snip snip

[implausibility]

Who: Adachi Tohru (implausibility) and, in no particular order: Jan, Godot, Malik, Isamu, Nagi, Ikutsuki
When: Hours after sirens, forward-dated to Friday evening.
Where: Outskirts of downtown Siren's Port.
Summary: You don't snip the strings of a puppet without it crashing to the ground.
Warnings: I guess it's a little late to say spoilers for Persona 4...

Comments

[bitchin_beanie]

Oh, he liked this place. Fucking loved it. It'd marry it and force it into countless sexually deviant acts every night if he could, but he was pretty sure it'd be hard to round up the paperwork for marrying a whole island, so he'd settle for just hitting the streets every night and enjoying the shit out of it. So that was exactly what Jan did.

Sometimes he took his guns, but mostly it was just him and the monsters. And yeah, he knew that somewhere out there was a sentient monster, that fucker with the retarded floppy red hat and the glowing orange glasses, and yeah, that sentient monster probably had it out for him. But Jan? Couldn't care less. Two years in Rivelata had more or less driven home from his mind, and he wasn't about to start in on it now.

One, two, roundhouse, jump away, lungebite -- wet crunch. Another one bites the dust. Jan grinned through a grisly mask, completely oblivious to the street around him. He couldn't smell any other weird lurching abominations in the near area, so as far as he was concerned he was all alone out here.

[implausibility]

There was a crash first, as sound always traveled faster, and barely audible over that ruckus, was the sound of an animal-like whine, rising in pitch but dying in volume. Something black and covered in matted fur flew into the vicinity, landing on the ground and skidding across the pavement before coming to a rest. When the dust settled, a huddled form inside the pile of landing debris gave a lurching, shuddering breath, its ribcage straining from the effort, before stilling to a complete stop.

"Crap, where'd it go? Can't believe we lost-" A hand, pale and human, emerged at the top of a brick partition, before a head of unkempt hair followed it. Adachi pulled his elbows onto the top of the structure before tumbling over it with all the grace of a elephant on wheels, but thankfully managed to catch himself with a few stumbled steps before landing on his face. Fortunately, it had been a low partition (lower now, because the flying monster carcass had taken its top-most layers clean off).

[bitchin_beanie]

Oh, well -- that was kind of a unique interruption, wasn't it? Jan was immediately on guard and ready again at the sound and the motion, spinning to face -- to face a dead monster? Well that was no fun, was it. Sharp golden eyes where on Adachi next, watching carefully as he pulled himself up.

Just a guy. Fucking lame. So he was straightening almost immediately, adopting the loose-limbed don't give a shit sprawl that he wore around anything he wasn't currently ripping the throat out of.

"Dude, bro, keep your shit to yourself!" he called, sounding decidedly unimpressed. "Being messy and shit's fine, but I don't need you flingin' your trash over here."

[implausibility]

Adachi frowned, looking the stranger down and immediately giving a look like he had just swallowed something particularly awful tasting, with particularly awful aftertaste too. "You own this place?" he asked, imperiously, with the high-handed condescendence that only came form high-handed confidence, misplaced or not. "Gotta see your deed for that. It's all about the paperwork these days, you know."

And as if moving on from a momentary distraction, he turned and skipped back over to the fallen pile instead, circling around it and occasionally bending over to inspect it, but his hands stayed in his pockets like they were shackled there. He never actually touched any of that, couldn't bring himself to hold his hand out to death. What if he got blood on his hands? That was traceable evidence. Then they'd know it was him. Then they'd drag him in, cuff him, throw him behind bars. That wasn't good.

The monster, whatever it was, was deader than a doornail, from what little of it he could still see underneath all that rock and wrought iron. Magatsu Izanagi was stronger than he had guessed, he thought, almost pleasantly, even if physical strength was about all it could manage right now.