tushanshu_logs | First radio show! - Closed to participating characters

Entry tags:

First radio show! - Closed to participating characters

Characters: Victor (

alpha_squad_leader), Cecil (

goodnightdearlisteners), Rory (

pandoricas), Mikey (

michaeljangelo), and Stiles (

skybluejeep).

Date: The evening of December 2nd.
Location: All over the turtle, or at least to whomever has a radio tuner.

Situation: Four actors and one writer/producer get together to broadcast the turtle's first scripted and fictional radio show. Shenanigans ensue.
Warnings/Rating: The following broadcast is rated "T" for Turtle-Appropriate.

Stiles lets out a breath from behind the microphone, and licks his lips. If this didn't work, he'd feel incredibly silly afterward...

He leans in to the mic and begins.

"Good evening, and welcome to Turtle Tower Power Hour. No, that has no meaning, but it sure does sound funny. I'm Stiles Stilinski, your host for tonight. With me are your featured players: Victor Borkowski, Cecil Palmer, Rory Williams, and Michelangelo. This broadcast is being brought to you tonight by Clark Kent's News Hour, on this very same channel."

His heart is actually pounding in his chest. This is...kind of exhilarating. And scary. He wishes Scott were here to listen in.

"Our story begins late one night, in the city of New York. The year? 1935. Detective Rusty Malone sits in his office, flipping idly through a closed case file. The words on the door say 'Private Eye For Hire,' for all the good they do him. It's been three weeks since he's had a case, and his trigger finger is itching.

"Just then, the phone rings!"

Stiles has put together some basic sound effects, which he uses now: a telephone does indeed ring. And he points at Victor. That's your cue!

((OOC: Posting order is Victor, Cecil, Rory, Mikey and Stiles.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Victor gave a quick nod to the cue and took a breath.

"Detective Malone only lets the phone get two rings in before he snatches the receiver," Victor begins, pausing for the sound effect. "He's hoping for a case but keeps his voice from giving away that information as he answers with a gruff 'Malone Investigations'. He settled back into his desk chair as a woman's voice responded to him," Victor then points to Cecil.

Cecil was more than comfortable at a microphone. He grinned excitedly, all ready to take his cue, and...then spoke in his best approximation of a sultry female voice. Far cry from the newscasts he usually does.

"Is this Detective Malone?" He bats his eyelashes. Getting into character.

"I need...help."

He nods. His turn is over. He is satisfied.

Edited 2013-12-04 03:33 (UTC)

Even while he was waiting for his turn Rory had some questions he was asking himself at this moment. How and why did he agree to this in the first place? He really needed to make better life decisions at this point in time because this was really not his thing. And second: why Malone? Was this a concidence or something? It was just all really weird.

Also, the guy before him was weird too, but Rory was going to be polite about it. Granted, a person with three eyes really shouldn't be the weirdest thing he had seen.

"Wha--What kind of help?" he manages, faltering for a moment. Really, this is so not up his alley. He really needed to think through things better before agreeing the next time round. "It had, uh, better be good." A pause, and then he adds for better measure. "He says, because it would be nice if he had something that had his interest properly after the last three weeks of sheer boredom."

Alright, there, he was done. Rory glanced over to--well, Michaelangelo, of all people, and gave him what Rory hoped was an encouraging smile.

Mike almost missed his cue because he was still rolling his eyes over the name of the show itself.

Seriously, Turtle Tower Power Hour? That was far too corny even for him, and Mike loved corny. Reveled in it, actually. So when the pause after his Brother In Egg-Sitting began to stretch into an uncomfortable silence, he snapped back into the moment. It's almost like he can feel Leonardo's disappointment from here.

"Oh," he says in a voice quite a few registers higher than his normal, and strangely enough an almost pitch-perfect impression of the one Cecil had used previously. "It's just too terrible. Too terrible by far," Mike continued, the pout audible in ~~his~~her voice.

"My Fifi is missing!"

Edited 2013-12-04 22:03 (UTC)

Stiles is honestly snorting to himself at Cecil and Mike doing their best "girl" voices. This was turning out even better than he thought, just for those two alone. He controls himself just in time to continue the thread.

"Malone pauses, raising one eyebrow. 'Tell me Fifi is the name of your daughter, lady. Or a best friend who's dripping diamonds.' Because the thought of sinking so low to chase down a lost dog was galling to the hard-boiled private eye. But then again, a case was a case. He sighs.

"'Description of the missing?' he growls, already hating himself for this."

Radio might be new for Victor but he's performed before. He wanted to get into acting back home after all. He smiles at the attempt at 'girl' voices, knowing his own probably won't be as good. He had to do a double-take at what Mike said, surprised there.

He takes a breath as his cue gets closer.

"Unfortunately for Detective Malone, it would be even worse than chasing down a lost dog. "Fifi is my cat, Detective Malone. She's just a kitten and her fur is pure white. Fifi is a pure-bred Birman and she has the most adorable pink, jeweled collar," the woman almost sobs as she describes her beloved pet. "Please, Detective Malone. You have to help find her! Money is no object! I don't know how I'll go on without my precious Fifi!" Victor does his best to match the impressions Mike and Cecil do, looking to Cecil as he finishes speaking.

Oh, this was getting good! The magic of radio. Leaning back in his chair in his best affectation of an old-timey Detective, Cecil spoke into his microphone, pantomiming the writing of notes while his tattoos writhed around his wrist.

"Detective Malone leaned heavy on one hand, sighing openly into the receiver while he wrote out his notes. Cats. Why did it always have to be cats? They kept coming back into his life, the one constant that he could never seem to wash away. Cats. Always cats. They haunted his dreams, his fevered, drunken dreams - all whiskers and ghostly paws and tusks. He could see one of them now, behind his desk, scratching up his lamp. No one else could see the cat. They never could."

Cecil was in the zone. All three eyes were bright and glittering. He just loved radio, it was his passion.

"He shook himself, rolling his eyes and then returning him to his notes. He couldn't be picky. Not now. 'Yes, Ma'am. I'll...find your Fifi.'"

Satisfied with his turn, he grinned brightly, looking to Rory.

Rory can't help but wonder what River would think of this if she had heard it - probably just amused, he thinks, and would never let him live it down. Not exactly the best impression of a father. But at least she isn't here - and neither is Amy, nor the Doctor. None of them would let him live this down.

The others seemed to be having a good time somehow while Rory was still mostly floundering, but he was trying his best to make it work. He wasn't that much of a party pooper as most people thought him to be, after all.

"Great!" he said, but unlike the others he didn't attempt to fake a lady voice - any attempt would be laughable, really, so Rory didn't even bother to try. "I'm so glad for your help, Detective! I've heard that you can find anybody and anything, so I'm counting on you to find my precious... Fifi! It's all up to you! Thank you again!"

Another pause, and then Rory finished up with an almost deadpan tone. "Then she hung up without another word."

Mike's eyes were still wide from Cecil's addition.
Ghostly paws. Tusks. Haunting in the periphery.
It was awesome stuff. Twilight Zone level stuff.
He very nearly squees in spite of himself.

"Malone held the receiver away from his ear and sighed again, before returning it to the cradle. With the reverberation of the ringer still sounding in his ears he pulled open the bottom desk drawer to his right and retrieves a half filled bottle of whiskey.

'To the dog and pony show,' he says as he twists the cap of the bottle.

But before he can bring the bottle to his lips, there's a voice from the doorway..."

Stiles, on the other hand, is not so thrilled. He's staring at Cecil with a flat, disbelieving look on his face. What the actual hell is he doing? Okay, he's not so much a cat person himself, but tusks?

Memo to self, search Cecil for hallucinogens before the next broadcast. Although he has a feeling that won't help much. He blinks at his cue, and takes a breath, knocking on the desk with his knuckles three times.

"Malone! Open the door, you mug, we got you surrounded!"

"Great, Malone thinks to himself, reaching into the desk for his Enfield revolver."

Stiles is proud of that touch; he remembered the type of gun from his history lessons, didn't even have to look that up on Google. Not that they had Google here on the turtle.

"At the door was 'Car Crash' Scarpetti, one of the enforcers for the local mob. If he thought Malone was going down without a fight, or a few tricks up his sleeve, he had another thing coming. Silently, Malone slipped toward the window, and the fire escape..."

Victor isn't thrilled either. He's staring at Cecil as well, wondering where any of the tusk stuff came from. Shaking it off, he tries to figure out how to work with that while Mike and Stiles do their parts.

"Malone checked his gun to make sure it was loaded before he pushed the window open. "You hold him off," Malone called to the cat by the lamp as he slipped out onto the fire escape. Just like he thought might happen, there was another mobster climbing up the fire escape from below. Muttering a quick curse under his breath, Malone started heading up instead. He'd have to find another way down..."

Cecil has absolutely no clue that anything he has said is strange at all. He does wonder, vaguely, why people are staring at him...but eh, that's radio! People stared at him back home all the time!

Anyway, he happily delves back into the story at his turn, expression suddenly going intense and serious.

"The pounding on the door was insistent, a second heartbeat - thunk thunk, thunk thunk. The ghostly cat had taken up arms, but that wouldn't be enough. There was no easy way out here. Fighting these mooks head on was suicide. He had to be smart. He clamored for the filing cabinet in the corner of the room...the one just underneath the air vent.

It was going to have to do."

Well, at least he hadn't added more ghost cats this time.

While the others were all staring at Cecil and wondering what was up with him, the weirdness more or less flew over Rory's head - or rather, he did notice it, but by this time he was so used to so many other weird things that it barely mattered to him at this point. Besides, he had other things to concern himself with besides strange narratives and tattoos that moved by themselves.

"The air vent was a bit of a tight fit, but fortunately Malone had always been the type to prepare himself for a day like before. Before the mob members could get it, he managed to get into the vent and start making his way out.

The vent was, well, terrible. And dusty. And a poor choice of an escape route, but going back was not an option at this point and so Malone contiuned on until he got to the end. He didn't waste a moment from there as he knocked off the cover and pulled himself out in a dusty, sweaty heap."

Mike is listening with rapt attention as the plot ramps up. That's not what he had in mind when he mentioned the front door, but this? This is far better than what he'd been thinking of at the time.

Though now? Now the first thing that pops to mind is this one time he and his brothers tried sneaking back into April's house after an evening training on the roof, only to find they'd returned through the wrong window.

"There's a good three-count before the screaming starts, which is nice because it takes about that long for Malone's eyes to adjust to the brightness of the light in what appears to be Robyn O'...O'Flaharety's bathroom. Though the buxom legal secretary from next door remains concealed beneath the waters of her clawfooted bathtub, she does somehow manage to arm herself with a nearby...."

"...Bar of soap."

Stiles is grinning to himself; this is going better than he expected, now that the initial tusky-cat weirdness was over. This was good, introducing the b-plot love interest now.

"After getting the Ivory right between the eyes, he manages to get up and scramble up to her, covering her mouth with one rough hand. 'Sorry, sugar lips, but there's a couple of creeps downstairs wanting to plug me. Completely an accident I came up through...' But then Malone screamed himself as Robyn bit his hand.

"Scarpetti's men heard the ruckus and were all thundering back upstairs, intent now on ruining poor Miss O'Flaherety's bath, too."

Victor is really wondering how things took a turn for the crazy. He may be used to it all in real life but he'd thought the story wasn't going that weird. Either way, he waited for his turn to come around again. He was relieved when things started sounding more normal.

"Malone managed to stifle any more noises once he heard those heavy footfalls on the stairs. He cursed a few times under his breath and pulled his hand away from Robyn only to get himself smacked with a wash cloth for his trouble. Before he could vent any frustration in Miss O'Flaherety's direction, he was distracted by the sound of Scarpetti's men banging on the front door. Thinking quickly, he grabbed a bottle of talcum powder off a shelf and turned the lights off.

'Listen,' Malone spoke to Robyn in a hushed tone, cutting off the yelling he was sure was coming his way. 'those creeps are about to bust through your door so you'll need to be quiet and stay in here until they're gone,' the detective explained. Despite the bite, he didn't want Miss O'Flaherety hurt. Getting a nod from the woman in the tub, Malone made his way out of the bathroom and into the apartment proper..."

Things were becoming more normal.

And then it's Cecil's turn.

"...Malone crept through the apartment, hitting the lights as he went. The bottle of talcum powder felt cold, unnaturally heavy in his clutch. Two more of his spectral feline tormentors skirted the living room, clawing up the furniture - but never mind them. No, there was something more important at hand."

He grins broadly, glancing briefly around the room. Eh? Eh? Pretty good, right? He rolls up a sleeve to get a bit of air, tattoos writhing and lashing around his skin.

"The pounding on the door got louder, louder - Malone crouched in position behind where it would swing out, concealing himself as the thug burst through the door, aiming the guns he carried in all six of his hands.

But he was ready."

To Rory 'normal' has always been a rather relative term. It was hard to find 'normal' when your daughter was a time traveler and her husband was actually a very old alien who happened to be the last of his species. Rory doubt anybody would believe him either, or the fact that his adventures involved going through all of time and space.

But anyway.

He returns Cecil's grin with a polite smile of his own, mostly trying to figure out what to say since he had the task of trying to follow after all the things that Cecil had said. At least that was something he was used to - and besides, the Doctor was stranger than Cecil could ever be. (Though he had to admit the moving tattoos were cool, in their strange, uncanny way.)

"The moment the thug burst through the door Malone threw the bottle of talcum powder at him, hitting the thug right at the head with enough force to knock him out. The, uh, specter felines meowed loudly at the sudden commotion but Malone paid them no heed. While he had the chance, he quickly got out of the apartment before anybody else could come."

There was a brief pause as Rory tried to think of what to say next, but he tried to keep up the narrative, making it up as he went along into something that was hopefully probable.

"Going down wouldn't be a good idea since that was where the thugs were coming from, so without much of the a choice he started to go up instead, trying to put more distance between him and his pursuers."

Something occurs to Mike in that moment. Something that never really occurred to him before now.

Malone doesn't have to be human.
It's hard growing up one of five in a world of a few billion not like yourself. Oh sure, there were children's books, cartoons, and various puppet-themed shows where animals were characters, but if Mike is honest with himself: He sees the world as being a human only place.

But thanks to Cecil's insistence on bringing in cats and extra arms...this story doesn't have to be. This story can be anything they want.

Well...technically, as it's Mike's turn, this story can be anything he wants. And what Mike wants most of all, is a few talking animals.

"The roof. It'll be the only way he walks out of this building on his own two feet. So Malone bolts for the stairs and makes a break for the roof.

The door opens easily, almost too easily considering it's supposed to be locked at all times. That can only mean Old Man Yoshi is up here tending to his pigeon coops. Malone quickly closes and barricades the door behind him even as he searches for the old rat among the feathers and feed.

Yoshi, he says in his loudest whisper. You up here?"

Mike pauses, his manic smile taking a turn for the bitter sweet. The impression the turtle does next is as pitch perfect as one can get of Master Splinter, without being smacked upside the head with a walking stick.

"A voice emerges from inside a nearby shed. Oh hello there, Malone. A few seconds later Old Man Yoshi himself emerges. He's just barely four feet in height, has greying brown fur, and dressed in a traditional maroon kimono. What brings you up to my roof?

Cats. Rats. What's next, bats and gnats? Let's just bring on all the rhyming animals! Make this as absurd as possible.

The tip of Stiles' tongue is sticking out between tightly-pressed lips, an expression he's stolen from Lydia. And he's holding his breath, because he's afraid that huffing too loudly through his nose will be picked up by the mics. This has gone even further off the rails than he ever anticipated. He even glances at Rory and Victor, like he's trying to apologize to them for the other two.

Carefully, he shuffles through his script notes, making sure not to crinkle the paper audibly. Okay. He can roll with this. He can.

"...Missing cat, screaming woman, Car-Crash's men after my blood, the usual Friday night shenanigans," he answers in character. "I need a way out of here, Yo-...shi?" Right, the rat's name was Yoshi. Okay. Wait. No. Hang on... "Missing dog. It's the dog that's missing. It's the cats that are flying. Oh, damn it..."

He clears his throat and gathers himself. Of course he was the first one to break character, of course he was.

"An escape route, Master Yoshi. That's what I'm after. And a bottle of hooch if you've got one tucked away somewhere discreet. I think I need it tonight."

That smack sound that might be picked up by the microphone? That's Victor facepalming as Cecil brings the crazy. The tattoos don't faze him as weird but the additions to the story and leaps off script had him wondering how Cecil got the job. He glances to Stiles to see his reaction to all this and shrugs at the apologetic glance back.

As the story goes on, Victor tries to think of ways to help keep the story on track. Mike gets a slightly curious look from the mutant when he brings in the rat man but he'll save questions for after the show.

He takes a breath as his turn comes around. "'I can only provide you with the first of those, Malone,' Yoshi replies. This is hardly the first time he has helped Malone out of a tight spot and he doubts it will be his last," Victor does his best to match Mike's impression as he begins. "The old rat gestures for Malone to follow him as he walks behind one of his pigeon coops. It's there that he reveals the method of escape he has planned for Malone. A one-man glider," Victor finishes, glancing at the others before nodding to Cecil.

Honestly, Cecil probably got the job because he already worked at the radio station. He knew how to speak for radio, he had done it for so very long...it's just...when he isn't reading news copy, his embellishments can be a little...over the top.

He also doesn't think anything of the rat man. Sure!

"The glider is beautiful. Hand-made, plainly, with the kind of embellishment that only the skilled hands of a rat could achieve. Malone approached it, running hands over the stitched leather.

'Knew I could count on you,' he sighed, gruff, disappointed about the booze but...hey, beggars can't be choosers. 'Guess I'll take a raincheck on the hooch. I'll owe you one.'

He held the glider, thankful for his friend...but also worried. His cats were circling the rat, and the rat couldn't even see them. He needed to get off this roof, post-haste."

A satisfied nod - next!

Well, that escalated quickly.

Rory blinked at the increasingly strange additions to the story, not too fazed by it but still--wow. That was not what he expected.

He chanced a glance at the others to see how they were faring with all these... things, but only about half of them were wondering how things got so far. The other half seemed to be enjoying themselves... which was a good thing, Rory supposed. Still, he couldn't help but feel bad nevertheless, and returned the apologetic looks with one of his own.

When Cecil was done he turned back to the mic, clearing his throat for a moment before he picked up the story again.

"It wouldn't be long before his pursuers would catch up with him, now. He did need to get off the roof as soon as he could, but the glider wasn't going to be very useful if there wasn't enough of a wind to let him get his distance.

Still, there wasn't much of a choice in the matter. Malone glanced behind him one last time before he unfolded the glider and readied himself in record time. Once he was prepared, he gave Yoshi one last glance before running off the rooftop and jumped into the air. Luckily enough, a strong enough wind blew just then, carrying him up into the sky with a brief yelp from Malone himself as he's tugged up and away."

"It was the howl of the wind in his ears that kept Malone from hearing the crash of wood as the roof door was broken down by his pursuers, and the crack of the single round they were able to fire before Old Man Yoshi appeared from a shadow behind them. The quiet cracks that followed were too soft to be heard even without the city below and the wind that carried the escaping man away.

The men fell just as Malone managed to turn back towards Yoshi, the higher edge of the rooftop obscuring their lifeless bodies from his view. Malone sees only the old rat bowing placidly, as if nothing what so ever had just transpired, before sedately returning to tend to his coop.

The only tell-tale sign of any action being the crumpled remains of the door which get smaller and smaller as Malone drifts further away."

Mike is quietly very proud of this addition to the story.

In retrospect, Stiles will be honestly kinda pleased that it all went this way. It's actually kinda cool, twisting all these ideas and tropes into new and weird and wonderful things.

Although Cecil still kinda freaks him out, not even gonna lie.

Yes, in retrospect, this will be seen as awesome. Right now though, Stiles is mentally throwing up his hands and sighing. Okay. Let's take this in the general direction of the plot.

"The glider took Malone toward downtown, a feat which amazed him seeing as there was practically no steering on the thing. But he made it, and landed in a convenient and shadowed alley without anybody noticing. Tonight was a night for miracles, it seemed. Stashing the thing behind a line of garbage cans, Malone stepped out into the city proper. Car Crash's men had come for him a bit too conveniently close to the phone call that got him on a case. So...maybe there was a connection.

"Making his way toward the bookie joint nearby, Malone wondered if the call was meant to be a distraction, meant to keep him talking as the hoods came after him. Maybe. So, he'd stick his nose in on Car Crash's biggest business: making book on the greyhound racing in Hoboken. It was sure to piss the man off, but Malone figured, it couldn't get any worse than it already had. He slipped into the place as inconspicuously as possible, and took up a convenient perch near the bar. He'd hear everything, and maybe get a good tip on the next race..."

"Getting a tip on the next race would have to be heard over the radio broadcasting the current race and the occasional clack of pool balls from the tables in the bar," Victor began. He was starting to settle in and just accept the weird. Weird was normal for the X-men so he was able to adapt to it even if he was hoping Cecil didn't throw anymore huge curve balls.

"Malone may have gone unnoticed by the majority of the bar but the bartender spotted him almost immediately. The man sighed before setting down the glass he was cleaning and making his way over," Victor took a second to figure out a voice before doing his best Wolverine impression. "'Ya ain't in here tah cause trouble are ya, Malone?' the bartender asked with as close to a whisper as he could manage in the bar..."

Quickly, quickly. Rory tried to think fast on what he could make up - he was getting dangerously close to having no more ideas, since it wasn't as if he was made for things like these in the first place. Why did he agree to this again?

"'If I was here to cause trouble, you would have long known by now.' He didn't roll his eyes, but it was a near thing, gesturing to the bartender after that. 'Hit me up, nothing too strong.' He was working on a case, after all."

"Once the bartender gave him the drink Malone took it with a murmur of thanks, turning around to glance at the other patrons while he decided on what to do next. The night had certainly taken a different turn, but he had missed this. It was nice to be on the job again."

"'Anything on the streets that I should know about?' he eventually asks once he finished his drink, turning back to the bartender. 'Anything at all.'"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

First radio show! - Closed to participating characters

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject