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.

[stateofmayhem]

"No morals in anarchy, dipshit. That's called false advertisement. People who believe there's some spiritual significance, are blind. Those very same people think that when the world finally breaks out into a chaos state, we're all gonna be smokin' weed, tapping beers, and having an overall swell time. Those are the dumb fucks that believe in moral anarchy."

Tyler stared at Zechs quietly for another moment. The next few comments made his expression drop into a mix of boredom and irritation.

"Blah-fucking-blah. Round and round we go! I'm not concerned. I just figured that by tailing, insulting, and generally degrading you, I'd get you to hit me in the face. Why? I don't fucking know why. Because I felt like it. Not because of anarchy, not because I'm unique and special and feel like proving something. Just because I can."

[6million_and1]

Zechs stared.

There was . . . in a way, a sense of purity here as well. In a way it was irritating, in a way it was enlightening, in a way it was uplifting, but regardless it was purity and it was something that Zechs was incapable of understanding. To fight without reason, to fight because you just wanted to - to want to fight - that was unfathomable.

"Well," he said lowly, "clearly your attempt was unsuccessful. I'd suggest you search for someone else to give you the ability to do 'what you can'." There was a brief pause, and he turned, readjusting his helmet, his mouth a straight line, no expression visible.

"My apologies."

[stateofmayhem]

"Unsuccessful my ass."

He got a response, and that's all he needed. Eventually this guy would come to his senses. They always did. Sniveling pricks of society with some undefined moral code. Every person had that single moment of enlightenment. Sometimes it was seconds before death, other times it was the first time you pushed a kid off of a swingset on the playground. The sooner the better.

That said, he turned around, and moved forward. Zechs was only the first.