Bub FM: first broadcast

[snikthatch]

WHO: Logan & anyone who hears his dulcet tones
WHAT: broadcast
WHERE: a snowed-in shack with a bunch of radios in it and wherever the heck you are
WHEN: during the event, probably before he's actually reached the labyrinth

[ There's a squirt of static and a second or two of some warbling jazz music, then Logan fades in, already halfway through a word. ]

-- one out there? Goddamn thing's probably broken. [ A thud, like someone just hit something with their fist. ] Hello? Am I alone here? Anyone still alive in this fuckin' blizzard? Ruth -- you out there, kid?

[ Those with decent hearing or a particularly good connection might catch the sound of someone taking a drink from a glass bottle. ]

I swear, if this is another goddamn.. Arcade thing, or Apocalypse, or Mastermind or Sinister or any of you freaks, I'm gonna come find you and stick my claws down your goddamn throat and keep goin' until I reach the ground. I'm done havin' my mind messed with. I'll cut my way outta here if I have to.

[ There's a crashing noise like someone just knocked a whole bunch of stuff over; then, more distantly, as if he's moved away from the mic and accompanied by more sloshing noises: ]

Least I can.. get drunk here..

Comments

[ragnarsson]

Cool. Maybe you can give me some new pointers.

[No, no, don't do that, he's already bad enough as it is.]

These things automatically translate languages so we can understand each other.

[snikthatch]

Oh. Huh.

[ Pause. ]

So you mind tellin' me why you buried your axe in my chest like you mistook me for a cherry tree?

[ragnarsson]

I thought you were a monster. [He says this very casually, like of course there's monsters with claws that run amok everywhere. There's a beat.] Now I am not so sure.

[snikthatch]

[ There's a long bit of silence, so Ivar would be forgiven for thinking Logan's gone. But he's still there. Just dealing with.. that whole thing he just said. ]

You were right the first time, kid. [ He clears his throat. ] You got a lot of monsters where you come from?

[ragnarsson]

You are a very well-spoken monster.

[Not as uncommon in Norse legends as one would think. Trolls and giants were just as intelligent as human beings.]

Yes. There are many, though I have never had the opportunity to face any of them before. Not until now.

[snikthatch]

Not until -- wait, you think I'm some kinda demon, that's it?

[ragnarsson]

[There's a soft snort of amusement from Ivar. ]Demons are made up by imaginative Christians with the hearts of sheep. They've referred to me as one before. [He pauses.] But monsters are very real.

[Yes, his skepticism does tend to me a bit arbitrary, but he was raised by a man who'd taught him to view everything to do with Christianity as being inferior to the Norse way of thinking.]

[snikthatch]

Well, you ain't exactly friendly with that axe. Next time you wanna see if I'm a monster, just ask.

[ragnarsson]

I couldn't understand you! What, was I supposed to pantomime out asking politely "Excuse me, do you happen to be a monster?" when there was a good chance you might gut me like a fish with those claws?