[video]
[Trowa's comm flickers to life, showing--oddly enough for a location in the middle of Manhattan--a clear view of the sky above without even a single hint of a building in sight. It's really almost impossible to see any stars; the light pollution is simply too bad to get anything more than a speck here and there. A few clouds drift into view, obscuring one of them, and it's clear from the lack of the moon that it's gone into hiding again as well. Wind batters the mic into rattling and thumping, obscuring most of what little background noise might have otherwise been picked up, save for a slight creaking sound from close by that might remind one of over-stressed metal.]
[The view shakes twice, still focused only on that same open stretch of night. It's the only warning anyone gets before the device suddenly pitches forward, catching a brief flash of the nearest section of City skyline from up on high before tilting down, the camera pointed toward the street below as the extremely distant ground begins to rush up toward the comm. Very shortly, it hits a ledge, the lens cracking along the left side with thin, spiderwebbed marks, and bounces wildly off; everything goes mad, the comm spinning and turning in midair as it continues to plummet, all the detail around it instantly and permanently turned into a sick, dizzy blur with the constant, uncontrolled motion, no sound but the rushing whistle of air as the little machine keeps picking up speed, falling and falling and
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as though there's never going to be an end to the descent, until at last the comm finally catches a brief glimpse of dirty concrete no more than a few inches away and ends the feed with the first split-second of its own destruction as it bursts into nothing on impact.]
[The view shakes twice, still focused only on that same open stretch of night. It's the only warning anyone gets before the device suddenly pitches forward, catching a brief flash of the nearest section of City skyline from up on high before tilting down, the camera pointed toward the street below as the extremely distant ground begins to rush up toward the comm. Very shortly, it hits a ledge, the lens cracking along the left side with thin, spiderwebbed marks, and bounces wildly off; everything goes mad, the comm spinning and turning in midair as it continues to plummet, all the detail around it instantly and permanently turned into a sick, dizzy blur with the constant, uncontrolled motion, no sound but the rushing whistle of air as the little machine keeps picking up speed, falling and falling and
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
as though there's never going to be an end to the descent, until at last the comm finally catches a brief glimpse of dirty concrete no more than a few inches away and ends the feed with the first split-second of its own destruction as it bursts into nothing on impact.]