[accidental audio/video]

[thats_brutal]

[The audio cuts in on the sound of two large doors being pulled open. There are a few muffled voices that stop as someone near the feed starts talking] Ooookay before we, ah... go out there... here are your Dethphones. [The darkness is cut by flickering firelight as the flaps of the box containing the phones transmitting the feed are opened, revealing an extremely dark and brutal room. Standing above the box is a bespectacled man in a grey suit and red tie. Charles smirks slightly as he points out one of the phones to the four men standing around the box] Here you go. There’s yours. [A soft chuckle as a man with long brown hair picks up one of the phones, revealing it to be covered in wicked looking spikes of various lengths with a chain hanging from the bottom]

I don’t know what dat is. [The blond man gives Charles a dubious look]

[Charles holds up an advertisement for Dethphones, with the five members of Dethklok standing around looking quite brutal under the blood red letters.] Don’t you, ah, remember making this deal?

[A man with red dreadlocks combed over his receding hairline shrugs] Nope. Were we drunk?

[Charles looks over at him, raising an eyebrow. honestly, did Pickles even need to ask?] Yes. Yes, you were, actually.

This is heavy. [The man with long brown hair holds the phone up to his face, one of the bigger spikes pressing into his cheek.] It hurts my face. Boy I really hates it.

Well. It’s, ah, your design. You may have been drunk but you made a very convincing case to me, so.

[A large man with long black hair points at Charles. Nathan’s voice is little more than a growl as he speaks] Alright. You know we get really really excited about really bad ideas when we drink. And it’s your job to talk us out of it, right?

[Charles’ eyes turn to Nathan, and he keeps his tone level, one eyebrow raised.] Oh I tried. I tried very hard but you all threatened to kill me, if you don’t remember.

So? Big deal. Dose threats aren’t new.

Mmm-hmm. Noted. Anyway, look. [Charles looks over the contract in his hands] You’re on the band plan and “weekend murder minutes” start at 11 PM. How do you like that?

[Nathan stares at Charles] Waitaminute nighttime minutes start at 11 pm? Oh that’s brutal.

Well, it was your idea.

[A voice comes from the other side of the bus] Well they suck. [pause] I approve.

[Nathan sighs and picks up one of the phones, stalking off to to the next room to grab a beer before that **** speech Charles was making him give. He glances down and sees... ducks. What the ****. He stops dead in his tracks.]

Charles. Charles?! [pause] Charles why the **** are there ducks on my phone?

((OOC: Red is Charles and Green is Nathan. Anything in Italics is the rest of the band. **** is a guitar-riff censored swear. Feel free to recognize the boys and have at it! :D))

Comments

[cravats]

Professor Randolph Lyall. Welcome to the community.

[ninjamanager]

A professor of what, exactly? This is sounding a little ominous, if you don't mind my saying so. And even if you do: this is a restricted line. We, ah -- [his voice is still calm, but the firelight glints off his glasses as he tilts his head] -- don't take kindly to hackers at Mordhaus.

[cravats]

Biology, mostly. [He seems slightly apologetic about the situation.]

I'm afraid that whatever 'hacking' was done was entirely unintentional on the part of anyone who responds to you. I'm not the best-qualified to explain the community, but I can tell you that it intrudes into our lives without invitation or permission.

[ninjamanager]

Alright. Just to make sure I'm understanding you properly, here: you didn't have any choice in connecting to our network, and this is a third unknown party's doing?

[all this, and Finland, too. he knew he should have had that third cup of coffee]

[cravats]

Your doings are being sent to a community that is accessible from quite a few different universes, as I understand it. So, no, we didn't really have a choice at all.

[ninjamanager]

Different universes.

[he's using his very most polite tone, the one that's civil while still silently implying that you're full of crap. no offense. but you just are]

[cravats]

I'm afraid so.

[Lyall admires that use of that tone. He's familiar with it, having used it frequently himself. However, in this case he is not talking nonsense.]

[ninjamanager]

I see. [by which he means "not at all", but ... the fact that each of them can recognize and respect their respective tones of voice says something. he's dealing with a professional here, whatever that might entail. and he intends to treat him as such, until they get to the bottom of this. or, you know. until he gets any sign to treat him otherwise.]

Professor ... Lyall, was it? My name is Charles Ofdensen, I'm Dethklok's manager. We've got a really tight security net around these boys, and I'd like to keep it that way. Any actual technical information you can provide me about what's going on would be appreciated.

[cravats]

I'm not the best person to ask about technicalities- I hail from 1874 AD, and thus my knowledge of the technology of later years is still somewhat meager. I recommend speaking with Dr. Foster- she has produced some useful guides to the community and its effects.

[He hums thoughtfully.]

I understand a need for security- I can assure you that in my experience, unless someone from your world is already aware of the community or the community chooses to manifest itself to them, they will remain in the dark, no matter what tricks it pulls or information it reveals.

[ninjamanager]

[he pinches at the bridge of his nose and mutters softly to himself].... Damn it. Pickles spiked my coffee again.

[cravats]

If this were a hallucination, my life would be much easier.

[ninjamanager]

I'm sorry, but until I see some good, solid proof that it's not, I'm going to have to run on the presumption that I'm, er.

Well.

Y'know.

Tripping balls.