Wanna plot? Leave me concrit? Just have some... THING you want to contact me about?
Comments screened, anon not enabled. But seriously, I like crit, so please don't let the lack of anon discourage you! You can also IM me on AIM at pyrocornflakes, or email me at rosloops at gmail dot com. AIM is the most reliable way of contacting me.
[Look, it's West! And he's looking a lot... saner than he used to on the Barge. When he speaks, his voice is soft, calm, thoughtful.]
Well, I certainly never thought I would find myself here again. [A pause for that to sink in, then he continues, all business.] Willingly, I might add. And no, I'm not dead, Billy and I are fine, and we've not split up or anything.
[He looks at the camera and offers a quick, polite smile.] To those of you who've not met me yet, I'm Major Henry West-- although you could say I'm effectively retired. [Because his world's DEAD.] Anyway, I'm here as a Warden.
[He pauses, glancing off to the side and making a strange face. SO WEIRD. Anyway, he looks at the camera again.]
I must admit, it will be strange to be aboard the Barge without Morgan's guidance. [A personal smile.] She always had a certain... flair for leadership. At any rate, she's fine. I saw her before she popped off to her next venture. She sends her apologies for the abrupt departure.
[He thinks for a moment, getting that FAMILIAR LOOK OF EMO, before looking at the camera again and forcing a casual sort of smile.]
Anyway. Who's up for a game of cards? For old times' sake.
[OOC: SORRY IF HIS VOICE IS A BIT OFF. It's been a while. Also: even though he's rehabilitated and everything, WEST IS STILL A DISMISSIVE JERK. If he blows you off, trust me, it's not a personal thing from me.]
This. [The shot is of the neighbourhood, first one way down the street, then the other, then to the house that West and Billy have occupied for the port. The camera's a bit shaky, as West has already had a few drinks before busting it out.]
This is what I fought for, what I would have done anything to protect.
[He moves into the house. SO MANY HAPPY, DOMESTIC PICTURES OF HIM AND BILLY... and their adopted Russian child.]
[He moves through the house, then settles in his study, distractedly setting the camera down, so you get a haphazard angle of his face as he pours himself a glass of scotch.]
I have been on the Barge for over two years. In five months, it will have been three. [He settles back in a chair.] When I died, there was nothing left to save. All of this-- what makes this worth saving-- the people, the future-- was gone.
"This is the way the world ends..." [He makes a thoughtful noise and sips his drink.] Eliot didn't quite have it right. The end of the world didn't come with a quiet whimper. Mankind tore itself apart, screaming and howling into a future-less existence. I'll never forget the sounds...
[He drinks again, a longer sip this time, then laughs softly.]
It could have been a quiet end. A group of men, waiting to die, alone and forgotten. But I couldn't allow that to happen. Driven to monstrous acts out of desperation. For survival. I made a promise I couldn't keep. I never expected it to... [He rubs his forehead, voice lowering. West is really just drunkenly talking to himself at this point and has been since he entered the study.] I never thought they would actually come.
[He finishes off the drink in one fell swoop and whispers, which some may hear if they're paying close attention:] I promised them women... I wanted them to survive, I wanted them to... to have a reason. I would have done anything.
[And even less audibly:] She was a child.
[He leans back, rubbing his eyes now.]
I could have stopped it at any time. Instead, I had Sergeant Farrell executed. I found Private Davis with his skull bashed in. I held Private Jones's hand as he died. And I shot Private Clifton to put him down after he'd become Infected. All of it happened because of me. I was their leader, and I brought them to their deaths.
In the end, what was I but another one of the Infected?
[There's a long silence, then he looks at the camera again, seeming to realise it's still on.]
Those of you whose worlds still exist wouldn't understand. You can't... You can't appreciate how beautiful this... simple, common existence is. The house, with the picket fence, the children, the family dog...
I killed for this.
[OOC: IT ONLY TOOK YOU 2+ YEARS TO ADMIT YOU WERE WRONG, WEST. WAY TO GO.]
Blizzard aside, I'd say that was well done on the Admiral's part. It's something of a relief to see on occasion that life outside the Barge simply... continues. [Why yes, that's a tiny hint of progress there, since West, at the beginning, would have NEVER FOUND THAT THOUGHT ACCEPTABLE OR BELIEVABLE. It only took two years to get that far :V] Many of our worlds may have ended, but a future still exists out there.
[He pauses, thinking. This is too hopeful; TIME TO RUIN IT.]
Still. Perhaps Infection-- or something like it-- was as imminent in that world as it was in mine. After all, the days before the outbreak were much the same as any other. Who here wonders about the worlds after we depart from them?
[OOC: Shitty shitty post, I'm sorry :c And I'm going to bed. Just wanted to get SOMETHING up. Uh, I'll probably be.. IDK. Nearly non-existent until Friday evening.]
[BACKDATED: No later than 12 hours after Billy went to Clapet.]
[West is standing there, clad in one of Billy's hoodies, because hey, they're like the exact same size and why date somebody if you're not going to steal their clothes? Anyway, he has a comatose ferret in the crook of his arm. He's in the kitchen, so it's presumably reasonably enough lit with the fires.]
Billy, I've been carrying this lump of fur for the better part of the day. You do realise we're both committed to this animal's wellbeing, don't you?
[He offers a tight, wry smile, TRYING TO LOOK LIKE THIS IS ALL A JOKE, TOTALLY NOT A BIG DEAL.]
So, come along, hurry up, and stop shirking your ferret duties.
[An awkward pause. He clears his throat.]
And, if any of you lot see Billy, tell me where he is so I can slap a bit of sense into him?
[RIGHT. WEST IS TOTALLY NOT WORRIED AT ALL.]
[OOC: SORRY, I meant to post this last night, but got sidetracked by paying my awful, awful bills. And then work. The usual.
PS CLAPET: when he finds out about what you did, he is gonna try to kill you. Brutally. Because YOU KILLED ALL MY BOYYYYYZZZZ is his big trigger :C]
[Inmate Filter; MINUS: known snitches, like Judas and Sylar, non-humans (vampires, Borg Queen and aliens). AND VICTOR LOL. Basically a Manly Poker Filter + ladies. If you're not sure, ask me!]
[At first, West sounds mildly amused.] It seems the wardens have stopped going to any lengths whatsoever to mask their hypocrisy these days. When I first arrived, there was still an attempt, at least, to react to incendiary statements made by wardens and those made by inmates in much the same way. And now? Observe:( SPEECHCollapse )
[A garishly dressed, somewhat insane looking man IS FLAILING AND BECKONING, WIELDING MANY BALLOONS.]
Welcome, welcome, welcome, one and all! Want a balloon? I've got scores of balloons here, waiting for a sticky, dirty little hand to claim them. And just think, small children, yours can be that hand!
One penny a piece!
For three pennies, I'll even twist and sculpt them into all manners of animals! Dogs, cats, bears, weasels, foxes, giraffes-- That's right, any beast on four legs can be yours for three pennies! [Lol they all look the same :c Anyway, to demonstrate his point, he twists a balloon into a dog/cat/weasel thing.]
Like having a zoo in the palm of your hands!
[BIG, PAINFUL GRIN. He looks a little terrifying.]
What child wouldn't want a balloon?
[OOC: WEST IS JUST A GENERIC CREEPY ENTERTAINER. He's not even good enough to be called a clown. And he hangs out with Billy and robs houses at night.]
A celebrity chef? I think not. "Major Henry West" should be a sufficient enough identity.
[There's a brief pause as he investigates his item, briefly taken back by some strange noises emitting from it.]
...Morgan? Hello? Useless journal...
I'll be investigating the other rooms, should anybody have need of me.
[OOC: I'm about to embark on a Ros spam, SORRY IN ADVANCE. If you want your character to run into West, spam me at some random location (above-basement; West ain't going down just yet) in the house. Note: I WILL be gone for most of the day/evening, so bear with the slow tags, please. I should be more active tomorrow.]
[There's silence as West tries to form a sentence. When he speaks, his voice is very tight and clipped.]
Do you all enjoy living like animals?
[He lets out a breath, about to say something else, THEN TURNS OFF THE COMMUNICATOR IN DISGUST.]
[OOC: AND HERE'S WEST'S RESPONSE TO THE SHOWER MESS. I may be slow tagging tonight, as I think I'm sick. So IDK why I posted. But I did. So suck it.]
I suppose turning off communications for a fortnight is as close as one can come to a holiday around here. I trust you'll forgive me for falling off the face of the, ah, Barge. After spending two years in this place, I felt a break was long overdue.
Anyway, it appears I've missed some departures, as well as new arrivals. Since introductions are in order, I'll begin: I'm Major Henry West. Welcome to the Barge. You've been promised salvation, no doubt, or perhaps a favour from the Admiral. I could tell you myself what to expect, but I'm sure you'll find out well enough on your own. We're about overdue for another crisis, after all.
[OOC: LOL I KNOW THIS IS BAD FORM, but I'm going to bed. Tags will be returned uh. When I can get to them.]
lol i no rite? these kids r dum.
[OOC: NO, WEST WILL NOT BE TYPING LIKE THIS ALL FLOOD. I figure he was in a conversation with another counselor and fail!texted this response to the general public. ALL FURTHER RESPONSES WILL BE VOICE FROM HERE ON OUT. And if you want to be the counselor he was texting, go ahead.]
[Annnnd on the screen appears a very posh, British Dr. Horrible. Wearing camo.]
I don't know why I'm even bothering to ask, since you lot weren't particularly helpful before, but I would like to know something:
Why are there no less than three men with my face? [Pause, he sees a Claude post.] Ah. Four. And why, when I look in the mirror, do I see this? [He gives the camera a very pointed look.] Is it drugs? A new... experimental vaccination for the Infection? What sort of place is this?
And please: don't answer with "the Barge."
[We interrupt your screaming and indignant rage with a very polished English voice.]
My name is Major Henry West, formerly of the M602 Blockade, presently... [He pauses.] at an unknown location, and I have not been exposed to Infection. [LOL NOT TRUE.] I repeat: I am Major Henry West, and I have not been exposed to Infection.
The rescue-- if I may assume this is indeed a rescue-- is appreciated, but I'm afraid I'm at something of a loss with regards to the details of it. Where are we, and how secure are these premises? How many survivors are there?
[OOC: People on Level 3 may have heard him screaming in horror and agony as he appeared, as West has just returned from his death at the hands of Mailer. He's been listening in on the network a little and has popped his head out his door once, but doesn't really know WTF is going on. But, to those of you who haven't heard him scream like a little girl, he's going to act like he's totally fine and hasn't just experienced the death of all his boys.]
[Major West, all things considers, sounds remarkably calm and in charge.]
What you are witnessing, those of you who've found your way into port, is Infection. Don't come into contact with any Infected persons. Cover your mouth, nose and-- if possible-- eyes. The virus is highly contagious and spreads through bodily fluids. Should you or anybody in your group become exposed to the Infection, you have less than a minute to put them down.
And I suggest that you do put them down.
They are not your loved ones. Your friends, your family, your... wardens or inmates. They are Infected. The smallest act of mercy may cost you your life. Don't be foolish.
Billy. Adam. Tell me you're still alive.
What separates man and Infected? The Infected were... they were ordinary men and women. Nothing special at all about them, no reason why they should have been more susceptible to the virus than those of us who did not contract it. Biologically, in fact, the Infected were the same as us. We have the same needs. Our drives... our fundamental impulses are the same. Could I even say the Infected lacked control? Humanity?
After all, we have been doomed by our own hands-- and by those of our neighbours-- to live short, bloody and ultimately pointless lives since the dawn of our species. Humanity... it's a fiction. An ideal to prop us up as something more than violent, vicious animals, ready to tear at one another for the smallest of reasons-- if we have any reasons at all.
It was the future that separated us from them. The knowledge that our actions had consequences. The hope that we could create something that could outlast us and be better than us. For ourselves, for our children, for their children... the future.
We have no future here, and look at us. We kill because it doesn't matter. Our consequences are laughable. Our community is fractured. We need... we need a future.
You see... I don't kill or behave like them, because I... I have a future.
A toast, although I have no drink. BILLY! TO OUR FUTURE.
[OOC: West is a melancholy drunk.]
I require tea.
With extra sugar. [SCANDAL! Everybody knows Major West prefers his tea unsweetened.]
And a biscuit. Why aren't there any more biscuits?
Just let me into the kitchen! I'm a grown man! In the army!
[OOC: god I hate writing kids :C]
How nice. I've just encountered what's likely the one civilisation in the universe where the children are trained to hate and fear the sight of me. Billy, I trust you feel honoured, now, to have been so well acquainted with 'the bad doctor' and come out alive. You see, apparently, I come into houses at night and whisk disobedient children away in my malevolent blue box and sell them to slavers on a moon somewhere. Occasionally, I eat their parents.
[A small sigh, and you can pretty much hear the eyeroll.] And yes, Saxon, I know you can hear this.
[West sounds ANGRY. When West is angry, his voice gets scary and authoritative. HAVE FUN:]
What the fuck is wrong with the lot of you? You have no fucking respect for where your food comes from; none at all! Like a pack of wild children...
[Filtered to KITCHEN STAFF... minus Rube, because he wouldn't approve :c]
I've had it with their fundamental lack of respect for us. I say we go on strike. Cook meals for ourselves, and give the rest of them rations of beans and toast until they learn to behave like civilised people.
[OOC: Well uh... I just thought it was weird that nobody posted "OMGWTF" in response to the massive pool of blood in the kitchen. So I'm assuming West wanted to pull an extra shift for breakfast because he's a workaholic, and voila. HOPE THIS ISN'T STEPPING ON ANY TOES.
Or, hell, even if whoever was meant to find it still wants to write up a finding it post, this is just West's general reaction to flagrant DISRESPECT OF THE KITCHEN. The end.]