Jan. 16th, 2013

xi | video

Jan. 16th, 2013 12:41 am
invoking: commission. (heaven’s not enough.)
[personal profile] invoking
[ When the feed commences, it opens to an unfamiliar but swanky interior of someone's home, obviously not Gil's plain MAC apartment. The spaciousness and view of the other buildings from high above should have made it obvious. There's also various magazines and books lying around-- all scientific literature. This is definitely not Gil's place. ]

I think Jesse Sanchez is gone. She's never this quiet for so long. I haven't seen her or heard from her on the Network in a long time. She's mentioned a "secret base" but... I'm not sure what she did with it. If anyone has been in contact with her recently, I'd like to know. Thank you.

Sue Storm is gone, too. She left a note behind... almost like she knew she was leaving. [ He pauses to look around the empty penthouse with slight discomfort.

He seems to be talking more to himself when he speaks up once more: ]
I'm not sure what to do with all this or what she was thinking.

[ A heavy sigh. ]
always_alert: (Default)
[personal profile] always_alert
[The video opens to a close-up view of a dog's muzzle as it sniffs at the camera. After a few seconds (wherein the dog no doubt realized the camera was not something it could eat, and therefor lost all interest in it) the muzzle retreats from view.]

[Several feet away, half-way off screen, Red Alert sits at a dining table, completely oblivious to the camera now recording him. His posture is tense and hunched over, his elbows propped up on the table-top as he cradles his head in his hands. Judging by his overall body-language and the half-empty bottle of aspirin sitting in front of him, he's likely nursing the mother of all migraines.]

[The muzzle from the begining of the feed appears again, this time with the rest of the dog in plain view. Said dog slowly pads over to Red Alert and lays its head on his thigh, whining softly. Red drops one hand from his own head to the dog's, rubbing it's ear in a gesture meant to sooth.]

Shh, Cobalt. I'm alright.

[He punctuates this statement by opening his eyes and giving the dog a look, as if to say "see? I'm perfectly fine." Then, out of habit, his eyes drag themselves up to scan the room, his gaze sweeping from floor to ceiling in a quick, well-practiced maneuver. That's when he notices the camera.]

[His immediate response is to freeze, then mutter something colorful in Cybertronain. He stands quickly, his movements stiff as he walks over to the camera and picks it up. This close up, his eyes appear bruised and bloodshot, as if he's gone a few days without sleep. He frowns at the camera, though there isn't really any heat or effort behind it.]

Ignore this.

[And with that curt order, he cuts the feed.]


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