fuckitybye | 013 - Video, morning after everyone's safely back from the port.

Entry tags:

fcking love boat on acid

013 - Video, morning after everyone's safely back from the port.

[The camera clicks on revealing Malcolm, no longer bespectacled and looking absolutely fucking awful, like he just spent the whole night pacing and cursing in his cabin. Which he did. He starts to say something, then scrubs his hands over his face.]

Fucking fuck it.

[And he reaches out and slaps the camera off. If anyone responds, his responses will be in text only.]

[OOC: Malcolm's Masterworld Daily Briefings? Are all publicly visible to anyone who feels like backtracking in his public journal entries. He doesn't know it yet.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

~~Minister~~ Tucker.

Judas. Lovely to hear from you.

I didn't know you were one of the residents on the Barge.

Fuck, you forgot about our little chat about Lord Lloyd Webber? I usually count on being more fucking memorable than that.

Who?

Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber? Jesus Christ Superstar? Any of that ring a fucking bell?

Oh, fuck, of course, it's been three fucking years for you in that shithole. Surprised you remember a fucking thing about this place.

The libretto!

It wasn't a shit-hole.

That's right.

Oh aye, it was all right for us, wasn't it? But fucking hell, man, I went to a fucking gladiator match ~~with my wife and kids~~ like I was going to a fucking Man Utd. match. That's not fucking right.

I hated the Arena. More than anything else.

Wasn't the fucking highlight of my stay either, I'll tell you that.

I'm sorry you were forced to it.

Well. Thanks.

And for what it's worth, I actually don't think you're all that fucking bad. Easily led, maybe. But I reckon you weren't nearly as much of a brainwashed prick as some of us were back there.

Thank you.

If you need to seek any revenge on me, do so.

The fuck would I need to take any kind of revenge on you for? You're the one took a fucking salary cut because John Simm there was being a crazy fuck.

Because we were cruel tyrants for three years.

As a certain leaky fucking minge-box of my acquaintance would say, that's not my purview.

Not your what?

Function. Job. Responsibility. Even if I felt like kicking your arse, which I don't, it's not my fucking place, yeah?

Oh. Thank you.

Don't mention it.

You're talented, if nothing else.

Thanks for the fucking consolation.

What else is there to say?

At least you didn't kill so many.

Got your hands a bit dirty, eh?

A little.

What's your proper name, son? Don't think I caught it.

Sylar. My name is Sylar.

Who are you?

Malcolm Tucker. Director—former Director of Communications for the Prime Minister of the UK.

No wonder you were good at your job.

Did port change you?

I fell off, if that's what you fucking mean. Thought I'd been there for years, had a family. [Pause.] Now if you mean in the long term, well, ask me in a fucking week, yeah?

I'll ask in a week.

I quite liked "twatwaffles" myself. Very creative.

...

Oh fucking hell.

Don't worry. You weren't yourself. But I did like that one in particular.

Yeah, well, that's fucking grand, as you'll find the vocabulary's consistent no matter what.

Who're you, then?

We had numbers where I was raised. Mine's 47.

Malcolm Tucker, was it? Or was that another name you thought you had?

Numbers. Right.

Not even gonna fucking ask.

And yeah, it's Malcolm Tucker.

Probably best you do, and no. I did not come from the same place as 11-12, so you don't even have to ask.

Did they toss you in Zero, too?

Apparently being a propaganda-spewing tit isn't a Zero offence.

Perhaps you could put your writing talents to a better use here.

Oh, don't you fucking start. I get enough of that from Dayton.

What? It's true. If it I wasn't laughing at all the swearing, I'd've been pretty swayed myself if I weren't in my right mind.

Look, in my real fucking life, I'm the Director of Communications for the Prime Minister of the UK. Which might sound like being a propaganda tit, but has a fuckload more dignity to it, and that's all I want to get back to doing, yeah?

[[Oh dear. Just like the men he'd be hired to shoot back home.]]

Was I wrong in assuming you were an Inmate?

Wish I could say you were fucking wrong, but no, you're not. Apparently God's a fucking Tory.

Oh...well. I see.

[[He really doesn't hurr hurr]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

013 - Video, morning after everyone's safely back from the port.

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Re: Written - I'mma say the three years scrambled his head a little.

Written - I'd be surprised if it hadn't.

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Re: Written - strikes so unreadable it isn't funny.

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Re: Written - wish I could say M was being nice, but really he just thinks J is a hopeless patsy.

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[Voice] - ignore him he's in pain and being a twatwaffle himself

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