Case File #1 - Recording...
Time: 0030 hours
[The crackle of a tape recorder evens out after a few moments of muffled shuffling and white noise. The owner of the device is seemingly unaware of its rolling as it relays his stifled breaths. His successful startled gasp is caught in a quick flash of video from ground-floor. Through the tiny grained lens it paints a man the picturesque of disheveled.
Dirty blond hair mats to his sweat-washed face, marked by a laceration that looks far more fresh than it should. The smell of old whiskey practically permeates through the screen, his eyes dilated and flighty with confusion before they focus on the small recorder. Without a moment to gouge how or when he came to… or better yet, where he came to, he seems drawn to the device and snatches it up, ending the feed.]
……. . . . .
[Click, click. The reel starts up again ten minutes later. Small quivering breaths whisper across the receiver as if the holder is in a state of shock and attempting to shake themselves of it.]
…It’s a small apartment.
Owned by a tenant who resents it..
The smearing of dust on the floor.. I was dropped in here by two men.. Size 11 shoe, and size 9.. Seemed careful with me.
Th… the door.. The door is.. it looks burnt.. rotting.. around the edges.. Like gangrene.
When I we--when I went to the windows.. they were barred.. So dark outside I can’t see a thing..
And the sounds.. I thought I heard tornado sirens.. .
Then.. screeching.. wailing..
[There's a soft shallow wheeze.]
. . .It was like the dungeon again.
[A sort of traumatic disbelief taints his very own words, enough that to record them even seems ludicrous. Shuddering fingertips tap the Stop button. Click.]
((ooc: Late-note: At the moment, Will's NV is a tape-recorder with enough of an upgrade to video-record him, but downgraded enough at the moment that he can't receive video. He's from the early eighties so, he's not super hightech yet :( ))