[ When the feed turns on, there's a poorly-shaven and generally scruffy guy in a labcoat peering critically into the lens. He might not look familiar, but when he speaks, Transports who have been around for a while may recognize the voice. ]
This thing on? Hey, looks like we're broadcasting. I'm a genius, as usual.
[ The view shifts as he tucks whatever is broadcasting into the front pocket of his shirt, showing a hallway within the Hold. His voice drifts in from off-screen: ] We got the best of the best having a powwow in here. You know, the fate of all of Exsilium, and stuff like that. They're gonna tell you guys when they're done, but I say we pick up the pace a little. We're on a tight schedule, you know? [ The view strides forward as he makes for a closed door. ] Just our little secret, alright? I'm not even supposed to be on your fancy network — like they could ever actually kick me off.
[ His voice drops with the last part as he pushes open the door. Inside are ten Initiative employees, and Saul and Medusa, seated at a table and looking terse. Someone shoots a frown toward our loyal broadcaster, who mutters an apology for his bladder and slides into the only empty seat. ]
( Cut for length and a transcript! Sort of. A prose transcript, because who really wants to read the word-for-word. )
[ The talk winds down, and someone near Saul and Medusa mutters to them, something along the lines of, I don't envy your job, telling everyone. Saul, already pissed and definitely having been on the "no" side of the voting, lunges for the guy — but is restrained by Medusa's hair. The view shifts again as the broadcaster lifts the camera from his pocket, turns it around to grin weakly into it. ]
Done and done, pals. It was the pen all along! Ha, told you I was a genius, noooo one feels like listening to poor old Sponde…
[ There's a quick raising of angry voices, but the feed ends and cuts them off. ]
[[ooc; Saul, Medusa, anyone else in DITR, and possibly the NPC will be responding to questions here, but also feel free to use this as a general IC discussion space!]]
This thing on? Hey, looks like we're broadcasting. I'm a genius, as usual.
[ The view shifts as he tucks whatever is broadcasting into the front pocket of his shirt, showing a hallway within the Hold. His voice drifts in from off-screen: ] We got the best of the best having a powwow in here. You know, the fate of all of Exsilium, and stuff like that. They're gonna tell you guys when they're done, but I say we pick up the pace a little. We're on a tight schedule, you know? [ The view strides forward as he makes for a closed door. ] Just our little secret, alright? I'm not even supposed to be on your fancy network — like they could ever actually kick me off.
[ His voice drops with the last part as he pushes open the door. Inside are ten Initiative employees, and Saul and Medusa, seated at a table and looking terse. Someone shoots a frown toward our loyal broadcaster, who mutters an apology for his bladder and slides into the only empty seat. ]
( Cut for length and a transcript! Sort of. A prose transcript, because who really wants to read the word-for-word. )
[ The talk winds down, and someone near Saul and Medusa mutters to them, something along the lines of, I don't envy your job, telling everyone. Saul, already pissed and definitely having been on the "no" side of the voting, lunges for the guy — but is restrained by Medusa's hair. The view shifts again as the broadcaster lifts the camera from his pocket, turns it around to grin weakly into it. ]
Done and done, pals. It was the pen all along! Ha, told you I was a genius, noooo one feels like listening to poor old Sponde…
[ There's a quick raising of angry voices, but the feed ends and cuts them off. ]
[[ooc; Saul, Medusa, anyone else in DITR, and possibly the NPC will be responding to questions here, but also feel free to use this as a general IC discussion space!]]
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