Who: Bro and OPEN Where: Throughout the mansion When: During the event Rating: PG/PG-13? Maybe? Summary: Bro's patrolling the mansion. Losers, watch your step The Story: ( I'm just a bad boy with a good reputation )
Maaaaan, Dave's just ASKING for it this entire event.urnewkingbitchDecember 9 2011, 21:24:28 UTC
Dave has no shits to give if the jocks "own" the mansion. He walks wherever the fuck he wants to walk. It doesn't matter if his strength isn't what it used to be. Dave can still put up a good fight if he has to.
The problem with being a Strider is that he has to admit to having a sibling. Which wouldn't be a problem except Dave is everything Bro worked so hard to train him not to be. And that, if not handled right, could cost him cred points.
But he needs provocation. Doesn't need to be much, just needs to be enough that he can claim that Dave started it. Sure, he could lie, but it was so much more satisfying when he didn't have to.
Part of the reason it doesn't work out to plan, of course, is that by uttering that single rule, Dave is breaking the cardinal rule Bro set down a forever ago: he's acknowledging his adopted older brother where other people might see.
Like a flash, Bro's up close, the part of the hilt he's not holding pressed to his throat. Really, the sword's a glorified stick; he'd never actually use the blade-end unless things got really rough. His voice is low, quiet but threatening all the same.
The blond is at least thankful that he doesn't normally draw the blade part on him. Otherwise, hasta la vista, this bird is flying.
"Nobody's around to care."
Damn it, why does he always have to challenge Bro? This doesn't help him from avoiding some nasty shit going down! Brain, mouth, communicate better for fuck's sake.
Why, indeed. Bro uses his hold to slam Dave into the nearest bank of lockers, eyes narrowed behind his shades, each word biting cold.
"That's not the point. Point is, little shits like you need to remember who runs this place or there's a world of hurt just waiting to drop on your head."
To think that in a few hours he'll be reacquainted with the lockers again with Santana. Is there something on Dave's face that screams SHOVE ME INTO THE LOCKERS AND MAKE MY LIFE HELL? Apparently so.
That does it. Bro moves to grab Dave by the scruff of his shirt, voice dangerously low.
"You don't get to dictate what makes a Strider. You only have claim to the name because I was dumb enough to think that maybe you wouldn't be completely lame."
Assuming he still has hold of Dave, he'll be dragging him towards the nearest public bathroom. Because yeah, there's no way little dude's getting off lightly with that one.
Then take a wild guess at where Dave's head's going? Because Bro's not even wasting words now. Just holding him still for the swirlies. If Dave's good, it'll all be over soon.
Sigh. Always with having to do this the hard way. Hope Dave enjoys choking on toilet water because now Bro's having to play hardass and that means holding his head underwater until the struggling has to subside. Not long enough that he'd actually drown, of course, but enough to get the fear of it pumping.
Yeah, he's going limp in the hopes that this won't turn into an accidental drowning. Or purposeful, depending on how someone looks at it. Besides, he doesn't't feel like having a death by a goddamn motherfucking toilet.
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But he needs provocation. Doesn't need to be much, just needs to be enough that he can claim that Dave started it. Sure, he could lie, but it was so much more satisfying when he didn't have to.
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"Yo."
Greetings are good. He's planning on that being the end of it, but it usually doesn't work out according to plan.
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Like a flash, Bro's up close, the part of the hilt he's not holding pressed to his throat. Really, the sword's a glorified stick; he'd never actually use the blade-end unless things got really rough. His voice is low, quiet but threatening all the same.
"What have I told you?"
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"Nobody's around to care."
Damn it, why does he always have to challenge Bro? This doesn't help him from avoiding some nasty shit going down! Brain, mouth, communicate better for fuck's sake.
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"That's not the point. Point is, little shits like you need to remember who runs this place or there's a world of hurt just waiting to drop on your head."
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"You're the one who taught me since I was in goddamn diapers to never let someone walk all over me. That doesn't make you immune to that rule, Bro."
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"I'm immune to whatever rule I goddamn feel like and there's shit all you can do about it."
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Whatever, he'll deal with it.
"Some Strider you are."
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That does it. Bro moves to grab Dave by the scruff of his shirt, voice dangerously low.
"You don't get to dictate what makes a Strider. You only have claim to the name because I was dumb enough to think that maybe you wouldn't be completely lame."
Assuming he still has hold of Dave, he'll be dragging him towards the nearest public bathroom. Because yeah, there's no way little dude's getting off lightly with that one.
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"Just means I had the sense to not turn out to be a fuckin' punkass kid like you, Bro!"
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He will never feel clean again after this.
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By the time Dave looks up, he'll already be out of there.
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