It's a rather quaint town when you get down to it. At least, that's what the Sheriff would argue. Warm and dry in the mornings and afternoons with a brisk coolness in the evenings. The perfect type of weather to just sit out on your rocking chair and observe the comings and goings.
... Of course, there's not much in the way of comings and goings when there aren't any actual people here to watch. Nevertheless, don't let that get you down! The town is your oyster and those roosters won't stop crowing until everyone's out of bed. Up and at 'em, rise and shine, it's time to make the day yours!
Except there is, perhaps, a few things amiss.
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[Too bad. Damian's now cursed with the knowledge that Jason Todd used to be a Pure and Wholesome teen hero before taking the Nestea Plunge into the Lazarus Pit.]
Don't walk me through it and just— get it over with. [If he could roll his eyes without wanting to rip them out, he would.] I know how shoulder wounds work, kid.
[He hates shoulder wounds?? The timey wimey irony. Let him punch his future self for waxing poetics about shoulder wounds.]
Saw what was inside, if you care. Think... I know a way to counter it. [Kind of.] You got your pistol?
[This would be more convincing if he didn't sound like he was speaking through gravel. Even more if he didn't punctuate that with a fit of coughing and sniffling.]
[Even with the mask in the way, it's not hard to tell that Damian is looking at Jason pretty incredulously.] I don't carry guns. [THAT'S OBVIOUS, ISN'T IT, JASON? He cannot believe Jason Todd is metal and bullets even at the ripe age of fifteen!!!]
None of us carry guns. Except you. [Without any kind of warning (Jason asked, remember), Damian pops both hands in opposite directions over the shaft of the arrow and snaps it surprisingly clean near the bottom.]
We need to get inside now because you thought it'd be a good idea to get reckless. What if the arrowhead is poisoned? We might not have an antidote!
What are you— ["—talking about," is what he means to finish with. He's not in the habit of carrying firearms and never was before biting the dust, so Damian's statement? Completely and utterly random as far as he's concerned. Too bad he doesn't get to finish. Or say anything after that for a few seconds, instead opting to yelp and sort of curl up on his side.
He asked for this. Doesn't mean he has to like it, unfortunately.]
Just— ugh. Calm down, would you? I'm going to die from an ulcer before any kind of poison gets to me.
[Shut up, is what he's saying.]
I know we [emphasis on "we"] don't carry firearms, but since neither of us are carrying any convenient batarangs, we gotta improvise. [And that's with the pistol the sheriff gave them.] The box you saw has some kind of red light. A motion sensor, I think. It might go down if you hit it when it's not looking our way.
[They need to find something to look through without getting shot at again. Maybe a mirror or the shovel? Work with him and stop chewing him out, ya fart nugget.]
[A sensor. Damian glances back toward the window, thinking. He doesn't use guns, and, right now, he doesn't even consider touching one at all. That's just--too risky. His morality isn't fragile, but it's best to leave well enough alone.]
Stay here. [He looks back at Jason.] Don't move. Don't do anything stupid. Don't even breathe in the direction of the building. I'll be right back.
[Not a gun. It takes him a few minutes to book it to the horse he brought into town. Beneath some wrapping of hide, he gets the shortbow he crafted and two arrows, both tipped with refurbished metal he took from the homestead and crudely filed.
Ryu ga waga teki wo kurau!
Just kidding. He's gonna stand several meters away from the window before raising the nocked bow to take aim. A sensor. He can see it, barely. Red, then green. He takes the first shot.]
[ See, because Jason already got shot the nature of the universe means that when Damian shoots his target, it hits.
The arrow embeds itself into the eye, breaking it quite quickly and a loud shrill lets out as, in defense, the murder box lets out a stream of different pellets into the room before sinking into the floor.
On one hand, when it disappears, the floor looks like nothing was even under it -- perfectly clear and without any grooves or indication the murder box was there in the first place.
On the other, the pellets all seem to have a 60 second timer on them. ]
[Okay. But the nature of the universe apparently also indicates that they're about to blow the town's medical supplies up?? So there is nothing good to be found here. They've done hecked up.
Jason doesn't run off to do anything stupid, at least. But he's in the process of pushing himself up to his feet, cocking an eyebrow as Damian pulls and fires. The sound that follows is, presumably, heard from outside — and that gets him to freeze up entirely.
He can't see what's happening inside the building, but that didn't sound good at all.
Rest in fucking pieces, kids. Even if he tries, Jason probably isn't going to move fast enough to grab Damian haul ass.]
[See, Jason. You caused this. You told him to get rid of the box, and YOU CAUSED THIS, FUCKER!!!!
The disappearance of the box brings some relief, but when several handfuls of clanking material drop out at the end, Damian's stomach drops.] Move! [Jason isn't going to make it. JASON ISN'T GOING TO MAKE IT. Damian is going to get the opportunity to watch Jason Todd get blasted into oblivion for the second time in Jason's life.
He drops the shortbow and second arrow with gusto and runs in the opposite direction Jason is headed. They meet in the middle, and Damian slams into the other boy grabbing at the shoulders. He doesn't know how many seconds they have, only that it's not long enough.] Get down! [Using as much weight as he can, he presses on top of Jason to throw Jason down to the ground below him, using his back as a shield as best as he can.]
When the tiny little clocks finally tick down to 0:00, there's a second of silence. Then, in another moment, a BOOM as bunch of simultaneous explosions go off at once. The first thing they'll notice is the front door of the building, blasted right off its hinges and away from the clinic, lying in the dirt in the middle of the street. The windows also burst, shards of glass going everywhere possible -- probably covering Damian and Jason in the process. The eruption is even enough to snap two of the support beams holding the porch in place, making it crack right in half and crumble into itself. Hopefully Jason and Damian aren't quite underneath the falling wood.
The biggest damage is mostly inside though, with what the reception area being completely destroyed, chairs and paintings and even the desk blasted and lying in rubble. The floor, the ceiling, and the walls are covered in scorch marks while two doors leading into the rest of the clinic seem to be broken into splinters. One leads to what seems like an office while the other, an examination room.
So, really. Worried about a whole lot of nothing. ]
The porch, fortunately, does not collapse right on top of them because even two idiots deserve a break sometimes. That's how to say they're not getting their asses wrecked, though. There are still splinters and shards to worry about, and a few are scraping and sinking into Jason's flesh even with a 10-year-old meat shield on top of him. There's also the actual blast from the explosion, which... yeah. Yeah. It's not as bad as it could have been, but it's still something awful. Give Jason a second as he coughs and regains the air that was knocked from him, wincing as his shoulder gets fucked up all over again.
Gosh.
A second is all he takes, though, because then he's fussing over Damian.]
Holy smokes— Oh, man. [Carefully grabbing Damian's shoulders??? This is terrible.] You are the biggest hypocrite this side of the globe! Are you alright?! What the hell were you thinking?!
[HE DID NOT ASK FOR A MEAT SHIELD???????? STOP.
On the bright side: the clinic is open now. Their stupidity was #worthit... maybe.]
I'm fine--don't touch me! [Just because he's the biggest hypocrite doesn't mean he ain't gonna be a rude piece of shit about it afterward.
Really, he isn't a fan of Jason's hands on him when his back stings and the inside of his ears are ringing. He swats weakly at Jason's arms, then winces and reaches around his ribs to his back. Plucking a small sliver of wood out of his skin and clothes, he brings it back around to inspect, the end tipped red. It's not as bad as it could be, and not as bad as he's had.] You said to do something about the sensor, so I did something.
[How was he supposed to know it'd shit explodable rabbit turds?!] No one else should go in until we know it's safe. Until we know that thing won't come back up out of the ground.
look i gotta be faithful to the 80s comic vocabulary sOMEHOW
Yeah, I did. You got me. But that something didn't involve nearly getting yourself killed, you big boob.
[UGH!!! He'd slap Damian upside the head if a) it wouldn't be a dick move, and b) his shoulder wasn't fucked up beyond belief right now. He settles for scowling at him; the best imitation of Bruce's that he can muster at the moment. It's... probably missing a lot of edge, let's be real.]
Are you okay, yes or no? I'll go test if it's safe [in... a second], but you need to stay here. That means no more archery stunts. No more using yourself as a shield.
[He's. Very pissed about that part.]
If anyone's getting themselves blown up sky high, it— [hah] It might as well be the guy with, y'know... experience.
[This is the closest he's come to shrugging off his death without wanting to barf. This may or may not be progress.]
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robowest2017-01-23 12:00 pm
no subject
Don't walk me through it and just— get it over with. [If he could roll his eyes without wanting to rip them out, he would.] I know how shoulder wounds work, kid.
[He hates shoulder wounds?? The timey wimey irony. Let him punch his future self for waxing poetics about shoulder wounds.]
Saw what was inside, if you care. Think... I know a way to counter it. [Kind of.] You got your pistol?
[This would be more convincing if he didn't sound like he was speaking through gravel. Even more if he didn't punctuate that with a fit of coughing and sniffling.]
no subject
None of us carry guns. Except you. [Without any kind of warning (Jason asked, remember), Damian pops both hands in opposite directions over the shaft of the arrow and snaps it surprisingly clean near the bottom.]
We need to get inside now because you thought it'd be a good idea to get reckless. What if the arrowhead is poisoned? We might not have an antidote!
no subject
He asked for this. Doesn't mean he has to like it, unfortunately.]
Just— ugh. Calm down, would you? I'm going to die from an ulcer before any kind of poison gets to me.
[Shut up, is what he's saying.]
I know we [emphasis on "we"] don't carry firearms, but since neither of us are carrying any convenient batarangs, we gotta improvise. [And that's with the pistol the sheriff gave them.] The box you saw has some kind of red light. A motion sensor, I think. It might go down if you hit it when it's not looking our way.
[They need to find something to look through without getting shot at again. Maybe a mirror or the shovel? Work with him and stop chewing him out, ya fart nugget.]
no subject
Stay here. [He looks back at Jason.] Don't move. Don't do anything stupid. Don't even breathe in the direction of the building. I'll be right back.
[Not a gun. It takes him a few minutes to book it to the horse he brought into town. Beneath some wrapping of hide, he gets the shortbow he crafted and two arrows, both tipped with refurbished metal he took from the homestead and crudely filed.
Ryu ga waga teki wo kurau!
Just kidding. He's gonna stand several meters away from the window before raising the nocked bow to take aim. A sensor. He can see it, barely. Red, then green. He takes the first shot.]
no subject
The arrow embeds itself into the eye, breaking it quite quickly and a loud shrill lets out as, in defense, the murder box lets out a stream of different pellets into the room before sinking into the floor.
On one hand, when it disappears, the floor looks like nothing was even under it -- perfectly clear and without any grooves or indication the murder box was there in the first place.
On the other, the pellets all seem to have a 60 second timer on them. ]
no subject
Jason doesn't run off to do anything stupid, at least. But he's in the process of pushing himself up to his feet, cocking an eyebrow as Damian pulls and fires. The sound that follows is, presumably, heard from outside — and that gets him to freeze up entirely.
He can't see what's happening inside the building, but that didn't sound good at all.
Rest in fucking pieces, kids. Even if he tries, Jason probably isn't going to move fast enough to grab Damian haul ass.]
no subject
The disappearance of the box brings some relief, but when several handfuls of clanking material drop out at the end, Damian's stomach drops.] Move! [Jason isn't going to make it. JASON ISN'T GOING TO MAKE IT. Damian is going to get the opportunity to watch Jason Todd get blasted into oblivion for the second time in Jason's life.
He drops the shortbow and second arrow with gusto and runs in the opposite direction Jason is headed. They meet in the middle, and Damian slams into the other boy grabbing at the shoulders. He doesn't know how many seconds they have, only that it's not long enough.] Get down! [Using as much weight as he can, he presses on top of Jason to throw Jason down to the ground below him, using his back as a shield as best as he can.]
no subject
When the tiny little clocks finally tick down to 0:00, there's a second of silence. Then, in another moment, a BOOM as bunch of simultaneous explosions go off at once. The first thing they'll notice is the front door of the building, blasted right off its hinges and away from the clinic, lying in the dirt in the middle of the street. The windows also burst, shards of glass going everywhere possible -- probably covering Damian and Jason in the process. The eruption is even enough to snap two of the support beams holding the porch in place, making it crack right in half and crumble into itself. Hopefully Jason and Damian aren't quite underneath the falling wood.
The biggest damage is mostly inside though, with what the reception area being completely destroyed, chairs and paintings and even the desk blasted and lying in rubble. The floor, the ceiling, and the walls are covered in scorch marks while two doors leading into the rest of the clinic seem to be broken into splinters. One leads to what seems like an office while the other, an examination room.
So, really. Worried about a whole lot of nothing. ]
no subject
The porch, fortunately, does not collapse right on top of them because even two idiots deserve a break sometimes. That's how to say they're not getting their asses wrecked, though. There are still splinters and shards to worry about, and a few are scraping and sinking into Jason's flesh even with a 10-year-old meat shield on top of him. There's also the actual blast from the explosion, which... yeah. Yeah. It's not as bad as it could have been, but it's still something awful. Give Jason a second as he coughs and regains the air that was knocked from him, wincing as his shoulder gets fucked up all over again.
Gosh.
A second is all he takes, though, because then he's fussing over Damian.]
Holy smokes— Oh, man. [Carefully grabbing Damian's shoulders??? This is terrible.] You are the biggest hypocrite this side of the globe! Are you alright?! What the hell were you thinking?!
[HE DID NOT ASK FOR A MEAT SHIELD???????? STOP.
On the bright side: the clinic is open now. Their stupidity was #worthit... maybe.]
jason saying holy smokes cracks me up
Really, he isn't a fan of Jason's hands on him when his back stings and the inside of his ears are ringing. He swats weakly at Jason's arms, then winces and reaches around his ribs to his back. Plucking a small sliver of wood out of his skin and clothes, he brings it back around to inspect, the end tipped red. It's not as bad as it could be, and not as bad as he's had.] You said to do something about the sensor, so I did something.
[How was he supposed to know it'd shit explodable rabbit turds?!] No one else should go in until we know it's safe. Until we know that thing won't come back up out of the ground.
look i gotta be faithful to the 80s comic vocabulary sOMEHOW
[UGH!!! He'd slap Damian upside the head if a) it wouldn't be a dick move, and b) his shoulder wasn't fucked up beyond belief right now. He settles for scowling at him; the best imitation of Bruce's that he can muster at the moment. It's... probably missing a lot of edge, let's be real.]
Are you okay, yes or no? I'll go test if it's safe [in... a second], but you need to stay here. That means no more archery stunts. No more using yourself as a shield.
[He's. Very pissed about that part.]
If anyone's getting themselves blown up sky high, it— [hah] It might as well be the guy with, y'know... experience.
[This is the closest he's come to shrugging off his death without wanting to barf. This may or may not be progress.]