Who: The Port's Latest Shadow Televisions Stars! And Thousands of Home Viewers!
When: Midnight, Wednesday December 14th
Where: In front of your Television Sets or Streaming NV TV. (Digital Cable? You'll still get the analog effect.)
Summary:
Full Plot Details HereWarnings: Please Put 'em In the Subject Lines As Necessary, Kids?
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[This is visible on NV screens and TV screens-on or not. Static appears on the screen and an image steadily becomes clearer.]
[A guy with silvery hair and glowing yellow eyes appears on the screen. He’s wearing a sweater that is usually seen on Souji Seta. In fact, he is identical to Souji, for those who have seen him before. Save for one thing-he’s wearing a red cape. He backs up slowly from the camera, a smirk on his face. He then…flexes his arms to show off larger-than-usual biceps, the cape seemingly blowing in the breeze. It appears that “Souji” is outside during the Darkness. His voice when he speaks is bolder, more confident and commanding than usual.]
Citizens of Siren’s Port! I wanted to let you all know that there is nothing more to fear now! I’m here to save you from whatever evils befall you! I know that you’re all fairly weak and you need a leader like me, so if you’re in trouble, please don’t hesitate to call me, especially if you’re a fair damsel in distress.
[A wink and a sly smile]
[A darkness seems to ( ... )
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Because he was already dead when it aired.
Shikamaru's on his feet as soon as it hits him, pulling his jacket on and checking that it's stocked with wire and exploding tags. His own Shadow had been confined to the TV, but Souji's is clearly stalking the Darkness. Too late to save Souji, but this thing has to be stopped.]
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He's frozen like an ice sculpture for long enough to feel a strange, painful burst of hammering from the inside of his rib cage, but not long enough to realize that it's his heart making a mad kick start after skipping a beat.
And then he's out the door, so fast that he has no memory of even deciding to go, or how he got his shoes and jacket on,but they are. He should lock the door, but he doesn't. it's wide open on the hinges, and Yosuke is panting in the stairwell the next time he gets a flash of consciousness in between the bursts of panic.
In another blink he's on the ground level, at the street, and only just now realizing that it's long past evening sirens.]
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Shikamaru lands weightlessly on the pavement after the Naga's body has already bloomed in flaming chunks. Yosuke's still a safe distance ahead, so he calls out:]
Yosuke! Man, what'd we say about going out alone at night?
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[Everything is hazy when the camera first turns on the set that is in place for this television show, but as the view pulls back to show off more of it, everything comes into focus. It’s a big stage, and scattered throughout it are props that are straight out of a Victorian house. It’s a cozy little place, with high backed arm chairs, and several beautiful vases on glass and wooden tables, to give off a sense of being a place of high class and beauty. The camera slowly turns until it’s focusing on someone sitting in an armchair, a small table next to it that is filled with various colorful chemicals in different sized tubes and glasses. The man who is sitting in the arm chair is wearing a white lab coat, and otherwise his clothes are very Victorian era, with a high collar and suspenders ( ... )
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That had caught Daedalus off guard mostly because their foreign film of the late evening had been interrupted. He didn't recognize Souji Seta from the newcomer network, turning groggily back into his pillow
But when he sees the face of a familiar colleague onscreen, he immediately blinks fully awake and sits up in bed.
Dr. Tenma, dressed in something he'd expect to see the likes of Dr. Seward wearing? And reciting another of his morbid children's stories again, the ones he was so seemingly fixated on?
...he hadn't heard anything about AGI filming any kind of mad scientist's midnight hour masterpiece theater. It was the sort of thing he'd expect Kenzo to at least mention in passing.
"What is this?"
Was it meant to be some kind of comedy? Was he at least paid well, for putting himself up to some silly sort of- (but why would an anesthesiologist due something like that ( ... )
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[What little can be seen through the static are black boots with buckles on them as someone walks around a room. The floors are padded, not unlike an asylum's, and the boots have small bloodstains on them. A blade swings back and forth every once in a while, dripping with red. The camera is shaky, as though held by someone who cannot stop fidgeting.
The camera swings to the side and shows a bit of a white dress and then a table can be seen.
There's quiet humming.]
"Into the hole again, we hurried along our way
into a once-glorious garden now seeped in dark decay..."
[The voice is drowned out sometimes by the static.
Suddenly, the voice drops out, the static engulfs the feed, and there's nothing left but darkness.]
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That's-
Wow, what is this, some kind of scary movie?
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... what the...?
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That young man is Franz d'Epinay. He sits perched on a barstool, legs crossed and sitting at an angle that flatters the look of them. He wiggles one toe suggestively, cradling a gold-rimmed martini glass with one gloved hand.]
They say that Siren's Port is a city like no other.
[Yes, it's definitely Franz. But there's something very different about him, and it isn't just that he seems to lack his glow. The strangeness starts with his... esssesss. Every little movement and habit just screams queen in the 'worst' way - exaggerated limp-wristed gestures, the dramatic rise and fall of his voice that seems almost a womanly affectation. And yet this is not some girly ( ... )
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Ro looked down at the glass of wine in her hand.
She promptly got up to go dump it down the sink.]
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[But then he trails off, sitting upright and his mouth hardening into a line that's...mostly indignant.
Because that's a very cruel parody of what Franz is, too effete and too affected. He watches in a solemn, stoic sort of silence, his brow cringing in a hard line of worry, mostly because this crude imitator-
He suspects it will deeply hurt Franz, let alone his reputation. His hand reaches for Franz's, and his fingers grip tightly, a firm squeeze.
There's something that also stings, in a repulsed and quietly possessive way, about seeing even a silly image of his boyfriend carted off by a slew of half-dressed men.
The static returns, almost blessedly, and Daedalus is carefully silent. He isn't sure what he could possibly say.]
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Color this boy a little glued to the TV. His heart might have even been racing a bit.
But when it's all over, it's ultimately 15 seconds of fame, and he turns glumly back to the slow night at a now-notorious neutral club, trying not to thinking too hard the whites of her teeth, or the promise of better, stronger immortality....because there's still a long, long night ahead of him.
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Sometimes, she wonders if it might be better to side up with AGI and slowly worm her way to make Merlotte's out of their hit list. But Jessica is no secret agent, and she has no idea how to work that out. She's just a girl, not a politician. Eric might have some sway, but she really doubts that he'll do anything.
Such dour thoughts make Jessica to want to clubbing, to dance her stupid worries away. So she gonna throw the towel in for the night.
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He smiles, a little bit mystified- (did she tape that TV thing earlier, or what?) sitting back in the soundbooth to watch her cut loose. His attention is snagged, for awhile, wondering if she really is something dangerous and immortal. Someone who won't be taken down so easy.
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