Oliver's Journal

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Back to Oliver.
== Season 2 - A Thrilling Debut ==
- October the 14th -
There's the sound of buzzing crackle as the microphone comes to life, taking a second to adjust its levels down to suppress the aural radiation of the urban surroundings. Along with the occasional sweep of passing cars are the scrapes of skates on concrete. A few seconds after the recording starts, a young, curt voice comes through, "So, I guess I ended up caving and making the journal thing afterall. Now you nerds get to hear about all my heroic adventures," he snickers, after giving the remark in his deepest 'super de-duper hero voice'.
"I guess I can start from a few months ago. But, umm, I'll skip T-Day, though. We all know how that worked out," he says, restrained, trailing off, before breaking back into his typical energy, "So, I'm rolling through town, about mid-day, music in one ear and pig-scanner in the other -- y'know, the routine -- when I hear on the scanner some stuff about creepy, nondescript trucks heading toward the park. Sounded similar to the day before's, umm, stuff, so I went on over there. By the time I got there, people were already yelling, running, chased down by some paramilitary-looking fucks, I thought. GREY, of course. Doing their thing, nabbing up people. Or, that is, until I got there. Also Elle (Lancelot-Less) and Fran (Freya), but I was pretty intimidating, okay? Guess it was a good day for a walk, huh?
"They were really cool, though. Elle ran in, running over the water, and jumped in screaming some medieval shit before she started spearing people. Francesca did some ice magic stuff on us -- I'll get to that -- and chain lightninged at the goo mines the greys had set up. Then I came in hot, rolling right at a dude carrying someone away, and thwacked him over the head with my bat. He had a helmet, I was sure he'd be fine. Turns out, that ice stuff? That coated my bat, and it was volatile. His helmet froze instantly and shattered right off his head as he went down. Don't worry, he was fine, I checked later.
"Then we started really getting into it, taking out greys left and right. Elle smacked some down with her spear, I sunk my skates into this one grey's collarbone with a cool jump-kick, while Fran hosed down the rest of people getting turned by the goo. We basically had them cornered at this point, as they started scurrying back to their trucks with some people stowed away. We got on them quick and finished it nice and clean. Ish. Should've seen the look of their faces when I got on them.
"After all that, we started doing our celebrating, making sure people were okay, when I see Jack in the other truck." There's a long pause, as the sudden reminder seemingly takes away his energy to recount. "I mean, he always said he was a vampire. The bat stuff is really just his true form, yeah?" Another pause, the sound of his skates having stopped a few moments before, and he says, "Well, I'm at Liam's place now, so I guess I'm gonna crash. I'll get you all another episode of Oliver's whatever-the-hell-this-is soon. Promise." There's some microphone rustling and the sound of a loud crash before the recording cuts out.
== Season 2 - Just Taking a Quick Sipp ==
- October the 21st -
Immediately as signal flows through, the recording floods over with rolling waves of bass in a tide of funk and electronica. Just as soon as the storm of beats hit, they all crash away in the click of a shutting door, only the thumps of kick drums managing to overflow into the mic. The same voice as before pours in, now with a bubbly, floaty tone, “God, Parrot is so cool. She took me to this awesome place, what’s it called? The Tool… Tool-something. It has so many gay chicks, though! I can’t believe none of you told me about this place. They got this dance goddess, Shafree Forall, just fucking nailing it on stage. It was basically a spiritual experience.
“Anyway, Captain Commie’s log,” He snickers to himself for a moment, “Ah, fuck, that reminds me that I don’t even have a name for myself. Maybe Rollerpunk? Black Blocade? Mmm. Meh, it’s story time with your favorite fucked-up wondergirl-or-whatever. So, a coffee shop got held up. Hostages and stuff. Pretty uncool situation, so why not break it up before the swats sting the place? Got yelled at by ‘commander’ Gwen for trying to save the dudes from life in a cage. I mean, like, they’re as dirt poor as me and were given an out by some lady with money. Not getting into it, but they didn’t deserve that shit. But, I guess Gwen’s kinda cool or whatever if she still came to the Toolbox with us --right! Toolbo--”
There’s the click and creak of a door, followed by boot-clicks and the stream of faucet-water. Oliver’s silent in all this, until the water stops, and the floodgates of sound release and shut again with the main door. Oliver sighs, “Kay, guess I wasn’t alone in the bathroom.” He pauses, huffing air in one long drag before puffing it all out with some relief. “Ahh, Tasha gets some good shit, I feel like I’m swimming,” he muses, “Anyway, I had some good talks with Lav and Parrot. They’re really cool. I might have to ask one or both of them out sometime. Y’know. Gwen’s alright too, but I don’t really know when she’ll lose patience for me. Oh, and Challenge was there too, she did some cool flippy-shit which I obviously approve of. Also we had some trouble getting in the coffee shop for some reason? I think I almost died. Anyway!” he cuts himself off before he even has the chance to sound too morose, “There’s hot gay ladies out there waiting for me, and one of them has a helmet on. Later!”
...
- October the 24th -
Recording sinks back into life, subsumed in hushed sobs. A long, uneasy sigh follows as Oliver tries to compose himself, only managing a breathless whisper, "I know I'm only doing hero story things on here but... fuck, I'll just delete it all anyway, who am I kidding? I just... I don't know what I'm doing. I don't have anyone to talk to. I know the band must hate me by now for leaving them like this. Nobody at the team gets me. They probably hate me too. Liam's probably sick of me too for mooching off them so long. Don't even have my own place and I'm just fucking around with police scanners playing 'hero'. I'm such a piece of shit. I don't belong with anyone. Everyone hates me. I should just--" he stops, choking up on his own words and breaking into open weeping. The recording stops.
Category:Journals
Category:Oliver