¡peligro! x 001 x audio/video

[gloryisbullshit.livejournal.com]

[The audio feed is a mess of scuffling and cursing. That's the sound of the fountain, there's the sound of your broadcaster stumbling and hitting the ground (with a squeak, so enjoy that), and--ah--

[Here's the video. It's hard to see him immediately; his fingers scraping and scrambling over the screen do a pretty good job of hiding his face--and his expression, crunched tight in panic and confusion and anger--] No. No, no! get off! Fuckers, you sh-shitsucking bastards, you don't get me. You don't get me, I fucking swear, I will zap every last one of you cumstains-- [Where does it break it has to be breakable everything breaks how do you get this thing off?!

[What did you want him to notice it's on? Maybe later. Excuse him as he bites at the wristband of the communicator.]

Comments

[gloryisbullshit.livejournal.com]

No, it's not, it's not okay, don't you fucking feed me! [Hysterical? Who?] What is this?!

[greenisnteasy]

[Hysterical indeed, hence the continued yoga voice and the rational approach to their situation, dropping most pretenses at bullshittery calming tactics.]

We're not sure yet. There are a lot of us here, and we all just woke up one day to find ourselves here and with these things on our wrists. So far they seem to serve as communication devices, nothing sinister. No one knows why we're here or how, but so far no one's been harmed. We're about a five to a six on the panic scale. You, I think, are hovering around an eleven, so there is some room to calm down.

My name's Bruce.

[gloryisbullshit.livejournal.com]

[Eleven indeed! But he's listening, look, he's good. He waits all of a split second after the introduction to blurt out, still tugging at the communicator:] Want it off.

[greenisnteasy]

Unfortunately I can't help you with that one, as no one's managed to take them off.

What do you think it's going to do?

[gloryisbullshit.livejournal.com]

Whattayou think, Bruce, it's a fucking cuff, it's a cuff. I need it off. Nobody, my sweet ass, nobody, they gotta--break or--or s--shit...

[greenisnteasy]

It is a cuff, but the cuff doesn't do much beyond just sit on your wrist.

What's your name? Where are you from?

[gloryisbullshit.livejournal.com]

Doesn't do much. Doesn't-- [Fine. Fine. Fine. He breathes. He lets the assurance sink in--a little. And he offers (albeit grudgingly):] California.

Party Poison.

[greenisnteasy]

[Breathing is good. It's his preferred method of not freaking out all over everything.]

That's a name. Your parents must've been weird hippies.

[Trying to distract him with unrelated conversation is a go.]