Nightshift 42: Bill's Hardware

[ruthless_hunter]

[from here]Lockdown kicked the door to the hardware store down and barged in. There was already a zombie in here, a big one, who the bounty hunter guessed was the owner of the store. There were also two other zombies with him, so Lockdown was already outnumbered. But that had never stopped the bounty hunter

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[deadlyjuliet]

Simply put, the reason Grell was asking Luxord to do things was because the death god was becoming unexpectedly sore from waving a chainsaw about. It used to be that whipping his scythe about in one hand was easy, almost comically so, but tonight he was learning something very unappealing about being mostly human. Humans were weak. And with the pruning shears in one hand and the chainsaw in the other, he was hard pressed to try to do anything other than keep a grip on his greatest prize for the night.

Also, he didn't want to chip a nail while trying to manage too much at once.

Getting inside, the death god left the chainsaw and the shears on the steps for a moment, patting the red handle affectionately before going back to the storeroom. Crowbars were lovely, but he wanted something heavy to keep those things away from him. His skin crawled with the very thought that they should ever get close enough to touch him again. He needed a barrier that was harder to break, more durable, more... Box. He needed a box. Waiting until Luxord was inside the stairwell (wasn't that nice of him?), Grell grabbed a nearby crate (bricks, apparently) and set his jaw as he started pulling it - slowly - toward the door.

Right. Humans were weak. Stupid human body. And those nasty creatures were getting closer.

"Oh, for the love of-- FINE." Hopping the box to the other side, Grell drew on every bit of power he had in him and shoved hard against the wooden box. The thing slid forward with surprising ease and he rammed it hard up against the door just in time to feel the power flicker and die, leaving a headache the size of the Great Pyramids behind. Grabbing his head, the death god cursed and pulled himself up and over the box, landing on the other side rather unceremoniously. "...door."

[clockmongler]

Well, now wasn't he feeling silly. "...you could have asked for help, love." Or have been more specific. Luxord didn't know what in the world he was doing in the middle of this, none the less what it was implied he should barricade the door with.

...Ah, II was right. He was useless.

He placed the present on the foot of the stairs, alongside the crowbar. For once in a long while, he managed to look genuinely concerned for someone else's well-being and made his way over to Grell, hand outstretched to be of assistance. Ugh, those noises. Perhaps the crate would impede the little monsters' progress, which X was truly hoping for, but they still needed to make it to the roof, rather than the stay put. He'd help the God up and come back for the tools, if necessary.

"Come now. Just a bit further."

[deadlyjuliet]

It had been a bad idea, but now, at least, those things were stopped. He could hear them, thumping against the crate, but they didn't have enough sense to do anything about it, meaning they were stuck for now. More important than the z-things outside, though, was the headache raging inside Grell's head. Cracking an eye open when he heard Luxord's voice get closer, he muttered, "Faster this way..."

Not smarter, but he could rest later when they weren't being touched by those nasty creatures. Reaching out for Luxord's hand, he pulled himself woozily to his feet and grit his teeth. For all his whining about work, Grell did and could do things when he really felt like it and this had been one of those rare times. Now that said work was done? He didn't feel like doing anything but killing someone to make himself feel better.

Putting a hand to the wall, Grell took a few tentative steps forward and was glad, for once, that he wasn't wearing heels. This was as bad as a wine hangover after drinking at an all-night gala event. "Nngh... going... to kill... someone...."

Stairs. Stairs weren't bad. He just had to not...fall over.

[going here]