ғᴏᴜʀ. [ video; reflected off a mirror in his room, late evening ]

[secondcomingof]

[ The feed is sharp and clear and focused when it comes into view, centered around one Casval Mass, who has propped himself up on a heavy trunk with one long leg crossed over the other. His eyes are stern and his tone sterner still; compared to his initial introduction on the network, his demeanor is comparatively absent of ego, replaced by an intense drive that can be felt even through the mirror he's broadcasting from. ]

Good evening.

For those of you unfamiliar with me, my name is Casval Mass. It's come to my attention, recently, that a hotspot of activity related to the so-called "invasion" has flared within the area known as the "Dead District". More specifically, several non-network related residents have complained of werewolf attacks. While I too am skeptical of the nature of these attacks, its timing cannot be ignored in relation to our predicament.

[ Casval leans down, beginning to flip open the various locking mechanisms on the trunk. ]

Therefore, I propose that a scouting party of sorts be sent into this District to determine the scope of—and, if necessary, eliminate—this problem. I am aware that some of you may doubt my abilities on this front, or take issue with me personally. I ask you to set these qualms aside in favor of achieving our greater goal.

[ Click and snap go the last locks, and Casval rises, opening the trunk and pushing it over to reveal... well, a metric fuckload of weaponry. Guns of all sizes, body armor, blades, other objects meant to kill and maim and what have you, it's all there in spades. Some of it questionably legal, for those of you familiar with such stock.

A little bit of ego does slip through as he smirks back up at his audience, picking out a polished sniper rifle in particular for himself and leaning against it as he stands. ]

As you can see, I can provide the equipment necessary for this mission. I am seeking motivated individuals to join me in this endeavor. If those individuals do not step forward, I will simply go myself.

[ Blue eyes narrow testily. ]

I am through running and hiding. If I should die, let it be in this way, facing this threat, instead of cowering in the shadows. I will not allow paranoia and uncertainty to condemn me to a lifetime of servitude.

I thank you in advance for your cooperation.

[ And, just before the feed cuts, and before he forgets: ]

Banagher Links.

I need to speak to you immediately. Please respond.

[ The threat of or I'll find you anyway goes unspoken, but is clear in his voice regardless. ]

Comments

[secondcomingof]

I'll redeem it right now, actually.

Are you sleeping with him?

[11ady]

[What kind of question is that? Still, she's promised to answer in earnest, hasn't she? Impudence has no place here. Sometimes, we must humble ourselves.]

No. But he was kind to me.

[Truly kind. She saw no ulterior motive no matter how hard she tried. It was...different.]

[secondcomingof]

[ Casval, on the other hand, sounds airy. Not quite arrogant, but... curious, for reasons known only to him. ]

So you're interested.

[11ady]

Does it matter?

[secondcomingof]

Yes.

[11ady]

And if I were to say that I am?

[secondcomingof]

It could potentially become problematic, but I've no right to police your private life, so you'd be doing the favor of letting me know beforehand.

[11ady]

As you wish. Do you wish for me to express my interest in the party in question via notarized documentation? I could stipulate the pros and cons in detail.

[She's well-aware of the risks. In marketing, you have to look at opportunity cost at all times. Her father failed miserably at that and she's not intent on following his example.]

[secondcomingof]

My, Miss Une, was that something like a joke? [ He actually laughs, genuinely amused. ] I should think not. Consider it a fulfillment of a fleeting curiosity, nothing more.

As such has been satisfied, you may now consider the slate even.

[11ady]

[Perhaps it was. An old defense mechanism. Refuge in the audacity of formality.]

You have my thanks. In any case, I'll be going out alongside him to see how true you are to your word. Grant me a pistol and I'll do the best I can.

[She's never held a gun before but the two flashes of memory she's gotten have both involved firearms. It'll be interesting to see what happens when she gets one in her hands.]

[secondcomingof]

[ ...this he frowns at, but less in disapproval and more in remembrance of that wound. ]

Does it ever hurt? Your injury. [ Quickly clarifying: ] It may prove significant in the future; I'm not trying to intrude.

[11ady]

It's not a problem. The scar doesn't hurt at all. Truth be told, this little fool's errand of yours may actually serve me well. I recently had another strange little recollection and, since then, I've been aching to press my finger against a trigger. For some reason, I know exactly what a gun would feel like in my hands despite never having touched one.

[In her head, she can still see and feel at all: the orange glow of sunset dancing on clouds below her, wind blowing against her pinned up hair, ruffling the ribbons in it, and a man falling, falling down and SCREAMING, SCREAMING SO LOUD until the crack of a pistol rings out and a bullet silences him, going right through his skull as he falls. Beautiful. So beautiful... Overkill. Squeezing the trigger had felt good, felt right. This is who you are. This is what you're good at. Send them to their deaths for the greater good. Let that bullet fly through bone and blood and brain. Right there. Yes. Right between the eyes. Yessss...]