005 To Feel The Dark [Video]
[The feed starts out unfocused, as if the camera is being moved in a series of jerking motions, something akin to a seizure. Flashes of a classroom are seen in bursts. The only available light is from the snow outside reflecting through the dirty window on the east side of the room. A voice starts out quiet, dead monotone, just barely audible to the moving device. But gets more angry as the one-man dialogue continues.]
There's no noise.
Or the hum of a machine.
So quiet.
Why is it so fucking quiet?!
[The communicator is thrown across the room. It lands upside down but camera side out and slowly focuses on the figure across the room. He's resting his head against the wall and wrapped tightly in a white trench coat. A metal briefcase is open, laying on its side, its contents strewn across the room. They are cards of varying colors but all the same size. The card closest to the communicator appears to be a white dragon of some sort, drawn in a magnificent pose. There are others but they are too far away or face down and cannot be seen by the camera.]
This fucking place. I despise it.
These scientists. A crock of shit.
This. Is his doing.
This place. Mokuba. The cold. The lack. Of everything.
I KNOW IT'S HIM.
HE CAN'T ACCEPT THAT I WON. I HAD CONTROL OF EVERYTHING. IT WAS MINE. I WON.
IT WAS FUCKING MINE.
[He rises suddenly, the determination on his face readable even in the dim light of the room now without electricity. Striding across the room, he picks up the communicator in his left hand, his right holding a grappling hook gun. He looks into the camera a moment, his face blank but his eyes a storm of emotion. They look different. Not filled with the usual, competitive rage. To say he looked a bit crazy-eyed would be an understatement. One could infer that due to the lack of technology, normal Mokuba and things that make sense in general, the world called Discedo was starting to get to him. One could also infer that the rage he is currently harboring is the kind of rage that fuels a murder or two...or at the very least an attempted murder.
The camera is turned to face the floor and follows his footsteps as he exits the room, turns left, rages down the hallway and up some stairs, then comes to a stop at a closed door. He calmly sets the communicator down a foot behind him, then proceeds to bang on the door, kick it and just in general beat the shit out of it. That poor door. He's also yelling quite a bit. Not his, I'm making my voice slightly louder than everyone else's so they'll pay attention to me. No, he's really yelling. Loud enough to perhaps stir anyone nearby.]
Open up you bastard. OPEN THE HELL UP. I know it's you. I KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE PLANNING.
[Grief and pain can overcome one's fears. Even the fear of death...]
((ooc: The spacings are like that because he's sometimes pausing for minutes at a time. He's having a bad day. :l ))
There's no noise.
Or the hum of a machine.
So quiet.
Why is it so fucking quiet?!
[The communicator is thrown across the room. It lands upside down but camera side out and slowly focuses on the figure across the room. He's resting his head against the wall and wrapped tightly in a white trench coat. A metal briefcase is open, laying on its side, its contents strewn across the room. They are cards of varying colors but all the same size. The card closest to the communicator appears to be a white dragon of some sort, drawn in a magnificent pose. There are others but they are too far away or face down and cannot be seen by the camera.]
This fucking place. I despise it.
These scientists. A crock of shit.
This. Is his doing.
This place. Mokuba. The cold. The lack. Of everything.
I KNOW IT'S HIM.
HE CAN'T ACCEPT THAT I WON. I HAD CONTROL OF EVERYTHING. IT WAS MINE. I WON.
IT WAS FUCKING MINE.
[He rises suddenly, the determination on his face readable even in the dim light of the room now without electricity. Striding across the room, he picks up the communicator in his left hand, his right holding a grappling hook gun. He looks into the camera a moment, his face blank but his eyes a storm of emotion. They look different. Not filled with the usual, competitive rage. To say he looked a bit crazy-eyed would be an understatement. One could infer that due to the lack of technology, normal Mokuba and things that make sense in general, the world called Discedo was starting to get to him. One could also infer that the rage he is currently harboring is the kind of rage that fuels a murder or two...or at the very least an attempted murder.
The camera is turned to face the floor and follows his footsteps as he exits the room, turns left, rages down the hallway and up some stairs, then comes to a stop at a closed door. He calmly sets the communicator down a foot behind him, then proceeds to bang on the door, kick it and just in general beat the shit out of it. That poor door. He's also yelling quite a bit. Not his, I'm making my voice slightly louder than everyone else's so they'll pay attention to me. No, he's really yelling. Loud enough to perhaps stir anyone nearby.]
Open up you bastard. OPEN THE HELL UP. I know it's you. I KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE PLANNING.
[Grief and pain can overcome one's fears. Even the fear of death...]
((ooc: The spacings are like that because he's sometimes pausing for minutes at a time. He's having a bad day. :l ))