Leave yer name an' number at the tone an' I'll get back t'ya. BEEEEEEEEP!

IP logging off, anon on, screened comments a go~

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name: Maus
are you over 18?: Still 24
personal lj: ronsencock
email/msn/aim/plurk/etc: ronsencock@hotmail.com / rlylikesclocks / ronsencock
characters in abax: Charles Xavier groovy_mutation


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[Voice | English | LOCKED %55 to Marco]

[There's a lock on this, or he hopes there is, whether it keeps people out or not that's the question. Seeing the news report, seeing familiar mugs on the tv... SEEING THAT STUPID MUG on his tv. SIGH. Well it was good to know there were plenty of other Discedo sobs here with him. Maybe this could be exciting? Fugitives and all that jazz. Would he get to be on COPS? If he did this would all be worth it.]

ARE YA BLOODY STUPID, MATE?!

[Doesn't mean he won't yell at you, Marco. Well at least he didn't have to worry about Hanna being here, that was a plus. He could only imagine the shit he'd get into. Oh yes, have some barking in the back ground.]

Get outta 'ere ya bloody ankle bitter before I make ya into a slipper!!

[Video | English | 45% lock from Scientist]

So it's come t'my attention that a lot a ya are askin' 'bout gettin' these "chip" things outta ya, eh? Jus' so happens I know a little bit concernin' them now. Ain't no expert, but a little slicey slicey an' I can get 'em outta ya. Maybe.

Not actually done a removal yet, but Cube showed me his stuff on 'em.

[He'll grin nice and big.]

So who wants t'volunteer t'go first? I'll even throw in a few band aids or two.

[He won't mention Hanna being gone though. He doesn't want to talk about it, but anyone who knew the red head is welcome to ask.]

[Voice | English]

Alright ladies, sounds like we got somethin' special on our hands.

Or the entire damn city is on LSD.

So from what I'm gatherin' a bunch a ya knuckle heads are seein' make believe fish made a words... but the rest a us can't see? Oh an' they're attackin' ya? [He'll grumble.] Mum always wondered why I never wanted a goldfish.

Whatever yer all on, mind givin' me some? I'll take it as payment fer patchin' yer asses up if yer not too loopy t'make it over 'ere.

[Video | English]

So I was thinkin', Discedo, what time a year is it? Sniffle season. Worst time a year, right? Right. Well I jus' happen t'know a little rune magic, fancy stuff y'know?

[He has a marker in one hand, where he got it, who knows. Probably rifled through one of the stores earlier in the week. It's a nice purple color. Also a tattered book of ruled paper, half the pages are torn, but still usable.]

'Ere I'll show ya one I like t'use myself t'keep away the flu an' shit durin' this time a year.

What... what are you talking about?! [A wild Hanna voice from off camera, the ginger he's warned everyone about before.] Worth?

Shut up Hanna I'm busy. [Grumbles and waves a hand to shoo him away, then he's grabbing the ruined notebook to hold the marker at it.]

Get somethin' t'write with. Anythin' that makes a mark will work, pen, crayon, fuck got paint? That'll work too.  Jus' write what I write, but on a part a yer body. Yer hand will do. If ya REALLY want it t'work write it as best ya can on yer forehead.

[And he'll start writing something out... P... E... N... the number 1 and the number 5. PEN15. He'll turn the paper around to show the communicator.]

...! No no, now wait a minute!

I SAID I'M BUSY! BUZZ OFF. [He may be chucking a My Little Pony at Hanna. Don't ask where he got it from Knowlton.]

Now jus' make sure it looks jus' like this, won't work if it doesn't. It'll take 'bout five minutes fer it t'set in an' work. Ya might feel a little tingly.

[And he'll grin big... and wonder how long it takes for all the gullible people who actually did it to realize what they wrote on their hands/foreheads.]

THAT'S NOT HOW RUNES WORK, WORTH!


(ooc: ... I forgot to put that the orange is Hanna. This is what happens when I post at like 2 in the morning.)

[Video | English]

I ain't the only one who wishes our little weekly comedic threesome would drown in the lake, am I? 

[Yes, he's talking about you, Spectavi. He loves you, he really does. Maybe. Not really.]

Bunch a clowns, only one worth two seconds a my time is the fuckin' weather boy. Good job, Sparkles, keep up the good work... an' someone punch that woman in the face already? Don't know why the both a ya haven't gagged 'er at least.

[And he's done talking about the wonders of the weekly news, and picks up his communicator, leaning back in his chair, feet as always up on his 'desk'. He seems to be pondering something as he sets the device on his chest, lighting a cig, which can be awkwardly seen from the angle the communicator is at. Once he's all set, he picks it back up, and starts talking, a bit mumbled around his cigarette.]

So I've been wonderin' who keeps the city goin'. Obviously we ain't supplyin' ourselves with shit, no way t'grow shit, now place t'go t'replenish what we need. So some omnipotent god of Discedo is droppin' shit off fer us occasionally, right? [Or the Scientists are, he's not that disillusioned.] 

If we're gonna be doin' that then I'd like t'make a few requests: A pony, a pretty dress fer the ball, an' since we're always runnin' low on 'em, medical supplies. [He'll list some things, typical stuff the hospital already had that they needed more of.] I know ya jus' love bringin' us back t'life an' all, but I can't do my job without the shit I need. So hop to it Discedo god a givin'. 

Need this shit by Wednesday. [He'll snap his fingers as if hurrying someone a long, before shutting the communicator off.]

[Voice |  English]



Ya see that, folks? That's a ginger. An' besides havin' no souls, they attract danger like it's goin' outta style! This certain specimen is Hanna Falk Cross, not a girl extraordinaire! If he tries t'cajole ya inta monster huntin' or anythin' crazy ya run the other way, mate. Most that tag along with 'im end up on the undead spectrum a life. If ya get what I mean.

Jus' a warnin' fer the wise.

[Text]

[He types something along the same lines up for those who can't speak English. If you want to call any of what just came out of his mouth English, and then adds a little more at the end.]

Anyone who needs a little extra for those super cold nights, we got a goddamn bonfires worth of blankets piled up in the clinic. Come and get some if you need them. Clinic is still Latimir 101.

[Voice | English]

WOULD YOU BLOOMIN' IDIOTS STOP GOIN' OUTSIDE FER TWO SECONDS!?

Obviously there's somethin' out there killin' us off! Christ I swear if natural selection has ever been true it's now. [Grumbles.] If any of ya manage t'not die an' need some patchin' up head over t'Latimir 101. I might jus' patch yer stupid hides up.

[Text]

If you're stupid enough to go outside and got hurt come to Latimir 101 if you can make it. I'll patch you fucking idiots up. Nice of me, huh?

[Voice | English]

'Ey, any a ya seen a lanky pale artfag lost in the city? Haven't seen 'em in a few days. [More like a week or so. What is time.]

If he's become monster chow I'd like t'know. Jus' so when he comes back I can mock 'em relentlessly fer gettin'  chewed on in the first place.

[Plus he doesn't see why Conrad wouldn't come back to his place after all. And if he'd found some place else he would have told him, at least in a quick 'FOUND SOME PLACE  WITHOUT ROACHES :|' sort of message.]

An' Hanna, y'been too damn quiet! The hell are y'up to? Y'better not be cookin' up some hair brained scheme, ain't in the mood fer testin' out the medical supplies 'ere yet. Takes effort an' all.

[Text]

If any of you got a headache or need a band-aid, I've set up a sort a walk in thing at my place. Latimir 101. Figured it made sense to have something closer to the apartments, for simple stuff. If your arm gets blown off or what not, you still gotta go to the hospital.