strike_you_out | nine | joy, then pain. is this how christmas is supposed to work?

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nine | joy, then pain. is this how christmas is supposed to work?

[Slugger cautiously makes his way down the stairs and into the living room, stepping around and over the many, many cats that have taken sudden residence in the house. A certain skeletal cat-lover comes to mind, but when Slugger reaches the living room, Death is nowhere around. Neither is Eddie or Susan.

He's about to go search for them when something catches his eye. Beneath the Christmas tree is a pair of golden inline skates -- his inline skates -- with a note attached. It's suspicious, but after examining the skates and putting his hands inside, he finds nothing wrong with them. Once he's got them on his feet, it feels so good to be wearing them again that all his concerns vanish.

Obviously, he has to try them right away and dashes outside where he can be witnessed doing the following:

A) speeding blissfully up and down the street on his skates, taking delight in the rush of cold air as he swerves around parked cars and people alike.

B) kneeling doubled over in the snow, panting shallowly and clutching the back of his head for no apparent reason. Damn you, Mayfield, and your horrifying surprise catches!

- or -

C) trudging home through the snow in his socks, the pair of skates dangling from his hand.]

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..Are you alright? [He might not like humans, but if he's stuck here, he might as well play the part. B|]

[Not a word seems to reach his ears. As the episodic memory comes to an end and the pain begins to fade, he growls under his breath, furious. Still panting, Slugger raises his head and gives it a hard shake. For just an instant, a bright red glimmer flashes beneath the bill of his cap and his teeth look much too large for his face, much too sharp.

Then he freezes. Perfectly still and silent, head bowed. Evidently, someone has been watching him and he looks up slowly to see who it is.]

...

[Pride notes that with an odd curiosity. Not an insect then? He shrugs. HE can slowly test the water about this later. He needs to act like a normal kid. Which he does with aplomb, a worried expression plastered all over his face. ]

..Are you hurt?

[Slugger regards him with watchful suspicion. He isn't breathing as hard anymore and he raises one knee to place the blade of his skate on the ground, ready to stand. When he speaks his voice is steady and low.]

You a drone?

[Sometimes it's hard to tell.]

You mean the funny looking moro - Er, people? No. [Pride actually scowls a little. Even as a full human, his eyes manage to darken a fair bit. ] I'm just Selim 'Archer'.

[The kid's indignant scowl alone is enough to prove he isn't a drone.]

Good.

[Slugger rises to his feet and steps out of the snow onto the asphalt. He's feeling especially tall on his newly returned skates, but also a bit unsure. He hopes what just happened was just another freaky Mayfield incident that had absolutely nothing to do with his shoes.]

Has... anything happened to you, yet?

[rubbing the back of his head, checking for contusions...]

No. Not yet. I think that I should be happy. [He gives a shrug. He's actually not sure what to feel. Oh, he's proud that he's avoided the shitstorm that seems to be going on, but at the same time, he's unsure if a ten year old child would be happy to have avoided this all. ~~it wasn't in his how to be a human manual.~~]

You're tall!

...

Compared to you.

[Anyone is tall compared to you, probably. You fortunate little shit. Bad things will happen to you some day. They have to. Or he's going to have to make them happen.

Whatever "attacked" him must have been entirely inside his head because he's not finding any painful spots on the outside.]

You're new?

[Hahaha.. Bad things happening are his favorite... when they happen to others. When they happen to him... a whole 'nother ball game.]

Yea. I only woke up here a few days ago. I'm Selim. [Bows a little in greeting.] Will you be ok?

We'll see... [He kind of doubts it.

Slugger notes the familiarity of that gesture and returns the bow. It is something people did in his homeworld, after all.]

The people here call me Slugger.

....Hey, don't tell me you're dying or something.

[hunches down, staring at him, ignoring the cold]

[Despite how close she is, he doesn't appear to realize she's there yet and inches toward her. It looks as if he's trying to bury his head in the snow, for whatever batshit reason...]

....hey!

[shakes his shoulders, YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO SUFFER WITHOUT HER THAT'S NOT FAIR]

[Startled, his shoulders jerk at the touch. It seems to do the trick though, and he pulls his head out of the snow to look up at her.]

P- Parsee... [oh. shit!] -!!

[Rollings backwards off of his knees, he is now focused on frantically pulling off his skates before another (very recent) memory can kick in.]

....yeah, that's me. Good to see that your problem isn't memory loss.

[oh irony; she hunches here looking confused as hell]

[Once the skates are off, he breathes a great sigh of relief and relaxes into this lovely, freezing snow.]

No... but I wish it was.

Ah! Hey, that's dangerous!

[Slugger lifts his head a little to see who's talking but otherwise doesn't stop or say anything. He looks angry and exhausted and he's limping slightly. It looks as though he's already been through the most dangerous part.

Not to mention, his feet are freezing cold. Worst Christmas ever.]

-??

I hope you're heading straight home. You're gonna catch a cold at this rate.

[He slows.]

...Catch a what?

[Human diseases how does they work?]

You'll catch a cold. Those aren't good.

I take it the town has twisted your wish as well?

[She looks down at him calmly, one eye bandaged. Though while she sounds calm, she is actually very very angry.]

[Still disoriented from the latest assault on his mind, Slugger finally registers a woman's voice and peers up at her from the ground with wild, frightened eyes.

He thought he could get used to it the more he let it happen, but the "reality" of each memory only seems to get stronger. The pain of being stricken -- the pain his victims had felt -- is more and more real each time.

One hand pressed to the side of his head, he looks as though he's about to jump up and run away, but instead he just looks at her and shivers.]

Slugger! Slugger, what are you --

[With a cat perched on top of her head, Susan walks over as quickly as she can to her 'son'.]

[Just icing his head in the snow. And shivering. Nothing to worry about.

Though he still hasn't moved since she approached.]

[A grim expression set on her face, she kneels down beside him and turns him so that she can see his face.]

Look at me, Slugger. . . . Can you hear me?

[He merely stares at her with wide, horrified eyes until reality sets in and her face becomes suddenly recognizable.]

Miss Susan...

[Breath of relief. Slugger quickly directs his gaze toward the ground where his hat is still lying and presses a palm to his forehead. When next he looks up at her, he seems slightly more relaxed.]

...Is that a cat?

Yes.

[She doesn't say more than that as she goes about checking on his vitals in a rather icily detached manner.]

What happened?

[His eyes are still a bit wild with terror as he shivers under her touch. Taking his hand from his forehead, Slugger looks down at it half-expecting to find traces of blood. There's nothing, though, and no mark on his forehead.]

My head... The memories. It keeps happening.

[Picking up his cap, he carefully starts to get up.]

You've been suffering from hallucinations?

[This is what Susan gets out of his words, and it matches what happened to the Riddler nearly exactly. It's not exactly hard to notice the shiny new skates on Slugger's feet, and before he can get up, she takes a firm hold of his arm.]

Take off the skates, Slugger.

[Hesitantly, Slugger reaches down to unstrap the shoes. He does what Susan tells him to do, but only because he agrees that it's for the best. This isn't to say he won't put them on later in an attempt to "get used" to the horror that comes with wearing them.

With one shoe in his hand and the other on its way off, he again starts to get up.]

Don't throw them out, Miss Susan.
...
I need them.

I'll keep them for you until the end of the week. Until then, don't put them on again.

Don't go playing with your father's Christmas presents, either.

[He doesn't like the idea, but gives a reluctant nod. However, he'll be looking for any opportunity to get them back as soon as possible.

As for Eddie's Christmas presents, Slugger found something lying in the snow earlier and is presently going off to retrieve it.]

You mean this?

[The revolver Eddie chucked outside into the yard this morning -- he lifts it out of the snow by the trigger guard where it dangles from his finger.]

Especially that.

[Susan holds the skates in one hand and places the other on Slugger's shoulder. She speaks quietly.]

You know what it is, of course?

A pistol.

[He's had one aimed at him once before. It was in the cell block after beating to death his doppelganger. Thankfully, Susan made him take off the skates...]

Should I bring it inside?

[Should he also remove that cat from your shoulder, Susan?]

Yes. Stow it in the basement. And don't say anything to Edward until the week is over.

[Not with the pistol you're not. As she enters the house, the cat leaps down and joins with its mates in meowing a chorus of extreme irritation.]

[A nod. He's a little surprised when she leaves him responsible for the revolver, but considering the new bat she gifted him with this Christmas, he figures his homicidal tendencies don't concern her so long as they take place away from the house.

Following her in, he edges around the cats on his way to the basement. Upon returning, the pistol will no longer be with him. He vastly prefers other methods of killing, anyway.]

[Susan has less experience with gonnes than Slugger does. And she trusts him to have the sense to deal with it. That done, she herself heads upstairs while Slugger is in the basement, placing the skates in her room.

She is in the kitchen beginning to prepare dinner when he returns.]

I'd advise you to stay indoors the rest of the week, but it's your decision. Don't attend school, either. I won't be.

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nine | joy, then pain. is this how christmas is supposed to work?

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