Casefile 001 - Video/Action for those in Mahogany Town
[Action]
[Harry has apparently managed to at least get outside of the Rocket base without major incident, and is now sitting with his back to a very solid tree going through his pack more thoroughly. He looks at the hat that came with the Rocket uniform in vague disapproval for a moment before tossing it away into the treeline like a frisbee. Tucking the rest of the outfit back into the bag, he cautiously surveys the last items left outside the pack, the Pokegear and the Pokeball that was on his desk.]
No, don't touch that you fool. That's where they left the bomb.
[His tone is dead-pan, talking to no one in particular.]
Man, I hate it when my life starts looking like a bad horror flick. Pity there's no horny college kids around, poking at probably-dangerous stuff with sticks is what they're supposed to do.
[He sighs, leaning forward and looking resigned. With the manner of someone handling nuclear material, Harry presses the button on front of the Pokeball.]
[A minor explosion of light makes Harry jerk back, crying out a bit as his arms fly up to shield his face.]
HELL'S BELLS!
"Smoochum!"
[Harry slowly lowers his arms, staring blankly at the Smoochum crawling up onto his lap. It certainly doesn't LOOK dangerous, but he's seen a seven-year-old girl successfully hold off a small army of fallen angels.]
What on God's green earth are you?
"Smoo~"
[Fascinated despite himself, Harry slowly reaches out and picks up the Smoochum and picks it up. It begins gently gumming his hands, apparently quite content despite the distrust its trainer is showing it. Harry sets it down, and it begins crawling up his arm and into his lap again.]
No immediate threat, at least. Suppose I can't get much worse than dead, anyway, unless this place is a secret hot-bed of necromancers.
"Smoo-chumchum."
Yuh-huh.
[Harry turns to the last remaining piece of mysteriousness, the Pokegear. It looks SORT OF like a cellphone or PDA, which means he has roughly the same knowledge of its use as a chimp does of the key-card lock on its enclosure.]
I don't suppose YOU know how to use this, do you?
"Smoo."
Yeah, thought so. Thanks.
[Video]
[At first, the screen wobbles, showing mostly sky. The sounds of someone poking at the Pokegear can be heard, fingers brushing across the microphone.]
Always figured Hell’d be more fire and brimstone than this. Maybe infinite screenings of the Star Wars Christmas special. But no, me, I get little fiddly electronic things with unmarked buttons. Don't I feel special... and now I'm talking to myself. That can't be healthy.
[The screen steadies to reveal a tired-looking man poking around the screen on his Pokegear, looking a bit unsure. A curious Smoochum occasionally bounces up into frame, trying to see.]
Okay, the blinking HAL-9000 eye-of-death means this is going, right? Mab, Maeve, whoever's behind this, you’re not nearly as funny as you think. The background music is a nice touch, very impressive piece of magic, I have to admit. It's just catchy enough to stick in the head, just annoying enough to encourage experiments in self-trepanning.
Murphy, Molly, Thomas, if any of you are seeing this somehow... there are some things that I have to do alone, out of pride, or because the danger to others is too great. This is not one of those times, and if I ever say something is, I'm probably being stupid or being manipulated or both. But be careful. If I'm right, the Faeries aren't going to take too kindly to mortals poking their heads in.
[Harry has apparently managed to at least get outside of the Rocket base without major incident, and is now sitting with his back to a very solid tree going through his pack more thoroughly. He looks at the hat that came with the Rocket uniform in vague disapproval for a moment before tossing it away into the treeline like a frisbee. Tucking the rest of the outfit back into the bag, he cautiously surveys the last items left outside the pack, the Pokegear and the Pokeball that was on his desk.]
No, don't touch that you fool. That's where they left the bomb.
[His tone is dead-pan, talking to no one in particular.]
Man, I hate it when my life starts looking like a bad horror flick. Pity there's no horny college kids around, poking at probably-dangerous stuff with sticks is what they're supposed to do.
[He sighs, leaning forward and looking resigned. With the manner of someone handling nuclear material, Harry presses the button on front of the Pokeball.]
[A minor explosion of light makes Harry jerk back, crying out a bit as his arms fly up to shield his face.]
HELL'S BELLS!
"Smoochum!"
[Harry slowly lowers his arms, staring blankly at the Smoochum crawling up onto his lap. It certainly doesn't LOOK dangerous, but he's seen a seven-year-old girl successfully hold off a small army of fallen angels.]
What on God's green earth are you?
"Smoo~"
[Fascinated despite himself, Harry slowly reaches out and picks up the Smoochum and picks it up. It begins gently gumming his hands, apparently quite content despite the distrust its trainer is showing it. Harry sets it down, and it begins crawling up his arm and into his lap again.]
No immediate threat, at least. Suppose I can't get much worse than dead, anyway, unless this place is a secret hot-bed of necromancers.
"Smoo-chumchum."
Yuh-huh.
[Harry turns to the last remaining piece of mysteriousness, the Pokegear. It looks SORT OF like a cellphone or PDA, which means he has roughly the same knowledge of its use as a chimp does of the key-card lock on its enclosure.]
I don't suppose YOU know how to use this, do you?
"Smoo."
Yeah, thought so. Thanks.
[Video]
[At first, the screen wobbles, showing mostly sky. The sounds of someone poking at the Pokegear can be heard, fingers brushing across the microphone.]
Always figured Hell’d be more fire and brimstone than this. Maybe infinite screenings of the Star Wars Christmas special. But no, me, I get little fiddly electronic things with unmarked buttons. Don't I feel special... and now I'm talking to myself. That can't be healthy.
[The screen steadies to reveal a tired-looking man poking around the screen on his Pokegear, looking a bit unsure. A curious Smoochum occasionally bounces up into frame, trying to see.]
Okay, the blinking HAL-9000 eye-of-death means this is going, right? Mab, Maeve, whoever's behind this, you’re not nearly as funny as you think. The background music is a nice touch, very impressive piece of magic, I have to admit. It's just catchy enough to stick in the head, just annoying enough to encourage experiments in self-trepanning.
Murphy, Molly, Thomas, if any of you are seeing this somehow... there are some things that I have to do alone, out of pride, or because the danger to others is too great. This is not one of those times, and if I ever say something is, I'm probably being stupid or being manipulated or both. But be careful. If I'm right, the Faeries aren't going to take too kindly to mortals poking their heads in.