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GM 12:45 PM. April 4th Judge Harold (call me Harry) Steinman, was walking amongst the throngs of people that were making their way across the street. It was lunch, and currently he was without a security detail, while a lower circuit federal court judge, he dealt mostly with white collar crime. Though a couple years ago he had been involved as an ADA out of Boston involved with investigations of several organized crime families. As of right now that wasn't what he was working over, he was debating whether he should be trying to vy for a position further up the judicial latter. However, those previous affairs were the things that were not forgotten, they cast a shadow over his way that he didn't know was there. He stopped still in his step midway through the street. And he started to say something, or tried to, words failed, they came out wrong, a hand reaching out and groping towards people. Before he fell forward, his head hitting the broad white walk lane, as his body twisted and spasmed. Before he lost coherence there was a small confirmation amidst the fading synapses as to why this was happening, and who was behind it. Onlookers rushed towards him, assuming correctly that something was wrong. When the ambulance arrived Judge Harold Steinman was dead. It would be labelled a stroke. 1:37 AM April 8th The scream would wake them, four people across town, and immediately recognize it for what it was. Either from an earlier scream, or weeks that bled to what felt like months of people inside other's heads. It was a personal sound of pain that was still raw to Paige. They all could identify it. It gave a location. A currently unused section of a high rise building in the city center. Not terribly far from the Federal building. The worst part was the sense of the presence of the mind trailing off into digitized incoherence like white noise and static when a signal goes out. A feeling some might recognize as the sublimation of identity. Possibly even the death of personality.
Freedom College, Harbridge Dorm Common Room Monday, December 1, 2014 3:59 AM Thanksgiving had come and gone, finals season was on the horizon, and no one was forgiving. There weren't many finals coming Eliza's way - half her classes were working on the idea of term papers and final presentations. But the other half did have some sort of exam component to the home stretch, and she wanted to be ready. And something about the encounter with the muggers on the night's patrol had left her wired and unable to get to sleep. With little else to do, she decamped to the common room and assembled flash cards from her textbooks, the TV blaring on in front of her. "Feeling restless?" Eliza looked up - it was Samantha, one of the RAs. She was clad in a bathrobe and clutching a mug of cocoa. "Your first finals season. It happens to all of us. Don't worry, you'll survive mostly intact." "Yeah, well," she said, "helps to make sure." Samantha plopped down on the couch behind her as she kept assembling cards on early playwrights and their works. "You usually watch TV when you can't sleep?" "Helps to lull. Always been hypnotic, since I was young. Never seen this one before, though..." Temperance looked up at the screen. A cheery yellow font advertised Five by Five!, backed up by a jaunty riff with trumpets. Going by the opening credits, it was a sitcom about a military family of five growing up in somewhat cramped on-base housing. "Maybe it's one of the short-lived ones," she said, as two of the family's kids flinched after a chance encounter with the gunnery sergeant descended into wordless shouting. "Sometimes they do that. Package all the forgotten classics of yesteryear --" 'Yeah, well, it looks interesting," said Samantha. "Looks like it would've been early Eighties, so while 'Nam was still hanging over everyone's head. Trying to normalize and lighten up the military while the shadow of a bloody conflict still hung in the popular consciousness, not unlike that Enlisted show last season - sorry, Media Studies student. This just comes naturally." Eliza smiled, then turned back to the screen. The credits didn't seem to be ending yet, even though the opening montage had now segued to the father in a live fire exercise. Something seemed to flicker on the screen, a motion out of the corner of the frame. "Wait. Did you see that?" "See what? I didn't --" And then, to that same jaunty Eighties soundtrack, the soldier right next to the father went down in a blaze of bullets, blood gushing from the wounds. The father turned in panic, only to take a round right in the temple. "Oh, Jesus!" As the music played on, the base was attacked by unseen foes, dressed in regalia Temperance didn't recognize. In that same montage style, the base was sacked, the soldiers and their families taken out one by one... and Eliza swore she could see something flickering through the static, lurking behind the scenery... "Change the channel!" Samantha reached for the remote, just as the wife's hand touched the camera, leaving a bloody handprint as she slid out of view. The channel flipped... to an episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force, already in progress. As if testing the waters, Samantha flipped back to find a rerun of Friends where Five by Five! had been. "...the **** was that?" "Probably some sort of prank. Like that creepypasta stuff that goes around the Internet." But Eliza couldn't shake the sensation that she had seen something in the broadcast. Something guiding the imagery...
Wherein Temperance, Fast Forward, Hologram, Asad, and Miss Grue learn that it takes a lot to make a stew... Feel free to describe your character encountering a television program in the wee hours of the morning that descends into utter madness and bloodshed.