lieutenantantichrist | [10] Video/Action for Goldenrod - "Because You're Crackheads, Children."

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[10] Video/Action for Goldenrod - "Because You're Crackheads, Children."

[ACTION]

[Something streaks across the skies above Goldenrod. It jags back and forth, gaining and dropping altitude in sudden swoops. It nearly smacks into the top of a building but lurches to the side just in time.]

[Anybody with very good eyesight might be able to make out that it's a Crobat, with Blake clinging desperately to its back.]

[Anybody with very good hearing might be able to make out]

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKfuckfuckfuck...

[He's hanging on for his life as four wings flap around him and his stomach does a great impression of a bunch of furious weasels in a burlap bag. In a rare second of flying straight, as they pass over a street, Blake spots some blond hair.]

[It can't be...no, those damn stupid glasses are unmistakable.]

[Blake's eyes light up with determination.]

[If there's one thing that can cut through terror for life and limb, it's the prospect of petty revenge.]

Down![He shoves at the bat's shoulder, making it lurch. Ray Liotta is still getting the hang of flying with the extra weight and noise.] Down, goddammit!

[The bat swoops almost to the ground, giving Blake a chance to see the storefronts woosh by and really understand how fucking fast they are going, but he has something he need to do.]

[He yells] Hey asshole!

[Then he goes to punch him in the head.]

[VIDEO]

[The feed comes up on Blake sitting in Goldenrod's bar. He's a little out of breath. There's a few scratches on his face to go with the leaves on his shirt and the twigs in his hair.]

[He orders a shot of whiskey for him and one for the Crobat that's balanced on two stools next to him.]

[Blake drinks his in a gulp, and lets his hand fall heavily to the bar.]

[He looks to the Gear. His eyes are showing a little too much white and a touch of a leftover manic gleam. His lips twitch up.]

So I just flew on a bat.

What's the dumbest thing you've ever done?

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[Ray Liotta appreciates the compliment.]

In that case- [Blake is getting his bat a beer. Since he doesn't have hands, it comes with a straw.]

Strangest, craziest, stupidest, either one. You got a lot to choose from?

...Here, or back home? [ Because he can think of a lot of things from home. Like eating breakfast with a serial killer ~~and sleeping with his clothes on while having a fever~~. ]

Are you all right, by the way? There are twigs in your hair.

[The kid has to stop and think about that for a bit - one way of saying "yes".

Most stupid would be something mundane from back home. Fishing accidents make boring stories. Strangest depends entirely on where you set the bar; everything that's happened in the past three months or so has been off-the-wall strange, but not much of it is the "flying on a giant bat and sitting in a bar afterwards" type of strange.

Being Charmed by the Lilim horde counts.

...but we don't talk about that. Maybe something just as ignoble but less mortifying.]

...walking for hours, dragging some monster's reeking head to a herd of river-horses to prove it was dead. The thing was foul beyond belief. They ate it.

[the actual stupid part was how bringing back a monster's head is supposed to be cool but instead it smelled like a pile of rotting fish and shit and it sucked, but it probably sounds weird and stupid for any number of other reasons.]

What, with all the swords and knights and that crap?

Shapeshifting withes, huh. Before I got here, I thought humans were all there were anywhere. They're enough damn trouble.

Either one. It's not a da-- not a test question.

[His hand goes to his hair. Yeah, that's definitely a little stick tangled in there. He tries to pull it out and winces.]

Yeah. Just a little rough landing.

[That look suggests the guy is taking stock.]

[What he comes out with is a hell of a good one.]

...there's not one part of that that makes sense.

I've met a couple talking horses here, but they all look like girls and would be pretty pissed off if you gave them a severed head for dinner.

[Walter shrugs a little. Yeah he knows it's weird-]

-what do you mean, they "look like girls"?

[Generously applying that incredulous tone, here.]

Edited (no not that icon) 2013-10-06 03:05 (UTC)

Did you land in a tree?

Hah, figures. Nobody ever admits it.

[Like nobody admits to throwing up the first time they kill somebody.]

Nah, half the fun is knowing you can screw up and set your own head on fire.

More through a tree.

[and while we're being honest here:]

A couple trees.

You fly with the bat you have. [He rubs his head and admits] A plane sounds nice right now, though.

[Blake doesn't care about the dog but the bat's a little spooked. He remembers being small enough to be bite-sized to one of those.]

[Blake looks around the trees. He feels like his brain's been sloshed around in a cocktail shaker.]

Hey, wait.

You got any idea where the hell I am?

_{[Jack is patient and waits for Blake to get his bearings. He isn't entirely convinced the man doesn't need to go to the nearest Pokemon Center though.]}

We're at the edge of Goldenrod. Where did you blow in from?

I'm starting to wonder if you have any sense of imagination, especially considering where you are.

[He rocks back on his heels a moment, pretending to think about the question.]

Not so much a somebody as a something.

[completely shamelessly] Nope. No imagination whatsoever.

[A something called Dummy...]

If you're a fuckin' ventriloquist, I'm outta here.

Believe me. I've never talked for him.

Dummy was the first robot I ever built back when I was 15

Let's say I think that's true and not something you saw after a couple bottles of Night Train. How do you even get into that kinda situation?

[He holds his hands up.] Don't look at me. I didn't believe it either. All I know if there's a bunch of teenage girls around here who say they're horses.

I was trying to fly through the city. Just for a test run. I guess that...kinda worked.

[He presses his fingers to his temples to try to make his eyeballs stop rattling. At least he got to punch an asshole on the way.]

Maybe I need to start planning a little better.

...I'm sure the risk is what makes it so impressive and so worthy of respect, but I think I'll pass. I'd rather not actually lose an eye, next time something happens to my face.

Er....[That is a damn good question.] ...Well, we...had to cross the river, and they'd chased off the ferryman. [This guy doesn't seem like he'd accept the basic concept of demons no matter what Walter said about it, so why even bother starting there?]

But these are normal horses? As in the cart-pulling kind? [He just needs to confirm this. Walter isn't the kind to cling to disbelief, but he still thinks that sounds bizarre and unsettling.]

[It took far longer than Bro would have liked for him to recover from the punch, if only because his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings; the main one being surprise. It takes a moment for the annoyance to kick in, but it eventually does, especially when one considers his shades are now a broken mess on the ground. Those were goddamn important to him.

Clearly this is going to require a special kind of retribution. The reckless kind of retribution that one only does when they've truly got nothing more to lose. The kind that you barely think about before you do. That's exactly what he's no longer doing- thinking. He knows how to get back at Blake so he's just going to go fucking do it.

Wiping the blood off as best he can, he pulls himself up, grabbing his shades as he does and proceeds to attempt tracking down Blake. It eventually leads him to the very bar that the man is at, and he makes his way into it. Once there, he looks for him.

Of course it doesn't take him that long to find him. When he spots Blake, he starts making his way over to him, the look in his eyes currently unreadable.]

Edited 2013-10-06 20:36 (UTC)

[Blake's been here for a while, so he's put his bat away to take a nap in its baseball thing. The jangled nerves of the flight have worn off, and he's pleasantly buzzed.]

[This time of day, the bar's pretty empty. He's retired to a nice, quiet booth in the corner, where he's nursing a beer.]

[Daylight shines in when the door opens. Blake's not real surprised by the silhouette, or how it stalks straight toward him. A counterpunch is probably in the cards, but he's not concerned; if this asshole wants to go, they can go.]

Hey.

[He spreads his hands.]

Now we're even.

Edited 2013-10-06 21:38 (UTC)

[He might have let out a laugh, if he were in a different mood. Even. How the fuck were they even? He broke his shades, that was not even. Anger flashed in his eyes, orange irises glaring at Blake.]

Stand the fuck up.

[For slandering him and humiliating him, yeah. It's just about right.]

[The asshole's got a crazy look in his eyes, but Blake's dealt with worse. It's probably just how he's not wearing the stupid-looking sunglasses for once. He pushes his beer away and stands up, making use of his full height (though it's not real impressive).]

You want some more? Go ahead. Take your best shot.

[On the ground, Blake isn't impressive at all. Bro ain't scared. Bro is the opposite of scared right now. He's fucking determined. You don't just punch him in the face and get away with it. You just fucking don't.

Reaching out, he takes hold of Blake's shirt collar with both hands, leaning in close, his face full of anger.]

You really think that makes us fuckin' even, huh?

[Blake's collar tightens, but he doesn't blink. He's been shoved around by assholes who could eat this guy for breakfast.]

[He gets right up in his face in return. Bro's eyes got a touch of crazy there. Maybe if he were sober he'd be smart enough to be worried. Then again, maybe not.]

Yeah. I think it does.

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[10] Video/Action for Goldenrod - "Because You're Crackheads, Children."

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