Doctor Edward Richtofen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doctor_dismemberment) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
animus_network2013-03-23 11:34 pm
doctor_dismemberment) wrote in animus_network2013-03-23 11:34 pm
video
[The feed clicks on. Hunched over the terminal is a haggard, shivering man in a Nazi uniform with snow still dusting his body, who's glaring at the camera as if he's trying to burn a hole through whoever is watching. He's silent for a moment, just breathing heavily, until he finally speaks in a voice that's as gravelly and uneven as a cobblestone road.]
...That's it. [His German accent is thicker than ever, as if he's not even trying to speak properly anymore. He sounds strangely serene underneath it all, eerily so.] I've had it. I can't take it anymore. I don't want to live here-
[He cuts himself off sharply after his voice rises in volume, and he draws in a ragged breath, shutting his eyes. A violent shudder runs through his body, and a strap of leather slides down his shoulder as a result. He shrugs it back up, and the glinting metal of a large gun can be seen behind his back.]
...I don't. You are all- [A look crosses his face like he's just thought of a funny joke. He gives a chuckle, and the sound is light and airy, but it's weak, too.] You're all laughing, aren't you? You're laughing- [He slams his fists down on the terminal, all traces of good humor gone from his face and his tone.] -und you're happy that I am suffering like this! Well, I'll give you all another reason to hate me, ja?
[He straightens up, and for a moment, a pained expression crosses his face. He puts a hand to his head, mutters:] Shut up, shut up!
[And then he tugs his gun off its strap and over his shoulder. To those who are familiar with WWII-era weaponry, it's an MP 40 sub-machine gun, and Richtofen's holding it with a vice grip. He gives the camera a lopsided grin, then shouts at the terminal, at the viewer.]
Why don't you all try to give me one reason why I shouldn't knock on every door in this hallway und blow the brains out of whoever answers? Hmm? Come on, I know you have it in you! Convince me, heroes. [He spits out that last word like it's poison.
Speaking up again, his voice is bitter. There's an almost mournful edge to it.] Give me a reason to try und be a good person.
[And then he leans against the terminal again, eyes darting to and fro over the screen, gripping the gun tightly in his trembling hands.]
((ooc: Richtofen is at one of the terminals on the 2nd dormitory level. action replies are welcomed! just beware that an action reply also puts you at risk of being attacked by Richtofen. he has no supernatural abilities, but he has a knife and an itchy trigger finger.
warning - replies may include violence, dark subject matter, and possibly suicide if Richtofen isn't calmed down. as always, he has a permissions post that you can use to let me know what you are and aren't okay with, or you can just let me know in your tag.))
...That's it. [His German accent is thicker than ever, as if he's not even trying to speak properly anymore. He sounds strangely serene underneath it all, eerily so.] I've had it. I can't take it anymore. I don't want to live here-
[He cuts himself off sharply after his voice rises in volume, and he draws in a ragged breath, shutting his eyes. A violent shudder runs through his body, and a strap of leather slides down his shoulder as a result. He shrugs it back up, and the glinting metal of a large gun can be seen behind his back.]
...I don't. You are all- [A look crosses his face like he's just thought of a funny joke. He gives a chuckle, and the sound is light and airy, but it's weak, too.] You're all laughing, aren't you? You're laughing- [He slams his fists down on the terminal, all traces of good humor gone from his face and his tone.] -und you're happy that I am suffering like this! Well, I'll give you all another reason to hate me, ja?
[He straightens up, and for a moment, a pained expression crosses his face. He puts a hand to his head, mutters:] Shut up, shut up!
[And then he tugs his gun off its strap and over his shoulder. To those who are familiar with WWII-era weaponry, it's an MP 40 sub-machine gun, and Richtofen's holding it with a vice grip. He gives the camera a lopsided grin, then shouts at the terminal, at the viewer.]
Why don't you all try to give me one reason why I shouldn't knock on every door in this hallway und blow the brains out of whoever answers? Hmm? Come on, I know you have it in you! Convince me, heroes. [He spits out that last word like it's poison.
Speaking up again, his voice is bitter. There's an almost mournful edge to it.] Give me a reason to try und be a good person.
[And then he leans against the terminal again, eyes darting to and fro over the screen, gripping the gun tightly in his trembling hands.]
((ooc: Richtofen is at one of the terminals on the 2nd dormitory level. action replies are welcomed! just beware that an action reply also puts you at risk of being attacked by Richtofen. he has no supernatural abilities, but he has a knife and an itchy trigger finger.
warning - replies may include violence, dark subject matter, and possibly suicide if Richtofen isn't calmed down. as always, he has a permissions post that you can use to let me know what you are and aren't okay with, or you can just let me know in your tag.))
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[Richtofen seems taken aback, as if he doesn't even know the answer to that question himself. Then he shakes it off - physically - and goes back to glaring at Nesir. His eye twitches sporadically.]
I am thinking that it's useless to stay calm right now. The voices won't shut up, everybody here knows that I hate them und want them dead... So why not just try to kill whoever I want?
[He lets out an unsteady, breathy laugh.]
It's not like they'll be able to stop me for long.
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On the other, in this place it wasn't really serving the god of darkness, it was serving those that had their souls. For all they knew driving them insane and driving them to kill each other was the sole purpose of this experiment.
And fighting their captors tooth and nail was another cause she could get behind.] You could be, if you did be wanting to be playing right into their hands. But I do be thinking you do be better than that.
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I am not playing into anyone's hands. [He sounds positively disgusted at the mere thought of it.] I am entirely in control of what I do in here. Me. I am. Not. Them!
[He ends on a shout, balling his hands into fists on his gun. The collar he's wearing is a big enough physical indicator that he's not entirely in control of his own fate; he doesn't want to believe that his actions are a result of the administrators' influence, too.]
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[He cuts himself off sharply, because the hissing and growling in his head rises to a level that even he is having trouble brushing off. He rests his cheek against the cool barrel of his gun, uncaring as to whether or not that's a safe thing to do, and just stands there breathing heavily for a few moments.]
...I'll shoot you. [He cracks his eyes open to glare at Nesir.] I'll do it where they can see it. Gut you und rip out your insides until you're all hollowed out. I will make a show of it.
[He smiles, but there's no warmth to it. No excitement, no happiness. It's just... empty.]
That sounds like fun. Doesn't it?
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Standing there now, looking at still, unafraid Nesir, he starts to feel like a drug addict going through withdrawal. His arm jerks once, like he hasn't decided what to do, but he rips through that indecision and reaches out, trying to grab Nesir by her hair.]
Come here, you little brat!
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[And then she is going to kick him for good measure]
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He isn't sure how much Nesir has learned about guns since she arrived in the Tower, but he hopes she's still fairly ignorant. A gun like the MP 40 has a good amount of recoil, and it's fully automatic. If Richtofen were to try to shoot it at her with one hand, he could very well break his wrist, and the bullets might not even hit her.
But then again, there's a chance that they might. And if there's even a small chance that he can put a bullet through her brain, Richtofen will take it, if it comes down to that.
He growls, deep and low in his throat.]
The same to you, Fräulein. [He spits the last word out with a scoff.]
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[He shifts forward until he's practically touching foreheads with Nesir. He searches her eyes, looking for any sign of fear, but when he sees only anger in them, he grits his teeth.]
You are infuriating, und you are insulting, und you are lucky that I haven't started to pull your guts out through your mouth yet!
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I want you to die!
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In retaliation, he kicks out with his injured leg, aiming the blow for her head. He's not even thinking straight enough to raise his gun and start firing. All he can think about is burning pain, cold that seems to seep down into his very bones, and - very briefly - the face of another brown-haired girl from his homeworld, one whose head he wishes he could stomp in right now. In lieu of that, Nesir's will have to do.]
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[Richtofen lifts his gun again, first in an attempt to hit Nesir with it, but she's a little too far away for that. He finally seems to remember that shooting it off is a thing that can happen, so he raises it quickly and fires. The shots are messy, though, as Richtofen hadn't been gripping it properly to handle the recoil. Most, if not all of the bullets end up shooting past Nesir instead of landing in her.
Yeah, it'd probably be a good idea to run away from the general area now, girl. He ain't fucking around.]
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One grazed past her and she hissed, bringing her hand to her arm, it came away bloody.]
I do no even be knowing how. [An even bigger smirk despite the pain and she ran, because this wasn't worth risking her life (and therefore her soul) for.]