before slipping it off--very carefully--and slinging it around on his chest. He keeps his left hand on it as though it's something particularly precious.

He turns and disappears behind the device again. There's the sound of his foot resting on the rail again and the ringing sound of a bottle on the rim of a glass as a nervous hand (recently emerged from hiding) pours him another.

A moment or two pass before he reaches for his device again and snaps it shut, stirring up all that electronic dust and cutting the recording short in a--]
[//video post ends]

[ooc: Somebody is cursed with "It's a Boat, It's a Bug, It's Ours" today. Poncho-kun now has a Poncho-kun of his own: thanks to the curse, he has decided that his immensely familiar olive green serape is...his son. He's rolled it all up and fashioned a kind of baby sling for it to wear on his back or his chest and can now be seen walking the streets at the edge of town with the horse and his "son" in a strange variation on "Lone Wolf and Cub." Feel free to talk to them, if you like, but...do mind your language...]

[As devices are wont to do, Wilson's activates in the middle of a conversation. One with a pharmacist.]

No, I didn't put in for any Amiodarone. Well, that wasn't me-- what?

[There's another voice, not quite audible.]

No-- look, I realize we look alike, but we're not. I'm Doctor Wilson. No, not typically-- well, it is one of those weekends, isn't it?

[He pauses to sigh, letting them speak freely.]

Believe me, I know. Look. You can see, right here - that is not my signature. It doesn't even look like my name.

[Leaning forward, he's close enough for the response from the pharmacist to be audible:] I can't read your signature anyway.

Could you just get me that Sertraline I need? Please.

[Extreme close up on the curved lines of someone's palm. As the hand pulls back it becomes obvious the device has switched its recording function on while being set down somewhere - in this case, on the tilted surface of a bar. The assorted patrons propping it up can be seen in a concave blur through a half-empty glass.

One of them, the man whose fortune the city's palmists will know intimately by now, is pulling another man - younger but not by too much, though he has the languid poise of disaffected youth - back by the shoulder. And it's hard to hear amid the clinking chatter of the bar as Chase says something to him, but the last part is more audible. He's raising his voice.]

-going to tell me what you put in her drink.

[The other man protests, reacts angrily, and a push in Chase's direction creates a reverse momentum that sees the doctor slam the younger man back against the bar.

This is when the device goes spinning, and everything afterwards comes in dizzy, flickering frames. Punches thrown, a crowd pushing in, weak attempts at holding either party back. Something splashes across the floor, blood or a spilt drink, the flash of broken glass is too brief to confirm either. It's all very quick, and then, somewhere in the push of the crowd, a foot comes down on the device.

And then it's black.]


[ooc: because his canon is insane, chase now has a real-life sister. please ignore tags that say he doesn't. also, sigh.]