strike_you_out | twenty four | Trick or treat all the neighbors gonna die of fright

Action 1; various shops en route to 726 Anderson Lane
[Today, Slugger has decided to do some shopping in preparation for Halloween. His definition of shopping deviates from the norm in that he takes what he wants and leaves without paying, sometimes with an angry drone store-owner chasing after him and shaking a fist in the air. The irony of it is that he probably has accumulated enough money from his paper route to pay for everything he steals, but Slugger is embarrassingly confused by the currency system and can't tell a nickel from a quarter. His "shopping" expedition takes him from the grocery store to drug stores and any shops that might sell candy along the way.

Lemon heads, Mary Janes, bubble gum, red hots, lollipops, peanut-butter chocolates, candy bars of each type, jaw breakers, every tooth-decaying item the 1950's has to offer (sans candy corn)---all of this is piled into his stolen cart of Halloween goodies. He will return home to Anderson Lane pushing a dangerously overfilled shopping cart along the street or sidewalk. Occasionally, he hops onto the back of the cart for a ride AND to actually see over the mountain of sweets he's carting. Otherwise, when viewed from the front, it may look as if the cart is driving itself.

Action 2; 502 Ricardo Street
[Later in the day, progress continues at the haunted house where Slugger has managed to paint every wall in his section black. Even the floors and ceilings are black. On top of the black coat of paint, hundreds and hundreds of eyes have been painted in white, yellow, and red. Anyone who enters may get a sense of being watched because of all the staring eyes. Much of the painting had been done before the walls were even put up, and now that they are up, he can begin working on the fun part.

All over the floor are spools of black rope, some empty, some not. The room is gradually becoming a jungle of black rope pulled taut from floor to ceiling at different angles. The rope-ends simply disappear into the painted wood without glue or nails to hold them in place. Currently, it's easy to navigate between them, but when he's finished and all the lights are out, it will be a challenge to pass from one end of the room to the other.

In the center of the floor surrounded by many long pieces of rope, Slugger is sitting with his legs bent under him, quietly tying knots at the ends of each piece. He's learned a few things about knot-tying from the times spent helping his mother tie up his father.]

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[And normally Slugger would hop onto the cart and roll on by or maybe even try to run Accelerator over. Instead, he'll step down and drag the heel of his skate on the ground, bringing the cart to a stop. He isn't going to climb off or answer the question just yet.]

How was it?

[Not going to answer Slugger's question, either.]

Don't screw around with me, you bastard!

[Fine, fine. He'll answer with a most casual of shrugs.]

You needed a break.

What's that supposed to mean?

Your mind needed a break.

[Perhaps now is as good a time as any to critique his services.] Was it long enough? Be honest.

...Was it "long enough"? What the fuck are you on about?!

[Slugger climbs down from the cart now, keeping one hand on the handle. His eyes have drifted from Accelerator's face to the side of his head approximately where his bat had struck.]

Your state of unconsciousness.

...

No, it sure wasn't. I just love being unconscious.

[He keeps a careful eye on Slugger, arm ready to reach for his(still unloaded) gun if he feels he has to.]

[ignoring the sarcasm]

Because you didn't have to think anymore.

Are you just screwing around or do you honestly think...?

I felt your suffering. I came to relieve it.

I wasn't "suffering."

[He's forever in denial about feelings.]

You were...

[From the shadows beneath Slugger's cap, his piercing yellow gaze shifts from Accelerator's head to rove curiously all over his face before settling on his eyes.]

...breaking.

...There's something seriously wrong with you.

[Not offended in the least.]

It's my job.

...It's your job to have something seriously wrong with you?

To find the ones who suffer and free them. That's my job.

I didn't need your services.

[A look of puzzlement washes over his face.]

...You wanted to suffer?

A monster deserves to deal with the consequences of his monstrosity.

[Wait. What?]

You're a monster?

[You have suddenly become much more interesting, Accelerator. Slugger blinks, his eyes wide with curiosity.]

Do you have a job, too?

Hmpth. I suppose you could say that.

Then... you understand why I have to do mine.

So what, do you think you're helping or something? Because unless you're in this for a sick thrill, I can't figure out why hell you'd need to do this "job."

Both.

[The way he sees it, there's something in it for him and his victims.]

I've always done it. It's what I'm meant to do.

(no subject)

redirections.livejournal.com - 2011-11-17 02:08 (UTC) - Expand

strike-you-out.livejournal.com - 2011-11-17 05:08 (UTC) - Expand

Lindsay how did I make that typo even....

redirections.livejournal.com - 2011-11-17 05:14 (UTC) - Expand