Safety first [Open/Active]
Who: Ricardo, Mello, and YOU!
Where: In the parlour
When: Day 001
What: In which Ricardo is on edge and Mello is a projectile weapon.
Warnings: Accidental violence? Possible language?
( Read more... )
Where: In the parlour
When: Day 001
What: In which Ricardo is on edge and Mello is a projectile weapon.
Warnings: Accidental violence? Possible language?
( Read more... )
Never, though, would he have expected his most recent kidnapping endeavour to turn out like this. He’d known there was a significant chance that this would end badly, and he wasn’t even expecting to make it out alive. He realized that he’d probably have less than a chance if Takada had taken any sensible precautions in case something like this happened. And that was perfectly fine. If he did die, it was more than likely that things would turn out well in the end. He was prepared to take that chance.
He was not at all, however, in any way prepared for what actually did happen. He’d been driving, and he was sure he’d swerved or something. That much wasn’t a surprise; he had become ( ... )
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A rushing of air, the rustle of clothing, somewhere behind him.
Behind him? But how--
He hadn't managed to fully face the thing when it barrelled straight into him. It was a good thing that he'd turned to look, because it was travelling impossibly fast; if it had hit him square in the back, he may be facing paralysis. As is, it hit him in the side, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him crashing to the floor. His right arm shot out instinctively to catch him, but he didn't have time to position himself properly before he and his assailant both hit the floor in a tangle of limbs, hair, and cloth. Then there was an unnatural popping sensation, someone screaming, and more pain than Ricardo wanted to deal with just now.
Damn it.His kidnapper had already gotten the jump on him, and if he didn't get up now, it would surely be ( ... )
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He wasn't entirely sure if what he was seeing was even real. How could he have been driving one moment, and here-- in what appeared to be some house that he was sure he'd never seen before-- the next?
...Perhaps he'd died? That possibility almost made even less sense, though, even aside from the fact that he had no memory of having died. He didn't exactly think much of Takada, but he was sure she was at least bright enough not to try writing his name on a scrap of a death note while in the back of a truck he was driving. He figured he must have been drugged.
And on that note... If Mello had been driving the truck and he was here now, then what the hell had happened to Takada? He didn't see her anywhere; he didn't see anyone here, except for... well, the guy he'd just plowed over. Who, just like this house, Mello had never seen before ( ... )
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An explanation might have been possible. Just how possible depended on what information it was that his captor wanted to know, of course, but giving a decent response wasn't out of the question if it helped him get answers back.
"I haven't got a fucking clue about what sort of explanation you'd like," he snapped. He narrowed his eyes in disdain, his gaze becoming something of a mixture of pain and revulsion. "How about you fill me on on what's going on first? That'd be a little bit more sensible, don't you think?"
Even if he did get answers back, though, Mello had a feeling that he was probably screwed. He hadn't been planning for this to happen at all, and ( ... )
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"I disagree. To fill you in, I would have to know why you brought me here. Therefore, I can't fill you in until you explain yourself."
He was irritated to find that he had to stop and catch his breath after speaking that much. This state of affairs couldn't continue. The brat didn't seem ready to attack him within the next 30 seconds, so he may as well do something about the problem. He raised his hand and glowing runes flickered to life, circling round and round on the floor below him.
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Mello took a few seconds' pause to stare at the guy in some disbelief. If he was assuming that Mello had brought him here, then... well, he probably wasn't the one who had kidnapped him. Unless he was lying, the guy was probably in the same situation that he was. Had he been kidnapped, too?
He put the gun down-- it didn't seem necessary at the moment, not if this guy wasn't aggressive-- and shook his head sharply. "I didn't bring you here," he answered flatly. "I've been here for about thirty seconds, and I've got no idea who you are. When did--"
Mello figured it would be a decent idea to ask about the circumstances under which he had arrived here, however, he cut off mid-sentence and proceeded to stare again when something around the guy started glowing.
He moved to get the away from... whatever the hell that was as quickly as he could, however, yelped and stopped short when pain on his left side from the sudden movement held him back. "What the fuck?!" He gasped, staring at it with wide eyes.
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"You're telling the truth," he said, frowning slightly. If the brat meant him harm, the arte wouldn't have worked on him. That didn't mean he could trust the boy, but at least it established that he was not the kidnapper.
"Who are you?"
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Did this guy have some sort of healing powers?
"What the hell was that?" It was, he found, much easier to talk now that he wasn't in quite so much pain. He raised an eyebrow in response to the guy's statement about telling the truth; he couldn't quite figure what had made him say that, but supposed it probably wasn't worth questioning. "The last I remember I was driving, and then..." He gritted his teeth, almost in disgust. "Then I was suddenly here."
He hesitated at the question. It was a perfectly normal thing for someone to ask, but not something Mello particularly wanted to answer. Not truthfully, at least. That would be too dangerous, especially since he still had no idea who this guy was. "If you don't know," he stated dryly, "then it probably doesn't matter."
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But honestly, he must have had some kind of mutant horses if driving a carriage sent him flying that fast. Either that or he was driving them much too hard, which was awfully short-sighted since they would die young. Didn't matter. It wasn't his business.
"It matters because you just assaulted me," he pointed out, irritation creeping back into his voice. "It matters because we've had similar experiences arriving and there must be a reason for it."
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He realized the guy probably was right about that if he was telling the truth. The problem was that Mello wasn't entirely convinced that the guy was telling the truth. He might have seemed honest, but it was in no way impossible that he was just trying to trick him into spilling information.
"Hmm..."
He held back a retort about how he most definitely had not assaulted the jerk. "Similar experiences arriving?" He narrowed one eye as he continued to stare. "I'd like to hear about yours."
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"If you don't feel thankful, don't thank me. I don't need your thanks in the first place."
He couldn't blame this brat for being angry, of course. Ricardo had calmed down considerably when he realized this wasn't his kidnapper, but he was a mature adult. It was normal enough for brats to have emotional outbursts and misdirected anger; he would just have to tolerate it.
"I was disembarking a ferry. I fell and ended up in the hallway over there." He nodded at the entryway. "I was alone until you arrived. That's all that I know."
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The guy's story sounded quite a bit less painful than his own, but it was similar enough. Still, though, it didn't clarify that he hadn't been involved in this. He couldn't actually tell that the guy wasn't lying.
Especially because Mello was having a hard time believing that he hadn't been drugged and brought here in his sleep, even if that still didn't explain how he'd crashed into the guy at the same speed as the truck he'd been driving.
But before he had arrived here, it had been dark out. It was apparently the middle of the day now. There was no way that time hadn't passed. In any case, he had to make sure. He reached into the pocket of his vest for his phone, and took a couple of seconds to check the time.
His eyes widened as he stared at it. According to the clock on his phone, no time had passed at all.
He didn't understand how the hell any of this was possible. But then again, he hadn't quite understood how notebooks ( ... )
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As far as Ricardo was concerned, that was the end of it. He didn't believe that the brat had brought him. As long as the brat didn't try and attack him, he didn't care what the brat thought.
He tested his arm, setting his jaw against the pain as he tried to move it in different directions. The shoulder didn't feel right at all. Pain aside, his arm felt rather loose in he socket, as if-- oh. He had dislocated it, hadn't he. That was exactly what he needed, to disable his gun arm as soon as he was thrown into a suspicious situation. He ran his hand over the area, trying to assess the severity of the problem ( ... )
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After he'd checked the time, at least, any suspicion he had about the guy being his kidnapper made considerably less sense.
He was slightly surprised by the fact that the guy seemed more interested in his phone than the fact that he'd just figured out no time had passed. The latter, he was sure, was slightly more important. His phone might not have been in the best condition, and it was just a bit mutilated, but he didn't think it was worth staring that much at. Particularly not now.
In response to the question, however, he took a moment to give the guy a rather blank stare. Was he serious? "...It's a phone," he replied, at a loss for any further explanation. If the guy really didn't know what it was, then...
Where the hell was he from?
Well, this was certainly interesting.
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"A... phone," he echoed, his brows furrowed in concentration as he stared it down. The word was unfamiliar. It was good to see that Mello wasn't using it against him, but even if it wasn't dangerous, Ricardo was rather curious. He looked back to the brat.
"What does it do?"
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