[In tried and true Will fashion, he has made his computer work by kicking it in the face--what's good for Grell, after all. But being from the 1800s, William doesn't realize he's broadcasting. For the moment, he is on the roof of the apartments while they still hold. And no, he is not in Star Pants. One day.]

Honestly. I think those circus tents somehow managed to be more tasteful than this water-logged mess. As if my assignment was not enough of a humiliation, now I find myself in such a wasteland.

Since the weather is favorable and I'm certain that if I don't hurry, that improper brute will destroy my tie, I will be retrieving my things today.


[OOC: Log is here, for any who want to make the exchanges and see William in his terrible state of hair-down-no-tie-ness. Which is actually pretty hot, but he won't believe you if you tell him that.]

[There is no video. William refuses to allow video, simply due to the horrid state of undress he's in. You don't get to see the sexy hair down look. Oh, but there is anger in his voice, and the promise of punishment for one unlucky subordinate.]

Grell Satcliffe. This game has gone on for far too long. You will show yourself with my things immediately. Only a mandate from God himself will keep you from receiving your appropriate and long overdue punishment. Your haste, however, might spare your face from receiving as many impressions of my heel.

...

I make no promises in this regard.

[The video clicks on to show William holding something that is very clearly not a Handbook of Rules and Regulations. William is very clearly not happy about this.]

Really. Why this thing would assume I care what a Palkia is or that it "lives in a gap in the spatial dimension parallel to ours," I do not understand, nor want to. The only think I care to know at this juncture is how to make it stop spouting out random trivia at me at random intervals.

Grell Satcliffe. Have you decided to try your hand at interior design now?

Grell Satcliffe.

What are these images in my rulebook?

I had thought you agreed to go to the woods with that person out of boredom, but now I can see the truth of it. Be certain, however, that no tree will spare you appropriate punishment for this transgression.


[There is porn in the rulebook, since I couldn't make myself have Will have it on his own. Um. Whee?]

Really now. Have the owls become so bored that they consider this the best alternative.

[He sighs, and not in Grell's typical overdramatic fashion.] This week will no doubt be trying.

[William isn't dressed too unlike how he would normally be dressed, except with maybe some more frills. He's too English to be a good pirate.]

Really. Th' whims o' th' owls can be intolerable enough, but someone must know how t' rid th' air o' these foul birds.

Grell Satcliffe. Yer scythe might be required.

And this accent be nearly as annoyin'.

[The regular daily programing is suddenly interupted by static that slowly gives way to the stage. The scene is the warehouse from Grell's earlier post, now with a large space in the center covered in darkness. There's some adjusting of the computer, the angle needing to be precise, and then Will steps into view, stopping just before the shadow.]

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Sieben, we're being presented today with a unique opportunity. A singular chance to create something spectacular, marvelous. A something that no one will ever, ever forget.

But that sounds awfully boring, doesn't it? I'm talking like some stuffy old businessman, but this business, oh it is a pleasure. See friends, we're gathering like minded individuals for a bit of a venture, and we thought we'd show you just a taste of what we have to offer. Grell!"

[Grell flips a switch, to reveal a group of warehouse workers all tied to a large wooden pole, and all looking rather scared. He does a pose that would make Vanna White jealous.] "TADAAAA~ Frightened masses per your order, Mr. S~"

"Frightened indeed, aren't they? Let's take a closer look."

[Having put the computer on a wheeled table, Will pulls it closer. The man in close-up is trembling, eyes darting about.]

"Poor man. I think what he needs is a good laugh. I've got just the trick for it too." [Will reveals a canister seemingly from thin air, and holds the end close to the man's face.] "Are you ready?"

[The hostage shakes his head, but Will pulls off the lid. A half dozen paper snakes pop out in an explosion of traditional prank humor, and the man screams. Will, however, lets out a loud laugh.]

Wasn't that good? So funny that you should be laughing. [He leans closer to the man, his voice dropping low.] Laugh like your life depends on it.

[The man gets the message, and begins to cackle, the sound quiet at first, but growing increasingly louder and desparate as Will steps back.]

[Grell, off screen.] "He's laughing, can't I do it now? Now~?"

[Will, off screen.] "Now."

[Grell steps back into view, and the revving of his chainsaw drowns out even the man whose laughter has turned to screams. It doesn't last long though, the blade punching through the man's chest and sending blood everywhere, including onto the camera, along with the other prisoners who begin to scream. A few moments later, Will has turned the cart, and wiped away the blood so only he and empty space behind him can be seen. He speaks louder to be heard over all the background noise, all of which indicates that Grell is making his way through them all.]

An exciting show, isn't it? And this was all put together with no budget and on painfully short notice. Now my dear audience, imagine what we could do with people, resources, and time.

And that's-- [Will is interrupted as a head, no longer attached to its body, flies off behind him. He watches it land to the ground with a splat, then shrugs and turns back to camera.] That's the point of this little sideshow. This dear city of ours deserves a much more festive performance, and I plan to give it to you. But being such a generous person, I'm willing to let in a few acts besides my own. So for those of you who are drooling with jealousy and an urge to join in? Leave a message.

As for the rest of you, you so-called do-gooders whose blood just began to boil? You're going to be in the show too. So we'll be seeing you--all of you, internal organs included--very, very soon.

[Will erupts into laughter, forcefully pushing the cart so it spins, the picture rapidly changing from the laughing shinigami, to corpses, to Grell covered in blood, over and over, before the laptop flies off into the corner and the screen goes black.]


(ooc: No obligations to anyone of course. Just for a bit of darker fun. ♥)

[A unique and unusual sound can be heard, quite clearly for a moment, before someone puts a hand over his mouth. Will isn't adjusting so well to his new role, but give him time. And until then, enjoy the manical laughter]

hahaHAHAHA-- ...Grell Satcliffe.

I think we should be...plotting something.

Involving death. And pie.

[More laughter, then the recorder clicks off.]



[ooc: Will and Grell as...guess who.]

[With much reluctance, William has turned on his audio feed. In the background sounds of a not safe for work nature can be heard: moans, pleas, whips, chains, and occassionally a soft bzzz. Over it William sighs heavily.]

This is by far the most bizzare place I have seen.

...And these pants are most certainly not approved by regulations.




(OOC: So Will and Grell have ended up in the Cave of Wonders, BDSM Dungeon Style. William has ended up with a pair of black leather bondage pants, matching boots, gloves...and nothing else. :D)

[In his eagerness to find what he needs, William accidentally has accidentally turned on the video feed while clearing room on his desk for his massive book. There is a suspicious amount of pink glitter in the room, though for the most part, it's otherwise normal. William, however, looks a mess, seeming to have missed a button on his shirt, and his hair entirely with the hairbrush. He is also not wearing gloves, revealing ink stains on his hands.

And of course, he did not escape the pink glitter.

The man is unaware of it, however, instead rapidly flipping through the pages of a massive book. A heavy frown marks his features, and he occassionally murmurs to himself, a slur audible if one listens closely enough.]

No...no. Not good enough.

[William sighs heavily, reaching up to adjust his glasses, then trying again when he misses and smacks himself in the head. His second attempt is successful.]

Perhaps it would be simpler if I merely killed him. Certain of all the people here, he would be on the Death List...

...The lines on my paper are crooked.

Grell Satcliffe. Correct this problem immediately.

[William just might sigh too much, but that doesn't stop him from sighing again.] So it comes to this.

Attention students. I have lost two very important items of mine. Since you seem to need constructive activity to fill your otherwise errant lives, any student returning either item will receive one good at any time "get out of detention free" card, along with credit for a week's worth of chocolate milk at lunch.

The two items in question are:
-A book labeled "Association Guidelines and Regulations."
-An extendable grabbing arm.

Oh, and I'd highly advise the more curious amongst you to not open the book, should you find it. Simply return it, and keep your baser urges in check.


[OOC: So William's things are in the forest, and like a good manager, he delegates and bribes. Also, I'm still deciding if there is porn in said book.]

Before your teachers send you unruly adolescents to crowd my office in an attempt to maintain order in their own classrooms, let me attempt to dissuade any outrageous behavior. Any students reporting to me can expect extra assignments to fill their time, and I doubt you will like the choices I make. The monotony of filling 50 pages with lines such as "I will not chew gum," "I will not talk during class," and "I, Grell Satcliffe, will not sexually harass my teachers" might not have the same effectiveness or satisfaction as corporal punishment, but I believe it will suffice. Though for those of you willing to push your luck, I have a closet well-stocked with paper.

In addition, students who cannot understand nor abide by the appropriate dress code will find themselves subjected to my choice of appropriately humiliating garments until they have learned the proper way to wear their attire. In particular, a donated set of belts with especially hideous turkeys on the buckle should serve to teach the boys that pants are to be worn at the waist.

Really. You think they would at least be able to respect that much. They would be in dress shirts and ties if not for the weak-kneed school board.

Finally, complaints about the cafeteria lunches, including comparisons to what your dog dragged out of the neighbor's trash, will not be tolerated. You are provided with perfectly healthy meals that are more than suitable for human consumption. Be thankful for them, or do not expect chocolate milk to stay on the menu. The budget would well to lose that particular inclusion anyway.

Now students, carry on with your day with these thoughts in mind, and try to achieve a level slightly above your typical neanderthal's ways.


[OOC: It's the vice-principal everyone loves to hate! And that's okay, because he hates you too. Except not. It's tough love, really.]

To those I have not previously spoken to, my name is William T. Spears. I am from the Management Division of the Shinigami Dispatch Association, and hold a certain level of responsibility for a particular subordinate of mine. Certainly many of you know of him, as Grell Satcliffe has caused a considerable amount of trouble for you.

Because of this, I request that all those who were harmed by that shinigami make yourselves known here, along with the offense. It is a matter of protocol and procedure that formal apologies be offered, even if you think it unnecessary.

[Sigh.] Again, the shame of the Shinigami has come to this. Truly a sorrowful state of affairs.

[The sound of the computer being turned about is heard, before it's set down. A long and heavy sigh is heard before a man speaks in an exasperated voice.]

...Really. This whole situation is utterly unnecessary and inconvenient.