lieutenantantichrist | [25] [Video/Action for Goldenrod] - "You Leave Philly and Bad Shit Happens"

[VIDEO]

[The flag behind Blake is scorched and askew from where one of his firehorses brushed too close to it. His eyes are dark-rimmed, and have a hint of a wild sheen. No fancy-ass combed hair this time. His beard is dark and thick.]

I tried playing nice.

[There's a bat-like squeak from somewhere offscreen. Yusuke's going away present. He doesn't seem to hear it.]

More people are vanishing off the face of the earth. The wolfkid disappeared the old-fashioned way. No trace of any of them.

[Suddenly, he slams his fist on his desk.]

That's enough!

[He jabs his finger at the screen.]

As of now, I am declaring martial law. You hear me?! Nobody leaves without my permission!

[A violent gesture knocks over a glass in front of him.]

We're on lockdown!

[The video cuts out.]

[ACTION]

[Blake is in his headquarters, prowling back and forth. He can't seem to stay still, and his Pokemon have caught his restlessness. His arcanine is sniffing the air, Steve is pacing and standing on her toes to peer out the windows, his Kingler is scuttling around the old bowling lanes with its legs clack-clacking on the wood floor. There a squeaking and rustle of wings every once in a while as the last damn Zubat out of reach flaps over to a new corner. The only one that seems at rest is a Beautifly perched on top of a bank of lockers.

Blake's tread is hard and heavy. Every once in a while he hisses under his breath,] Bastards.

[[OOC: THE TIME IS NOW. If anybody's looking to ~~have fun punching an idiot in the head~~ make history by overthrowing Blake's ~~delusion~~ government, now's the opportunity.]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Here we're all just flotsam and jetsam on the sea of life, drifting along mild tides we can can't control. I understand.

Giving up or changing your tactics.

[Lust simply looks back at him for a moment, considering.]

It isn't so abnormal. Where do you go for coffee?

Ain't that poetic. [Blake's lobster would appreciate that more than him. The man's not real good at poetry, but he understands the feeling of being at sea.

His sigh sounds like defeat.] What kind of tactics can you even use versus somebody you can't find?

[Somebody who may or may not even exist.

Her question pulls his attention toward something nice and simple.]

There's a good place just around the corner from headquarters. Quiet and homey, none of that hipster Sawsbucks crap.

It should be, I paraphrased from a book of poems. About a cockroach that loves a cat.

You use very clever ones, Mr. President.

I'm afraid I don't know just where your offices are located, but if you'd like to take a break from attempting to herd agitated masses, I'd be happy to join for you for coffee.

[That brings him up short.] Hell of a subject for a poem. I thought those were supposed to be about comparing people to a summer's day and that kind of crap.

[He sinks back in his chair. God, he's tired.] Fuck it. It's all over.

[It has been for a while. He just wouldn't see it.]

Screw the damn politics. I'll buy you a drink.

There were dozens of poems, actually. It's really quite lovely and sad - the misunderstood outcast yearning for unattainable beauty and love.

[Lust's expression softens as Blake slumps in defeat.]

Wiser words are't often said. I'd like that.

Right now that doesn't sound so bad. God knows I've been called a cockroach more than once.

[It's one of the gentler things people say when you're hauling them to jail.

He blinks as one decent thing comes out of this lousy day.]

Consider it a promise.

[He makes an attempt to toss her an unsteady wink.]