The room they were in now was an expensive one, the kind of hotel on the Rogue Isles that caters to people with lots of other people's money. That pretty much described him and Lethane perfectly. Two people with lots of stolen green and no pants.
It did not apparently bother the blue skinned elf to walk naked into the hotel lobby. Raven still had his boxers and yet he was embarrassed all the way down to his toes, a reaction visible enough for the vicious cerulean bastard to comment on at length.
Several times.
Twice in the elevator.
Now they were in a penthouse suite with comfortable carpet, fantastic furnishings and still no clothing at all. At least the bathrooms had robes, not that he had been able to convince Lethane to wear one.
"Do you just like being vulgar?"
"Fuck yes I do."
He sighs. "How did I know you'd say that, felon?"
Leth looked up from counting a stack of bills, "Because you ain't dumb and you know felons better than you'd like to think." Then, with a wry grin, "Don'tcha, bank robber?"
That got under Raven's skin. He got up and turned away from the pile of loose cash, eye closed as he flexed his hands into fists of frustration. "Don't call me that." He knew it was futile, not to mention hypocritical. He was a bankrobber now, a criminal just like Lethane. He had crossed the line; he was a villain.
It did not matter that the funds in the safe were all just corporate overflow revenues, insured and replaceable. It did not even matter that despite his great strength and powers he had only knocked the guards unconscious or trapped them behind walls of stone. Mercy made no difference now, not since what happened... after.
"Hey, killer!" Lethane's voice rang out. "Souvenir!"
A mask hurtled across the room, thrown by the blue elf and impacting dully against his chest. By reflex he caught it. The blue and white spandex hooked in his fingers stretched as he turned it over, staring at the bloodstain over where it would cover someone's forehead.
"This...," he started to say.
Leth finished the sentence, "...is a trophy. Enjoy it. That's the hero-zero you clocked for me, big guy." The elven mauler grinned widely, showing all his fangs. "Remember, you can't make a dumbass omelet without breaking a few skulls!"
Raven was aghast, dropping the mask suddenly as if it were on fire. Was that it, really? Was that the mask off the hero he'd... killed?
His hand hurt; he still felt it. He could remember the moment as if it were still happening. They had been interrupted by those heroes just as he was stripping for that damned money bath. Before he could say anything, they opened fire. Meson beams ripped through the air, several hitting him in the chest, the face. There was pain. Anger. He did not want to fight; they did not want to do anything but fight.
Lethane had been more than willing to comply. He leaped from the tub of cash like a tiger upon gazelle. As green rained down all around him, his claws were claiming their due. There had been so much blood.
Raven had tried to end the fight peacefully, crushing weapons and slicing fuel lines with his blazing sword. Though he had caused a few wounds, nothing was fatal. These heroes would live, though they would be considerably worse for the wear. He wanted them to get away from here but since they would not leave quietly, he would have to help them out. Painfully if necessary.
And then it happened. The pain in his back, the deep sting of something actually cutting his impossibly hard flesh. What came next was like a blur, a dim memory of something that happened to someone else. Someone... evil.
He turned around, the motion pulling the hero's blade out of his back. That hurt, but there was little room for pain amid the roaring in his mind. He reached out, catching the swordsman by the face. His large hand wrapped around the front part of the hero's head, clutching tight enough to casually break his jaw at the chin. He held the wretch there, back to the wall, motionless until he dropped his weapon.
As burtual as that was, it would have been the end of things. It would not have gone any father. But then, just as he was about to let go, the hero team's leader shouted in a voice so like his own before all of this, "Let him go, you monster!"
Monster. Monster. Something in him snapped.
The rest was a haze. He only knew that at one point, the man's head came off in his hand. That was the result of using the swordsman as a club, of smashing through the room with him, battering down walls and heroes and anything else in the way. There was screaming. And the sound of crushing bone. And blood. So much blood.
There would have been more killing, so much more, but for Lethane's shouts of, "Yes! Head's up!" when the skull came free. "Good going, champ! Keep that noggin and we'll go bowling later!"
Instantly, there was revulsion. He dropped the grisly thing and turned away, running as far and as fast as he could. Scooping up money, the jeering blue slayer was right behind him the whole way, making terrible jokes about his terrible act.
Lost in this memory, Raven did not notice Lethane's approach until the elf's hand was on his arm. "Hey, Duck. I got an assload of pennies over there for your thoughts."
Raven blinked. "It's nothing. I just... I didn't mean to kill that man."
"Woman."
That turned his head. "What?"
"Woman. That swordsman was actually a bladebitch. You did the Rogue Isles a favor by ending her body count."
Raven slumped, half seeking a chair and completely failing to reach one before falling to the ground. "A woman?"
Leth rolled his slit-pupilled eyes. "Yeah. And a more vicious member of the breed you'd be hard pressed to find. Look, Duck." he said as he crouched beside him. "Slash was one of the nastiest heroes out there. You could kill from now till Christmas and not hit her kill total, that's for sure."
Raven took a long, deep breath before speaking again. "Wait." He shook his head. "That's not right. Kill total?"
"What, am I speaking Darnassian again? What word was tough, rockhead? Kill or Total?"
If he were not so distraught, he would have thrown Leth through a wall again for being just an irreverent prick. As it was, he accepted this as the elf's strange way of being friendly. Raven supposed for a homicidal misanthrope, there were worse ways the man could behave. "No, I meant the killing. Heroes don't kill."
That just made Lethane laugh. Hard. When he could breathe again, the fanged felon asked, "Are you serious?"
Raven nodded. "Of course. When I was a hero, we never killed. It was just... wrong." He said it, even though he could tell each word was just pushing Lethane closer to the edge of another hilarity cliff.
"I hate to tell you this, Duck, but you were the exception, not the rule. Even in your own team."
Raven stood up and stormed off towards the balcony. "Lies! My people were good! They believed in what we did!" Every step was a twist in his gut though, a painful echo what he knew Lethane was about to say. He did not even get to the glass door before the elf's voice called out.
He knew the words that were coming.
He knew then because he had already asked himself the question they formed. Many times, to no answer.
No answers at all.
"Really, Duck? So then how do you explain.... you?"
Monday, July 7, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
The Money Pit
Until this moment, Raven had never seen a man actually swim in money. Now, watching Lethane dive naked into a jacuzzi filled with stacks of green, he really never wanted to see it again.
"Do you have to do that?"
The blue marauder poked his head out of the tub and grinned ferally. "Oh Hell yeah I do!" He leaned back against the side of the cash pool and kicked his feet up, sending dead presidents scattering all around. "You should jump in. The money's nice and warm!"
"Oh, I don't think so." Raven started counting the next handful of bills, having saved at least a little of their ill-gotten gains from the swim-crazed fool and his tub o' currency.
"Awww, why not?" Lethane moved to the edge of the jacuzzi nearest him and leered. "Afraid you'll like it?"
He shook his head at the blue elf and kept counting. "No. I'm afraid you'll like it."
That got a laugh and a handful of twenties thrown at his head in a shower of green. "You wish! Come on," Lethane purred as he moved back to the middle of his little pond of avarice. "You can even keep your pants on, big guy." Then he laughed and went bottoms up.
Literally.
Raven, glancing over at exactly the wrong time, got quite the view. "Can't... unsee... that!"
More laughter.
Raven looked away, keeping his eyes tightly closed. "I am trying to figure out how much of this we get to keep and how much we have to give to your contact. If you don't stop it, I'll never finish." He tried to blink away the image of blue elven ass, succeeding only in giving himself a headache.
"Mikey ain't coming over until tomorrow and it'll take a lot less time to count this stuff if I help."
Raven sighed. "You know what would also help get this done?"
Leth grinned and quipped, "You pulling that stick out of your butt and having a little fun for once?"
He clenched his fists, feeling the earth beneath him rumble in echo to his irritation. "No," Raven said with a growl. "You not taking half the loot and running yourself a trouble-bath!"
That earned him a mocking pout and made the tremors around him a little bit worse. No one got under his skin like this psychopathic long-ear. No one.
"Awww, calm down, Duck. Tell you what." Leth flipped over and lounged in the cash. "You come have a soak in here with me and after we're good and moneyed up, I'll come help you count. I'll even empty the jacuzzi and restack all the bills myself."
Raven released his grip slowly, the ground calming as he did so. "Promise?"
Lethane held up one claw-tipped hand. "Scout's honor."
He stared at the elf skeptically. "I sincerely doubt you were ever a scout."
The maniac's blue lips parted in a wicked, toothy grin. "I ate one once. Does that count?"
Raven's disgusted look was all the answer he felt like giving. After a long, intentional silence, he stood up and put the crumpled money in his hands on the table. "Fine. You win. But I am NOT getting naked."
Leth shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's your loss. But at least pretend you're swimming? The feel of moeny on your bare skin is so nice."
"Fine." Raven took a moment to strip out of his shirt and pants, leaving on his boxers. Lethane was a bizarre creature to be sure; he had no doubt that if given a chance, the elf would most certainly take advantage of a situation like this. Still, if a quick dip in the emerald tub would get the bastard to actually help around here, it was worth going this far.
He was pulling off his socks when the door burst in behind him and four heroes rushed in!
"Paragon City Patrol! Surrender or... what the gay hell is this?!?"
Raven just closed his eyes. If they were polite, they would just shoot him and put him out of his misery...
"Do you have to do that?"
The blue marauder poked his head out of the tub and grinned ferally. "Oh Hell yeah I do!" He leaned back against the side of the cash pool and kicked his feet up, sending dead presidents scattering all around. "You should jump in. The money's nice and warm!"
"Oh, I don't think so." Raven started counting the next handful of bills, having saved at least a little of their ill-gotten gains from the swim-crazed fool and his tub o' currency.
"Awww, why not?" Lethane moved to the edge of the jacuzzi nearest him and leered. "Afraid you'll like it?"
He shook his head at the blue elf and kept counting. "No. I'm afraid you'll like it."
That got a laugh and a handful of twenties thrown at his head in a shower of green. "You wish! Come on," Lethane purred as he moved back to the middle of his little pond of avarice. "You can even keep your pants on, big guy." Then he laughed and went bottoms up.
Literally.
Raven, glancing over at exactly the wrong time, got quite the view. "Can't... unsee... that!"
More laughter.
Raven looked away, keeping his eyes tightly closed. "I am trying to figure out how much of this we get to keep and how much we have to give to your contact. If you don't stop it, I'll never finish." He tried to blink away the image of blue elven ass, succeeding only in giving himself a headache.
"Mikey ain't coming over until tomorrow and it'll take a lot less time to count this stuff if I help."
Raven sighed. "You know what would also help get this done?"
Leth grinned and quipped, "You pulling that stick out of your butt and having a little fun for once?"
He clenched his fists, feeling the earth beneath him rumble in echo to his irritation. "No," Raven said with a growl. "You not taking half the loot and running yourself a trouble-bath!"
That earned him a mocking pout and made the tremors around him a little bit worse. No one got under his skin like this psychopathic long-ear. No one.
"Awww, calm down, Duck. Tell you what." Leth flipped over and lounged in the cash. "You come have a soak in here with me and after we're good and moneyed up, I'll come help you count. I'll even empty the jacuzzi and restack all the bills myself."
Raven released his grip slowly, the ground calming as he did so. "Promise?"
Lethane held up one claw-tipped hand. "Scout's honor."
He stared at the elf skeptically. "I sincerely doubt you were ever a scout."
The maniac's blue lips parted in a wicked, toothy grin. "I ate one once. Does that count?"
Raven's disgusted look was all the answer he felt like giving. After a long, intentional silence, he stood up and put the crumpled money in his hands on the table. "Fine. You win. But I am NOT getting naked."
Leth shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's your loss. But at least pretend you're swimming? The feel of moeny on your bare skin is so nice."
"Fine." Raven took a moment to strip out of his shirt and pants, leaving on his boxers. Lethane was a bizarre creature to be sure; he had no doubt that if given a chance, the elf would most certainly take advantage of a situation like this. Still, if a quick dip in the emerald tub would get the bastard to actually help around here, it was worth going this far.
He was pulling off his socks when the door burst in behind him and four heroes rushed in!
"Paragon City Patrol! Surrender or... what the gay hell is this?!?"
Raven just closed his eyes. If they were polite, they would just shoot him and put him out of his misery...
Monday, February 18, 2008
Miscalculations
"Nice going, genius."
Raven sighed, looking down at his stone-sheathed fist and the sparking electronics falling away from it like a silicon rain. "You said 'hit the control panel'."
Lethane dropped the bank guard he was biting and let the man's limb body slump at his feet. "I didn't mean hit the controls, dipshit. I meant for you to punch in the code we got from the Radio." he looked exasperated, hissing past bloody teeth. "You know, the one to open this damned tritanium safe."
"Well, do be clear, I am still not sure we should even be doing this."
Leth just open-palm whapped him on the fore head hard enough to rock him back on his armored feet. "Are you a villain or not?"
Raven started to open his mouth in the negative.
"Before you answer no, keep this in mind." Before saying another word, the feral savage pulled a brutal looking submachine gun off his back and hosed down the far end of the hall, cutting down five guards rushing towards them both.
The ex-hero watched them fall with some regret. He did not really want to be here and these security agents were only doing their jobs. Employed by the island, by Arachnos, did not necessarily make them bad people. They were just men and women trying to make lives for themselves on the Rogue Isles.
"Keep what in mind?"
Leth pulled the clip out of his gun and checked it. "Nine shots. Lovely." Slapping it back in, he palm spacked Raven's head again. "Pay attention, Duck. This ain't Paragon City and your patroness ain't Mary, Mother of Saints. Got it?"
He nodded slowly. "I know all that, Leth. I know I have to try to fit in, if only so I can hide long enough to get to the people that did this to me."
Leth hit him again. That was getting annoying. "Wrong."
"What?"
The blue skinned marauder emptied what was left of the clip into approaching reinforcements, throwing the useless gun hard enough at the sole surviving guard hard enough to shatter his skull. "I said wrong, Duck. Deaf as well as stupid?"
Bloodraven closed his right hand into a tight fist. "Enough with the insults, Leth. Just say what you're getting at."
Sighing, the lanky slayer turned to the sheer silvery door of the vault and rested his head against it dejectedly. "You just don't get it. Being a villain on the Rogue Isles is tough." Turning his eye, Leth gazed at Raven with narrowed feline eyes. "Being a hero is impossible."
Shifting in his stone-bonded armor, Bloodraven walked over and tapped the tritanium portal with his fists. "I know. You already said you'd kill me if I didn't get with the program."
Lethane watched his hesitatnt partner in crime eye the door and its circular, inpregniable frame. "Duck, it ain't me you have to worry about. If I still wanted you dead, you'd never have survived Piercing Night." An amused smile creased the savage's lips, growing wider at the chagrined look on Bloodraven's face.
"Then who?" Raven was feeling over the door now, trying to find handholds.
Lethane was too busy to answer him at first, chucking huge chunks of marble debris at the flak-armored Guardian agents appearing in the hall. As each one went down in a shower of gore and broken rock, he glanced back and snapped, "It's everyone else, moron! And quit that! Your 'tear the door off' trick won't work here." He heaved another glittering boulder and crushed the last of the agents up against the far wall, a red smear over grey stone.
"Why not?"
"Because the whole vault is tritanium, all the way down to the hinge pins. It doesn't have a vulnerable point!" Leth snarled, his claws growing to deadly length in anticipation of the nexty wave of defenders.
"Oh."
"That's all you have to say? We have to fight our way out of here, go get a digital panel to hack into the display you just ruined and get back here before all of Atlas shows up to stop us... and all you have to say is 'Oh!'?!?"
Raven shrugged. "You didn't let me finish."
Lethane crouched low, hearing faint metallic footsteps on the bank level above. "What, Raven?! There is no fucking way you could possibly finish a sentence that starts with 'Oh' that won't make me smack you?"
Raven closed his eyes, the power of the earth beneath him rising at the focus of his will. This was still a new thing, a tenuous rapport he did not truly understand, but the contact was getting clearer every time he reached for it.
He called and the molten heart of the world itself, answered.
"What was I was going to say was, 'Oh. I guess we'll just have to take the whole vault with us.'"
And with that, his shoulders tioghtened, his back arched and he pulled against the vault. The entire building shuddered at once. Around Bloodraven's feet, the floor split and ruptured. The walls shook, massive rifts cracking in jagged lines of stone and dust. The bank screamed in lithic agony, pipes tearing like arteries, struts breaking like ferric bones!
And as Lethane watched, slack jawed, the entire tritanium chamber tore free amid a shower of ceiling stones and falling earth. Then it was moving, upwards and outwards, towards the surface. Bloodraven was pushing it forward, his weak but effective flight ability guiding it as he 'swam' through the ground, leaving a tunnel for Lethane to use.
"Okay," the cerulean elf said breathlessly as he scrambled to keep up.
"I stand corrected."
Raven sighed, looking down at his stone-sheathed fist and the sparking electronics falling away from it like a silicon rain. "You said 'hit the control panel'."
Lethane dropped the bank guard he was biting and let the man's limb body slump at his feet. "I didn't mean hit the controls, dipshit. I meant for you to punch in the code we got from the Radio." he looked exasperated, hissing past bloody teeth. "You know, the one to open this damned tritanium safe."
"Well, do be clear, I am still not sure we should even be doing this."
Leth just open-palm whapped him on the fore head hard enough to rock him back on his armored feet. "Are you a villain or not?"
Raven started to open his mouth in the negative.
"Before you answer no, keep this in mind." Before saying another word, the feral savage pulled a brutal looking submachine gun off his back and hosed down the far end of the hall, cutting down five guards rushing towards them both.
The ex-hero watched them fall with some regret. He did not really want to be here and these security agents were only doing their jobs. Employed by the island, by Arachnos, did not necessarily make them bad people. They were just men and women trying to make lives for themselves on the Rogue Isles.
"Keep what in mind?"
Leth pulled the clip out of his gun and checked it. "Nine shots. Lovely." Slapping it back in, he palm spacked Raven's head again. "Pay attention, Duck. This ain't Paragon City and your patroness ain't Mary, Mother of Saints. Got it?"
He nodded slowly. "I know all that, Leth. I know I have to try to fit in, if only so I can hide long enough to get to the people that did this to me."
Leth hit him again. That was getting annoying. "Wrong."
"What?"
The blue skinned marauder emptied what was left of the clip into approaching reinforcements, throwing the useless gun hard enough at the sole surviving guard hard enough to shatter his skull. "I said wrong, Duck. Deaf as well as stupid?"
Bloodraven closed his right hand into a tight fist. "Enough with the insults, Leth. Just say what you're getting at."
Sighing, the lanky slayer turned to the sheer silvery door of the vault and rested his head against it dejectedly. "You just don't get it. Being a villain on the Rogue Isles is tough." Turning his eye, Leth gazed at Raven with narrowed feline eyes. "Being a hero is impossible."
Shifting in his stone-bonded armor, Bloodraven walked over and tapped the tritanium portal with his fists. "I know. You already said you'd kill me if I didn't get with the program."
Lethane watched his hesitatnt partner in crime eye the door and its circular, inpregniable frame. "Duck, it ain't me you have to worry about. If I still wanted you dead, you'd never have survived Piercing Night." An amused smile creased the savage's lips, growing wider at the chagrined look on Bloodraven's face.
"Then who?" Raven was feeling over the door now, trying to find handholds.
Lethane was too busy to answer him at first, chucking huge chunks of marble debris at the flak-armored Guardian agents appearing in the hall. As each one went down in a shower of gore and broken rock, he glanced back and snapped, "It's everyone else, moron! And quit that! Your 'tear the door off' trick won't work here." He heaved another glittering boulder and crushed the last of the agents up against the far wall, a red smear over grey stone.
"Why not?"
"Because the whole vault is tritanium, all the way down to the hinge pins. It doesn't have a vulnerable point!" Leth snarled, his claws growing to deadly length in anticipation of the nexty wave of defenders.
"Oh."
"That's all you have to say? We have to fight our way out of here, go get a digital panel to hack into the display you just ruined and get back here before all of Atlas shows up to stop us... and all you have to say is 'Oh!'?!?"
Raven shrugged. "You didn't let me finish."
Lethane crouched low, hearing faint metallic footsteps on the bank level above. "What, Raven?! There is no fucking way you could possibly finish a sentence that starts with 'Oh' that won't make me smack you?"
Raven closed his eyes, the power of the earth beneath him rising at the focus of his will. This was still a new thing, a tenuous rapport he did not truly understand, but the contact was getting clearer every time he reached for it.
He called and the molten heart of the world itself, answered.
"What was I was going to say was, 'Oh. I guess we'll just have to take the whole vault with us.'"
And with that, his shoulders tioghtened, his back arched and he pulled against the vault. The entire building shuddered at once. Around Bloodraven's feet, the floor split and ruptured. The walls shook, massive rifts cracking in jagged lines of stone and dust. The bank screamed in lithic agony, pipes tearing like arteries, struts breaking like ferric bones!
And as Lethane watched, slack jawed, the entire tritanium chamber tore free amid a shower of ceiling stones and falling earth. Then it was moving, upwards and outwards, towards the surface. Bloodraven was pushing it forward, his weak but effective flight ability guiding it as he 'swam' through the ground, leaving a tunnel for Lethane to use.
"Okay," the cerulean elf said breathlessly as he scrambled to keep up.
"I stand corrected."
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Dear John
They stood side by side, only a thin wall of lacquered wood dividing them.
Ravyn stared down, unsure of what to think. How to feel about.... this.
Beside him, Lethane finished up and then looked over the wall and down at the focus of the ex-hero's attention.
"Damn, man."
Rayvn looked at him sharply. "Don't say it."
Lethane said it. "That had to hurt."
The snap punch caught Leth in the jaw so hard, it sent him backwards through the stall behind him, over the toilet, through the stall beside that and into the tile wall beyond. He left a small crater in the concrete, slumping to the ground before the debris of his passage had even settled.
Raven flushed, straightened his clothes, and went back out to find Mic and work out how he was going to pay the damages.
On the floor, still seeing stars, the blue elf grinned past a split lip.
"Heh... totally worth it."
Ravyn stared down, unsure of what to think. How to feel about.... this.
Beside him, Lethane finished up and then looked over the wall and down at the focus of the ex-hero's attention.
"Damn, man."
Rayvn looked at him sharply. "Don't say it."
Lethane said it. "That had to hurt."
The snap punch caught Leth in the jaw so hard, it sent him backwards through the stall behind him, over the toilet, through the stall beside that and into the tile wall beyond. He left a small crater in the concrete, slumping to the ground before the debris of his passage had even settled.
Raven flushed, straightened his clothes, and went back out to find Mic and work out how he was going to pay the damages.
On the floor, still seeing stars, the blue elf grinned past a split lip.
"Heh... totally worth it."
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Waking Up is Hard to Do
His mouth tasted like the floor mat of a New York cab.
"Whaaaa...."
That was the best he could do. He had wanted to ask, "What happened? I don't remember anything after taking that drink." but his tongue was completely uncooperative. His lips weren't much better. They were forming the right shapes but not in the right order. The next few sounds were so unintelligible even he wasn't sure what they meant.
Across the dimly lit room, there was a vague bit of motion. It caught his attention but, because of how utterly drained his muscles felt, all he could do was incline his head and try to focus on whatever it was without being able to lift his head.
Because of this exhausted paralysis Ravyn spectacularly failed to dodge the thrown cushion coming for his aching face.
FOOF!
"Sh'up!" That was a growl from somewhere the direction of the padded projectile. The snarl with which it was spoken meant the person talking could be only one person.
"Leth?"
FOOF!
A second cushion hammered the first one, shoving both into his head. Despite how soft they were, the force behind them made the impacts almost hurt.
"Shut up or I'm throwing the couch next, Duck."
From the sound of it, his blue-skinned shadow fatale was in some considerable pain. That almost gave him the strength to get up. Almost. He did manage to summon enough willpower to move his head from side to side, pushing the pillows into the floor so he could see again.
Whispering now, he asked, "Leth? Are you all right?"
The voice that answered him was hidden and muffled, apparently coming from a pile of shredded cloth and foam in the corner. It took Ravyn a few seconds to realize the debris was the remains of a second bed, several sheets and what appeared to be a waitress' uniform. Or two. Maybe three.
Damn.
"No, dumbass. I's hunged over... Ummm... I'm hunged over. Feh. Hung overed." There was a snarl of frustration accompanied by the sleepy groans of at least two different people. "I was drunk. Now I ain't."
"Ah... I understand."
Leth's voice became a hiss. "You understand... and yet you still keep talking."
Ravyn fell silent, lifting his head just enough to regard the room more closely. There was a small pile of empty shot glasses on what was left of a table in the corner. He dimly wondered how the table could be such a wreck by the glasses still stacked neatly. He decided not to question that too much; it made his head hurt.
Actually, come to think of it, everything made his head hurt right now. His own breathing was really loud. There was a low, thundering noise that smashed painfully against his skull, making him wince in anguish.
So this was the downside of drinking. Before everything in his life changed, his incredibly fast metabolism made such things inconsequential. He could get drunk and sober in the space of a few minutes, none the worse for it. He had never experienced a hang over. This was an entirely new sensation.
It didn't take him long to decide something.
He never wanted to feel this again.
He looked around again, partially out of a growing need to do something unfortunate off the side of the bed but mostly because his awakening body - particularly his chest - was starting to send him some very odd signals.
"Leth?" He spoke as quietly as he could, only daring to make any sound because the question he needed to ask was one of dire import - one that truly had to be asked immediately.
"I will kill you. Don't doubt it, Duck."
"Just one thing, Leth..."
"Then will you shut up?" There was another groan, this one male. Apparently not all of those shredded clothes were from waitresses.
"I will."
"Good." The shredded lust nest moved a bit, eventually disgorging Leth's face from between a tangle of arms draped over him. "What?"
"I remember coming here to the bar."
The elf nodded, a black lace bra strap hooked over his right ear. "Yeah?"
"And I remember taking that drink... the Purgatory stuff..."
Leth nodded, his increasingly annoyed expression slightly mollified by the patterns of lipstick smeared all over his face. "Yeah?"
"I even think I remember passing out."
"Please, Duck. For the love of Elune would you get to the bloody point?"
Ravyn sighed, more than a little embarrassed by the next question. "I don't remember going out and getting this tattoo."
There was a slight grin from the elf now, his irritation gone for the moment. "Oh, the Anarchy symbol? Yeah. I figured you'd like it." Lethane rummaged around in the bed pile near him and lifted a sleeping woman's head up by her hair. "Beth here does good work, huh?"
Ravyn groaned. The mark, though painful, was not unattractive. It was several shades of red, fading from near black to blood red to crimson to a bright scarlet near the tips of each line. It was bigger than he'd have liked, covering his entire upper chest and extending down a little past his ribs. Still, it wasn't terribly painful. Compared to his pounding migraine, it was almost a relief to feel.
"Yes... I guess she does. Sorry, Leth. I'll be quiet now." He was getting tired again anyhow. Perhaps a long nap and a cold shower afterwards would kill the evil of this hang over.
"No problem, big guy."
Then, after a long silence, Leth added, "I was afraid you were going to ask about your new piercing."
.
..
...
"WHAT!?!?!"
"Whaaaa...."
That was the best he could do. He had wanted to ask, "What happened? I don't remember anything after taking that drink." but his tongue was completely uncooperative. His lips weren't much better. They were forming the right shapes but not in the right order. The next few sounds were so unintelligible even he wasn't sure what they meant.
Across the dimly lit room, there was a vague bit of motion. It caught his attention but, because of how utterly drained his muscles felt, all he could do was incline his head and try to focus on whatever it was without being able to lift his head.
Because of this exhausted paralysis Ravyn spectacularly failed to dodge the thrown cushion coming for his aching face.
FOOF!
"Sh'up!" That was a growl from somewhere the direction of the padded projectile. The snarl with which it was spoken meant the person talking could be only one person.
"Leth?"
FOOF!
A second cushion hammered the first one, shoving both into his head. Despite how soft they were, the force behind them made the impacts almost hurt.
"Shut up or I'm throwing the couch next, Duck."
From the sound of it, his blue-skinned shadow fatale was in some considerable pain. That almost gave him the strength to get up. Almost. He did manage to summon enough willpower to move his head from side to side, pushing the pillows into the floor so he could see again.
Whispering now, he asked, "Leth? Are you all right?"
The voice that answered him was hidden and muffled, apparently coming from a pile of shredded cloth and foam in the corner. It took Ravyn a few seconds to realize the debris was the remains of a second bed, several sheets and what appeared to be a waitress' uniform. Or two. Maybe three.
Damn.
"No, dumbass. I's hunged over... Ummm... I'm hunged over. Feh. Hung overed." There was a snarl of frustration accompanied by the sleepy groans of at least two different people. "I was drunk. Now I ain't."
"Ah... I understand."
Leth's voice became a hiss. "You understand... and yet you still keep talking."
Ravyn fell silent, lifting his head just enough to regard the room more closely. There was a small pile of empty shot glasses on what was left of a table in the corner. He dimly wondered how the table could be such a wreck by the glasses still stacked neatly. He decided not to question that too much; it made his head hurt.
Actually, come to think of it, everything made his head hurt right now. His own breathing was really loud. There was a low, thundering noise that smashed painfully against his skull, making him wince in anguish.
So this was the downside of drinking. Before everything in his life changed, his incredibly fast metabolism made such things inconsequential. He could get drunk and sober in the space of a few minutes, none the worse for it. He had never experienced a hang over. This was an entirely new sensation.
It didn't take him long to decide something.
He never wanted to feel this again.
He looked around again, partially out of a growing need to do something unfortunate off the side of the bed but mostly because his awakening body - particularly his chest - was starting to send him some very odd signals.
"Leth?" He spoke as quietly as he could, only daring to make any sound because the question he needed to ask was one of dire import - one that truly had to be asked immediately.
"I will kill you. Don't doubt it, Duck."
"Just one thing, Leth..."
"Then will you shut up?" There was another groan, this one male. Apparently not all of those shredded clothes were from waitresses.
"I will."
"Good." The shredded lust nest moved a bit, eventually disgorging Leth's face from between a tangle of arms draped over him. "What?"
"I remember coming here to the bar."
The elf nodded, a black lace bra strap hooked over his right ear. "Yeah?"
"And I remember taking that drink... the Purgatory stuff..."
Leth nodded, his increasingly annoyed expression slightly mollified by the patterns of lipstick smeared all over his face. "Yeah?"
"I even think I remember passing out."
"Please, Duck. For the love of Elune would you get to the bloody point?"
Ravyn sighed, more than a little embarrassed by the next question. "I don't remember going out and getting this tattoo."
There was a slight grin from the elf now, his irritation gone for the moment. "Oh, the Anarchy symbol? Yeah. I figured you'd like it." Lethane rummaged around in the bed pile near him and lifted a sleeping woman's head up by her hair. "Beth here does good work, huh?"
Ravyn groaned. The mark, though painful, was not unattractive. It was several shades of red, fading from near black to blood red to crimson to a bright scarlet near the tips of each line. It was bigger than he'd have liked, covering his entire upper chest and extending down a little past his ribs. Still, it wasn't terribly painful. Compared to his pounding migraine, it was almost a relief to feel.
"Yes... I guess she does. Sorry, Leth. I'll be quiet now." He was getting tired again anyhow. Perhaps a long nap and a cold shower afterwards would kill the evil of this hang over.
"No problem, big guy."
Then, after a long silence, Leth added, "I was afraid you were going to ask about your new piercing."
.
..
...
"WHAT!?!?!"
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Needs
They walked in, both clad in black leather. The taller of the two, Lethane was wearing only a belt harness on his heavily muscled chest, the strap across his pecs framing his ripped upper body nicely. Blue skin moved beneath night black leather, oiled by a sheen of sweat from the warm weather of the night outside.
Behind him, dressed in a thin, torn white shirt and a silver-zipper lined black jacket and an identical set of motorcyclist's pants to the massive elf, Ravyn walked in slowly, standing in Leth's shadow in a pair of metal-plated biker boots and fingerless riding gloves.
Every head in the room turned, mostly because Armistice was not exactly the kind of bar that catered to men dressed this way. That bar was a little further down the street. Brothers, as the bar in question was called, was usually packed and would not have blinked an artfully-made up eye at their clothes.
The crowd in Armistice, being mostly white-collar types and the occasional supervillain willing to mind his or her manners, most definitely did.
One customer, a bit deep in his cups, opened his mouth to say as much as immediately closed it again. There was just something about Lethane's sudden look down at him that instilled a sudden caution, even in the most inebriated of people. Likely, it was the intense glee in Leth's glowing eyes. The look that just screamed, "Please! Please say something! I haven't killed a bitch in hours! Please oh please!"
They wanted up to the bar amid a dozen stares, a couple of which were open hunger from the establishment's female regulars. The waitress on staff, a lovely woman with a shirt two sizes too small and a smile at least one size too big at the sight of Leth's muscular chest, nearly dropped her tray and had to scramble to keep from pouring gin and tonics on her customers.
"So, what'll you have, mates?"
Lethane leaned against the bar, giving the waitress a good show as his back and shoulders rippled. "My usual and a Shirley Temple for the little lady."
Ravyn looked at Leth and sighed then back to the bartender with a shake of his head. "I need something painful. Something toxic enough that if I spilled it, I'd have to fill out an Environmental Impact Form."
Mic, the man on duty behind the bar tonight, laughed and nodded. "I know just the poison. No worries there." He went to work immediately, pulling out several bottles of opaque glass and setting them on the counter top. For Leth's drink, he just uncorked one of them, filled a glass and slid it to the big man's blue hand.
Leth picked it up, tipped it Mic's direction in silent thanks and downed it. The liquid in the double shot glass, for all of the three seconds it lasted, was lavender and steamed slightly on contact with the air.
Ravyn's drink was considerably more complex. Mic poured out several layers, one atop another, in a champagne flute. While Lethane obvious wanted to say something about the 'sissy' nature of the glass, the effort of the red-haired barkeep was holding his attention too much to do so. One by one, the layers floated over each other, a spectrum of dark and light.
"Here you go, sir. Just what you asked for."
Ravyn picked up the flute carefully, not wanting to disturb the drink. "Is it a shooter?"
Mic chuckled. "I'd recommend that, yeah. It's called a Purgatory. I really think you'll like it." Even as he spoke, the efficient Irishman was refilling Leth's glass.
"Interesting name," Ravyn told him, still obviously regarding the drink with some trepidation.
"Indeed it is. It's a little bit of Heaven, a little bit of Hell." Mic gave Leth a third round as he started setting up his bottles for another pass and wiped down the counter. "I tell you what. You down that and if you're still vertical in one minute, the next one's on the house."
"After last night, I almost hope I lose that bet." Ravyn closed his eyes, brought the glass to his lips and threw his head back in a long, quick draught. The flute emptied past his lips, each layer mingling with the others into a caustic looking black morass before hitting his tongue. From the sudden look of gastronomic terror on Ravyn's face, it must have tasted like one too.
He opened his eyes, the good one disfocused for a moment, and set the glass carefully back on its small coaster. "That..."
"Words can't describe it, eh?"
Leth looked between Ravyn and Mic, curious now. "Well, how was it? Was it good? Was it bad? Are you gonna die?"
In response, all Mic did was hold up a stop watch and press its button. Seconds began to tick past.
00:05
Ravyn turned his head to regard Lethane, his mouth still apparently chewing the taste. "It was like a car crash in my throat." He shuddered. "I can't really describe the flavor. There wasn't just one. It was like... licking a candy store after a four-alarm fire."
Mic laughed. "Good description. Best one I've heard all month."
00:16
Growling, Leth picked up the empty flute and unabashedly tried to sample what little was left at the bottom. The sight of his long violet tongue snaking down the tall glass was enough to make the waitress nearby groan and walk headlong into someone coming out of the restroom.
"It... tastes like nothing. Nothing at all." Lethane's thick eyebrows furrowed. "It's like black water in here."
The barkeep nodded and took the glass back, smiling knowingly. "The drink has a half life. A few seconds after it mixes, it breaks down."
00:29
Ravyn sighed deeply. "Well, I got the taste all right but that's about it. It felt like alcohol going down but now..." He shrugged. "There's no burn at all." He rapped his fingers once on the bar top, looking down at his hands as his eye eased back into full focus. "It was heady for a second but that's about it."
00:42
"Line us up some tequila shots, Mic." Lethane grinned. "Some bottled Mexican anger might do where your uber-drink failed. No offense, but some things are just classics for a reason."
Ravyn nodded as Mic turned his back to grab a bottle of good 15 year old agave tequila from the top shelf over Armistice's wall-length mirror. "I agree. I am just not feeling it. I suppose my body's not remotely human any more..." He trailed off, remembering what happened to him in that alley. With Fortress. And all the blood.
Lethane grinned and rubbed his hands at the sight of six small glasses, lined up in a row on the bar with golden liquor goodness pouring into each one. "Don't take it personal, Mic. He's just a freak. But I'll take his freebie if you don't mind."
Mic held up the stop watch and punched its button again, turning it around to show Lethane the dial.
00:58
"Bah!" The blue elf scoffed. "Don't go cheap on me now, man. Ravyn's fine, see?" He turned to face an empty bar stool. "Ummm... Rave?"
Looking down, he saw his drinking partner on the floor of the bar, dead to the world unconscious with a look of half bliss, half horror on his slack face. The occasional twitch shook through him, a thin line of drool running past his parted lips and down his cheek.
"Oh, that's attractive."
Mic nodded, that Gaelic grin of his getting wider. "He'll be out for a bit, mate. Perhaps we should get him upstairs to a bed for a while, aye?"
Leth sighed, looking down at Sleeping Scary. "Yeah, I guess..."
"After my tequila." He reached out, scooped the passing waitress up into his lap with only a tiny gasp of protest, and stuck the first shot glass in her ample cleavage before going face first after it.
"Ole'!"
Behind him, dressed in a thin, torn white shirt and a silver-zipper lined black jacket and an identical set of motorcyclist's pants to the massive elf, Ravyn walked in slowly, standing in Leth's shadow in a pair of metal-plated biker boots and fingerless riding gloves.
Every head in the room turned, mostly because Armistice was not exactly the kind of bar that catered to men dressed this way. That bar was a little further down the street. Brothers, as the bar in question was called, was usually packed and would not have blinked an artfully-made up eye at their clothes.
The crowd in Armistice, being mostly white-collar types and the occasional supervillain willing to mind his or her manners, most definitely did.
One customer, a bit deep in his cups, opened his mouth to say as much as immediately closed it again. There was just something about Lethane's sudden look down at him that instilled a sudden caution, even in the most inebriated of people. Likely, it was the intense glee in Leth's glowing eyes. The look that just screamed, "Please! Please say something! I haven't killed a bitch in hours! Please oh please!"
They wanted up to the bar amid a dozen stares, a couple of which were open hunger from the establishment's female regulars. The waitress on staff, a lovely woman with a shirt two sizes too small and a smile at least one size too big at the sight of Leth's muscular chest, nearly dropped her tray and had to scramble to keep from pouring gin and tonics on her customers.
"So, what'll you have, mates?"
Lethane leaned against the bar, giving the waitress a good show as his back and shoulders rippled. "My usual and a Shirley Temple for the little lady."
Ravyn looked at Leth and sighed then back to the bartender with a shake of his head. "I need something painful. Something toxic enough that if I spilled it, I'd have to fill out an Environmental Impact Form."
Mic, the man on duty behind the bar tonight, laughed and nodded. "I know just the poison. No worries there." He went to work immediately, pulling out several bottles of opaque glass and setting them on the counter top. For Leth's drink, he just uncorked one of them, filled a glass and slid it to the big man's blue hand.
Leth picked it up, tipped it Mic's direction in silent thanks and downed it. The liquid in the double shot glass, for all of the three seconds it lasted, was lavender and steamed slightly on contact with the air.
Ravyn's drink was considerably more complex. Mic poured out several layers, one atop another, in a champagne flute. While Lethane obvious wanted to say something about the 'sissy' nature of the glass, the effort of the red-haired barkeep was holding his attention too much to do so. One by one, the layers floated over each other, a spectrum of dark and light.
"Here you go, sir. Just what you asked for."
Ravyn picked up the flute carefully, not wanting to disturb the drink. "Is it a shooter?"
Mic chuckled. "I'd recommend that, yeah. It's called a Purgatory. I really think you'll like it." Even as he spoke, the efficient Irishman was refilling Leth's glass.
"Interesting name," Ravyn told him, still obviously regarding the drink with some trepidation.
"Indeed it is. It's a little bit of Heaven, a little bit of Hell." Mic gave Leth a third round as he started setting up his bottles for another pass and wiped down the counter. "I tell you what. You down that and if you're still vertical in one minute, the next one's on the house."
"After last night, I almost hope I lose that bet." Ravyn closed his eyes, brought the glass to his lips and threw his head back in a long, quick draught. The flute emptied past his lips, each layer mingling with the others into a caustic looking black morass before hitting his tongue. From the sudden look of gastronomic terror on Ravyn's face, it must have tasted like one too.
He opened his eyes, the good one disfocused for a moment, and set the glass carefully back on its small coaster. "That..."
"Words can't describe it, eh?"
Leth looked between Ravyn and Mic, curious now. "Well, how was it? Was it good? Was it bad? Are you gonna die?"
In response, all Mic did was hold up a stop watch and press its button. Seconds began to tick past.
00:05
Ravyn turned his head to regard Lethane, his mouth still apparently chewing the taste. "It was like a car crash in my throat." He shuddered. "I can't really describe the flavor. There wasn't just one. It was like... licking a candy store after a four-alarm fire."
Mic laughed. "Good description. Best one I've heard all month."
00:16
Growling, Leth picked up the empty flute and unabashedly tried to sample what little was left at the bottom. The sight of his long violet tongue snaking down the tall glass was enough to make the waitress nearby groan and walk headlong into someone coming out of the restroom.
"It... tastes like nothing. Nothing at all." Lethane's thick eyebrows furrowed. "It's like black water in here."
The barkeep nodded and took the glass back, smiling knowingly. "The drink has a half life. A few seconds after it mixes, it breaks down."
00:29
Ravyn sighed deeply. "Well, I got the taste all right but that's about it. It felt like alcohol going down but now..." He shrugged. "There's no burn at all." He rapped his fingers once on the bar top, looking down at his hands as his eye eased back into full focus. "It was heady for a second but that's about it."
00:42
"Line us up some tequila shots, Mic." Lethane grinned. "Some bottled Mexican anger might do where your uber-drink failed. No offense, but some things are just classics for a reason."
Ravyn nodded as Mic turned his back to grab a bottle of good 15 year old agave tequila from the top shelf over Armistice's wall-length mirror. "I agree. I am just not feeling it. I suppose my body's not remotely human any more..." He trailed off, remembering what happened to him in that alley. With Fortress. And all the blood.
Lethane grinned and rubbed his hands at the sight of six small glasses, lined up in a row on the bar with golden liquor goodness pouring into each one. "Don't take it personal, Mic. He's just a freak. But I'll take his freebie if you don't mind."
Mic held up the stop watch and punched its button again, turning it around to show Lethane the dial.
00:58
"Bah!" The blue elf scoffed. "Don't go cheap on me now, man. Ravyn's fine, see?" He turned to face an empty bar stool. "Ummm... Rave?"
Looking down, he saw his drinking partner on the floor of the bar, dead to the world unconscious with a look of half bliss, half horror on his slack face. The occasional twitch shook through him, a thin line of drool running past his parted lips and down his cheek.
"Oh, that's attractive."
Mic nodded, that Gaelic grin of his getting wider. "He'll be out for a bit, mate. Perhaps we should get him upstairs to a bed for a while, aye?"
Leth sighed, looking down at Sleeping Scary. "Yeah, I guess..."
"After my tequila." He reached out, scooped the passing waitress up into his lap with only a tiny gasp of protest, and stuck the first shot glass in her ample cleavage before going face first after it.
"Ole'!"
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
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