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.))
permaaction; oh, of course
I will fucking splatter your brains all over the wall, und I will lick the pieces up myself.
[Hello to you, too, friend!]
no subject
[Because... he'll be honest; that's all the outburst is. Yet he isn't laughing. If he did, that wouldn't make him any better than the people who created him.]
What's gotten into you, anyway?
no subject
Wh-what's gotten into me? [There's a slight tremble to his voice that turns into an uneven laugh.] Nothing! I have just decided that I don't want to live in this-
[The smile that had formed on his face quickly falls off. Standing there with his gun pointed at Riku, his uniform wrinkled and stained with old blood, and an almost haunted look on his face, he certainly looks the part of the grizzled soldier.
But his trauma never came from the war. He got his fair share of it in the Tower; he just didn't want to admit it before. It's been weighing heavily on him, though, and that trauma is painfully apparent in how he's acting now.]
...I don't want to live like this. [A beat. He shakes his head.] Like I was. Too restrained, too- [And he grimaces.] -nice.
[He actually believes he's been a decent person up until this point. Just let that sink in for a while.]