lieutenantantichrist | [17] [Text/Action for Mahogany] - "Whenever You Get Involved, Someone Gets Hurt."

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[17] [Text/Action for Mahogany] - "Whenever You Get Involved, Someone Gets Hurt."

[ACTION]

[In a low-rent corner of Mahogany, there's a real gym. No mazes, no boss trying to fight you in exchange for something they call a badge, no lackeys, just weight machines and a floor covered with rubber mats, the way it should be. Open twenty-four hours, and this late there's no human in this room but Blake. He's in a sweatsuit, gray in contrast to the brown of the Hitmonlee holding pads for him in its upraised paws. The only sound is his harsh breaths and the thump of his fists on the canvas. His shoulders are hunched like a boxer's. His eyes look straight ahead. Judging from the sweat darkening the back of his shirt, he's been here a while.

On the other side of the room, a Snubbull is sitting on the floor, looking at a Gear that's resting on the mats. A Musharna floats beside her. Fifteen minutes of frustration proved that claws are no good for texting with, but she wants to talk to someone. She really wants to.

She snubs softly, so as not to make her trainer angry. The Musharna's eyes show no reaction, but the buttons on the Gear depress. The text that Steve watches appear seems to be accurate, more or less. The transcription might come strange through the dreaming creature. It's close enough for what she needs.]

[TEXT]

Hello lo low hello

Please talk to me.
I want to talk.
I will tell you my favorite story.
He told it to me when I couldn't sleep. His eyes were closed for some of it but I shook his knee and got to hear the end. Without the end it isn't a story.

Once
upon a time there was a girl. She was poor and alone because her parents were dead, and child services didn't exist then, so she had to go to live with her wicked stepmother and do work for her. Hard work, the kind that nearly killed her, but in time she got used to it.

Then one day she heard the prince was giving a big ball. She asked to go, but her stepmother wouldn't let her. So she tried to run off and get a ride to the castle from a knight, but her wicked stepmother had tailled her, and she found her and dragged her off the horse. While she was going, the wicked stepmother threw the knight a gold coin. He held onto it, and he kept looking at it all the time. He kept thinking about the girl.
He wanted to help her, but he couldn't.

The knight went to the ball, and he was going to kill the prince, but there were too many guards around watching him, so he ran away.

Then the knight went to find the girl and save her. The wicked stepmother grazed him in the neck with an evil spell, but he killed her and all the other guys too, even though he got hurt bad. At first the girl was scared, but then she was free and she was okay. She got to go back home to her real parents. The knight was a hero. All the papers said so.

And everyone lived happily ever after.

..........
..........
..........

Tell me your favorite story.
Voice or video if you can.
The words alone are lonely.

Tell me please.

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[Sounds like there's a story there. But, seeing as how his jaw is aching from getting punched into spilling his past, he doesn't much feel like harassing Heather about hers.

For now.]

You know what? Yeah. I wouldn't call it feeling a whole lot better, but...

['Less alone'?]

Less of a liar, maybe.

[The look from Heather reassures the little snubbull, and she gets up the bravery to flop down by her trainer and lean her head against his leg. Carter's hand lowers down until it rests between her ears, and gives a light scratch.

He says quietly] You're a good dog, Steve.

Well, that's somethin', anyway.

_{[With a grunt, she gets to her feet and stretches her arms. The situation seems to be more or less defused.]}

I guess I should probably head back to the hotel.

Yeah. It's something.

[So his secret's out. The thing he's been carrying around all this time. Well, one of them, at least. And if Heather isn't thrilled with him, she isn't horrified, either. Hasn't even called him a monster.

Weird, how that makes breathing easier.

Blake getting to his feet takes a little more time and a lot more grunting. He gives his lower back a smack. He's going to be feeling this in the morning.]

Lemme walk you back. It's late.

[This may not be a place where druggies and muggers exist, but old habits die hard. It feels like the right thing to do.

He calls the Musharna and Hitmonlee back into their balls. The gym seems wide and quiet without them. His eyes travel up to the ceiling. There's one more thing rattling around at the back of his head, and he's been talking plenty tonight already, so why not.]

Weird to find something almost normal in a place like this.

[He slings his gym bag over his shoulder and head toward the door, pausing with his hand by the light switch.]

There's something this lady told me once.

_{[It's something that, in all honesty, she should be horrified over. In all her life, she never really forgave the entire idea of a police force for the way her father had been treated all those years ago, when he defended their home (and her) from an intruder who meant the worst kind of harm. To hear about a cop killing somebody's father... it should flip every single rage switch in her brain.]

[... But the key detail is that the Blake who confessed to the crime isn't the one who actually did it.]

[That part is important to her.]}

Sure.

_{[She won't object to the company. As they head out into the summer night, she shoves her hands into her pockets and takes an easy pace.]}

I've been comin' to places like this for years. Better than running off into the woods and needing my animals to fight for me every time I wanna let off a little steam. You just gotta know where to look for 'em.

Anyway... what's that?

Yeah. [He gingerly touches the sore place on his jaw. Gonna be an impressive bruise.] I get the feeling you've got some practice.

[It's important to him, too.

Fresh air feels good on his face, and the dark is a relief. It feels like he's been under those bright lights forever. Steve walks along beside Heather.

It's a while before he says anything. He sees her face in his head for a while first. Glaring cold and hard at him, like the noise and light of the police station around them didn't exist.]

There was this guy who got hauled in for armed robbery. Nasty shit. He was there for a while, we had a witness who was real sure. Turned out they were wrong. Anyway, it was his wife who came to pick him up.

[Lady headed toward middle age, straight black hair falling around a face that had a lived-in kind of pretty. At least, until her eyes went wide at how her husband clutched his gut and limped. She'd grabbed his arm and turned him away, whispered to him in rapid Spanish. He didn't say much back. Wasn't the real talkative type.

As soon as she'd looked at Blake, he'd told her he came in that way. Resisting arrest. It was routine by then, he'd barely been paying attention to more than getting this done with so he could get the paperwork out of the way, but now he kept remembering the look in her eye as they thought the exact same thing: that she knew he was lying, and they both knew it didn't matter.]

She said something interesting.

[Blake looks up into the sky. Lots of stars. The only constellations he knew were Orion and the Big Dipper, and he could never find them here.]

'There's a special hell for people like you.'

_{[Heather's quiet for awhile as they walk. She keeps her pace slow, to allow for Steve's short little legs to keep up.]}

... Maybe there is.

Who knows.

But according to some people, there's a special place in Hell for everybody.

Yeah. I've met a couple of those people.

This one guy, he was always going on about that shit. [He waves his hand in circles, though the motion makes his knuckles sting.] 'The sinners will burn and repent,' yadda yadda yadda. Never made much sense to me. I figure, if you're somewhere with some guy poking you in the ass with a pitchfork, the only thing you're gonna regret is that there's a pitchfork in your ass.

[Nights are peaceful here, when there aren't owl monsters sweeping at you out of nowhere. Blake and Heather pass under the streetlights in the cool night air.]

Blake looks around at the sleeping town.]

Now, here. Nobody shoving cases into my hands, no crackling radios, nobody wild-eyed and bloodstained getting hauled in howling.

Yeah. This is the kind of place where you can hear yourself think.

_{[He's pretty much got it right, in Heather's book. She's not really a big fan of the idea of Hell in general.]

[She nods, inhaling a deep breath of the cool mountain air. In other towns it'd be muggy as hell at this time of year but in Mahogany, it's relatively pleasant. And everything smells like pines.]}

I know someone who thought this was Heaven when she came here.

[Blake's a city boy at heart. It never feels quite right not to have neon signs and Chinese takeout places around. No laughing drunks or distant sirens.

Well, now, once sober guy making a short laugh.] Heaven? Was she nuts?

... A little, yeah.

Mostly just seriously misguided.

_{[Heather's had a lot of time to mull over the Claudia stuff since getting here. And since trying to kill HER when SHE got here.]}

She thought Pokemon were angels.

It... wasn't really her fault.

[Blake lughs quietly despite himself.]

Angels? Kid, of all the weird shit I've seen around here, I haven't seen anything with harps and halos.

[He gets what she means by "not her fault." He's heard that from perp's family members plenty, usually with that same sort of resignation.] Ah. Crazy, huh.

_{[She does let out a slight snort at that. In hindsight, she actually didn't blame Claudia for having thought that. After all, it was Sunny the Togekiss she'd been looking at, and Sunny's about as close to 'angelic' a Pokemon can get, in personality and appearance.]

[But her tone turns murky when she replies.]}

More like brainwashed.

[Sour sympathy tugs at Blake's mouth. His mind jumps straight to one reliable source of brainwashing.] This would be a hell of a place to come to from a cult.

[He's almost amused as he turns his face up to look at the stars.] You know, that's what I thought this was for a while. Bunch of weirdoes who don't talk quite right and dragged us here from home. It seemed to add up.

Yeah.

It was.

_{[Claudia had died trying to build Paradise. It was the last thing she remembered. Showing up here... she thought she'd succeeded.]

[And Heather found out what it was like to feel sick with anger and utterly heartbroken at the same time.]}

I think this place strikes everybody as weird, but... to them, we're the weirdos.

Yeah. And they let us in anyway. Shit, if it were me and some weirdos kept popping out from nowhere and yelling about getting kidnapped, I'd've chased them into the woods with a shotgun.

[As they walk nearer the lights of buildings, Carter's hand lays over his sore jaw. Talking makes it twinge, but he's had plenty worse.]

Hey.

Would it be weird to say thanks?

For smacking some sense into me, I mean.

[Steve certainly means to thank her for that.]

_{[She looks up at him, then smiles crookedly and bobs her head a little, putting an extra bounce in her step. She wasn't honestly expecting to be thanked.]}

Nah. S'not weird.

I've thanked people for doing similar, in the past.

You're welcome, by the way.

[His smile is faint and crooked.] Hope you don't mean for punching you in the face.

[As they reach her door, he mentions] Hey. You wanna spar for real some time, gimme a call. You know what you're doing.

Night--

[He's about to turn away when Steve moves, and there is now a little pink dog fiercely hugging Heather's leg.]

I might just take you up on that.

_{[She grins back, and is reaching for the door herself when Steve suddenly attaches herself to her leg.]

[She stops, a little surprised, but then leans over and ruffles the bulldog Pokemon's ears with both hands.]}

You sleep well tonight, okay Steve?

_{[She thinks of adding 'You were brave today', but Blake's still right there, and she doesn't want to remind him that Steve called her to that gym, even if he's cooled down.]

[So instead she just gives the Pokemon's head an extra tousle.]}

Hope that story I told won't give you bad dreams. Just remember that the Prince is clever enough to stay outta trouble.

[Steve rubs her face against Heather's leg for a second. Then she remembers her manners and steps back, snubbing an affirmative.

Blake is lifting a hand to wave good night as he walks away with his dog at his side when he looks over his shoulder and adds,]

And thanks. For talking to her, too.

[His mouth quirks a little.] About whatever that rabbit shit is.

_{[She snorts loudly, grin going crooked.]}

Read a book sometime, ol' man.

_{[And with a last wave goodbye to them both, she heads inside.]}

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[17] [Text/Action for Mahogany] - "Whenever You Get Involved, Someone Gets Hurt."

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