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

[decisiveconquest]

These tiny loaves of bread in loud wrappers? There is writing on them, but it means little to me.

(...twinkies.)

[snikthatch]

[ Loud wrappers? ]

I.. they ain't poison. I don't think.

[decisiveconquest]

(Plastic is an odd substance and it is loud.)

How do they stay fresh for so long?

[snikthatch]

[ A short and sort of surprised laugh. ]

I don't think I know that, darlin'. But they won't harm ya.

[decisiveconquest]

(This pause is her taking a tentative bite. Well, it's sweet?)

It isn't the worst thing I've eaten. (Since she ate a horse heart once.)