Sørenzuma's Revenge
WHO: Søren and Zhi (AND ALL OF YOU)
WHEN: Friday, April 8th
WHERE: ALL OVER LIBERTY
WHAT: ...ERRBUDDEH 'BOUT 2 LOSE CONTROL
It had been an uncomfortable night in a cheap hotel room with broken air conditioning and a whimpering cousin pressed up against his spine in the single (and small) bed. His former therapist of long ago (the title of “former” given because Søren had one day gotten annoyed enough with the doctor’s self-righteous diatribe and had thrown all the bastard’s precious awards through the window from the top floor. Casualties of a well-deserved temper, he’d thought.) The one thing that the (former) therapist had taught him (that the Dane found of use, anyway) was that a simple game of Word Association often helped to soothe his temper at irritating situations as his mind wandered through new thoughtpaths. It began with him starting with what had caused his temper to flare in the first place.
The apartment.
The apartment was haunted or possessed or angry they were moving or something.
Moving.
That involved packing (some of which he had already done before he left for Århus so that Kai wouldn’t choke on a sharp spoon or something), moving furniture, trying to figure how to keep their very respectable collection of beer from exploding, because it wasn’t like that shit American beer-
Beer.
Why did so much beer suck? It was enough to inspire a man to make his own. Hell, the last time he’d had a really damned decent beer was back in Amsterdam-
Amsterdam.
Absinthe.
The good kind.
So the next evening found Kai doing…whatever the hell it was he did in the evening, and Søren took the opportunity to look up some his less-reputable friends and talk to them about acquiring a little something…special.
It had taken some doing; some favours, some favours, some promises of favours, and no small amount of cash, but somehow Søren (middle name censored because that information is just simply none of your damn business) Nielsen was walking back to the uncomfortable and cheap hotel room with the broken air conditioning with enough wormwood essence (hidden inside several Heineken kegs) to poison the entirety of Nigeria’s population.
Or at least make them very, very happy.
It would’ve made Søren very, very happy to keep his essence of wormwood intact as he traversed the industrial district. (A shortcut to avoid the more dutiful policemen; he’d heard Berwald’s toy was on a bit of a power trip.)
However, it was his misfortune to trod on firecrackers or poppers or WHATEVER THE FUCK IT WAS, IT WS EXPLOSIVE in the darkness, hearing a shout as he tumbled backwards in surprise and then-
Possibly the most horrifying sound to ever be bestowed on mankind was that of popping metal and the sound of liquid pouring down a grate.
A Danish man and a Chinese boy stood side by side not 5 minutes later, staring blankly down at the empty Heineken kegs (All of which had managed to somehow lose their contents down the grate.)
“So…what’s this mean?” the Chinese boy asked. Søren glanced up at the sign over the grate.
WATER TREATMENT PLANT
“I guess,” Søren said slowly, “This means everyone’s gonna start trippin’ balls.”
THAT’S RIGHT, MUNS.
STARTING ON FRIDAY AT MIDNIGHT (EST, GODDAMN IT. SO THERE.), ALL OF LIBERTY WILL BE EXPERIENCING SOME SORT OF DELUSION. PLAY OUT YOUR FAIRY TALE DREAMS, TRIP MASSIVE BALLS, REVISIT OLD EVENTS MURDER GAME, ANYONE?
Rules are typical: No godmoding, no ACTUAL murder and/or severe harm to another character (unless agreed upon, but KEEP THE ANGST TO A MINIMUM.)
Event will end on Monday at midnight (PST, just to confuse you all.)
WHEN: Friday, April 8th
WHERE: ALL OVER LIBERTY
WHAT: ...ERRBUDDEH 'BOUT 2 LOSE CONTROL
It had been an uncomfortable night in a cheap hotel room with broken air conditioning and a whimpering cousin pressed up against his spine in the single (and small) bed. His former therapist of long ago (the title of “former” given because Søren had one day gotten annoyed enough with the doctor’s self-righteous diatribe and had thrown all the bastard’s precious awards through the window from the top floor. Casualties of a well-deserved temper, he’d thought.) The one thing that the (former) therapist had taught him (that the Dane found of use, anyway) was that a simple game of Word Association often helped to soothe his temper at irritating situations as his mind wandered through new thoughtpaths. It began with him starting with what had caused his temper to flare in the first place.
The apartment.
The apartment was haunted or possessed or angry they were moving or something.
Moving.
That involved packing (some of which he had already done before he left for Århus so that Kai wouldn’t choke on a sharp spoon or something), moving furniture, trying to figure how to keep their very respectable collection of beer from exploding, because it wasn’t like that shit American beer-
Beer.
Why did so much beer suck? It was enough to inspire a man to make his own. Hell, the last time he’d had a really damned decent beer was back in Amsterdam-
Amsterdam.
Absinthe.
The good kind.
So the next evening found Kai doing…whatever the hell it was he did in the evening, and Søren took the opportunity to look up some his less-reputable friends and talk to them about acquiring a little something…special.
It had taken some doing; some favours, some favours, some promises of favours, and no small amount of cash, but somehow Søren (middle name censored because that information is just simply none of your damn business) Nielsen was walking back to the uncomfortable and cheap hotel room with the broken air conditioning with enough wormwood essence (hidden inside several Heineken kegs) to poison the entirety of Nigeria’s population.
Or at least make them very, very happy.
It would’ve made Søren very, very happy to keep his essence of wormwood intact as he traversed the industrial district. (A shortcut to avoid the more dutiful policemen; he’d heard Berwald’s toy was on a bit of a power trip.)
However, it was his misfortune to trod on firecrackers or poppers or WHATEVER THE FUCK IT WAS, IT WS EXPLOSIVE in the darkness, hearing a shout as he tumbled backwards in surprise and then-
Possibly the most horrifying sound to ever be bestowed on mankind was that of popping metal and the sound of liquid pouring down a grate.
A Danish man and a Chinese boy stood side by side not 5 minutes later, staring blankly down at the empty Heineken kegs (All of which had managed to somehow lose their contents down the grate.)
“So…what’s this mean?” the Chinese boy asked. Søren glanced up at the sign over the grate.
WATER TREATMENT PLANT
“I guess,” Søren said slowly, “This means everyone’s gonna start trippin’ balls.”
THAT’S RIGHT, MUNS.
STARTING ON FRIDAY AT MIDNIGHT (EST, GODDAMN IT. SO THERE.), ALL OF LIBERTY WILL BE EXPERIENCING SOME SORT OF DELUSION. PLAY OUT YOUR FAIRY TALE DREAMS, TRIP MASSIVE BALLS, REVISIT OLD EVENTS MURDER GAME, ANYONE?
Rules are typical: No godmoding, no ACTUAL murder and/or severe harm to another character (unless agreed upon, but KEEP THE ANGST TO A MINIMUM.)
Event will end on Monday at midnight (PST, just to confuse you all.)