video;

[brushoff]

Story time, boys and girls. [ said in a sarcastic tone of voice, as Dorian leans back in a chair. He's filming this from his apartment in Maurtia Falls—the wall behind him is completely blank, no pictures and no mirrors. Physically, he looks fine (doesn't he always?), though his hair's a bit of a mess and there's just something in Dorian's eyes that screams "I am so fucking done with this." ]

Since arriving here over a year ago, I've been attacked, immolated, had my hand bitten off, coerced to jump off a building, beaten up, manipulated into hallucinating people from home, immolated again, and beaten up again—all of this from different people. A few days ago, I was gassed and then someone attempted to blind me by slicing my eyes open with a knife. [ said all too casually, as if he's talking about the weather. ] The funny thing is? All these incidents were caused by different people.

Add in me, who killed someone while hallucinating, and what's our common thread? We're all ticking time bombs, just waiting for somebody to flip the switch and watch us go off. I'm starting to think that the Porter picks people less for who would make a good hero and more of who would make a good weapon. [ He makes a finger gun and points it at the screen. Thankfully, Dorian's a bit too dignified to make a 'pew' noise as he mimics firing said finger gun. ] Just point and click, while the potentially psychotic people with potentially lethal superpowers get rid of your problems.

And before you point out that some people were possessed by the Hornets when they beat me up or made me jump of a roof, I know... [ and there's a pause, while he counts on his hands, ] four people who definitely killed someone back home, myself not included, and at least five people who it really wouldn't surprise me if they did. Probably more—I really need to make some less trigger-happy friends. Considering there's about two hundred of us tops, that's still a worrying amount.

[ He fixes the camera with a lovely little tense smile. ] Food for thought. [ there's a pause, as Dorian thinks things over. Is he missing anything? ] Oh! New people, hullo there, my name's Dorian Gray and yes, the swear-ins are usually this terrible, though this one was particularly nasty. Anybody know who caused it?

Comments

[brushoff]

Don't make promises you can't commit to!

[rathercommon]

UGH. Have you EVER ONCE IN YOUR LIFE been threatened and not tried to needle the person making the threat into going through with it? This is a wild guess, but that MIGHT have something to do with a few of those injuries you've received.

[brushoff]

Truth be told? About half of those injuries were because people were possessed to be homicidal.

[rathercommon]

That still leaves what sounds like about a dozen that people WANTED to inflict upon you. Do you know how often a normal person gets injured?

[brushoff]

At the risk of pointing out the obvious, I'm not a normal person.

[rathercommon]

Yeah, and at the risk of pointing out the obvious, maybe you haven't got the right to get snitty about people hurting you when you're egging them on.

[brushoff]

There's no such thing as the right to be snitty. I can be as snitty as I want to be.

[rathercommon]

There is DEFINITELY such a thing as the right to be snitty.

[brushoff]

There isn't. You can be snitty due to certain circumstances, but that's not a right.

[rathercommon]

WhatEVER. Do you acknowledge AT ALL that you bring it on yourself?

[brushoff]

I'll acknowledge the parts that I actually do bring on myself. Getting immolated? Partially my fault. Getting my eyes slashed open? Not my fault.

[rathercommon]

[ A slight pause. ]

I'm not saying that one's your fault.

[brushoff]

I'm glad we're on the same page with regards to that, then.

What on Earth did you think I was?

[rathercommon]

[ Another little hesitation. Finally: ]

Back home, they've got a police force. The Night Police, they're called. I thought you were one of them.

[brushoff]

Do you always retaliate to the police by stabbing them? No wonder they hate you.

[rathercommon]

[ She all but grinds her teeth. ]

Back home, if I'm caught, I'll be tortured for information. I'd prefer to die rather than be arrested. And if I can die taking a few of those sad, cruel beasts down with me, then all the better.

[brushoff]

It's pigs. Cops are pigs, not beasts.

[ whereas Dorian's just thinking WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH KITTY'S WORLD ]

[rathercommon]

No, they're werewolves.

[ and she's thinking what the fuck is wrong with Dorian Gray ]

[brushoff]

[ what the fuuuuuuuck ]

Werewolf cops. That sounds like a terrible sitcom.

[rathercommon]

Yeah, ha-ha-ha, because there's so much comedy in them losing control when chasing down suspects and killing them and eating them. And so much laughter to be mined from their own sad lives of being trained to kill from birth and being kept as breeding stock.

[brushoff]

Your world really doesn't know how to deal with the supernatural. I met a werewolf once—lovely man, if a bit drippy in certain aspects.

[rathercommon]

Yeah, I know. There are plenty of really lovely werewolves. I was scared of them at first, but I learned that they're not like in my world.

Anyway, my world sees the supernatural and tries to exploit it for personal gain. That's not so uncommon, is it.

[brushoff]

Exploitation of others is a constant no matter what the universe, whether it's werewolves or little Jimmy working in a sweatshop.

[rathercommon]

I think that saying that little 'Jimmy' is the one working in the sweatshop rather erases the cultural reality in this particular universe that it's very rarely children from English-speaking countries that end up an exploited labor force.

[brushoff]

If I knew a list of Cambodian baby names, I'd use one of those. I just didn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities with a little bout of unintentional racism.

[ he's being a smartass. :| ]