TIGER ☆ 001

[fiveminutefail]

Who: fiveminutefail, selfmotivations & shushushuriken
Where: Near the Industrial District
Style: First
Status: Closed, Heroes only ♥

Comments

[selfmotivations]

[Barnaby had no such qualms about using his powers. In Stern Bild he used his own name and face; there was no reason to do otherwise here. But he, too, is running without activating his powers. Not yet. The need for it will present itself as it always does, he's certain.

There's a rift in there team now, Barnaby's unwillingness to forgive and believe being the greatest hindrance in their partnership. But when they don't have the time to snip at each other, when he doesn't have time to think about it, it's far easier to set that aside. And credit where it's due, the sheer amount of opponents is ensuring he doesn't have a lot of room for thought.

Coming up at the old man's back, he ducks under the assailant thrown over his head almost seemlessly. With a grunt he throws another kick forward, knocking an unarmed attacker back into one wielding a crowbar.]

- told you this was a bad place to get caught!

[Nope, the partnership isn't very harmonious at all right now, though the call out did serve another purpose. Getting reactions from

[shushushuriken]

[It's all a bit muted, but Ivan hears everything around him -- from the rapidly fading sounds of the battle they're leaving behind to Barnaby's urgent demands (pleas). He doesn't have the energy left inside of himself at the current moment to vocally assure Barnaby that he was still awake (albeit barely) -- so he instead settles for grasping the older man's arm and squeezing as tight as he can in his drained state. It's barely noticeable, but it's there.

His struggle to maintain consciousness is an active one, but he knows it's only a matter of time. In this instant, he hears Kotetsu's apology and realises that his five minutes are up -- meaning the effects of the strange gems would soon be fully felt by his companion as well.

They had to be close to home by now, didn't they? Barnaby couldn't be left to essentially fend for himself for too long, especially since his own Hundred Power was sure to expire soon enough. If it hadn't already

[fiveminutefail]

[He groans quietly as his partner pulls his sluggish body to its knees, pulls him then to his feet. He can't help the exhaustion, can't help it when his head uselessly hangs on his neck as he's supported. It takes him a long moment, a few slow steps forward with his partner for his mind to clear even just a little, but it clears enough for him to realize the burden.

He blinks his eyes, lashes just slightly damp with sweat. This is wrong, he's stronger than this. He weakly unwinds his arm from Barnaby's shoulder, manages to push away from his hold. He's already carrying one of them, and he, too, must be feeling the strain. As strong as they are, they're still human, and still have limits. He doesn't want to push Barnaby to his.

He shakes his head, stands as straight as he can, and addresses his partner.]

Don't need to... [His words slur together, though they remain comprehensible.] Almost there.

[Despite whatever protest he may or may not be receiving, it goes ignored as he stumbles toward his goal. His mind blanks out everything

[selfmotivations]

[He feels Ivan squeezing his arm, far too weak as it is. It's reassuring, even barely. He's worried about him, needs to get both of them home. At least it's safer there, for their sake. He tries to secure his grip on Kotetsu - but then the old man moves himself, stumbling forward, and for a moment, Barnaby just glares at his back. This speaks volumes to him - Kotetsu has so vehemently declared that Barnaby is still his partner, but even now, when he's hardly able to stand, he won't rely on Barnaby to support him.

(In other words, Barnaby is totally missing the point.)

So he doesn't protest, doesn't move for a moment, though the glower is partially fixed on Kotetsu just to make sure he doesn't fall. He strides forward, comes to the doors just as Kotetsu does and has half a mind to leave him there just out of spite.

But Barnaby, much as he sometimes feels that way, isn't a spiteful person. And he won't leave Kotetsu behind, not even when part of him is practically seething. Reason takes over and he hooks his arm around the old man

[shushushuriken]

[As they draw closer and closer to the complex -- to home -- Ivan finds that the chaos has died down considerably. It's certainly something that he's glad for, because it made attempts to focus on both his companions and staying awake extremely difficult. What he doesn't realise is that it's a bit of a double edged sword... because the relative quiet by normal standards has just become utter silence for him in his current state --

and he loses any previously remaining shred of focus in the process. His eyes become all but unfocused, and while he sees Kotetsu slump against the door... he doesn't see it.

He's nearly sucked into the world of unconsciousness -- eyelids fluttering dangerously -- when Barnaby's touch shakes him back into reality.

(Temporary though it may be.)

Somehow he manages a weak:]

Bar... na... by... san?

[It's less a question than a silent plea, because with one last weak grasp of the hand, the youngest hero's eyes fall shut and his body slackens -- sleep finally claiming him.]

[fiveminutefail]

[Kotetsu is still hanging onto his consciousness, whatever small thread he has left with a reserve of strength he's grasping onto with the last of his willpower. Even though his vision is blurred and he can no longer hold his own weight at all due to his act of misinterpreted chivalry, he still blinks his eyes wide when they threaten to close, and shifts his now slick with blood arm to his side, as to avoid getting any on his partner.

He picks up what the youngest mutters, feels the shift in weight on his partner's shoulder, and before any kind of outburst can happen within their small space, he speaks up.]

Just sleeping... [The act of talking exhausts him to the point of weak pants, and he musters the energy to finish his sentence as the elevator beeps.] Really... tired...

[As best that he can, of course. He shakes his head, lifeless brown hair follows the movement. He wants to unhinge himself from Barnaby's helping hand more than ever right now, wants to walk the rest of the way to save him the added trouble of carrying dead

[selfmotivations]

Ori - Origami! [He snaps, gives Ivan another shake. sleep might be innocuous enough, but the dead weight against his shoulder is less so. Panic rises in his chest and is swiftly fought down, stifled. Kotetsu sags against him and he's torn between telling him to shut up and save his energy, or to stay with him, to keep talking to him as a means of keeping some modicrum of wakefulness

[fiveminutefail]

[He allows himself to be pulled along, the proceedings a blur and when Kotetsu opens his eyes next, he's being eased onto the cushions of their apartment couch. His body is slowly going numb from exhaustion, and his mind cannot comprehend where he is or how much time he's lost between the elevator and the trip until several long and sluggish moments later.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion. He can hardly move, and yet he tries his hand at shifting on the couch (for no real reason), he can't see straight, things are spinning, and everything sounds muffled. He makes out what Barnaby says, though, just barely.

Keep awake.

He's trying his hardest, but he's fading quickly.

Blood... won't forgive you...

He chuckles breathlessly at that before he can even understand why. He looks at his arm, the cut not too deep, but long and still ugly. It, too, weeps red in a sluggish manner. He's already rubbed against the cushions in his shifting, blood streaked thinly against parts of the fabric.]Does the couch... count as furniture

[selfmotivations]

[He's absurdly relieved to hear Kotetsu answer, even if the answer is so utterly stupid. He doesn't have time to boggle over the old man's old-man-ness, however.]

Yes, [He replies, emphatically, but when he looks at Kotetsu he sees the flutter of his eyelids, the way his body sags where he's sitting. Quickly, he moves to him, hands curling on his shoulders.] Old man! Where's your usual stubbornness?

[He checks his pulse, too, just incase - and again, it's fine. Nothing to worry about. But what he sees before him is worrisome, and he leans closer to examine that wound.]

[fiveminutefail]

[He misses the answer, the next thing he can clearly distinguish from the blur that has become his consciousness being the rough shake of his shoulders. It works, and it brings him back, much like a defibrillator would, the results shocking to his system and above all else, exhaustingly temporary.

He watches the analysis of his pulse and his wound with a detached, clinical interest, but he's quick to take from his dwindling energy reserve once more to withdraw his wounded limb in a jerky, weak fashion, shake his head and lightly gesture to their sleeping colleague next to him.

He draws further to try his hand at speaking clearly, voice still tiny in comparison to his usual and words slightly slurred by a tongue long since gone numb.]

Take care of him, first... [And by that he means tuck him into bed, make him comfortable. It's almost a knee-jerk reaction for Kotetsu to think of others first at this point in his life, near delirious exhaustion isn't about to damper that

[selfmotivations]

I don't believe you, [Barnaby says, bluntly.] He's fine where he is. [He'll move him soon, that is, but right now, just incase - he doesn't want to let either of them out of his sight. He has to, however, to go and unearth the first aid kit - that he'd bought shortly after his arrival, in all his caution - and bring it over to where Kotetsu is sitting.

Checking once more that Ivan is stable, even if the signs stating so aren't very reassuring, he moves to Kotetsu's side to take a look at the injury on his arm. His grip is strong - he doesn't want the old man protesting further, especially not when he needs to get a good look at the wound. It's deep, but not anything terribly worrisome - not compared to the drowsiness, that is.

With antiseptic, clean cotton, and tweezers, he sets about cleaning it - not bothering to warn Kotetsu about the sting.]

[fiveminutefail]

[He loses more time, as Barnaby stands and leaves. He's entered a state of semi-conciousness at this point, his eyes are open but he's not really attentive to his surroundings. He remembers promising not to sleep, though, and he keeps his promises.

He remains in this state, his breathing calm and deep, as if his body's up and gone to sleep without his permission. It's not restful or relaxing, it's just a natural reaction to such a startling lack of energy. A near complete shut down, as all of it is directed currently on keeping his eyelids from darkening his hazy vision completely, and to frowning deeply at not having his request followed.

Awareness practically strangles him as his arm is grasped in a powerful, controlled hold and stung, poked and swabbed mercilessly. He doesn't protest or pull away, merely tenses, draws a deep, shuttering breath and squeezes his eyes shut against the headache and the encroaching nausea.

He gives it a moment or, at least, it's a moment to him, before he tightly speaks:]

Can I lay down now?

[Lay

[selfmotivations]

[Even as he cleans out the wound, his eyes keep flicking to Kotetsu's own. Were he more aware, he might see the worry beginning to show there - as it is, Barnaby manages to keep it to himself, something he's almost grateful for.

Like Kotetsu's wakefulness, admittedly. Sleep might be benign, but this is too strange, too sudden, too alien to be trusted. And that's why, when Kotetsu speaks up, he's absurdly grateful - but it doesn't stop the answer sounding harsh, clipped.]

No.

[He wraps his arm in gauze, leaning closer.]

Talk to me. Tell me what's happening. How do you feel? Are you hurt?

[fiveminutefail]

But, Bunny...

[He might not have the energy to move, speak coherently or even think, but he seems to have enough to whine. He sighs, frustrated, since he knows that he won't be moving on his own. He wants to lay down, rest his head on something comfortable, relax his tense, exhausted and cramped muscles, feel the warmth of a blanket seep into his numb body.

He's completely at his partner's mercy, though. At his discretion. All he can do right now is keep his eyes open, retain even just a small shred of awareness.

He stubbornly attempts to shake his head, but it flops limply on his neck. He opens his now bloodshot eyes, and manages to lock them with Barnaby's. Were Kotetsu more in tune with his surroundings, he'd tease the blond for worrying.]

Just tired. Keep... getting m-more sleepy. [He's short of breath, and he pauses to regain and steady it.] Head hurts...

[He's having trouble focusing his eyes. They're hazy with repressed exhaustion. For a moment, he almost loses, and his eyes start to roll to the back of his head, but he

[selfmotivations]

Come on. [He mutters it under his breath like a mantra, as if hoping to override the crippling drowsiness that claimed their young coworker and is now claiming his partner. He wonders about ways to keep him awake - food, a drink, coffee? But he doesn't want to leave him alone for that long, and he really doesn't think it'll help.

Leaning closer, he looks into Kotetsu's eyes. The lack of focus there is alarming, to say the least, but he keeps it from his voice. Mostly.] I assure you, there's only one of me.

[fiveminutefail]

[Normally, he'd keep his ailments to himself, as to avoid worrying others around him, but his normal brain to mouth filter has practically crumbled under the weight of the exhaustion that's threatening to overtake him.

He grins weakly, not as bright as he wants to, and tries his hand at chuckling. He fails spectacularly, as it sounds more like gasping for air than anything else, and only serves to drain his energy further.]

Yeah... [He pauses, and his eyes slide shut against his will, unable to keep them open any further.] Dunno what I'd do... with two of you.

[His voice trails off, but he manages to slide a hand off his knee to grasp onto one of Barnaby's, and he channels what's left of his focus into squeezing it.]

M'sorry...