The following are raw footage excerpts from Alex Kralie.

(( OOC: Heads up: for the duration of this event, anyone who knew Alex has forgotten he exists, unless we've arranged otherwise/you want to arrange otherwise.))

Jack. Jack.

[ Hey look, it's the familiar face of that guy who no-one remembers right now! He hasn't bothered to lock or direct the broadcast, but forgive the poor snowflake: he's a little distracted. ]

Help me. Help me.

[ His skin's discoloured, greyish. His right eye is sunken, because the cheekbone on that side seems to be going spongey and collapsing on itself somewhat. His glasses balance precariously over it. He's trying to hide the damage with his right hand, but since that hand keeps clenching into a claw, going to his mouth, going to the crook of his elbow and back up again, he's really not doing a good job. ]

'S the event, I swear I, I swear I didn't touch a drop of... of...

[ Even coming that close to naming ADAM makes him draw his lips back from his teeth, his eyes impossibly desperate for a moment before he lowers his face and brings both fists up to his forehead. ]

...oh fuck... can't...

[ The narration will be collapsing into bed pronto, but let's get this posted while it can at least pretend that it's still Wednesday night.

Alex woke up in a foul-smelling bathroom, surrounded by rubble and his own dried blood, and remembered everything. Things he'd said. Things he'd thought. Things he'd done.

And his death.

His room was close by. Eventually, when he felt able to move, he went there. He found clothes that weren't torn and brittle and stained that dark brown-red. Now the feed flicks on without his realising it, to show him sitting on the floor in his darkened room, back against the foot of his bed, arms around his knees, staring at nothing. Behind him and to the right, the bank of camcorders is a quiet silhouette, one of the recording lights finally blinking again.

At one point, he lifts his hand and moves it over his face, his completely human face. Then he lowers the arm and is still again.

The feed times out after about ten minutes. ]

((ooc: only the stuff after "the feed flicks on" is visible on the monitors; the rest was for continuity.))

((OOC: Backdated to the same evening as this post; therefore, before this post.))

Sofia. Are you there?

[Alex's voice is a monotone; it's the flat, resigned dread of someone preparing to go into battle, driven only by a reluctance to admit that the odds are hopeless.]