Author Topic: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE  (Read 228 times)

Offline CAT.

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call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« on: December 28, 2018, 02:56:26 AM »
CAT
Fuck, Cat had no idea how he he had ended up on a boat. It wasn't even a big one, and he was pretty sure he was gonna die. He could see the water. Nausea once stirred in his stomach as he stared at the man who had him on the boat and back to the water. The guy was lucky that Cat was stranded without him. Had he agreed to something? It had started with alcohol and ended with waking up with this. It was a painstaking forty days, but...

Well, one thing led to another after a month of this bullshit - Cat got sick of it, and, well, um, he got thrown off with a three plank wide platform tied together, probably more to cling to then to sit on. He was close to a shore, they probably had been waiting till they were, how merciful. But he had never learned to swim. He had nearly drowned to death multiple times though. Water was just a torture device against Cat, and as of now, the small man was losing his shit out here, struggling to swim to the tiny platform from his panicked state. Did they know his worst fear was water? If they planned to kill him couldn't they have done anything else? Stabbing, shooting? Drowning was painful, lasting, and not to mention brought up some really bad memories. He clung to the platform eventually, and just kind of... Waited to hopefully not die. But hey, if he died at least he could say he was on a boat for the first time in his life, and the last. It'd remain the last even if he survived.

He finally came up to what he didn't realize was group territory with a giant wave. Bruises lined along him and the wood had splintered his hands, and his pajamas were torn to bits, leaving barely enough if at all to cover him. Even Cat had to say, he looked like shit. He looked like easy meat for any fucking cannibals, but he wouldn't provide a lot considering he was bone-thin and less than five feet tall. God he was pissed. And also, on the verge of passing out. And on the verge of crying, but shut the fuck up, he would never cry. Shock consumed him, leaving him rather still with his back to the sand, and there were waves slowly sucking him back in. Oh fuck, he was gonna die. Maybe he'd have time to knit with grandma in hell at least. Whatever. He didn't care enough to panic too much, although living would be kind of pleasant. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember if he had any good memories to think about. Probably not. Maybe it was just his destiny to die a cynical bastard.
« Last Edit: December 28, 2018, 03:12:38 AM by CAT. »
I BREAK IT
JUST BECAUSE
I CAN

Offline Sheogorath

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #1 on: December 28, 2018, 10:00:47 AM »
thes code
a
a
sheogorath
and i say to myself, what a wonderful world
There was a strange shape on the horizon, a stretch of sea that was unusually jagged. Sheogorath hadn't seen a boat in quite some time, asides from those anchored at the docks, dusty and unused. Nobody in The Badlands seemed to know how to pilot one. The boat itself was too far out to note any details asides from the general shape, and for awhile, Sheogorath simply watched from his perch on the wooden pier, wondering if it was going to get any closer.

It didn't. But something else did.

A figure in the water snagged Sheogorath's attention, just before a frothing waves washed it ashore. It took him a moment, but Sheogorath soon recognized it as a person. That didn't sound too good. The form was still. Was he dead? Sheogorath sprinted across the pier and hopped to the soft sand, grit clinging to his bare feet as he hurried closer. The waves seemed intent on dragging the battered fellow back out to sea, so Sheogorath aimed to snatch him by the arms and haul him farther up the beach, away from the rolling water.


thes code
but the tigers come at night
WITH THEIR VOICES SOFT AS THUNDER

Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #2 on: December 28, 2018, 12:03:26 PM »
Basic hygiene and cleanliness wasn't exactly the simplest to maintain in an apocalyptic setting, mostly everyone did their part to look decent. Even Gabe now was wearing his cleanest tee and jeans. His brown hair was combed flat, and soft to the touch. From the looks of it, however, this fellow hadn't just taken a simple tumble in the surf. He was bruised and battered and looked as if he had just crawled off of a deserted island.

Whisking forward quickly, his blue eyes brightened and wide with utter curiosity and concern, he asked, "Is he okay? What happened?" Although Sheogorath wasn't necessarily a comfort to be around, the focus was not on him. He was willing to help if needed, even if he didn't know anything advanced about medicine. His mom had taught him how to bandage wounds and apply band-aids and antibiotics, and that was pretty much it.
LIKE A BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER
I WILL LAY ME DOWN

Offline CAT.

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #3 on: December 28, 2018, 12:40:57 PM »
CAT
Cat had just been closing his eyes, having a sarcastic but deep speculation on life with himself, and he got lost enough it took him like, five seconds to realize someone was touching him. Without thought, Cat instantly struggled away, though he was even weaker than he usually was, which was weak. To a point, Cat wasn't actually moving. He couldn't really move that well at all right now - his body hurt to move, and really all he could hope for was speech to put him down.

"Put me the fuck down." Came the bouncy and somewhat ridiculous sounding voice from Cat. He sounded out of breath, and he was struggling clearly to calm down from his terrifying trip through the waters. His gaze drifted towards Gabe, and he huffed. "I'm fine. Cunts threw me in that shit swamp though." Cat glowered, gesturing to the sea, as best as he could with his barely lifted hand. Cat was clearly not fine, but he didn't care.
I BREAK IT
JUST BECAUSE
I CAN

Offline Sheogorath

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #4 on: December 28, 2018, 01:28:04 PM »
thes code
a
a
sheogorath
and i say to myself, what a wonderful world
At the stranger's demand that Sheogorath promptly release him, Sheogorath did so, letting his grip fall away. Amber eyes shifted toward Gabriel, a bit surprised that the boy had approached, as he seemed to have been avoiding Sheogorath for weeks now.

"I don't...know." Sheogorath responded to Gabriel's inquiry in a quiet voice. But the stranger seemed more than happy to respond with spitting words. "You don't look fine." The red haired man pointed out. To be honest, he was quite proud of himself. Not a single threat upon his lips. He was doing good so far, at being a bit nicer than he used to be. "Who are ya?" Sheogorath questioned curiously.


thes code
but the tigers come at night
WITH THEIR VOICES SOFT AS THUNDER

Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #5 on: December 28, 2018, 01:31:02 PM »
Gabriel frowned when an expletive tumbled from the other's lips and he stepped back to at least give him some room. So, it looked like he was alive and able to... talk. Ah, so he was one of those, huh? The type of person to reassure everybody that they were "fine" and didn't need help when they obviously did. He sure looked exhausted, though, and if he could recommend one thing then it would be a long nap ( and a bath ).

He quirked a brow, lips slightly parting in confusion. "Uh... who?" Asked the boy, referring to the "cunts" that threw him into a swamp. Either those people were dangerous, or he was the dangerous one. That was precisely what Gabriel wanted to figure out. Because, if this guy turned out to be a threat, then he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

// ninja'd
LIKE A BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER
I WILL LAY ME DOWN

Offline 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐭

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #6 on: December 28, 2018, 05:13:30 PM »
It felt grand, they couldn't lie, they liked this. Walking around, being in charge... they'd forgotten what the fugging power trip was like when they had control. It was a high they were still riding, and if previous power trips were any indication, they might be on it for a little while yet. Which... they didn't really have a problem with. Others might, though, because they had a feeling the other Badlanders would get sick of seeing their smug arse sauntering around.

The saunter turned into a brisk and semi-urgent run when they noticed a crowd forming around a body. Interesting, they thought, and hurried over. "What do we have here?" They asked, tilting their head to the side as they observed the filthy person laying on the sand.

//this is really distracted and shitty I'm so sorry
sighspace
YOU GOT ME COMING BACK FOR MORE
I'VE NEVER DONE THAT BEFORE

Offline MICHAEL.

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #7 on: December 30, 2018, 06:30:54 PM »
"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, themes of violence
Michael had some, practically no medical knowledge, what he did know was for survival. His fingers gripped around his flask, and he took a quick drink before stuffing it out of sight, into a pocket in his jacket. His gaze rested on the figure who seemed... if not well, at least determined to live, if only to fuck with whatever had happened to him. It was a feeling Mike knew well, he thrived on hate, it kept him alive. Some said love was the greatest power of all, but those were just fools and idiots who wanted to believe in a greater power than the soul crushing, numbing anger that one needed to feel in order to survive in such a fucked up world.

The man ran a hand over his cropped hair, and looked curiously at the figure before him, paying little attention to the other persons gathered. As there were enough questions floating around, the man felt no desire to add to the load which the washed up stranger had yet to answer. And so, he stood still, hands in his pockets, feet a shoulder width apart, head up, shoulders back... looking like the soldier he had been in what seemed to be a previous life.

There was a time when he himself would have been in the shoes of the stranger, or those who had done this to the stranger. It didn't matter to him, as long as there had been payment in it. Those days were past though, and probably for the better. He had done many things he would rather forget, and had not done those things which he had dreamed of doing in his youth. No, he was better off existing as this shadow of his former self...

And yet, his desire to survive, his thirst for revenge kept him from living the simple life he yearned for. What was there to live for if not revenge, seeing enemies fall at ones hand, crushed beneath the heel of a boot, begging for mercy, looking into the eyes of that which they so scorned, and finding nothing but cold, quiet rage. Yes, that was something worth living for.
MICHAEL FORD
Michael Ford is a 45 year old, man, he's stubbornly loyal to whatever cause he chooses, protective of his family and friends, he's a grunt in the Badlands. Michael has issues controlling his anger in most situations. He is a difficult opponent and well trained, feel free to power play nonviolent interactions though.

Offline CAT.

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #8 on: December 30, 2018, 11:34:26 PM »
CAT
Cat rolled his eyes at Sheo's observance. "Yeah duh. But do I sound like I want your help?" Cat sneered, rubbing his neck and feeling at his drenched hair. Great, the mats in his hair were soaked and he had a headache. He stared warily at Sheogorath now, fingers clenching and unclenching, and he realized his knife had disappeared. Great. He'd have to play nice. At least, as nice as he knew. "Name's Cat, call me something else and I'll rock your world with a concussion." He growled, unibrow furrowed.

He eyed the boy now, and Cat's nose twitched. Ugh, teenagers. Admittedly, Cat didn't feel too threatened by the other, and part of him felt obliged not to threaten a teenager. It was just kind of human decency, or whatever. "I don't fucking know, the muffin man. Never did find much out about them. They're fucking stupid." Cat snorted.

However, two more approached. One just kind of loomed there and the other sounded malicious. He mostly eyed the malicious-sounding one, who had now become Cat's target of focus. They seemed powerful, in the way they weren't cooing over him or looking anxious. In fact, their words were stereotypical bad guy. The quiet one didn't seem too threatening, just kinda there. Cat crouched back, beginning to shrink away slightly when they began observing him, and he placed himself feet squatted and hands moving him back. Only one reply came to mind as Cat tried to figure out what to say.

"Your mom."
I BREAK IT
JUST BECAUSE
I CAN

Offline 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐭

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #9 on: December 30, 2018, 11:50:42 PM »
Their gaze slid over to Michael as he approached, noting his stance before returning their attentions to the scrap laying in the sand. "If you don't want help, would you like us to speed up the inevitable?" They inquired, blinking as a familiar name fell from the other's lips. Another Cat. Hmm. They crossed their arms, listening to the rants they went on to the others. Then... "Your mom." A small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped their lips as their optics lifted skyward for a moment.

Then it came crashing back down on this new Cat. "How presumptuous of you to assume I have a mother, and that I didn't just appear fully formed with a vengeance." Their cult days may be over, but some part of them still liked building their own myth. That was something that might never change.
sighspace
YOU GOT ME COMING BACK FOR MORE
I'VE NEVER DONE THAT BEFORE

Offline MICHAEL.

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #10 on: December 31, 2018, 12:00:46 AM »
"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, themes of violence

Perhaps he was just tired, or maybe he found something amusing in the way that Cat had just blurted out your mom either way, an amused snort escaped from his lips before he could subdue it. Awkwardly, the man cleared his throat, glancing at Catalyst as he did so, and centering himself once again, eyes returning to the more or less emotionless state they had been in before. Though, perhaps with a slight twinkle in them now.

Fingers twined behind his back, and he squelched the mirth rising in his chest. No, Michael was not certain at all why he was feeling so jolly all of a sudden, not with such dark thoughts drifting through his mind not five minutes ago. However, it was not too difficult to hide his inward amusement with his usual appearance of indifference.

One hand moved to a sharp, wicked looking hunting knife secured at his belt, he felt no joy in killing, nor did he truly feel sorrow, perhaps remorse for the life he took, though sending it to another place was a mercy most of the time. Unlike him, for when he died he was certain to be damned to hell for an eternity... a fate that he had accepted. There was no changing now, no atonement possible for the wayward soldier who had committed such atrocities.

"How droll and original." Was the comment he settled on, eyes betraying little of the inward mirth. He scratched his nose with the back of his thumb, and resumed his stiff position, "What do you want done with him, boss?" Were the next words out of Michael's mouth. He had no problem following direction, taking orders.

If it wasn't Catalyst, it'd be someone else. And compared to most of those he had worked for, Catalyst was by far not the worst. His eyes shifted towards the prone figure for a few seconds, before he fixed his gaze on the leader of the badlands.
MICHAEL FORD
Michael Ford is a 45 year old, man, he's stubbornly loyal to whatever cause he chooses, protective of his family and friends, he's a grunt in the Badlands. Michael has issues controlling his anger in most situations. He is a difficult opponent and well trained, feel free to power play nonviolent interactions though.

Offline CAT.

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #11 on: December 31, 2018, 12:25:19 AM »
CAT
"If you don't want help, would you like us to speed up the inevitable?"

His heart raced. His mouth went dry, and his eyes briefly turned glassy and terror was controlling him to be completely frozen for a moment. He was stranded. He had no knife. No gun. Cat was 4'11 and he was completely surrounded. It took him a moment, and if he wasn't afraid he'd probably ask what the hell the other meant by his previous words. His eyes snapped to looming muscleman who was definitely now a threat, and his jaws hinged wide in terror.

"No - nononoNO." Cat snarled it, he wasn't sure how to beg for mercy - or rather, he knew that feeling quite well. The thing is. he never wanted to feel that fear again. "You - don't do shit to me. Don't touch me, you rat bastards." Cat hissed furiously. He was bone thin, short, weak, half-dead. But he'd rather go down a fighter than begging for his life.
I BREAK IT
JUST BECAUSE
I CAN

Offline 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐭

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #12 on: December 31, 2018, 12:42:48 AM »
Catalyst didn't answer Michael right away, instead waited to see how Cat would react to their words. The fear in his face was familiar, the realization that he was at the mercy of strangers that might not know much about such a thing. "That's what I thought." They turned to Michael. "Get him some water. He's funny; I'd hate to kill him while he's so pathetic." Where was the fun in that?
sighspace
YOU GOT ME COMING BACK FOR MORE
I'VE NEVER DONE THAT BEFORE

Offline MICHAEL.

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #13 on: December 31, 2018, 01:35:47 AM »
"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, themes of violence

Michael looked towards the figure of Cat almost coldly, though there was still a hint of the laughter from his eyes moments before. He was grave, solemn, business like now, setting aside all emotions should the boss request the life of this man forfeit. But, as Catalyst spoke, there was yet some hope for the other, though minor as it was. Yes, Cat was quite funny, not many could draw a reaction out of him so easily, or perhaps he was looser than he had been before.

Whatever the case was, there was no need to kill this stranger. As he was ordered to get water for the stranger, Michael nodded. He did not carry water on him, not when he was so close to his own battered quarters. What he kept on him were items not as easily acquired in the wilderness, though, clean water was ever harder to come by. He scrunched his nose slightly, and dipped his head to Catalyst.

There were no false pretenses with the man. He knew little of Catalyst, and had no real intention of drawing more from the strange figure than was needed. Perhaps when he had been younger he might have gathered intelligence on the man, done recon, learned every last detail about Catalyst that he could. But now was not that time, he was content to live here under the rule of the leader. Doing what was necessary to remain alive, sheltered, and inconspicuous.

"Yes boss." He responded, before turning on his heel and striding away. There was no urgency to his pace, though he walked quickly, and with a purpose. There were small stashes of supplies all over, some his, some belonging to others, but whoever may have hidden the items, well they were in easy reach, and it wasn't stealing, after all, this was the badlands... and if someone had an issue with his grabbing a canteen from their supply, he would gladly show them the error of their ways.

Metal container in hand, he quickened his pace on the return, almost jogging as he came back to the scene. Having been gone no longer than five minutes. Kneeling beside Cat with a surprising amount of grace, he uncapped the canteen, and held it out to the figure. "Drink slowly, mind you." He warned offering a hand to support Cat if needed. Drinking too much, too quickly was something he had seen all to often in dehydrated men... and it was a dangerous mistake to make.
MICHAEL FORD
Michael Ford is a 45 year old, man, he's stubbornly loyal to whatever cause he chooses, protective of his family and friends, he's a grunt in the Badlands. Michael has issues controlling his anger in most situations. He is a difficult opponent and well trained, feel free to power play nonviolent interactions though.

Offline CAT.

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Re: call me reckless wrecking ball | OPEN, WASHED UP ON SHORE
« Reply #14 on: January 01, 2019, 12:34:26 AM »
CAT
Cat's eyes went from wide to narrowed, his pupils dilating once more and his lips twisting into a scowl. If he wasn't so tiny and childish looking, he'd probably look scary as fuck - but alas, he looked like a rabbit baring it's teeth. Swallowing hard, he watched as muscleman disappeared.

He stared at the offer for water, and his lip twitched in distaste. He had just flopped in the ocean and probably swallowed a ton of water, not the good kind but water - what the hell did he need water for? Cat quietly took it, and eyed it - and he sniffed it. Eying the two suspiciously, Cat held the canteen up before dramatically dropping it.

"Thanks for the offer, but actually, fuck you I'm not grateful. If you act like sketchy shits don't expect me to trust your stupid fucking water." He chewed his lip bitterly. "Since I guess I'm your fucking captive, where am I staying, bitch." He asked, unneccesarily adding a swear - but he felt vulnerable, and it was the only thing grounding him from a breakdown right now. Fear was present, but the dread of thinking he'd be a captive once again, the idea of the tears that'd be shed - yikes. Hugging himself, Cat once again created a distance between them.
I BREAK IT
JUST BECAUSE
I CAN