video; un: shuckitall

[sobloodyinspired]

[It's obvious that, at least at first, the boy being filmed has no clue about it, nor that it's being sent anywhere else for anyone else to see. It would seem someone left the device somewhere, discarded and ignored.

There isn't much to be seen, the room he's in is mostly empty, besides a bed to sleep on and the like, mostly decked in chrome everywhere the eye could see. The angle is tilted, but the boy can be seen in nearly every area of the room that he paces around like an angry cat. He bangs on the door, demands to be let out, to no avail. Mutters to himself, nonsensical things--

"Kill me! I trusted you."

"Shut up! Just do it!"

"Kill me or I kill you!"

"Do it before I become one of them!"

All the while, he's clawing at his arms, fisting his hands in his hair, punching the wall until his knuckles bleed, but he doesn't seemed phased by any of it at all.

The feed stretches on for a good hour or so, maybe closer to two, before he takes notice of the device again. The camera gives a far-too-close shot of his face as he mutters intelligibly to himself, fussing with the-- well, he doesn't know what it is, but he's sure that flickery-man he'd seen earlier said he could talk on it, somehow. Not that he remembers any of the instructions. Or were there any instructions at all? He can't remember. There were rarely instructions when WICKED was involved, and if there were, they were hardly useful.

"Shuckin' thing... Dunno what'm s'posed to..."

He blinks as he inspects the screen a little closer, eyes squinted in concentration. Everything is hard to process still. They said they cured him-- or something. He doesn't buy it, he's still too jacked in the head to be all right. But... he thinks he's getting clearer, maybe. Or maybe he just wants it to be true.

He pulls the device away from his face and taps a finger on the screen. The young, dirty-blonde boy looks a bit worse for wear, a few scrapes and scratches littering the tops of his hands, one cut in particular on his cheek.

But most noticeable, any time he moves his hands in the right angle in the shot of the camera, are the thick, black veins that run across his arms and peek up from the collar of his shirt, running up his neck and toward his face. When he speaks, it's with a distinct accent.]

Oi, this thing on? Anyone out there? If WICKED is listenin', hear me out, yeah: I don't buy your klunk about a cure. It's never existed, an' I don't reckon it ever will. You're all a bunch of nasty buggers who need to sod right the shuck off, al'right? Every last one'a ya.

[He throws an offensive hand gesture toward the camera and there's a beat after that before he adds:] And let me outta this bloody metal box- cage- thing you lot've shoved me in!

Comments

video;

[redwinekindofgirl]

[Well. This is new.]

Whoa, hey, they've locked you up?

[The attitude doesn't faze her, or the language, or the gestures. Hell, he could be right out of the Stadium, talking like that. She peers at him for a moment.]

Not heard of that happening yet. Are you sick?

video;

[sobloodyinspired]

Yeah, they did. [He snaps at the question-- wasn't that much obvious? What's wrong with the bird? She got the Flare too? Probably. Seems like everyone does now. He gives a soft laugh at that last question, hollow and empty and lacking any humor to it.] Whole bloody world's sick, luv. Or didn't ya get the memo?

[redwinekindofgirl]

[She rolls her eyes slightly. God. A wiseass.]

Okay, that answers that question. But you're probably a particular kind of sick, yeah? Something from your world.

[Julie might look tired - she usually does these days - but she doesn't look to be showing any symptoms of the Flare.]

And yeah, it fucking sucks, but if you're gonna get out we need to work out why you got put in there in the first place. You said something about a cure?

[sobloodyinspired]

Yeah, s'called The Flare. You don't know about it? [That's news to him. Seems like outside of WICKED's little trial groups, the whole damn world knew about it. Maybe she was one of the girls in Group B? He scoffs and shakes his head.] Yeah, it's all klunk. WICKED doesn't have a bloody cure, they just keep lyin' to us to make us do what they want.

[redwinekindofgirl]

Never heard of it. [Sounds like the Gleam? But no, they never called it the Flare, and he's talking about it like it's some kind of disease. Julie might have questioned it, had she not already spent over a year in another world.]

WICKED isn't here. I mean, I don't think any of us work for them. [A shrug. She doesn't think any of the robots do, either.]

What else did they tell you?

[sobloodyinspired]

You'd think what they'd want you to. I met people that worked with them and didn't know it til later. It's disgusting, I hate them. [And it's obvious in the bitter way he bites his words out, just how deep that runs.]

Doesn't matter. It was all a load of rubbish.

Video; UN: Spides

[itsnotaonesie]

[This is the first time Peter's heard of anyone being locked up somewhere after their arrival. Or maybe the new arrival room is just glitching the hell out and the door won't unlock or something, who even knows with this place.

He considers asking where this guy is, but there's no way someone who just got here is going to be able to answer that, so he comes up with a different plan.]

Hey man, pan the camera around the room a little. I can get you out of there, but I need to know where you are first.

Video;

[sobloodyinspired]

Yeah, all right. [He's instantly agreeable, now that someone's said they might be able to get him out. The camera-work is shaky, not in the sense of movement, but like the operator's hands can't quite stay steady enough to keep from it.] I don't think ya can get in, mate. Door won't open, s'like it's sealed shut.

Re: Video;

[itsnotaonesie]

[Okay, so a chrome room with a bed in it. That's... not a lot to work with. Huh.

Well okay, maybe Peter can still work with this. Judging by this guy's whole like, vein situation, maybe some of the bots drug him to the medbay? Like a quarantine room or something. Or maybe he was completely wrong, but it was a good place to start.]

Don't worry about that, I have a way with doors.

[If hacking doesn't work, brute force certainly will. He has back up plans, it's all good.]

Video;

[sobloodyinspired]

If you say so. [He drops down onto the bed and lays back, holding the camera around to his face again. He doesn't look much like he's got faith in the idea. He doesn't look much like he's got faith at all.] Not s'posd ta be here. [It's a quiet mumble, sort of lost and confused, maybe a bit scared. He seems to have zoned out a bit, and his free hand goes up to touch the middle of his forehead. There's nothing there, there should be, but there's not, and he can't make it make sense.]

Re: Video;

[itsnotaonesie]

[This is the part where Peter would normally hang up since he's got some searching to do, but he has a feeling that this guy could probably use someone to talk to. He'll stay on the line while he's off on his uh. Boy quest? Quest to find this boy, it's a boy quest.]

Not sure if this is reassuring at all, but none of us are supposed to be here. At the very least, we all know what it's like to be snatched up an tossed somewhere weird.

Video;

[sobloodyinspired]

Huh? [He blinks and frowns, focusing on the bloke on the screen again. His question comes with the same weight as though he's making commentary on the weather, no real emotional attachment to the idea of it at all.] You s'posed to be dead, too, then?

Video

[kaballin]

Making friends right off the bat with that one.

You're in a cage? We have a jail? Well that's new. What'd you do?

Video

[sobloodyinspired]

I didn't do anything, I just bloody existed and they threw me in here! [Yeah, he's bitter. Especially now realizing this clearly isn't A Thing that has happened to anyone else of the lot that have responded to him so far.]

[kaballin]

No innocent until proven guilty here huh? Brutal.

Want me to see if I can sneak you a pie full of metal files and shanks?

[sobloodyinspired]

I think the point's gone when you announce it in public, innit, mate? [Both eyebrows lift. He hardly takes the bloke seriously, but still.]

[kaballin]

You haven't been here long. No one would stop me.

Make it worth my while and I can probably pry off the door to wherever you are.

[sobloodyinspired]

So people just kill the Greenies here if it suits 'em, then? Great! [Sounds par for the damn course at this point. It's an instant switch back to annoyance at that comment, though.] How the bloody hell'm I supposed to make anything worth anyone's while, while I'm stuck in here, you slinthead! I don't got anything to make any bargains with!

action

[queenofthegirlscouts]

[ Shepard? Hadn't expected that antique-style communication device to go off quite so soon, and she sure as hell hadn't expected that vid. Her first instinct is to answer, check in on the kid, but others are on that particular scene. Besides, this kind of panic?

Not good over vids.

She'd been exploring the area around the decontamination ward anyway and it's not hard for her to locate where she thinks the boy is. So here she is, then. Perfectly visible through the window. A tall, sturdy woman dressed in dark blue fatigues, trailing a suitcase. She hopes the suitcase looks battered and luggage enough to be non-threatening. ]

I'll start with a stupid question, yeah? You just woke up in this thing?

[ She's good at the casual, calm voice, even with her military bearing. ]

[sobloodyinspired]

[He's fussing with other people on the- the.. what could he call it? Talk box. Sounds good enough to him. When he suddenly hears another voice, sounding much closer somehow. He jumps at the sound and stares through the window with wide eyes. Her military garb and calm voice do nothing to set him at ease. His words, when he speaks, are sharp and suspicious.] Who're you? [Yup, he's sure just ignoring your questions, lady.]

[queenofthegirlscouts]

Shepard.

[ No 'commander', no stumble over the loss of her ship - her ship - because, yeah, she's not stupid. 'Commander' probably wouldn't go down well with the kid. Not when she remembers being that wary, suspicious kid herself. ]

Just got yanked here, according to the vid I watched.

You?

[sobloodyinspired]

Newt.

[He nods a little.] Guess we're both Greenies. [He huffs an amused sound and muses:] I haven't been one'a those in awhile. Weird.

[queenofthegirlscouts]

Honestly, neither have I. But I guess the universe likes keeping us on our toes.

Least no one's shooting at us. [ That's almost an aside to herself, wry and amused. Waking up in that Cerberus medbay had been... an adventure. ]

Did you get any vid welcome?

action, a few hours later

[fishermansweater]

[ The vid's not comfortable watching.

It's particularly not comfortable watching for somebody who very recently had seen a young man, pale, bruised, terrified, screaming to am empty room, ranting about the lies that had been planted in his head, thrashing against the restraints he'd been put in for his own good and everyone else's. It hadn't been Finnick that Peeta had hated, but he'd also been uneasily aware that it could have been him.

Or that, if the Capitol had chosen, they could have tried to turn Annie against him.

Finnick doesn't know who this kid is. He doesn't know what he thinks he's seeing, or who he's talking to, but he knows that the vid upsets Annie.

(And himself, if he's being honest.)

It takes time for him to work out where the kid is, that he's being held near the decontamination area. Finnick's armed, but for the sake of appearances, he's left the rifle and trident behind and is just carrying the knife.

He approaches the window; a tall, handsome man whose appearance seems incongruous against the dingy dark grey he's wearing. ]

Hey. How you feeling?

[sobloodyinspired]

[Newt has calmed down a bit from where he was earlier. He still looks as wild in the eyes as he had before, though. Like he could flip a switch from the mostly calm and collected person he is now to the ranting, shouting lunatic he'd been hours before. Perhaps worse.

He's propped up on the bed, chatting idly with a few of the other people that have responded to him when he notices movement near the door. He drops the device where he sits and gets to his feet, and it takes everything not to take an instantly defensive stance against the sudden, unexpected intrusion. But he manages, even if it means his shoulders are tense, his jaw tight, and every other muscle in his body is coiled and ready to slide easily into action, should he need to.

Not that he should.
He's stuck on the other side of the glass, innit he?

Newt moves closer to the window, his steps have an odd, jerky look to them, like it takes more effort to move than it should.]

Not any better, if'm honest. I'm supposed to be dead. I wanted to be dead! [The fact that this is a lot to admit in the first five seconds of a meeting is lost to his own desperation of the point itself. He's not very concerned with the emotional weight of what he's saying, or what it might put upon anyone else.]