out in the desert with my street sweeper [OPEN]

[6million_and1]

WHO: Zechs Merquise and OPEN.
WHERE: Zechs's apartment ➔ randomly walking around the City.
WHEN: Whenever it stops raining blood. B|
WARNINGS: Probably none? c_c Violence and Tyler's mouth.
SUMMARY: The blood on the streets is KIND OF FUCKING DISTURBING and Zechs needs practice anyway, so he's going out onto the street, bringing a little rain with

Comments

[stateofmayhem]

The sky had finally stopped pissing blood and shitting frogs. Another waste of countless hours. Obviously, this place was making a habit out of suppressing him from actually getting "work done." It wasn't prudishness so much from himself, as much as others and without followers, Tyler Durden was nothing.

He took one step outside, and silently peered down at the streets which were blanketed in blood. Stupid. Really fucking stupid. Whoever was popping out 300-year-babies like Balthazar and Company, needed to start having abortions.

At that moment, he heard a crash of thunder not too far in the distance. His gaze traveled down the street to where the source of the storm was building. It was moving in his direction. Oh, for the love of--

What.

Tyler squinted. There was somebody moving underneath the mini-cyclone, and in sync with it. As the figure drew nearer, he made note of the flamboyantly expensive-looking helm the stranger was wearing.

He sauntered out into the street and waited.

[6million_and1]

For a decent length of time Zechs didn't notice being noticed - or pretended not to. He saw Tyler, of course, and was unimpressed, but then he was impressed by very little at the moment.

He was a bit pleased with himself, though. Because it had started to rain. The clouds spread, water falling down in heavy drops, and the ground went from red to pink to . . . some color in between blood and nothing. It was better this way, and he allowed himself a small smile, quickly pushed away.

When he reached Tyler, all he did was step around him and continue on his way - at least for a moment. Somehow, from the way the stranger was standing, it seemed as though such a response would not be anything even close to acceptable.

[stateofmayhem]

Tyler Durden did not approve.

Instead of actually facing him, the cheap fuck just walked around him and went about his merry way. The only response he received in turn, was a downpour of rain. No. He wasn't going to let it drop here. Tyler's entire existence was based off the devout attention provided by others. Without it, he would have just been "Jack."

"I bet you think you're doing a great job here," he called out after Zechs, catching up so that he was a few paces behind him, "Blatantly displaying you abilities for the greater good. You mop up the streets, then what?!"

[6million_and1]

He stopped. That did it. It was easy enough, he thought distantly; there were enough triggers. But that one -

- for the greater good -

Well-chosen.

He glanced over his shoulder, by all appearances disinterested.

"I'm actually doing it because it bothers me personally," he said, tone neutral. "If you have a problem with what I'm doing, by all means, try to stop me."

It was a challenge, of a sort, but also an experiment. He really did want to see what Tyler would do. He recognized his voice now. The anarchist - self-proclaimed, in any case. Was he really?

[hellraiser02]

And with him, came another series of footsteps behind. Not audible, not visible with how very carefully the owners of those steps placed them, careful to try not to track the blood-- and, if he had to, track it through spots already well stepped on and drenched in red; wearing a cheap, newly-bought pair of shoes for the task, which he'd simply discard later. Ones with very simple, flat, printless soles. Perfect for the task.

In any case, Zechs was completely right about the fact that he'd always have someone watching him, and this time was no different, Duo thinking quick on his feet to plan out where to step fast so that he wouldn't lose him.