ONE | mad mad kiddie

[strike_you_out]

[At 726 Anderson Lane, there in an ongoing disturbance. Two drone kids run screaming through the yard around and around the house. One is bleeding from the scalp and the other has a bruised forehead. Chasing them is a shoeless boy wielding a chrome golf club. The look on his face is cold and his eyes are narrowed. He definitely means business with that club.

Finally, he tackles the slower of the two, sits on the drone kid's back, and starts thrashing the life out of it with the golf club right there in the front yard.

Approach with caution. There's a chance he might attack, but his weapon can be taken away... if you're quick!]

Comments

Caution? What is caution

[weiss-tank.livejournal.com]

[Luckily for the drone kids, Ken happened to be out for a walk. He's still a little sore from his last altercation from Schuldig but this definitely warrants his attention. He rushes over and tries to take the golf club away]

That's enough!

Apparently not a Ken-skill

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Hearing a rapid approach of footsteps over the lawn, Slugger leaps up and out of the way, managing to wrangle the golf club out of the man's hand before he can get a good grip on it. No way is he going to relinquish his weapon at a time like this. Not if he can help it.

Once there is some distance between them, he stops to face the man, eyes wary and golf club somewhat raised. He looks ready to either run away or attack.]

...

Nope, he doesn't learn it at any decent level

[weiss-tank.livejournal.com]

[If Slugger has any experience with it, he could probably see that Ken was not someone who was afraid of someone with a weapon, in fact, he seemed oddly used to it. He moved towards him to give the drone kids a chance to run off. ]

Give me that. [He held his hand out for the golf club] What the hell do you think you were doing.

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[He tenses like a spring winding tighter and tighter but stands his ground. His hands are starting to tremble slightly around the end of the golf club.]

[spoken quietly but firmly] They were uncooperative.

[That's right; they wouldn't answer his question and so obviously they had to pay. All who refused cooperation would feel his wrath. HIS WRATH.

What. You'd be a little upset too if suddenly you were a weak, pathetic human and everything that made you powerful was stripped away.]

[weiss-tank.livejournal.com]

Look, the drones here can't help you if what you want isn't in their programming. And that doesn't mean you can just haul off and beat them! They're still human, no matter what they say.

[He could understand being off kilter, especially if you were new to this place, but that was going too far.]

Now give me the golf club and we'll talk, alright?

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[staring, confused. He isn't registering a word Ken is saying about the drones; it's just a little too far beyond his comprehension right now.

But he does register the demand to hand over the club. Instead he holds it closer... and eventually lets the end of it drop to the ground as if to compromise.]

...This place. Why am I here.

[weiss-tank.livejournal.com]

[Ken was willing to take the compromise. Working with kids was always about compromise. It's no use backing them into a corner and crushing them. Always leave them a way to feel secure.]

You're in a town called Mayfield, as to why you're here, no one knows why they were brought here. Everyone is still trying to figure that out.

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[It's somewhat hard to notice two beaten drones run by and not take interest. At least, for Pokey it wasn't. Not that he was interested in helping the drones; rather, he just wanted to see how everything played out. He'd never seen the kid with the golf club before, but he had to admit; he knew how to put on a good show.

And so, he'll just wait. And watch.

With interest.]

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[The first drone doesn't appear to be getting up so the assailant rises to his feet, scanning the yard for the other one when he realizes he has an audience.

Shadowed beneath the bill of his cap, his eyes lock onto the bystander and he takes a few slow, menacing steps in the blond kid's direction. The club, slightly bloodstained, drags at his side. Putting on a show is one thing, but he also knows how to make innocent onlookers feel like a part of it.]

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[Pokey backed up slowly at the other kid's advance. Not quickly, but cautiously and slow. He brings one of his hands behind him; ever since he'd nearly gotten mauled by one of the freaks Vendetta had made, he'd taken to carrying a knife with him. His hand went for the handle behind him.

And found nothing. He must have either forgotten it or lost it. Crap. Crap.

Instead he just tried to look casually at the kid.]

Hey kid...I won't tell anyone.

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Slugger says nothing, just continues to stalk closer and closer to the edge of the yard. It won't be long before he backs this kid into the street. Aside from a few cars and a truck parked alongside it, the street appears empty.

Step...step...step...

The 5 iron is in front of him now, glinting in the daylight as it rises away from the ground. He may not be the supernatural force he once was, but inside he is still a monster. And if he can invoke fear in a person while trapped in this pathetic human form, he'll do it.

...step...step...

He crouches lower and then pauses, as though he might still listen to reason...]

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[Pokey matches Slugger's steps, backing up one each time Slugger steps forward. Outwardly, he's controlling his mannerisms, but inside, he's freaking out. This isn't going well; like him, the kid in front of him is a predator. Unfortunately, the kid with the golf club seems to be a much wilder, and less picky, predator then he himself is.

Pokey just stands there for a moment as Slugger crouches, before quickly going into a crouch, taking a handful of loose soil, and trying to fling it at the other boy's eyes, hoping the bill of Slugger's cap doesn't block too much of it for it to have been wasted effort.

And he's off, running as fast as a chubby twelve year old can to try and get away before the predator finally decides to pounce.]

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[The dirt hits its mark... sort of. It misses his eyes since Slugger has enough sense to turn his head and try to hide behind his shoulder, but one particularly solid dirt clod catches him right in the temple.

Now that there is dirt in his ear, whatever resignation he may have had about attacking the kid has been obliterated. Slugger bolts after him with an angry growl, the 5 iron raised like a baseball bat ready to swing.]

[law.livejournal.com]

[Maybe if he was a better person, Justin might try and stop what was happening. But after going on a drone-injuring-spree himself, it's pretty much cemented that he just doesn't give a damn.

So he also watches.]

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Slugger, unaware of the guy watching, leaves the beaten kid there in the grass as he searches for the second drone.

The hunt leads him to one corner of the house where he pokes his 5 iron through some shrubbery and scares the other drone kid out from hiding.

Cue more running and screaming. For your entertainment.]

[law.livejournal.com]

[The thing about wearing headphones at such a high volume, is you can't really hear people scream with them in. So he'll take them out, and smile while continuing to watch. Maybe he'll talk to the kid once he's done with this little activity.]

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Enjoy it while it lasts~ because he's just about to put an end to it.

And he does. With the second kid left clobbered beside the garage, he returns to the front yard where he spots the smiling guy and pauses. Normally, he might return that smile, even wave. But today he's not feeling it. Today he just wants to mangle this town and leave it behind forever.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), he can't because he's tired and he's human. So instead he'll sit on the front steps of the house with his bloodied golf club and catch his breath. And stare coldly ahead at that guy over there.]

[law.livejournal.com]

[Well, now that he's done...]

Even if you kill them, they return the next day. Or so I've heard.

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[The club rests against his shoulder. He's keeping it near; it's his only defense.]

Then I'll kill them again. [not...pouting]

[His knees are a little stained and bloody as are his gray knee-length socks which are not his. None of these clothes are his. Not even the ball cap (which is the wrong color anyway). Who wouldn't want to go on a killing spree under such circumstances.]

[Justin's words seem to set in now...]

Anyone can return after death? [read: even me?]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

And what do we have here?

[A severe black-clad woman seems to sweep out of nowhere, reaching out a hand to attempt to grab the boy's club.]

No murdering on my lawn, thanks. Go and play somewhere else.

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[And the club is suddenly out of his hands, putting an end to his little rampage. Exasperated, he turns around to face this woman and looks her square in the eye. Much to his disappointment, it makes him feel shorter than he thought he was...

For a moment it appears he's caught debating whether or not he should try to grab the 5 iron from her or cover his head in case she decides to hit him with it.

In other words: LOADED SILENT GLARING.]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Sulking will get you about as far as throwing a tantrum, which is to say, not very.

I don't especially care what you do to them as long as it's off my 'property', but I can't say I approve of little boys beating people to death -- however fake they may be. Run along.

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

...

[Fine. He'll sulk elsewhere run along. But since he doesn't feel particularly comfortable being "human" in public with no weapon, he'll be running along inside. Which is to say inside the house he first found himself.

So, turning away from her, he sighs and goes to let himself back into the house.]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

[She gently comes up from behind and places her hands on his shoulders, seeking to turn him in another direction.]

I'd much prefer it if you ran somewhere that didn't happen to be my house, young man. At least until you've cleaned that blood off.

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[His shoulders jump at the touch. He isn't used to it and it startles him a little. Peering at her sidelong over his shoulder, he finally speaks:]

Your house?

[is steered away from the door; he'll just start brushing at the dirt and stains on his knees with his sleeves]