egomaniacal: (Default)
[personal profile] egomaniacal
Okay, who here has a YouTube? [ Here's Striker! Here's Striker looking irritable, and then he swings it around to a computer screen, which has his YouTube channel on it. It just hit 300,000 subscribers. Yes, Striker and his shitty teen team doing inadvisable and occasionally drunk things on YouTube in front of a large audience is totally the PR that imPorts need right now. ] Because you need to subscribe. To me. I'm not even in the top 100 yet, how is that okay?

[ The camera swings around to Quentin Quire. ] This is your fault somehow, I'm pretty sure.

How is it my fault? [ Quentin just rolls his eyes at the camera. Obviously not buying any of that sassypants talk. ] If anything, it's your own fault.

[ SUPER AFFRONTED: ] Uh, excuse you. Maybe if you weren't so obscure on Twitter...

I have more followers and hashtags on Twitter than you!!

That's bullshit, QQ. Prove i-

[ Aaand the feed cuts out so Striker can defensively check Twitter numbers on his comm. ]
demonspawn: by thebutt / plz don't take thnx. (pic#4858052)
[personal profile] demonspawn
[ it isn't your imagination -- the dark circles around terry's eyes are, if possible, even darker than usual when he manages to fumble his communicator on and peer blearily at it. in the background, the ridiculous mess of quentin quire's apartment is visible. there are a lot of bottles.

a lot of them.
]

Ugh. What's the point of being a demonic immortal if you can still get hungover?

[ terry rubs at his eyes before glancing around himself. ]

If anybody is missing an inflatable giraffe, a pink thong, or a naked telepathic terrorist, we have them and you should take them from us. Especially the terrorist.

[ he pause. there's a noise in the background. it's striker behind him, blearily watching video evidence of their shenanigans on his cellphone, which can be heard faintly over the comm. ]

Dude, you would not believe what I --

[ terry makes a face. ]

Are you kidding me. Who let Striker record last night --

[ then he looks down. the face intensifies. ]

-- and whose freaking boxers are these?

Wait, what?
egomaniacal: (pic#4576557)
[personal profile] egomaniacal
[ Striker and Quentin are on camera. Striker has regular clothes on instead of his lightning onesie, and he's standing in a kitchen, clearly not one from the MAC. He looks a bit vindictive. This is what you get, team jerk. ]

So if you, hypothetically, have an immortal guy's corpse in your fridge how long do they usually take to come back to life? Also is it weird to put your food in there with them? Hypothetically.

[ Quentin is also wearing regular clothes, for once, and looks extremely pissed. There is food all over the counter. ] Maybe he's alive now? Give it a knock, Striker.

He'd probably try to get out if he was. [ The implication here is that Striker wouldn't help him!!! ]

Wow so my fucking food is going to spoil and it's all dead-ass Terry's fault. That just adds the icing to the cake of catastrophe that is team assholes.

That sounds about right. [ He will remember to protest that name later when he's not being a huge dick. ] You should probably mention that Jenny fucking died too, you know.

Oh right. Jenny is also dead, but we couldn't steal her body. [ a pause. ] Her fat dead ass is also responsible for our rotting food.

[ Striker finally wanders over to the fridge and pulls it open. You can see a familiar black mess of Terry hair in the corner of the shot. ] Ugh. Still dead.

....... Let's cut his hair.
centurybaby: (Default)
[personal profile] centurybaby
[ the video opens up to the stretch of green, fenced field that may or may not be vaguely recognizable as the anglo-scottish border. in the distance there's a road, but besides that and the wire fence, there's just a group of teenagers standing on the scottish side that look distinctively like they're up to no good.

from off camera, a girl's wry voice can be heard:
]

Still fucking think we should call it the Authority.


[ terry's keeping his distance from the others, all furrowed eyebrows and frowns. if he's going to do this, he's sure as hell not doing it next to the telekinetics or mr. friggin' lightning pants over there, so he situates himself furthest away from the camera, tactically near some foliage. ]

Who the hell even cares what it's called.


[ striker is front and center. because he's striker. he's wearing regular clothes instead of his lightning pants, which is a courtesy to you guys, since otherwise he would have to pull his onesie all the way down to his butt just to free willy. ]

You should. If you don't have a good name, you can't have good branding. [ And then, pointedly: ] And "Authority" isn't going to generate good branding.

[ julian is a few paces away from striker, their new king of social network. he's dressed normally, with his jacket sleeves wrapped around his arms and his metal hands being floaty at his sides. ]

This whole thing is about rejecting authority anyway. But I don't even know why we're debating it. [ He glances between them all. ] You know you aren't beating the Hellions for a name. It's got way too much of a ring to it, and you're lucky enough to have me on board, which means no copyright issues. You should be fucking grateful.

[ he pauses, then looks out at the wild, untamed gross, nature-filled scottish landscape before them. ] So are we doing this, or what?

You guys are insane. No one is going to remember the Authority or the Hellions.

[ a few steps away from julian is quentin, he smirks at the fence and then to the guys. with a casual shrug he shakes his head before placing his hands on his hips. ]

Are you pee shy, Jules? [ another quirky grin. ] The Omegas have no room for shy little babies.

[ the camera turns around so that it's facing jenny, who exhales smoke from her cigarette at the feed before addressing it: ]

Fuck you guys. You're all shitty team leaders with shitty team name ideas. [ she makes a face, sticking her tongue out. ] And no electric piss or crossing streams, assholes. Nobody likes that shit.

[ there's a distinct symphony of tsssssss sounds. jenny rolls her eyes at the camera. ]

Boys.
egomaniacal: (pic#4190550)
[personal profile] egomaniacal
[ There's a netbook open on the kitchen counter behind him. Hell yeah the first thing he bought was a computer, who needs food? HE HAS TO TRACK HIMSELF ON ALL THE GOSSIP SITES, IT'S IMPORTANT. (Plus he's been meaning to lose weight.) You can see anti-imPort headlines and shit on the screen if you squint; he gestures back towards it with a jerk of his thumb. ] Alright, this? Is ridiculous. What are we, mutants? (No offense, mutants.) [ Dismissive hand-wave! Look the M.A.C. is gross and it's hard to be politically correct in here!! He's pointedly not touching anything. ] Whoever is in charge of PR for us blows chunks. Also, a couple of buses explode, seriously? It's New York. [ "The City," Striker. ] Welcome to every other Wednesday ever. It's probably just some Spider-Man villain being frustrated that he can't get laid, or whatever.

The real crisis here is that there are twenty super geniuses wandering around, and I bet none of them actually know how to transfer my Twitter account from another dimension. I'm losing so many followers just because of some stupid cross-universe-napping that the Avengers let happen, I'm sure.

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