all these things must come to pass [complete]
Characters: notexcalibur, ornithophobia, ih8spiders , alphaspider... Also stalwartcane and only7percent . And now with Action seizeyoursouls.
Location: Commercial District
Rating: PG-13ish.
Time: August 10th. Late afternoon, nearing 5pm.
Description: England's turn to take his medicine -- and a certain person happens onto the scene afterwards. Our villain finds this a serendipitous turn of events, but... In the immortal words of ( Read more... )
Location: Commercial District
Rating: PG-13ish.
Time: August 10th. Late afternoon, nearing 5pm.
Description: England's turn to take his medicine -- and a certain person happens onto the scene afterwards. Our villain finds this a serendipitous turn of events, but... In the immortal words of ( Read more... )
Comments 77
At 4:44 on the dot, England left Death by Pastry to check in with the current shift. He had been doing this daily, for every patrol shift, taking notes on what the groups had seen and just to make sure they were in the correct spots. Sometimes he brought snacks to the volunteers to help keep their spirits up. No one had seen Crane, no one had reported any strange activity. England hoped that today would be different. If they could just gather some clues, one clue, they may be able to ( ... )
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Scarecrow might have taken heed of that mantra as well. Was it too much to hope for the apparent head of the patrol effort to be out and about, alone? Did he not practice what he preached? Normally, he might have looked this one gift horse in the mouth, approached with caution at least, but he realised that it was simply more likely that -- like nearly everyone else in this city -- England just suffered from arrogance ( ... )
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In one fluid movement, England turned around to face Scarecrow, grabbed the PDA from his pocket, and calmly pressed the SOS button. He did not want to give off the impression that he was nervous, but also didn't want to seem too threatening (which he was sure he didn't, not to a man with a burlap sack covering his head). He was half-hoping that he'd be able to keep Scarecrow in the area long enough for more people to get there. If that meant he had to be a decoy, then that was alright.
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"Not the wisest of moves," he said, bland. "But that seems to have your general trend, as of late." What else could he call forcing his hand early? They might've had a nice chat -- what information he had on the toxin and its application, relevant fears, traumas, neuroses that might have explained believing himself a country -- but there didn't seem to be much chance of that now.
Well, another opportunity wasted. It was a shame, but he'd do what had to be done... Which in this case was a sudden movement -- his arm swept forward and a cloud of powdery white poison erupted from the sleeve, but it was a little too late that he realised that he might have kept too much distance between them for the toxin to do its work...
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Honestly. If he'd know that it would be this easy, he might not have even had to bother with the toxin in the first place. Although he had a few more words (need me to come over there for you?) he kept his mouth shut and lowered his hands obligingly. Even if he had any other weapons, he was rubbish at them. And for all England probably knew, he'd rather not try the gas at close range, for risk of harming himself too. Nothing to be afraid of.
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How sad, England thought as he began moving forward again. A great country reduced to being powerless bait. He wanted to fight back but knew he didn't stand much of a chance now that he was a human. He was disgusted with the situation. What if it didn't work? Would England able to stop him? Was there anything else that he could do?
He finally transformed his right arm into a blade when he got about ten feet away from Scarecrow. "Let's go," he said, gesturing with the sword. "Turn around and start walking."
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So it was with a mostly-casual shrug (as if being threatened like that was an extreme overreaction) that he threw up his hands and offered a dismissive, "As you say."
He slowly turned -- leaving the head for last, since keeping an eye on England seemed to be his main concern at the moment -- but didn't move yet, either out of an intent to be as uncooperative as he could manage, or perhaps out of wariness, or... Something else. Biding time, maybe. He might've been saying "Make me."
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He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the blonde newcomer. He vaguely recognised the young man... Kuroro's friend? Didn't matter. Any company was unwelcome company now and he had a feeling that if he didn't hurry then this wouldn't be the last of it.
Pursing his lips irritably, he motioned at the shell that was England. He spoke quickly, businesslike, betraying none of his growing concern. "Too late. If you're expecting to take me in, you'll have to consider how long this one'll last without proper care." Bluffing had worked for him in the past... And if it didn't work this time, well, there was always the alternative.
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Time to give the situation another dose of urgency, then. Kurapika had kept his finger on the SOS button, and he very lightly brushed against it now, activating it and maybe alerting someone capable of getting here in the next few seconds--(Kuroro could get here within seconds via teleporting, if he'd been prudent enough to copy it off of Rhode that morning)--and now slowly pulling his hand out of his pocket, as if he'd just been strolling through the area leisurely and hadn't been expecting to find Crane.
"I wouldn't have minded asking you a few questions first, but if you insist, I can knock you out right now," Kurapika answered. Simple, and as businesslike as Crane's earlier statement. He wasn't bluffing.
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The more he thought about it, the more he realised that Kurapika needed to be taken out of commission too. How much had Kuroro told his friend about his toxin? How it was administered? Any information that could be sold to Shibusen, used against him? Yes, perhaps... Perhaps it'd be prudent to take the extra time to take out this one too. Killing two birds with one stone, if you will.
It was only that thought that kept Scarecrow on the scene now. All he needed was an opening...
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"You only ever drug people. You haven't killed anyone. Why?"
Vaguely he realized that his heart had started to beat faster. It had been a long time since he'd hunted a fugitive who wasn't Kuroro.
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"I am thinking of what's best for the continued survival of everyone here, and you're not helping," he growled.
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"How very altruistic of you," he hissed, making a half-hearted attempt at extricating his hands from Kurapika's grasp... Before a better idea occurred to him. "Allow me to return the favour with a little behavioural correction. I'm afraid you won't last long with an attitude like that--"
The close range had its advantages, and Scarecrow did (literally) have some tricks up his sleeve. With a sudden effort, he wrenched his arm in the direction of the other man's face, a cloud of toxin already spreading them. The mask would spare Scarecrow of the effects, but Kurapika may not be so lucky.
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Nothing happened at first, but the feel of the gas lingering in his throat triggered a coughing fit that turned into an urge to gag--what was that, no one said anything about the toxin smelling like smoke and blood--
No. Kurapika's eyes snapped open. The thought was there, that he'd failed to keep the gas out and was going to have to brace himself for the effects, but nothing could have prepared him for this ( ... )
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"Not running away this time, Kuroro?" he asked with savage glee as he stepped over the prone body--strange, that, there was something strange about all this, the man went down so easily with just a broken wrist and a single punch, was there a trick coming, a trap to lure him in? But no, no time to think shouldn't think and he had to seize the advantage, sitting down heavily on his opponent and holding the head steady with a hand around the thin neck ( ... )
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The second punch was certainly not as surprising as the first, in fact, he had a good long moment to anticipate it and cringed a little in anticipation, as if he could withdraw into the very earth beneath him -- some old, old instinct that he hadn't had to call on in years -- and then it landed and got itself over with. The mask offered him no protection, though he hadn't expected it to in the first place. What was a symbol of his control and mastery over fear before was now nothing more than a flimsy, useless cloth bag that really wasn't helping his attempt to draw air back into his lungs.
Dazed and head throbbing from the punch -- that would bruise in the morning, he noted dispassionately -- he still somehow managed to choke out some words. "You're-- you're insane," he spat in ( ... )
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So what was he going to do? He finally had one of his clan's killers in his grasp, and the man wasn't going anywhere, was maybe frightened of him now
Seal his abilities.
What--abilities? He could break the other wrist. No that's not enough it didn't work the last time, maybe for a short time but his targets were too strong and bounced back too easily he just revealed his hand and all his abilities uselessly kill him.
Kill him instead. NOW.Kurapika gave the man another blow 'round the temples, this time to shut him up, and since he couldn't find his kan and he couldn't materialize his chains no matter how hard he tried to ( ... )
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