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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Bro had a lot on his mind. He'd been preoccupied quite a bit lately, which didn't really make it easy to pay much attention to thing, let alone the sound of something flying through the air. It was just background noise to him. Goldenrod was a huge place, so it wasn't like it was easy to pick things out, especially in a distance. Maybe under normal circumstances he could, but not that day.

But, as it happened, it was impossible not to hear the sound of it getting closer, and someone quite obviously calling to you. Maybe, just maybe, if the scene before him as he turned around hadn't been so goddamn ridiculous, so unexpected, he might've been able to dodge it. Instead, he watched, flabbergasted, as Blake's fist came right at his face-

BAM

And collided right the fuck with his nose. There was a crack as his shade snapped in half and fell to the floor, and he stumbled back. Unable to regain his balance, Bro fell to his ass, scraping his hands as he tried to break his fall, blood dripping out of his nose. Was it broken? He didn't fucking know.

Several thoughts went through his head at that. Primarily, what the fuck just happened?

And also that he probably deserved that.

~~and he had the weirdest boner.~~]

[There's nothing more satisfying than the impact of some asshole's face on your knuckles. Blake soars into the air feeling a whole lot better about the whole thing.]

[Consider that payback.]

[Even crashing in the woods can't kill his mood completely.]

[The bar he went into wouldn't be hard to find. Just ask anybody about where the dizzy-looking guy and the bat went.]

[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.

[If Bro were to have spoken in that moment, he would have said Blake was wrong. They weren't even- but he was about to make them even. It was... stupid. Rash. Reckless. But he'd been doing plenty of stupid things since Valeria had left, and this is no exception.

He was going to make them even.

Which is why his head tilts a second after Blake speaks, and suddenly Bro's lips are pressing against Blake's lips with ferocity.]

[Blake's ready for a punch, either to the face or the gut. He'll hit back, then they'll have a good old-fashioned brawl and get thrown out into the street to finish it.]

[It takes him a minute to process that that's not what's happening.]

[His eyes fly wide and his yell of surprise turns into a weird muffled noise.]

[After a frozen second, he puts his hands on Bro's shoulders and shoves him back. He wipes his mouth off with his sleeve, trying to catch his breath.]

What the fuck do you think you're doing?

[It's a real question.]

What did it look like?

[Getting even with you.

Or at least, that's what he tells himself. Any logical person could see that Bro was obviously not thinking too rationally. In his mind, it was getting back at Blake because he knew it would really screw with Blake's mind after their conversations about being gay and shit.

In reality, and he would deny it fiercely, there was more to it than that. After Valeria had gone, there was a part of Bro that wanted to find someone that would want him. Blake might have been a deprived enough bisexual to be desperate enough to want Bro. Of course, that was speculation on Bro's part. Or maybe hope. A sick, twisted kind of hope that he would never admit was there.

For just one goddamn night, he wanted to feel wanted again.]

Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it. That you wouldn't give your left nut to have your way with me.

Jesus.

[Blake stares at him hard, trying to figure out what's going on. Bro's not talking like before, when he was screwing around trying to get a rise out of him. Even an illogical person can see there's something wrong here.]

[From how he'd talked before he was either a queer or didn't mind getting mistaken for one, but even queers don't run around making out with people for no damn reason.]

[It's bizarre enough that for a second he can let the macho posturing fall a little and talk to him like a human.]

The hell's the matter with you?

[Something's making him feel real, real weird about this.]

I'm not queer and we hate each other. You forget that?

Nothing's wrong with me.

[He steps back a little, suddenly starting to feel like maybe he was wrong. Maybe Blake wasn't going to be desperate like he thought. And yet a part of him didn't want to give up just yet, because he was that determined.]

The former is still up to debate, though. [There's a short pause as he really considers the 'hate' part. That... wasn't true. He isn't sure where Blake got that impression from, but he doesn't hate him. He never has.] You're wrong about me hatin' you. I just like messing with you. Doesn't mean I hate you.

[Something's a lot different from usual. Blake looks at him for a while, trying to figure him out.]

[It's not long before he gives up.]

[He glances around to see if anybody saw what happened. No glares or anybody losing their shit, so it must be a no, thank Christ.]

[He straightens out his collar where it's rumpled from being grabbed. He heads back to the booth and gestures to Bro.] All right, siddown. What's your drink?

[Blake's gonna sit down himself and take a long pull of beer to try to wash off the weird feeling of a man's mouth. It works a little.]

[What Bro said was even weirder. Blake snorts.]

C'mon. All that shit about my ass, sending it to everybody? You don't pull that kind of crap on anybody you don't want to get fucked up. I spent the next week figuring I'd have to beat the crap out of people to get em off my back. Kept waiting for somebody to take a shot.

[Reluctantly, Bro moves to sit down. This isn't going the direction he wanted. It really isn't. But he feels like he doesn't really have much for a choice at this point. Not unless he wanted Blake to think he's some fucked up weir- wait, he already does.]

A beer.

[That's all he says, and then he listens to Blake continue speaking. Everything he says obviously points to Bro hating him, but that's honestly not the case. He just had a fun time messing with the guy- it was in his nature. Just the same way he messed with Dave and Rose and pretty much everyone.]

I wouldn't've done it if I thought people were gonna fuck you up. If they did, they would've had me to deal with.

[Truth be told, he liked Blake. That isn't even his girlfriend-disappearance insanity talking. He found the man's reactions to shit endearing. It was fun. Maybe he went overboard sometimes, but that was just in Bro's nature.]

I don't hate you. [He repeats himself, trying to get Blake to see that, though not looking at him. Times like this were when he didn't want his eyes showing off his feelings.]

[Blake signals for another.]

[Sure, he's a fucked-up weirdo, but in a different way than Blake expected, and right now that strikes him as kinda interesting.]

[His mouth curls up sardonically.] You were gonna play bodyguard for somebody you put crosshairs on? C'mon. Didn't need it, anyway. If anybody'd said a damn word, they would've regretted it all the way to the hospital.

[Funny, he says that and sounds honest about it. Blake runs through a quick evaluation and shrugs.]

Hell. You're a pain in the ass, but the guys I really hate...you gotta do a lot worse to compete.

[He cocks his head and looks at him. Something occurs to him.]

You look better without the sunglasses. Less like a kid dressing up.

[When Blake puts it like that, obviously it sounds kind of silly. But that's exactly what he would've done. Sexuality isn't a game to him, it's not something he makes fun of. He might've implied Blake was gay, but that didn't mean he wanted Blake to be the victim of someone's hatred. That would've been really fucking uncool.

At the same time though, he can't help but let out a small, quiet chuckle at Blake's following words. Honestly, he wasn't going to underestimate Blake after that punch. His nose was still kind of sore, to be perfectly honest. It seemed like it took forever for it to stop bleeding, too. He had no doubt Blake would've been able to take care of whoever gave him shit.]

I don't doubt you there.

[Blake's words after that... really surprise him, if he's perfectly honest. Especially the latter. He wouldn't have expected something like that from a guy like Blake- hell, it. Wasn't often he got something like that from anyone. Most people from his home world thought he looked like a freak with his orange eyes. He tried not to let it get to him, but it still sucked to feel like he had to hide them to be some semblance of normal.

The surprise flashes in his eyes, and he looks... What can only be described as flattered before he looks away and takes a hefty swig of his beer.]

Heh. Come on. The shades are fuckin' cool, dunno what you're talking about.

[Blake tends to fall into one of two kinds of drunk; the laid-back, laughing kind, or the mellow, thoughtful kind. He uses up all his mean drunk sober. Right now, he's had enough that things are all right, he's feeling no pain.]

[It doesn't hurt to have his manly skills of punching people acknowledged, either. He puffs up a little.] I can't let anybody go around fucking with me, you know? It doesn't look right.

[It's not real bright in here. He squints at Bro's eyes.] Those colored contacts, is that the style or something around here? I know this one kid,[he gestures toward his eyes] bright red. Like fuckin' Christmas lights. Not one of those idiot teenagers who thinks he's a vampire or something, either, a kid with his head on straight.

[They even stayed in when he cried, but Blake's not gonna go around telling anybody that happened.]

Hell no. Fuckin' hate assholes in sunglasses.

[Blake waves his glass toward Bro.] Huh, whaddya know. So you can do expressions besides 'jagoff smirk.'

[He takes a sip and rolls it around in his mouth for a while.]

What's your real name, anyway?

[Bro goes to shake his head in response to the question, feeling self conscious about it because he's now expecting Blake to make some sort of comment about them, but then the other continues, and his eyebrows shoot up. It sounds like he's talking about... Dave? Who else could he be talking about with red eyes? As far as he knew, there was nobody around like that.]

You mean Dave?

[It never occurred to him that Blake might not know they're related. It's not exactly something everyone knows, after all.]

Anyway, nah, they're not contacts. They're real.

[Bro rolls his eyes slightly and doesn't deign a response to the smirk comment. It's at the question that he falls a bit silent and takes another drink of beer. He guesses, all things considers, he doesn't mind telling Blake. It might earn him brownie points or something.]

If I tell you, I'll have to kill you. [He lets out a small laugh, his lips curled up into something like a small smile, proving Blake's point about the 'jagoff smirk'. He certainly could do more than that.] Dirk.

Nah, some Japanese kid. Ishymarroo. I've only ever seen that Dave kid wearing those pointy sunglasses...kinda like yours, actually.

[That's some fine police work there, Carter.]

You screwin' with me?

[He looks serious. Blake looks at him for a minute, then shrugs.]

Eh, it's less crazy than getting smacked by a frog.

[Blake's eyebrows arch.] Dirk, that's it? That's your big secret? I'm not gettin' killed for Dirk. That's nothing. I was expecting Eugene or something. Francis, at least.

[He's gonna real naturally not look at his mouth too much.]

Oh.

[He settles down a little at that, taking a drink of beer and almost wishing it were stronger- actually, he does wish it were stronger. He waves to the bartender and asks for a shot of the strongest shit they have, and a minute or two later he's got it sitting in front of him, though he doesn't down it just yet.]

Yeah, 'm serious. D'you wanna touch 'em and find out? Maybe get a closer look? Not sure how else to convince you.

[He sounds a little defensive, but for the most part he's not taking it too seriously. Blake's already proven he's not actually making fun of him, so he's relaxed considerably.]

Oh come on, whose name is Dirk? It sounds like someone's grandpa. I'm too fuckin' young to be a grandpa!

You give him your extra pair or something? Or is it a style going around?

[His eyes follow the new drink with approval.] You don't pussy around.

Hell, weird-colored eyes is small potatoes by now. Just don't go saying you're an alien and I got no problem.

[He leans back, one arm draping over the back of the booth.]

Besides, I already punched you. Poking you in the eyes'd be overkill.

[He does a half-shrug with one hand turned up.] Nah. Dirk sounds more like somebody outta Raymond Chandler. That's not so bad as names go.

[Well, it's now or never that he tells Blake about the two of them being related. He figures it's not really that big a deal. More people should probably know instead of it being some weird secret, anyway.

But first...]

If I claim to be an alien, do I get to probe you? [He lets out a laugh, before going a bit more serious.] But nah, he and I are... related. He's, in a really fucking technical and roundabout way, my son. [He's... not going to get into the fact that for the longest time, he referred to Dave as his brother for a variety of reasons, and that it's only because of playing sburb that Dave ever found out, though it's clear there's more to it if Blake wants to pry.]

We'll have to agree to disagree on the name, though. I still think it's pretty grandpa-ish.

[Still, it's pretty nice that Blake is being so unjudgmental. It makes him feel a lot better, all things considered. A second or two later, he decides to down his shot before calling for another two. When it's placed in front of him, he slides one towards Blake.]

Feel like something a little stronger?

[Blake looks at him for a second. Then he grunts a laugh in spite of himself] Hell no. Nothing from space is going near my ass.

[He's drunk enough that joking about this just seems a little risky, not fucking insane.] Besides, didn't you say something about a ten foot pole?

[He finishes off his beer as he tries to process that family relationship.]

I woulda figured you'd be too young to have a kid. But when you say technical...shit, you don't mean his mom's dead or he's adopted, do you.

Could be worse, though. Hell, there was some girl a while back saying something about...fuck, I don't know, meteorite test tube babies? She coulda been screwing with me, I don't even know how to tell anymore. Nobody here can just come from a broken condom like normal.

[He snorts] Try living with "Carter." You get a lot of "That's not even a name."

[Blake catches the shot glass.]

Hell. Why not.

[He raises it toward Dirk] To weird shit falling out of the sky.

[The first bit of what Blake says has him chuckling, maybe because of the sudden rush of much stronger alcohol going through his system- or maybe it's just all these coincidences leading to Blake already knowing a disturbing amount about all this shit. Meteorite test tube babies really isn't that far off at all.]

So I take it you must've talked to Rose Lalonde, too. My daughter.

[He shakes his head, a smile playing at his lips.]

They're not condom break babies, that's for damn sure. They're a little more scientific. Bit ain't like it changes anything. They're still my crotch dropping, even if they came from a lab.

[He actually sounds really serious about that. There might've been a time when he was hesitant to claim them as his own, but being here, living a semi normal life with them, it makes it a love easier to claim them as his children. He's fucking proud of who they've become. He doesn't hesitate to claim them anymore.]

Life might be easier if they'd come from a broken condom, but hey. Family's family, right?

[He gives Blake a nod, before downing his second drink as well.]

I'll give you that, I guess. Carter ain't exactly the most common of names. Blake, though. That's a bit more believable. [A small pause, as he thinks about it.] Which d'you prefer, then? Carter or Blake?

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