[ Video flickers on. First blocked by a fleshy pink palm, and then blacked out until the image adjusts. It's dark out and whoever's recording must be drunk, or freshly woken up on the curb of a multi-dimensional prison. The view swings away from the dark outline of a ball & chain to the front of a torn and bloody cardigan.
No guns. No swords. No hood. Not a single red-haired trouble maker in sight. ]