three | line drive monster [unfiltered]

[strike_you_out]

[The phone is picked up, a call is placed. The voice on the line is, at first, dangerously calm—]

To the one who stole what's mine...

[—only to become a sharply hissed whisper]

I will find you.

[After being droned, humiliated, and murdered (and ultimately dissected by his attackers), this is what tips him into a rage: his missing bat.]

Comments

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[Pokey's not so much the praying type of person as the "cower against the back of my bed type of person", gaze never leaving you as you go over there, Slugger.

Yeah, it's there, propped up against the wall.]

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Lo and behold, he does find it there. The bat now restored to its rightful place upon his shoulder, he turns to Pokey with a nod, thankful for the honesty.

But before he leaves, there is still one more thing...]

Lil' Slugger. It's what I'm called.

Your turn.

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[Staring. Just staring.]

W-What...?

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

What's your name. [Dumbass.]

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

Pokey. Pokey Minch.

[Yeah, stupid with TERROR.]

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Well, now that he's got what he came for... he turns, ready to leave.]

I'll give it back. When Mayfield gives me back mine.

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[That's...that's kind of pointless, but alright. Pokey'll just give a little "mmhm" noise and nod, quite happy to have you finally get to leaving.]

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Pointless to you, but to him being without a bat is like being a reaper without a scythe. Anyway...]

Sleep tight, Pokey Minch.


[If it sounds like 'Pokey Minchi', blame his accent. Grinning, he vanishes right through the door.]