hoodalumnus: (Charmed.)
[personal profile] hoodalumnus
[The camera of the communicator is positioned precisely, far away enough to grab three quarters of a figure yet close enough so sound isn't obstructed. Here is Parker Robbins. He holds up a personal mobile, his mouth a complete line.

He replays his voicemail.

You have TWENTY-SEVEN SAVED MESSAGES. To play these messages, press--

"Parker, where are you? Uh. It's Electro. You've been out all night. Call me."


"Hey. If this is a business thing why wasn't I invited? Is it a business thing?"

"Why the fuck aren't you answering your phone?


"Parker, what the hell is going on? I know you didn't get shot or something, I've have heard about it. I've been checking the papers! Call me, you asshole."

"Are you ignoring me? Is that what this is about? Fuck you, pal, we already went over this. I haven't even set foot in your room again, so you had better have goddamn gotten over it!"


"I'm throwing away all your shit, man."

"Seriously, what's up? Are you even still here? Did you get ported out too? You can't do this to me. Just call me, okay?"

"What am I supposed to do now?! Get the fuck back here right now."

"I only threw away some of your stuff. So don't go being pissed."


"Parker. Where are you?"

[He turns off his voicemail.]

Electro. Don't ever do that again.
hoodalumnus: (And I'm not to look at you in the shoe.)
[personal profile] hoodalumnus
Okay, so. White clothes and red clothes don't mix in the washer. I'm assuming it's safe to bleach pink shit?

Since if not then I definitely owe some poor schmuck an apology. And I guess a new bed sheet cloak.
hoodalumnus: (Shadowplay.)
[personal profile] hoodalumnus
So who's investigating the Black Mask murder?

Or is justice just a sometimes treat?
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
Checklist for the public:
Are you over eighteen? [ ]
Have you at any time in your life watched 'Gilmore Girls'? [ ]
Are you not a pussy? [ ]
Do you want some guns? [ ]

One of these is a trick question.
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
You know what's real irritating? Assholes who call you and then expect you to call back and you do and then they don't pick up forever. Just like an asshole wouldn't.

[Encrypted to Electro]

Hey asshole.
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
Death, death, death, death, death. If death was Marcia Brady, you'd all be that one chick. You know, the one that isn't Cindy, I forgot her name. Anyway. You guys are way too depressing right now, so I'm lightening the mood with a hypothetical question.

Hypothetically, you get one chance to kill someone. Anyone in City, no strings attached and no consequences, anyone at all. Who would it be?

Aaand go.
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
Hey, fill in the blank accordin' to your circumstance: I got ninety-nine problems but a blank ain't one.

I'll go first: I got ninety-nine problems but a jerk in green tights ain't one
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
[His voice is harsher, colder. And he's clearly disturbed by something, as he mutters to himself.]

-- Middle of shit, this I can't even. Here, again. Fucking -- okay. Okay, fine, we can play. I want today's paper. Give me today's paper. Give me -- oh. Glad that works. [Beat.] Two days.

[He's neither disappointed nor happy. But hesitantly:]

Electro? [Beat.] Misty?
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
I'm bored. Are you bored? 'Cause I'm bored. So do this thing to entertain me and sum up your year in a song. One song. Don't sing the song, I repeat, do not sing the song. Don't tell my how kitschy this is, I know how kitschy this is, just man up and play. There're penalties for using shit by Nineties boy bands, just so we're clear. Been too long since I warmed either of my guns and I'm in the mood for fair warnings. So. Warned.

Go, go, go.

[Private to Misty]
Are you bored?
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
[It's pretty early for someone to be slurring his speech! Guess a breakfast six-pack will do that. By now he's gotten used to the [BUTTHEAD] flashing on his screen username.]

Sometimes it ain't even worth it. Comin' close, only to have it taken away from you, right? Even if you know it'll be status quo perfect again, still sucks hard. This world sucks hard.

Waitin' is the worst part.
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
[Video flickers on. The screen is dimly lit, dark but not blackened. A shadow moves in the distance. It's gone. A moment of nothing, just that empty screen and the low buzz of something static.

Claws grabbed the screen, white talons soaked in crimson. It shakes the camera, pulling it close to a skeletal jaw. A cold shriek in the background.

A flash of red, a normal human nose under glowing eyes. A normal smile with normal lips.

A toothy grin with fangs as long as fingers, as sharp as daggers. Grizzled, noseless, bony hollows where flesh should be.]

[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
So, yeah this thing. Wow there’s a lot of fucking lint… Shit that best be lint I don’t know why it’s fucking pink, probably some goddamn demonic shit… Uh. Yeah okay.

Sucks hiding, you know? Whole time here, I’ve been treating this as a reprieve. Shit’s messier back home, some of it anyway, and this was kinda nice. Frustrating, when you realize nothing here matters, but still kinda nice. Or it was, 'til I got around finding out some things about what's coming.

You learn things, about back home. Things you can’t ever fucking change. Things you’re gonna lose, and lose hard. Things I wish I could—[beat.]

There’s really no truth to hiding. Right? Man’s just gotta ball-up and play sometimes.
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
To the point where some places won't serve imPorts when others are goading us in for business. Like people can't make up their damn minds. They have you all on record as imPorted, or am I just special?

[[encrypted to IVY.]]


[[encrypted to ELECTRO.]]

I need a drink.
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
Is anyone tracking the newly imPorted? Or has that bitchbot banned that, too? Just hate waiting until bastards post to know the new flux.

[encrypted to: norman osborn]

You and me ought to chat.
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
[encrypted to poison ivy]

Zombies are bad for business, it seems. So some shipments are delayed--from the competition. Now's an ideal time to act. Meet you in the park?

[encrypted to norman osborn]

I need some information. Think you can help out an old friend?
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
Holy fuck!

[The visual swings in a quick arc from left to right, scouring a blur of green and brown--trees--and red sunlight scars the lens. Something cackling catches the camera's attention. Something glowing and cackling and damn scary and unearthly.]

Fuck fuck fuck!

[The voice belongs to Parker Robbins, and despite his efforts to maintain distance between himself and this creature, he's acutely attempting to film it. Thing is, running on air and video-tapping isn't the best technique in tandem.]

This is at Central Park! Right now! Back up would be nice. Shit, shit, that is fucked up shit.

[Luckless voices scream in the background. One man howls in terror and dissolves into sobs. Parker doesn't stick around for the guy's fate.]


[Parker's face appears on screen, and he's pretty pale.]

Oh God that is really fucked up.

ooc || Well basically Parker has pissed off Terry (again!). More than that, he's pissed off a somewhat fractured Terry who is now possessed by Nightmare. Parker won't be replying much (other than here and there), but if you're inclined to EPIC BATTLE with Nightmare, tag in as an action! But if you just want to comment, that works too!
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
Notice how while everyone's moaning about still-cooling corpses or sittin' warm and cozy for the holidays, there are homeless guys dying in the gutter? What's being done about that?


You ought to be ashamed. Heh.

video; one

Sep. 20th, 2009 11:18 pm
[identity profile] hoodalumnus.livejournal.com
[There's a man in a red cloak, with half his face obscured. He's frowning, clearly tense, and perched up high on a building's edge. Well, hovering over it, really.]

Look. I need answers and I need them now. Been hiding out for a few days, and as far as I can tell, this is just like home. 'Cept for a few major fucking differences. And that's where I'm a little concerned, you see, 'cause I've got a few unruly responsibilities that need takin' care of.

So I want some answers. Starting with how the fuck do I get out of here?


This is some fucking weird shit. And I'm an authority on weird shit. Fuck if this is another pulled-off-world situation, fuck if it is. I'm so sick of that shit, it's not even funny.

[He pauses, hesitant.]

John. You out there at all?


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