Lt. Carter Blake (
lieutenantantichrist) wrote2015-03-09 03:00 am
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[21] Video/Action for Goldenrod - "I'm gonna rule this world."
[In a square in the center of Goldenrod City, a small crowd has gathered. A show is about to start.
There's a crude stage that's been freshly hammered together. Near the back, a little Snubbull is tapping in the last few nails. The platform wobbles but holds as a man climbs up it, then takes a place at a podium in the center. He's wearing a white button-up shirt and, in concession to his ambitions, a tie. He looks toward the camera.] Hey, Newt. You got that thing running?
[The camera's view nods up and down.]
All right.
[He holds his arms up for silence. Then, when no one quite pays attention, he barks,] Hey! All of you! Shut up!
[That's much more effective. When the eyes of the curious onlookers are on him, he plants his hands on the sides of the podium and clears his throat.]
All of you. Locals, people from the real world, people from the fuckin' moon. You know me. See, I've been here a long, long time. Two damn years, and I know some of you have been here longer. I was thinking about that, and you know what I realized?
[His voice gets louder and clearer as he finds his rhythm.]
I realized I'm not a fuckin' tourist. None of us are. This is our world as much as it is theirs-- and nobody is doing dick to run it.
Look around. Everybody does whatever they damn well please, and that's real nice right up until the minute some idiot starts planting bombs around. The closest thing to somebody in charge is the police, and they're a goddamn joke who give terrorists a week picking up garbage and then set them loose again. There's nobody calling the shots.
That changes today.
[His boots thud on plywood as he tramps back and forth along the stage, and his speech takes a turn toward harangue.]
When bees and sharks came crashing through people's windows, who smacked them right back out? Me. When some moron went around shooting lasers at the city, who knocked him out of the sky? Me. When a couple armies of fire and water idiots tried to wreck up the place with giant monsters, who went out to stop them? [He jerks his thumb to his chest.] Me.
[His voice is getting louder and louder. The cords stand out on his neck.]
And I'm not some jumped-up fourteen-year-old who thinks he's magic. I've been around the block in the real world. I have decades on the front lines. I haven't just lead people, I've lead them into tenements full of crackheads with shotguns. That has to mean something, even here.
Somebody around here has to get shit in order, and I'm done waiting.
[His tread takes him back to the podium. He grips the sides with his coarse-knuckled hands and leans over it to look straight into the Gear.]
I'm not asking you. I'm telling you.
From now on, I'm the head honcho around here.
[He jabs his finger at the camera.]
Stand with me or get out of my way.
There's a crude stage that's been freshly hammered together. Near the back, a little Snubbull is tapping in the last few nails. The platform wobbles but holds as a man climbs up it, then takes a place at a podium in the center. He's wearing a white button-up shirt and, in concession to his ambitions, a tie. He looks toward the camera.] Hey, Newt. You got that thing running?
[The camera's view nods up and down.]
All right.
[He holds his arms up for silence. Then, when no one quite pays attention, he barks,] Hey! All of you! Shut up!
[That's much more effective. When the eyes of the curious onlookers are on him, he plants his hands on the sides of the podium and clears his throat.]
All of you. Locals, people from the real world, people from the fuckin' moon. You know me. See, I've been here a long, long time. Two damn years, and I know some of you have been here longer. I was thinking about that, and you know what I realized?
[His voice gets louder and clearer as he finds his rhythm.]
I realized I'm not a fuckin' tourist. None of us are. This is our world as much as it is theirs-- and nobody is doing dick to run it.
Look around. Everybody does whatever they damn well please, and that's real nice right up until the minute some idiot starts planting bombs around. The closest thing to somebody in charge is the police, and they're a goddamn joke who give terrorists a week picking up garbage and then set them loose again. There's nobody calling the shots.
That changes today.
[His boots thud on plywood as he tramps back and forth along the stage, and his speech takes a turn toward harangue.]
When bees and sharks came crashing through people's windows, who smacked them right back out? Me. When some moron went around shooting lasers at the city, who knocked him out of the sky? Me. When a couple armies of fire and water idiots tried to wreck up the place with giant monsters, who went out to stop them? [He jerks his thumb to his chest.] Me.
[His voice is getting louder and louder. The cords stand out on his neck.]
And I'm not some jumped-up fourteen-year-old who thinks he's magic. I've been around the block in the real world. I have decades on the front lines. I haven't just lead people, I've lead them into tenements full of crackheads with shotguns. That has to mean something, even here.
Somebody around here has to get shit in order, and I'm done waiting.
[His tread takes him back to the podium. He grips the sides with his coarse-knuckled hands and leans over it to look straight into the Gear.]
I'm not asking you. I'm telling you.
From now on, I'm the head honcho around here.
[He jabs his finger at the camera.]
Stand with me or get out of my way.
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[He marches over to the stage, Rachel following him. She shoots an apologetic look at Blake's Pokémon.]
Every world's different, so 'real world' doesn't mean much here. But you're not the only one who's helped people and I know you're not the only one who was at that big battle.
[His voice drops a bit, and he sets his shoulders, trying to find his words. He's not good at this. He's not a politician, he's not a speechmaker... but he's seen enough.]
... You might have been at the 'front lines', but how many really hard decisions have you had to make? How many people have you had to... kill to save other people? How many sentient lives have you taken with your own hands? And I mean really with your own hands. Not with a gun that lets you stand back from the action, not by picking up meat from the supermarket. Up close and personal.
A leader has to make decisions on who lives and who dies, and... you don't talk like the kind of person who can really make those choices.
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It doesn't matter if I wasn't the only one. The point is I stepped up and I was there.
[He watches the look on the kid's face. His brows draw together as he feels a hint of betrayal. He'd thought Tobias would get it.]
I thought you'd be on my side. I've heard you talk, kid, you know what happens when the people who should be in charge fuck off and don't take responsibility.
[His mouth hardens, and he keeps Tobias's gaze.]
Yeah. I've made that decision. Face to face.
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A small, traitorous part of Ash thinks his father would have done it better, would have made the whole world cheer as he spoke. He strangles it with a vengeance.]
...Fucking hell.
[That's as close as he'll come to verbal coherency for the next five minutes, thank you.]
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It'd be nice to have a friend on his side, though.]
Well?
[He spreads his hands.]
You plan on helping or not?
[Get in on the ground floor, and you could get a street named after you!]
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But...at the same time, since he tried this years ago and can guess exactly where it's going to go for Blake, he's not entirely as irate as he should be.]
Firsssst of all, if thissss world belongs to anyone, it belongs to Cobra, not ssssome delusssional police officer with a ssssoapbox. Sssecond of all, ssspeaking from experience, no one here is going to accept ssssuch rule without...an appropriate demonstration to back up ssssuch a statement.
[He'll leave at that. But really, Blake, he's trying to help here. If you're not going to blow something up, it's just empty words, which is something he learned here the hard way.]
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[A lot of smug satisfaction comes over Blake's features. If he was in a chair, he'd be leaning back with his hands behind his head. As it is, he just has a swagger in his step as he gets down from the stage.]
You're just pissed off that I'm already doing better at this than you. See, you can't just run around setting shit on fire like an idiot. You got to have something to offer.
[He points at the (somewhat baffled) crowd.] Here's my "demonstration."
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I don't care who you are, old man, but I won't bow down to you so easily. Get off of your high horse. People here won't take this lying down.
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You wanna talk about people? People need to be told what to do. They love bitching and moaning about it, and it may not be what they want, but at the end of the day, law and order's what they need.
I'm not asking for any bowing. [Though bowing would be nice.] All you have to do is be a good citizen.
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Get real.
[His words came out in a low growl to counter Blake's own enthusiasm (in a sense of the word.]
You almost had me for a minute or two--place is run like a mess, sure. Can't argue that one.
But you think you're some important shit just because you've dealt with some idiot humans with guns? Spare me. You're no knight or soldier, and you need to quit actin' like one before I come over there and show you a real one.
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Alas, with neither of the girls here and Tiz completely absent, it's up to Ringabel to respond.
And, well, he's certainly not going to charge in blindly. If anything, this merits investigation.
So, here we have a young man somewhere in his twenties with a ridiculous pompadour staring at the screen and tapping his chin.]
While I hate to interrupt such a rousing speech, I've a few questions. First, what do you mean when you say "real world"? Second, when you say you've been here for two years, are you referring to this city or this land as a whole?
Third, and while I mean no disrespect, how do you intend to make a difference?
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He's almost gotten used to guys with stupid Elvis haircuts.]
When I say the real world, I mean the one with guns and cars and no magic fish. And I mean this land.
[Two years. Christ.
It's going to mean something, damn it. He stands up straight, chest stuck out.]
First thing, we're gonna have a police department. A real one.
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Phoenix sighs, shakes his head.] Uh huh. That all sounds great. Really fascinating.
So...what happens if we refuse?
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You say no, you know what happens? Same thing as happens to those Freemen-on-the-land assholes: nothing, unless you get in the way. The government's real whether you say it is or not.
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Like, seriously. What are you thinking?
Riku stares, awestruck, generally flabbergasted. As his words sink in, Riku reaches for his brow, shuts his eyes, and slowly exhales.]
And you're sure this is gonna work?
[He gets the sentiment, but... well, by the looks of it, people are already calling him out.]
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[His jaw sets confidently.] I'll make it work.
[With his bare goddamn hands, if he has to. One of which he lifts in an inviting gesture.]
How about it? You in? You're over eighteen, right? That's plenty old to join the force.
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Try and talk Blake down? Why on earth would he do that.]
You're really going to try and take this place over? Good luck!
You should get some firepower in case the Jennys come after you.
[So obviously he's going to encourage this behavior, because this is going straight to hell. Greed wants front-row seats.]
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If worst comes to worst, [he lays a hand on the Arcanine who comes trotting up to his side. Good boy, Hooch.] I have all the firepower I need.
[His gaze sharpens.] You in?
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It's amazing, how much you end up thinking when you're stuck out in the boonies for a few months. He's tried to keep himself busy: going out training, hanging out with the guys, trying to beat the last level of Five Nights at Fantina's and calling that stupid bear just about every foul name he could think of. But there's not a whole lot to do out here in Mahogany, and between the crappy weather and the fact that he managed to bruise his everything sledding down a steep hill with Kuwabara and Killua on his back a couple weeks ago (which, for the record, he absolutely does not regret), he hasn't really been able to do any travelling. So he's sat around and thought. He's thought about Blake, and the disaster that was their last conversation. He's thought about all the shitty stuff he said to him, and the way the old man looked at him when he told him what he thought he'd done to Shaun. And he's thought about all the things Blake told him - about what really happened during that case, and about what he did... or rather, what the him from Shaun's version of their world had done.
Generally speaking, Yusuke isn't the type to pussyfoot around when it comes to fixing a problem. The way he looks at it is, if there's something bugging you and it has something to do with another person, you pull that person aside and you deal with it. But every time he's picked up his phone and tried to give Blake a call (and he has tried, a couple times - he's even gotten as far as scrolling down to where the old man's name is listed in the contacts list on his phone before punking out), he's found himself hesitating. He doesn't know why, exactly. Maybe it's because he feels guilty. Maybe it's because he can't shake the feeling that by calling Blake and talking to him about what happened, he'd somehow be doing wrong by Shaun. Or maybe it's because he's worried that the old man won't want to speak to him. He knows why he did what he did, but that doesn't make it right. Hell, if he were Blake, he'd hate his fucking guts.
Either way, he's getting tired of his own chickenshit behavior. He's been planning on sucking it up and contacting Blake soon, but he hadn't expected to see Blake's face on his screen this soon. He certainly hadn't expected to see him stomping around on a stage, yelling about how he's in charge and how everybody either deal with it or fuck off. Needless to say, the sight is incredibly disconcerting.
For all the second-guessing and procrastinating and deliberating he's been doing over the past month or so, Yusuke doesn't waste a whole lot of time calling Blake now. He's watching Blake warily when his face pops up on the screen, his brow furrowed. He doesn't know what's gotten into Blake, but by god, he's going to find out.]
Blake.
What the hell're you doing?
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He hasn't been thinking about how a kid he thought knew him could think he was a killer. He hasn't thought at all about the look of rage and disgust on his face, those times when he happens to be drinking a little. He hasn't thought about how he ended up telling him the truth, or how the words fell out of his mouth like lead and lay there.
The kid wants nothing to do with him. That's fine. End of story. For years, Blake got along fine without some Japanese punk teenager hassling him or groaning at his shitty jokes.
So he left him alone, and they both went on with their lives, and the thought of being powerless and having nothing to do but stew over his old sins hasn't lodged in the back of Blake's mind and festered there.
He knew he wasn't going to see him again.
That's why seeing his face is like a splash of cold water. Blake wipes the shock off his face fast. You didn't see that.]
What's it look like? I'm pulling this place's head out of its ass.
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Ahhh, somebody's actually trying to do something like this?
Good luck with that.
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Aren't you?
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There's someone among that crowd of curious onlookers that actually doesn't seem bothered or confused by all this; he'll wait until that little...speech is over before making his way toward the stage, very deliberately slow-clapping it out.
Jinnai's smirking quite a bit when he addresses Blake himself, those medals on the front of his blazer glinting a bit when he settles back with one hand on his hip.]
A rousing speech indeed - that was very well-done, the sort of thing the Queen of the Empire herself would have found inspiring! Though I don't think I'm alone in wanting to know by what authority you're making such an announcement!
Or, to put it bluntly...you and what army?
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Okay, sarcastic applause. Blake's gaze hardens as the suit makes his challenge.
He stands astride the stage like George Goddamn Patton.]
I've been up and down this continent. I'd put my animals up against anything you can name.
Them and everybody here who's fed up with this shit, that's all the army I need.
[He looks him up and down and sneers.]
Are you gonna stand in my way? You might get your nice pretty suit dirty.
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It seems you've gotten Seth's attention, Blake, and he's deigning to respond to you.
Congratulations.]
This is interesting...it's a bold move.
I'd like to see where this goes.
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His hand grips the Gear hard enough to make the plastic creak. His blood is up and he's ready for a fight.]
Bring it on, asshole.
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Holy. Shit.]
Ah... well, good luck with that, then. I'm sure everyone will come around eventually, so you need not worry about what's being said now.
[...he hasn't even looked at the comments because he fucking knows]
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People always bitch. You can either complain or roll your sleeves up and get shit done.
How about you? Ready to kick this place into shape?
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[ah, she almost said something sensible there, good for ---]
But you know, that's bad enough to count! Be the hero that Goldenrod deserves, sir! Or, you know, the other hero. Because I'm also the hero!
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That's the spirit! You have ba-- chutzpah, kid. We can always use more heroes.
How'd you like to be a sergeant?
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Feels real to me.
Besides, even if you were right, think about it. In a video game, you play to win.
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Even worse, what Blake says next starts to seriously rub her the wrong way. Her Gengars notice this, both of them extremely curious now that their normally stoic adopted trainer was much angrier looking.]
You know.... [she starts slowly, her tone apathetic.] You should get people to like you before you say stuff like that.
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He is undismayed.]
It's not a popularity contest. I don't have to do any gladhanding when I'm running unopposed here.
[Besides, people like him. Look how much they like him!]
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[Because holy SHIT.]
[Her familiar tousled head quite suddenly pops up next to his ramshackle stage.]
[She doesn't bother trying not to be blunt.]
Blake, what the FUCK are you DOING?
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Blake goes over and crouches at the edge of the stage by her. His blood is high and he's feeling fine. Nothing like getting out and actually doing something to make you feel like a man.]
Hey, Heather. How you been?
[He lifts his hand toward the crowd.]
I'm giving these people the leadership they need.
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