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01 ☣ video/action for NBT
[ The audio turns on with the hiss of static, it lasts about half a second before— ]
Stuck? Stuck?! Bullshit!
[ Whoever's speaking, they're clearly angry. There's the sound of paper getting pushed aside and metal hitting the floor, followed swiftly thereafter by glass breaking and plastic getting crushed. The horrified gasps of a few scientists fill in the ensuing silence. ]
Kyrie...she's in danger, I have to...
[ The yelling voice seems to have slowed and quieted to a low growl. The thudding of boots marks heavy, erratic pacing; the crunch of plastic indicates the violence isn't quite over.
It's here the video turns on; a big blue snout blocks the view, before the head pans out to reveal a Bagon, looking upset. The small creature turns the 'gear around, capturing the scene:
Elm's lab is trashed.
Papers litter the floor, broken glass and torn plastic casings strewn in the wake of whole workstations being knocked down. Chairs are on their sides, tables half-emptied of their contents, shattered vials releasing fluids onto the linoleum. A group of scientists—strangely, none of them hurt—are watching with wide, frightened eyes as a young man paces. 'Young man' is perhaps generous: half-man, half-snarl, flashing teeth that feel as though they should be pointed. He can't seem to contain himself, his eyes stare ahead emptily, focused on something that isn't there; every other movement he's whirling, stopping, starting again, hands raised, hands down, flexing and touching his right hand over and over. There's blood on that fist; it's easy to connect the dots to the hole in one of the computer monitors. Finally, after about a minute, he spins deftly on his heel and grabs Elm by the collar of his labcoat. Tiny flowers of blood bloom on the white fabric. ]
I have to get back!
[ He shakes Elm for good measure, as the poor harried researcher can only hang on and blubber apologies. Nero snarls. ]
Answer me!
[ The Bagon puts down the gear and leans over it worriedly, making a soft keening noise. Come calm his trainer down, please, somebody! Anybody? ]
[[OOC: all characters who signed up and any who didn't are welcome to come crash the party and help Elm get away from the rampaging teenager. Video/audio responses will come chronologically after he calms down. ]]
Stuck? Stuck?! Bullshit!
[ Whoever's speaking, they're clearly angry. There's the sound of paper getting pushed aside and metal hitting the floor, followed swiftly thereafter by glass breaking and plastic getting crushed. The horrified gasps of a few scientists fill in the ensuing silence. ]
Kyrie...she's in danger, I have to...
[ The yelling voice seems to have slowed and quieted to a low growl. The thudding of boots marks heavy, erratic pacing; the crunch of plastic indicates the violence isn't quite over.
It's here the video turns on; a big blue snout blocks the view, before the head pans out to reveal a Bagon, looking upset. The small creature turns the 'gear around, capturing the scene:
Elm's lab is trashed.
Papers litter the floor, broken glass and torn plastic casings strewn in the wake of whole workstations being knocked down. Chairs are on their sides, tables half-emptied of their contents, shattered vials releasing fluids onto the linoleum. A group of scientists—strangely, none of them hurt—are watching with wide, frightened eyes as a young man paces. 'Young man' is perhaps generous: half-man, half-snarl, flashing teeth that feel as though they should be pointed. He can't seem to contain himself, his eyes stare ahead emptily, focused on something that isn't there; every other movement he's whirling, stopping, starting again, hands raised, hands down, flexing and touching his right hand over and over. There's blood on that fist; it's easy to connect the dots to the hole in one of the computer monitors. Finally, after about a minute, he spins deftly on his heel and grabs Elm by the collar of his labcoat. Tiny flowers of blood bloom on the white fabric. ]
I have to get back!
[ He shakes Elm for good measure, as the poor harried researcher can only hang on and blubber apologies. Nero snarls. ]
Answer me!
[ The Bagon puts down the gear and leans over it worriedly, making a soft keening noise. Come calm his trainer down, please, somebody! Anybody? ]
[[OOC: all characters who signed up and any who didn't are welcome to come crash the party and help Elm get away from the rampaging teenager. Video/audio responses will come chronologically after he calms down. ]]
what typos? |Db we can be typo buds
Sorry, what'd you say? Couldn't hear you over the sound of you getting your ass kicked.
[ In his depowered state, Nero can't punch or kick through metal armor, though--Mouri could easily use that to his advantage. ]
did I mention how I love where this is going?
You speak in such an odd manner. But attempt to attack me. Go on.
haha, makes two of us!
[ Nero doesn't exactly need to be asked twice--he's not dumb though, he's going to try and grab Mouri's right wrist to bring his elbow up hard into the unarmored armpit. ]
no subject
[Sorry Nero but your grasp of tactics is as basic as Mouri's grasp of Johto. So all you're going to get is this when you reach his wrist.
lmao that gif
All right, I take it back. You do have some fight in you.
it sums up Mouri perfectly
[He turns around, picks up his discarded headgear and walks away from the destruction. He has proven his point, he needs to do nothing further. There are further things to be done. But just as he goes...]
You're better to find that destined partner of yours. It will be much more satisfying to destroy them.
...lmao this tag
the fuck just happened?
The hell was that?
The hell is this?
'Destined'--does he mean Dante? What does this guy know about anything?
What the fuck???
Needless to say, Mouri leaves one extremely confused teenager in his wake. For what it's worth, at least he's too busy wondering what the hell just happened to cause any more property damage. :|b ]