[Visual| The Clock Shop - Speares]
"Goooood morning, fellow inmates."
Paul tap-taps the little screen, exhales cigarette smoke towards it. He thinks he's got the right settings for 'city-wide broadcast' but only experimenting will tell.
"There's still, what, a fucking foot of snow on some of the sidewalks? Just the right conditions to go shoppingThe view of his face vanishes as ( Read more... )
Paul tap-taps the little screen, exhales cigarette smoke towards it. He thinks he's got the right settings for 'city-wide broadcast' but only experimenting will tell.
"There's still, what, a fucking foot of snow on some of the sidewalks? Just the right conditions to go shoppingThe view of his face vanishes as ( Read more... )
I am, however, skilled at garbage removal. If you don't sell anything.
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The voice on the other end of the line sounds... husky. Like it belongs to the sort of guy who is instantly selected out of a lineup as the one to check for a history of violence.
"Well, in any case, I may keep you in mind for the garbage removal, Mister....?"
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[You can almost hear the grin]
I did once clean an entire stable as one of my labors.
[Actually, he didn't do that one. But he doesn't share that part.]
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There is a silence; Paul is rubbing at his forehead. Then muttered, low--
"Of course you are. Of course. Why should there not be a Hercules. Why should I even fucking be surprised. Fucking. Fuck. Fucking Hercules."
A throat clearing, and more loudly, "I've always swung more towards Apollo myself."
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He's a jerk. A big, big jerk.
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Paul pauses. Deep breath. "....you really claim to be a god, then."
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I'd say you could quiz me, but I'd probably mess up a few answers. It's been a long time. And as a professional hero, I tend to get... hit in the head a lot.
But I could do feats of strength, if you like!
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He can't help a snort-cough-laugh at the next words. "Professional hero? What, you get paid?"
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Another laugh.
"Though no. Not paid for the heroics. Mostly construction work."
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"...and you do construction work. Of course you do. What, do you have business cards? 'NO LABOR TOO BIG, NO WILD ANIMAL TOO MONSTROUS?'"
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He laughs, because that's what Herc does.
"I actually did work through the fine company of Damage Control. The company which cleans up after supervillains wreck chunks of New York in battle with heroes. Which... you may not know of, as it does not exist everwhere."
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"Oh, I've got a New York in my world, but not so much the supervillains and heroes. You're talking about actually... guys with capes, faster than speeding bullet, all that, right? Yeah, that we don't have."
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He pauses a moment, fiddling with the tablet to try and remember where that damn 'lock' key is though-- ah, there it is.
"I did see someone break a decent-sized tree in half with a kick, though."
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Hercules switches to visual, not that he intends to kick a tree.
Not yet, at least. He just flexes for Paul, just to show off his biceps.
"Especially when you're built like me."
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This is reflexive, Paul just blinking at the sight of a guy who puts every damn body-builder, steroids or not, to shame and then some. He's got to be well over six feet. Paul'd say built like a Mack truck, but he's seen Mack trucks and they can't flex.
".....well, alright, I'll certainly buy that you can bust up a fucking tree if you have the notion."
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