[ There is a screech of feedback, a burst of static and at last, a startled grunt. A few thumps, a little fumbling, and finally, the voice of someone talking to themselves. The voice is deep and groveled, carrying with it the distinguishable accent of someone who's spent many years in New York City. ]

The fuck is goin' on here? Dane's gonna fuckin' pay for this shit. ...gotta get outta this shit hole, first.

[ A bit more rustling and the recording cuts out. ]

If you are a member of Trial By Fire, please remove this journal.

Would everyone just get off my fuckin' case, already? So I slugged the fuckin' smug bastard. So what? Or is everyone gonna suddenly start protecting him, now?

[ A few more grumbled curse words before the thud of dropping the communicator. A few beeps and fumbling as he tries to turn it off, but instead turns on the video feature.

He is behind the bar at the Lux despite having told Michael he wasn't coming in. The communicator is on the bar top, looking up at him from beside his elbow. He just sits there for about a minute, hunched over and looking generally irritated. He brings a glass up to take a drink, but hesitates. His eye twitches and the hand resting on the bar tenses. He sits still for a few moments, before setting the glass down so hard the drink sloshes out. Snarling, he brings both hands to his head and scratches furiously at his scalp.

A sudden jerk and he bumps the communicator, sending it to the floor where the video goes to static before shutting off. ]

[ There is the faint sound of heavy foot steps as the recording starts, but no voice. Then the distinctive rustle of fabric over the microphone. Someone had, once again, turned on the recording by accident. This time but shoving the thing back into his pocket.

After a few moments, Crawford's voice can be heard. ]

What the fuck is THAT?

[ Quickened steps, and a louder rustle as he moves. Then silence for several minutes. It is broken by another voice. The slimy tone of everyone's favorite demon in a pinstriped suit. ]

Found something, have you?

[ Another rustle as Crawford jumps, startled by the voice. ]

Fuck off. Ain't any of your fuckin' business.

[ Movement, then a pair of muffled thumps--his back pack being dropped to the ground and something being dropped inside. ]

Is that a--

I said FUCK OFF!

[ More movement and the recording cuts off, the right button bumped. ]

One of those freaky gods says that if I give him somethin' of yours, he'll give me what I want. But it ain't exactly somethin' you've got sittin out for all to see. Fuck, I don't even know if he's tellin' the truth. Says you've got a pink globe of some sort.

[ He sounds generally tired and downtrodden. ]

Too good to last, I guess. Watched it all happen, sittin' up on the hotel roof. Guitar didn't make the trip across. Got some other shit, though. Half the CDs I bought. The CD player. A month, maybe two of batteries. Any of you guys readin' this, how about a trade? You take back all of this CD crap and give me the guitar I had sittin' in my hotel room. Acoustic. In the soft case.

[ OOC: Anyone who sees Crawford today will notice he's scratching his head a bit more than should be normal for anyone. And it will get worse each day. ]

Knew it was too fuckin' good to last. At least it's quiet, now. But I'll take my crowded city over crap from gods any day.

Now that John's makin' a little more sense, I'm headin' out get the shit I left in the hotel.

...Where the fuck did that polar bear come from?

[ Voices can be heard in the background, and the very distinct sounds of a moving subway train. He's half-yelling, not caring who hears him. ]

HEY! I think I found somethin'! At least that voodoo bastard's not dead!

This fucker at the morgue told me to check up the nut house. where ever the fuck that is. Some asshole checked himself in, said he was sleepin' with the fuckin' devil. If that ain't John, this place is more fucked up than I thought.

[ ooc: Info acquired with Jen's permission. ]

[ He meant to lock it, but failed. He's not very good at this tech thing. ]

Zelda? I uh...know it doesn't really apply to you but...

[ He clears his throat]

I haven't had a--that is, you're the closest thing I got so I....I got you somethin'. For today. If you want it, I guess...

[ A few more awkward sounds of trying to add something, before he just gives up and sighs. ]

I'll hold on to it until I see you again.

[ He is obviously irritated. And maybe marginally drunk. ]

John's run off. Boss is gone. Michael's nowhere to be found. This was supposed to be a fuckin' fun time. Away from the bullshit.

[ The repetitive thump of his fingers on the table. ]

...I ain't watchin' the damn weasel if Michael doesn't show up.

[ A pause and an exhale, as he takes a drag off a cigarette. The clink of ice in a glass followed by the sound of it being set down. ]

Zelda's been fuckin' silent, too. And that Wolfgang bastard.

[ Another long silence. ]

...Fuck it.

[ A fumbling sound, wrong buttons being pressed, more curses and beeps until he finds the button to turn the thing off. ]

Michael: you'd better not be off stealin' motorcycles.

Boss: Zelda's place got dragged here with us, it looks like. At least, it was here when I woke up. Did your place make it to, and do ya need me to help out while we're here?

Anyone else: Unless you're used to places like this, stay off the fuckin' subway. Forgot to tell you yesterday. I don't give a fuck who you are. That shit'll chew ya up and spit you out.

Ya know, I thought the gods were done fuckin' with us like this. Guess I was wrong. Got what I've been needin', at least.

We're here to stay, right? For good? Not goin' back to that shit hole?

Whatever you fuck heads decide to do, you're not fuckin' up this city. You're on my fuckin' turf, now.

That goes double if you see me, but it's not me. Alright? You leave him the fuck alone, or I find you and rip out your spleen through your fuckin' nose. You got it?

With that outta the way, you need to know somethin' about this place, you ask me. I know some of you bastards don't even know what a fuckin' CAR is.

More of these fuckin' rat things? Hit...I dunno...four, maybe five? on my way in. Someone wanna put Michael on a roof somewhere so he can play fuckin' target practice?

If this shit keeps up, I'm gonna need somethin' more than just a damn hammer.

[ He sounds tired and spent. Not all fired up like normal. He can't be bothered to lock any part, though. ]

Zelda...glad you're back.

Boss. I'm not workin' today. Gonna stop by, but not to work.

[ He sounds like Crawford, but not. There is still the overlyaing gruffness brought on by smoking since he was thirteen. But the tired anger was gone. There was one, overbearing fact that marked this voice as not quite right: he spoke with a thick, Irish accent. ]

What the bloody hell is going on here? Dane? Jackie? I knew the lure of an honest to goodness pub in a city like this was too good to be true! But this is a little excessive for a prank, don't you think?

What the hell is THAT?! Hold on...

[ The video suddenly flips on to a view of Crawford's face. Overall, he looks the same--if less worn. He wears a leather jacket over a teeshirt. Over his shoulder can be seen what appears to be the neck of a guitar case.

The video blurs and jarringly pans over the street, but there's nothing special there. ]

Oh...it's gone! Weird looking thing, it was. This is some wicked weird shit, guys. But the show starts in TWENTY MINUTES! How the hell do I get back?!

(ooc: Meet rock star Crawford. Not super big famous, though. His father decided to not leave Ireland and therefore didn't die when Crawford was a baby and his mother never went off to marry the senator.)

Show yourself you piece of shit! YOU! The one that's killin' people! FUCKING SHOW YOURSELF!

[ooc: Anyone who happens in the vacinity of the Lux will find a sizable but shallow crater in the street, about six feet across. ]

[ The feed starts suddenly with a clatter of noise and a wild blur, interspersed with static. When it settles at last, Crawford's boot can be seen towering above the device. Just beyond is a shambling zombie. Crawford runs forward and smacks the thing in the head with a piece of pipe. When it falls, he laughs triumphantly, stepping backwards. ]

Don't fuck with me, ya bastard!

[ As the thing starts to get up, Crawford suddenly lifts his hands, raking his fingers through the air. The asphalt under the thing turns to the consistency of mud and starts sucking at its limbs. Crawford drops his hands once more and it turns back to solid road. He swings his arm in a wild arc and from somewhere off screen, a piece of glass flies through the hair and slices off the creature's head.

Looking proud of himself, Crawford moves back to the device and picks it up. He tilts his head, squinting at it, and suddenly looks rather irritated. ]

Aw fuck I hate this piece of shi--

[ The feed wavers and cuts off. ]

[ooc: Going with a general AU for Crawford. No alignment shifting. He has super powers, of a sort. Think Earthbending, but extending to all inorganic matter--ie glass, metal, etc. I have comics involving it somewhere. He's going to remember everything like normal here, only if he had powers the whole time. ]

[ He sounds quite out of breath. And, at first, seems to be talking to himself. ]

How the fuck did that thing get in here?

[ A sudden burst of verbal rage followed by a sickening wet thud. He settles down and talks directly into the communicator, still yelling a little. ]

I just got in to work and found one of those fuckin' rat things tryin' to get upstairs! First Zelda's now this?! Didn't you bastards do some crazy voodoo shit to keep this crap OUT?!

[ He calms down a little, still out of breath, and hesitates before continuing. He does not want to say this part. ]

Hey...uh...boss? It's...a good thing you don't got carpet down here....

Alright. So I don't wanna fuck up again. The old man's not exactly getting detailed with what he wants. You two know what's going on around here, right? Wanna give me the official rundown? All the do's and don't's and all that shit? Toss in your own, I guess, cause you two live here and I don't. Gotta know my boundaries and all that.