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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie "Well then! Hopefully things'll piece together here. Thank you for your hard work, Officer." Damien says with his signature smile before turning back towards the scene at the homeless shelter. 'The dregs of society, Damien. The dregs of society... This place is filled with human filth. A methadone clinic huh? Thought it said method one... That's besides the point. If I can't buy this guy, maybe I can play into his vices. Did I even get his name? God, I've been so careless in handing out mine. Smart move Damien, smart move.' He pauses in silence to collect his thoughts before planning his next move. Damien will scout the scene for anything or anyone that looks particularly useful. If not, he'll return to his office and review some details of an acquisition bid to try and clear his head. Business Minded, Manipulative and Charismatic if any apply. Same with OCD and Unfeeling The meeting with the bum, while not particularly fruitful, was a defining moment for Damien. Granted he himself was unaware of it, there was a subtle change. The beginnings of a thirst, an itch that would develop into a full on pang, but that would come later. After all, time was on his side, or so he thought.
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Jan 27, 2014 20:20
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Nicole Smith Menthols were loving awful. She'd long maintained that no one that smoked them actually enjoyed it, they just did it for hipster cred. Which was bullshit anyways, since if you actually had style you'd smoke Lucky Strikes (vintage bay-bee) or American Spirits. Still, it was better than nothing. Totally made sense that Eric would smoke them though - the dude got by on aping the most cliche poo poo as if he was some groundbreaking revolutionary. At least when they'd been dating he'd had the good sense to copy her interests, fat lot of good it ended up doing him. Maybe if he was interesting or original, or at least good at mimicry, he wouldn't have eventually gotten so goddamn boring to her. Traversing the recently ravaged living room with her second cup of coffee in one hand, menthol in the other, pack in her pocket and smoke curling about her, Nico was thankful that her headache was fading some. She'd just needed her morning fixes, that was all. No one loving time up for a little while had helped too, and she was nearly recovered enough to start wondering about what the hell was going on at the hobohotel. Nearly being the operative word. She still had some problems to fix. Lounging about on the pile of cushions that belonged to the couch she'd just disassembled, Nico pondered how exactly to wake Ernesto up. She needed him gone in a hurry, mostly because the second he was gone she could start calling either Mitch (if he was up yet) or Jonathan (who tended to take loving forever to come over) to buy some weed with She ashed the cigarette into a neat little pile on the wood floor while pondering her options. After a few minutes, her cigarette was spent, her coffee was finished, and she'd figured out what to do. Rising from the pillow island, Nico walked across the room into the kitchen area, set her cup on the counter near the coffee pot, grabbed a pot (that looked like it still had bits of sphaghetti sauce concreted to the sides) and a wooden spoon. With her equipment gathered she then walked into her room, stood over the sleeping form of Santa's fabulous helper, and began to use the spoon to beat the everloving gently caress out of the pan. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"
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Jan 31, 2014 08:01
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October 7, 8:00 AM++ Nicole Smith "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!" Beating the pan like it owed her money, Nicole stood over the sleeping man and shouted into his ear. For a full minute. "WAKE UP! HEY! ERNESTO MOTHERFUCKING UH, WAKE UP!" What was his last name? Villalobos? Yeah it'd be weird if she knew his last name (hard to say if they were on a first name/last name basis) but gently caress he really wasn't budging. At all. She gave him a nudge with her foot and failing that leaned down to check his breathing. Still breathing. That's a good sign right? She put down the pan and lifted up his eyeslids. That was definitely a thing they did on Tv for guys in comas. "Hey come on dude, don't tell me you OD'd or something retarded like that." She slapped him in the face a few times before pinching his nose shut in case he was faking. Thirty seconds passed, a minute, a minute and a half. "Well gently caress." Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie "Excuse me sir, hi! I'm Damien Porter, from PHML. Are you in charge here at all?" Damien homed in on the (next) least shabbily dressed person around, offering the man his hand and a calculated but friendly smile. "George Madison, yeah I'm shelter's managing director. Do you know Rusty?" Five seconds in and he already had the bum's name. Working the shelter angle was definitely the right idea here. "Nope, turns out it was a case of mistaken identity. I think he thought I was somebody else. Is he going to be ok? He kind of took off in a rush and I'm worried about him. He kind of seemed like he could do with a hot meal and some medical attention." "Huh, you know you're the second guy to ask me about Rusty today. Mr. Tully said the same thing." Jackpot. "Oh? Who's that, if you don't mind my asking? Maybe we should meet and compare notes, I mean obviously we're both kind of concerned about the guy." "Jack Tully? He was right here a second ago in fact-" "Jack! Hey Jack!" He waves to an older man in casual clothes chatting with some of the other homeless. Another person of interest? He looked a little too clean-shaven and recently bathed to be a hobo. Jack Tully – Veteran "It's weird that he'd take off before breakfast like that, maybe the guy did spook him? But yeah sure, you can help me get a headcount of everybody who's still around. Oh and I could definitely use a hand setting up the folding chairs and tables while I dig up the English muffins, margarine, and slightly out-of-date Poptarts. You know, breakfast of Champions?" George waggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly, hamming it up with a Groucho Marx impression. Sharing a laugh you both start at either end of the crowd and work your way inwards as the last of the firemen begin filing out. There are still plenty of homeless hanging around (probably waiting for the aforesaid breakfast of champions) before heading off to their morning routines. Several of them recognize you and share idle chatter about bland topics, the fire, Rusty, people with sleeping problems (nobody really unusual except the pretty blonde who came by earlier this morning.) "Jack! Hey Jack!" George is standing right next to the spook, waving you over. Rusty - Alcoholic Bum In the best of times a bus is just as good as a shelter. They're (usually) air conditioned when it's hot, heated when it's cold, and depending on the route and driver give you somewhere comfortable to sit and nap for most of a day. The guy who drives the Route 14 between the airport, old town, and the bus station is a hardass though and isn't in the least hesitant to call the cops on what he considers "disruptive passengers." Rusty finds the nearest stop over to the Route 14, feeling through his pockets and coming up shy. Fifteen cents shy, gently caress. Gary (the driver of the bus) would take no excuses, and presumably afterwards he'd need a ride back so that'd be another .75 there. Scanning the edge of the curb as he walks he runs through the nearest best possible sources of cash. Getting back to a main road and panhandling outside a restaurant would be the best bet but that'd be another long detour on its own. He ran his hands underneath the grill of the nearby gutter, usually things tend to congregate down there. After a bit of digging he found a grimy quarter, wiping it clean enough between his hands to be legibly currency. Yeah that'd do it, catch the 8:25 bus towards the airport. He was in luck because he'd get it on the way back, and the next one was (checking the battered bus schedule in his pocket) two hours away after that. That'd be plenty of time to figure out how to get a fare back.
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Feb 5, 2014 04:06
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Rusty - Alcoholic Bum "That'll do, Pig." Thumbing the quarter, he takes a look at the year. '74. Same year his son was born. If he believed in good omens, that'd be one. There's a moment where Rusty considers hopping on another bus to lay low for a while first, but if Rusty and the yuppie have the same destination in mind, no amount of hiding out until the liquor stores open is gonna change that. For the third time in under an hour, Rusty finds himself glad that the temptations to get a drink are currently being held down by the impossibility, rather than just his own rather fallible willpower. Of course, maybe on the way back, once he's got some more information and a reason to celebrate... well, that's a different story all together. The bus comes right on time; the stick up Gary's rear end is a benefit for once. Triumphantly paying the full $0.75 fare and keeping a hold of the spare dime, Rusty takes a spot near the back, and tries to decide just what he'll get to celebrate the end of this little adventure. Not a beer, it's a special occasion. Whiskey, maybe, but that would sit sour. Hmm... Brandy. "That'll do." Rusty behaves, takes the ride to the airport, and keeps an eye open for Damien.
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Feb 5, 2014 04:19
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie 'Things are turning out rather favorably... Let's hope the trend continues,' Damien thinks to himself as the older man catches his attention. 'Better put on that poster boy smile.' "Hi, Damien Porter, pleased to meet you." Damien says to Mr. Tully extending his hand to shake.
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Feb 5, 2014 06:25
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Jack Tully – Veteran 'Oh god drat it Jack. Just like Operation Coburg; you got the info but stuck around to long afterwards. Ah well, in for a pointman, in for a squad. Time to go all in.' Jack wandered over casually to the pair, giving a smile and a nod to George and extending his hand to meet Damiens. “Hey there, Jack Tully's the name.” Jack spent a few moments thinking about how to get away from the audience without causing a ruckus. He morphed his face into a rictus of confusion and deep thought. “Weren't you the guy that cut me off on the way to the airport today? Black BMW? Ah it's fine, we both had important business there today and its best to have good time keeping. Say George, isn't there a diner not a block away from here? Want me to pick up a few coffees and donuts for everyone? I could use a bite to eat myself. Want to help out Damien? We can have a chat there and back." All set up then. A semi-private place where Damien and Jack could speak openly without pussy footing about, without the added danger to getting shanked at some point. George would expect him back at some point as well, so if the suit did try something the police wouldn't be far behind. Now if only he had gotten the point across.
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Feb 5, 2014 11:38
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie "I'd love to help, and I am so sorry for my behavior earlier. Please forgive me for my imprudence, it was uncalled for. That being said, do you feel like driving? I think you know how I am behind the wheel." Damien says jokingly after mustering the most sincere apology he could. Behind the smile and put together appearance hid his true self. 'This man thinks himself clever does he? I'll have to put him in his place.' Damien thinks quietly whilst continuing his charismatic charade. "Ready when you are Jack."
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Feb 5, 2014 16:12
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Jack Tully – Veteran “Great, it's this way. See you in a minute George.” Jack leads Damien away towards the Diner before George has a chance to interfere. When they both get to the main street, Jack slows down his step and begins speaking to Damien in a quiet tone. “Before we get to the bullshit you want me to swallow, I need to share a paranoid little thought of mine I've had since I spoke to George. Now follow me along on this one for a second; Everyone who has the ability to time travel has been in a race since the first time-shift this morning at the airport. We both went there, anyone else may be heading there and I would bet that is where Rusty is going to end up at some point. Now, we know of 3 competitors in that race; me, you and Rusty. What we may all be forgetting upto now is that the race also includes a 4th member; the first time-traveller at the airport." “I know George, and I know that George knows his boys. If he says the guys wouldn't be stupid enough to start that fire, I believe him. That leaves us with a very hard to explain co-incidence. An unknown time-traveller is on the loose and also knows that another time traveller is at the homeless shelter. And that shelter mysteriously suffers from a fire. And soon after that, another traveller shows up and shifts time, revealing not only himself, but a guy close by unable to stop himself from reacting. If the first time-traveller was still around the shelter, you and Rusty are known targets, while we only have suspects, which I'm sure you found out during your trip. Now I advise you to learn how to handle a gun if you don't know already, and keep one with you just in case." “Now” Jack smiles “What line of bull did you want to feed me?”
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Feb 5, 2014 16:37
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie That quiet, inconsolable rage was building up in Damien yet again. Tully's remarks had left him feeling uneasy, primarily because there was a good amount of logic and reason associated with them. The man was indeed clever, which meant Damien would have to find a way to make him an ally where he had failed with Rusty, the homeless man. His tone changes from how it had before. Damien could be a world-class liar, a constant performance artist who never left the stage, but a delicate situation like this requires some amount of honesty; the removal of his neatly layered masks. pre:Let's penetrate the Damien space for a second. "The key to telling a good lie is knowing when and how to use the truth. All too often, liars like myself forget that the truth might be the greatest tool in a liar's arsenal." "You want to cultivate trust. Let the person you're lying to know, that you're not all bad. The age old, 'Don't judge a book by it's cover' bullshit. Then once you have that trust... that's when you gently caress them, nice and hard. There's a trick to knowing when to abuse that trust and so on, but that's a story for another time." "Now with what you're saying about a 4th member. I can't help but feel that they are playing at a larger game. Think about that first jump. I don't know about you, but I can only go backwards or forwards in time by a few minutes. That initial jump at the airport was hours." pre:"Did you catch it? Did you see where I lied. How subtle it was. Don't think I'm sucking myself off just yet... I don't even know if the guy bought it, but it's a start." "Let's work together." Use +4 Manipulative and whatever else applies.
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Feb 5, 2014 18:17
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Jack Tully – Veteran The salesmen were always cheerful and humorous and the it's form was always marvellous and spectacular, but snake oil was still snake oil. There is a surprising amount of political manoeuvring and toadying up that goes on in an Army unit, so Jack usually had a decent radar for it, though that last bit felt sincere in a 'I bet you can't spot the lie I'm telling you' kinda way. “That's always a possibility but I believe I should only be in as much danger as George or anyone else you spoke to. What really would have tipped someone off is the fact I tried to get to Rusty as well. Couldn't find him though, rascal got away clean.” At the talk of allying, Jack takes a real long breath. “I wouldn't have bothered talking to you if I didn't feel like joining up. But there's also the fact that I don't think you deserve to die; I may be wrong of course, but we'll cross that bridge eventually. The only thing in my mind right now is the fact that the other traveller shifted time by so much. What the time keeper said about taking time? Whoever it is must have taken a lot of it to kick times rear end by that much and I can't let a probable innocent suffer. If you don't think a gun would be any good there's a few other things we can do. I can put in a good word with the Police, get you a patrol coming round every once and a while to babysit. I can have people keep an eye out for the current suspects since a lot of people owe me a favor or two and I can always divert attention away from you. I'm well known and probably an easier target for whoever it is. If you think you need that protection of course. Also, even if a gun won't be that much help, it's better then nothing. I know a guy who might be able to fast track you, if need be. Pretty good teacher to.” ---- Alright you slippery son of a bitch no offence. I will defend with +4 Army Vet because not only am I older and wiser to the game, but I also would have dealt with a lot of manipulative assholes in my time. Same game different player. I shall also defend with +2 Contacts since I have my own heavy hitter friends to back me up so I'm not in as much need of a friend as Damien is. I shall strike back at Mr Porter with +4 Army Vet for the very same reasons, as well as +2 Contacts again for the reasons above, but also for putting Damien off foot with how willing I am to share resources. I think +2 Good Reputation should also apply in the giving of resources. But also because I'm pretty well liked by others genuinely, something Damien can only play a charade at. These next parts might be reaching, but I think -2 Unfeeling should apply against Damien, as that little display of emotion might be a bit beyond the sociopathic businessman. -2 Mild OCD might also apply, because in my experience people who suffer from it don't like people getting into their personal space, and I am being a bit front heavy here. But that really is reaching and should remain your discretion puppies. For myself -2 Impulsive should apply, since putting myself at Damiens tender mercies was very forward when I could have easily fobbed it off. I'm also being impulsive by willingly putting so many resources on the table.
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Feb 5, 2014 22:46
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie Let's tango. Damien nods and smiles as the tone of the conversation becomes more suitable for negotiation, even if the negotiations were just in the nuances of what was implied and what was left unsaid. "To be up front with you Jack, I don't know if it is in our best interest to draw too much attention to ourselves until we know more about the alleged threat we face. Even with you being a more prominent figure in town, I strongly doubt we are in any real danger. At least right now." "If what you were saying about a 'fourth member' is correct. Then I feel they would want us to be lured out into open. How well can you trust your contacts? How well do you trust your 'guy'? What would you say to cash in these favors, "this rich schmuck needs protection from someone who can skip through time?" He says half-seriously, making sure to add in the appropriate amount of humor to drive the point. After a brief silence and pulling up to the coffee shop Damien makes another remark, "Maybe. We'll see... I certainly don't want to feel like my life is at stake, but the more this day progresses... I can't help but feel dread creeping in." ---- I see how it is! I see!!! +4 Manipulative to spin the direction of the conversation in my favor, trying to make it seem like trusting me was his idea. As he brings up potentially getting me protection through his network of contacts, +2 Business Minded(if applicable) to provide a counter to his logic(even if it is good, I need to have it my way!). Also who could distrust a man as +2 Charismatic as Damien? Sure he may be a bit -2 Unfeeling, but he's not trying to relate to Tully. He wants him as a card to play when he needs to play it. Maybe that is a bit unfeeling? And -2 Mild-OCD well... if anything would set off Damien's OCD, then Damien will just have to take the proper time to rectify whatever it is that is wrong! or power through the wave of displeasure with +2 Business Minded gotta' stay focused even if something is amiss.
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Feb 5, 2014 23:32
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October 7, 8:00 AM++ Social combat round Part 2 - Damien and Jack Tully's Bogus Adventure Damien and Jack chatted as they walked the half block down the street, eying each other warily as they each tried to find and exploit perceived advantages. It was easy if you think about it really, Jack had decades of experience dealing with smooth talkers and wheeler dealers who thought they could snow him with big talk about money and what the "best case scenario" was. Whoever the guy really was, he was a medium sized fish in a little pond compared to some of the real monsters he'd tangled with. Holding the door to the diner open he met the man's not-too-subtle manipulations with implicit references to political clout and influence of his own. The diner offered a completely clear view of the street and the action still happening in the distance. Damien quipped in response to the old man's offer but beneath his facade his calm cracked at the prospect of chronologically inspired murder. He was outgunned here (maybe literally), the old man had contacts in the police force, ties with the homeless, maybe other accomplices nearby. He was in the wrong part of town and out of his depth, although the public setting and presence of the police just up the street was reassuring it was too hard to say what the result would be if the old man decided to play hardball. "Morning. Y'all need a table?" The waitress looked them over with a bored expression. She twirled a pen between her fingers as she stared past the two of them, the faded "Hi, my name is MARY!  " sticker on her stained uniform the only upbeat thing about her.Since Dr Idle dropped domains first but OscarDiggs posted attack stats first I wasn't sure which way to call it for who gets the first move and flipped a coin. poo poo looks like I can't get in to Orokos for some reason and you guys are just going to have to trust my impartial nature. Heads D, Tails J. Damien's move. Time to roll some dice! Attack Damien- Manipulative, Charismatic, (not seeing business minded in the attack for this pitch), -Unfeeling (the veneer is starting to crack) 2d6+4+2-2 = 3+6+4 = 13! Defense Jack- Army Vet, Contacts, -Impulsive 2d6+4+2-2 = 2+6+4 = 12. 13 v 12, Jack takes a rank of damage. Jack's turn to bat, Army Vet, Contacts (how connected is this guy Damien? Might be a boots on ground, men with guns sort of problem, could be messy), Good Reputation (could be some seriously bad press tangling with an old guy) 2d6+4+2+2 = 5+2+4+2+2 = 15. Damien's defense, Manipulative, Business minded, Charismatic (can't help but like the son of a bitch for some reason), (didn't take OCD but I would if you really did want to get in his grill here) 2d6+4+2+2 = 1+2+4+2+2 = 11. 15 v 11 Damien takes 4 ranks of damage, think this knocks him out (of ranks temporarily), Puppies are dicks fucked around with this message at 03:23 on Feb 6, 2014 |
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Feb 6, 2014 02:10
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Nicole Smith Ernesto was starting to seriously damage Nico's calm. Was he like, brain-dead or something? It seemed completely implausible he could somehow sleep through the mornings events, up to her actually tiring herself out beating on the pan she was wielding. For a second or two, she seriously considered just smacking him upside the head with it, but thought better of it. Walking to her desk, Nico grabbed out her favorite pipe, the last bowl's worth of weed from the bottom of the grinder, and the keef that had accumulated beneath the screen at the bottom of said grinder. After a few seconds of well-practiced bowl packing, she now had a way to fix her harshed (by Enesto, Eric, and everyone that was gang-banging the Time Stream) mellow. Back into the main room she went, bowl (named Bowli-Wan-Kenobi, because thats what the person she'd stolen it from had called it - she really loving needed to give it a new name,) in hand. Sparking it, she took a deep hit and held the smoke in her lungs while she poured herself another cup of coffee. Alternating between the two intoxicants, after about five minutes she'd managed to finish off both her bowl, and her coffee. At that point she added another cigarette to the chemical mess that was her, finishing the menthol with substantially greater cheer than the first one she'd had that day. Problem was, at this point she was somewhat stuck. No car, so she couldn't drive to pick up from Mitch or Jonathan. No phone, so she couldn't call either of them over either. And no weed, which was why she wanted to see them in the first place. Hell, she couldn't even go back to bed - she needed to be awake when Ernesto woke up, to guarantee that he got the gently caress out of there as soon as possible and therefore had no time to notice his wallet was missing. Goddamit. Whatever, she'd just relax on the Rauri fucked around with this message at 07:48 on Feb 6, 2014 |
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Feb 6, 2014 07:46
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie Jack wasn't buying what Damien was selling and that was starting to irk him. The man was indeed clever, perhaps too clever. He supposes that if they were good enough for the Keeper of Time to grant them their abilities, then there may in fact be more that he was missing. Maybe his approach would have to be less, objective oriented and a bit more personable... personable. Tssch! Yeah right, that was going to be a problem if it had be genuine. All Damien has is what he learned, and what he learned was just plastered in place. Images layered on emptiness. He gives a hearty smile to the woman, "Mary is it? No ma'am, we'll just need some coffee's and donuts to go. That won't be a problem will it?" +2 Charismatic on Mary to turn her frown upside down. I'll take a small victory since Jack and Rusty don't want to trust me. 
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Feb 6, 2014 17:22
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Jack Tully – Veteran Porter seemed to settle down when he realised that Jack wasn't falling for the hook. Having him around as an “ally” was probably going to be more trouble then it was worth, but Jack needed all the help possible right now. Deal with Damien later; who knows, maybe he'll prove himself a good friend and ally? Jack almost laughed at loud at that thought, almost interrupting Damiens smooth-talking routine with the waitress. “That fire down the shelter was an awful business. We're here to pick up some coffee and donuts for everyone down there. Help lift the mood a bit.” I'm willing to leave it for now if you are, Doctor Idle.
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Feb 7, 2014 16:59
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie Damien glances over at Jack. His body language and expressions said it all. He had won this battle... pre:...but I'm patient, I'll win the war.
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Feb 8, 2014 00:27
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October 7, 9:00 AM Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie & Jack Tully – Veteran "Eh, going to be a while on those donuts unless you don't mind some bagels mixed in there too." Mary shrugged as she finished writing up the ticket and shouted back towards the kitchen. "Another dozen donuts Ed! Alright so one box coffee, two dozen donuts, most of which'll be frying up right now, 9.99 for the dozen, three bucks for the coffee, call it $24 even. Gimme a holler if you want something while you wait." She stepped out of the way of a passing customer and motioned the men towards the counter where they took a seat. The diner was surprisingly crowded for an otherwise ordinary greasy spoon on a Monday morning. Jack knew from firsthand experience that this was because the food was surprisingly good. It was cheap, came in good sized portions that probably had a side of bacon, and was also sort of homemade in the back. The overlap of hung over students, bleary-eyed first shift workers eager to grab a hot bite before heading out, and elderly retirees nursing a second cup of coffee as they chatted had the diner nearly completely packed. Jack and Damien looked at each other somewhat coolly and awkwardly before turning to stare out the window of the diner facing the street. It really did offer a perfect view of the theater and both of them watched through as the last of the police cars and firetrucks pulled away, leaving the now-disinterested onlookers to wander off as the homeless either filed back inside or did the same. Nicole Smith "I've made a huge mistake." Nico snorted and almost gasped as the air bubble went up the wrong tube (or down or something I guess). Motherfucking Michael Bluth and that deadpan delivery, comedy genius every time. It was like every time she watched this show something new and subtly amusing popped out, like a mysterious mystery box of referential in-jokes and making fun of retards and minorities but not in a bad way like a dick. She stretched out across the cushions and poured the last of somebody's left behind bottle of Jagermeister into her coffee, giving it a tentative sip and shrugging it off. Her mouth already tasted like a snowman's candy cane stuffed rear end in a top hat anyway so the herby minty coffee mess was hardly a step down. She fumbled for the remote with her off hand, looking to pause the episode to check the time. Any second now probably time would do that thing where it unlocked and the Bam! It'd be so long Ernesto. It was a good plan, a great plan as long as she got the timing on this thing right and those loving hobos didn't steal a jump her somehow and kick Time in the sack before she could do her business. Rusty - Alcoholic Bum Rusty grinned as he slammed his change into the slot, there was pretty much nothing Gary could do about that could he? It was already shaping up to be a hot morning, and the cool air-conditioned bus with its springy seats was a comfort in ways he'd long since given up as a loss. It was almost enough to keep his mind off the fact that it was two hours into the day and he still hadn't gotten anything to eat or for that matter drink. The bus passed the discount liquor store at the edge and he licked cracked lips at the thought of it. Wait! There was the Smirnoff from the last-night-that-wasn't! He patted the pockets of his jacket, suddenly afraid that maybe he'd forgotten, left the bottle behind when everybody was leaving the shelter in a rush earlier and to great relief closed his fingers around the familiar shape. He gave it a nominal heft and shake, still there and maybe at least a third full. He hadn't touched the bottled water he'd been given earlier before, and he was awfully thirsty. Maybe just a sip to steady his nerves would do? There were after all another five or ten minutes left in the ride until they hit the airport anyway. It's not like it would hurt any or Gary would kick him or something.
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Feb 16, 2014 02:26
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Rusty - Alcoholic Bum Clutching the bottle tightly in his grip, knuckles white, Rusty feels that last little part of him that knows this would end poorly speak up. Its opponent, the same as always; he felt the lurch in his gut, the sudden dryness of his throat. Remember your father. Remember your son. It was never just one drink, never just enough to take the edge off. One more then one more then your life's in ruins around you. This is your chance to make amends. Remember what this drink has made you do. It's not too late to change. It's... It's so much easier to forget. Rusty squeezed his eyes shut, tilted his head back, and let the warm familiarity of his failure seep into his gut.
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Feb 16, 2014 02:38
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Jack Tully – Veteran “We should exchange numbers” Jack said quickly, still looking out of the window and avoiding Damiens gaze. “So we can swap information and you can give me a call if you end up in trouble. We could also co-ordinate investigations so we don't end up raising to many suspicious eye-brows by whoever might be watching. Also, I would lay low for a while if I were you. If you are in under the eye, then whoever might be a danger to you will likely give up if you put yourself in a position of strength. If they do try anything you'll also be on home turf, which is the best place to fight the unknown.” Jack quickly scanned the window, settling into the 'old-man-reminiscing' position that made him practically invisible to the younger folks. "See anyone suspicious?" He asked Damien, keeping his movements to a minimum. +4 Veteran for a bit more recon through the window. I want a looksie for anyone out of place or acting suspiciously, as well as gaining a general familiarity with the people on the street so that I could recognize someone if they started tailing me. +2 Good Reputation may also count, since if I have a presence in the area I should be able to notice anything out of the ordinary.
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Feb 17, 2014 00:15
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie "I have to admit, I agree with you." Damien says before brandishing his business card. "If you can't reach me, feel free to leave a message with my receptionist. She'll be more than happy to relay any message and frankly, I trust her. I know we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, apprehension, social discord, whatever you may have, but I want you to know that you seem like a man who is on the level and up front about his intentions. I respect that." I'll also keep an eye out. +2 Business Minded if it applies. -2 Minor OCD if that applies.
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Feb 17, 2014 06:04
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Nicole Smith Excellente. Time had unlocked, and she'd just managed to finish the season 2 AD finale, aka the best season. Now, it was time to both test out time manipulation, and awaken and subesquently evict Ernesto from her floor. Plus, this would hurt the gently caress out of the goddamn bums that kept sodomizing time. Served 'em right. The real questions was, would her moving time forward hurt her too, or would she be in the eye of whatever temporal pain-storm it caused, thereby avoid hurt while dishing it out to everyone else? She hoped it was the second one - she'd been pretty good at that even before that weirdass time keeper had either gifted powers to her, or revealed that she had them, and this new capability made dodging responsibility for things even easier. If she saw that creep again, she had a list of questions a mile long and growing longer... A thought occurred. She'd probably be able to tell Eric some grandiose lie later today - maybe something about having seen his mom get nailed by three old rear end dudes at once, or maybe that she'd felt a lump one on of his balls back when they were dating, and that he probably had cancer and was either gonna die or become a uniball - and then skip forward to a future where he believed her. Now that had promise! Grabbing the pot and spoon again, Nico trekked back to her room, firmly gripped the aforementioned cooking accessories, and began to once again beat them against each other like an enraged toddler. This time though, time was on her side - she could feel the future she wanted, all she had to do was reach out with her mind and grab it... Time slips 3 seconds into the future - specifically, one where Ernesto wakes up. Am on a trip atm, normally would've written more. I'll have something up in Wanderers later this week hopefully, provided I don't freeze to death over the next couple days. Edit: Fixed a spelling error that was irritating me. Rauri fucked around with this message at 08:43 on Feb 19, 2014 |
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Feb 17, 2014 08:39
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 Time has been changed. Time has been advanced by 3 seconds.October 7, 9:00 AM+ Pain, terror. Time has been advanced forcibly by 3 seconds. The perpetrator is located in one of the shabbier subdivisions somewhere on the west end of town. Time is now locked until the end of the Scene/Hour! Nicole Smith "WHAA!" Ernesto lurched upright, staring at Nico with unfocused eyes as he stumbled out of the room. She eyed him back in curiosity. He was definitely awake, that was for sure, but what the hell was up with him? Was he just a really crappy morning person? "Que hora...Donde? Esteban? Esteban?" Ernesto made his way through the house, and Nico followed quietly behind as he called for his (boyfriend?). He made his way through the front door and stood out on the street, still looking around blankly and quizzically. "Lo quiero..." His nose crinkled as he sniffed his hand, grimy with the encrusted remnants of Nico's earlier lackluster attempt at cleaning. "Vomito?" Ernesto swayed, gently and almost gracefully as his eyes rolled back and fell, slumping to the curb in a loose heap. Rusty - Alcoholic Bum The vodka turned to acid as it backflowed, up his gut and through his nose, into his lungs and various sinuses. Time, time had just gone completely wrong for Rusty. It moved too fast and wrongly the wrong way, whoever did it was in one of those beat-up starter homes out that way and it hurt just like when the suit did his thing. In another life (when he still paid taxes, drove a car, and had a life) he'd talked about buying a house out there, one of the little ones from the 50s, getting one on the cheap and flipping it or renting it out to kids. Rusty coughed wetly into his sleeve, dabbing at his face and eyes as he dragged himself down memory lane to get his mind off the ache. "Airport." The bus ground to a stop and Gary wound the lever for the door, staring back in the mirror with a neutral expression. Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie Time skipped and with it Damien caught the odd sensation of it falling painfully forward. Somebody changed time, and although it hurt by now he must have been building up some kind of tolerance because that shift or whatever it was barely set him off his stride. He did it, whoever he was, from somewhere vaguely generally on the west side of town. Nothing out there but lovely little two bedroom astroturf faux-retro garbage a bank wouldn't even bother to foreclose on. Damien looked around the diner and out the window, eyes sharp for anything out of the ordinary and anyone suspicious but found nothing except the same bunch of local yokels, a recently emptied booth with concomitant mostly empty cup of coffee, and still more blue collar types waiting around to be seated. He watched as the old veteran flinched, obviously in discomfort at the shift. Maybe it was harder on the elderly? The hobo had been the same way when he'd last done his thing. Jack Tully – Veteran Time! Time went wrong, and the pain was enough to stop and give him pause. Whoever did it was on the west side of town in the old Kirchner Road houses, Hollister's own answer to Levittown. Jack hadn't been out there in years, especially since gradually the post Baby Boom families and their empty nests moved on and the place became a sort of hub for renters, foreclosures, squatters, and immigrants but he had a general-ish idea of what street to look for. It was really hard to say where though. He mulled it over as he looked out the window, recognizing vaguely most of the people he saw and spotting nothing out of the ordinary. No, he hadn't seen any of these people yet today but he could probably recognize them if he spotted them again later. Porter winced at the shift, but whatever the guy did to keep a handle on himself obviously worked as the friendly slick mask was right back on his face not less than half a second after.
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Feb 20, 2014 07:09
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Nicole Smith "loving finally." Nico watched Ernesto tip over with some small measure of satisfaction. Waking him up had been a bitch and a half, and she was a bit amused to see him get some small measure of impact-granted comeuppance for the frustration his incredible sleeping ability had put her through. Downing the rest of her jagercoffee while watching through the kitchen window, it was funny to see Ernesto occasionally weakly stir yet still remain quite prone. He may be in front of her house, but he was no longer her problem. If anything, he'd be Jen's problem when she got back, provided she cared. Failing that, he could either get back to his irritating sleeping out of sight and out of mind or have one of her neighbors call the cops on him. Ah well, like she'd waited for, what happened to him was no longer her problem. "Fucker." Nico whispered under her breath, none too gently setting her cup down and then stomping back to her now vacant bedroom. Staring at her bed like she'd never seen one before, the amoral hipster didn't so much get into bed as she collapsed into it. With any luck, she'd be able to get a bit of shut eye, but probably not - too much coffee already. Scratch that, there was no such thing as too much coffee. There was, however, such thing as enough coffee to make it hard to sleep. Jen would be back by the time she awoke, and then she could call one of her dealers. She started to doze off, head filled with thoughts of the drugs, booze, and assorted other wastes of money she'd waste Ernesto's money on.
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Feb 20, 2014 11:13
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie "I guess you felt that," Damien whispers to the Veteran who looked a bit worse for wear by the shift. Nausea and inexplicable pain aside, the effects of these shifts were having less of a physical impact on Damien then they once had. However, the fact that someone could have an effect on him at all still enraged the young professional. Damien tries NOT to look like he was aware of being transitioned through time, but his resentment and discomfort were making that difficult. What would happen if I tried to shift time forward in this instance with the time remaining from the last scene? Would it not even happen, would something terrible happen? Would I have to find out?
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Feb 20, 2014 22:55
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Jack Tully – Veteran “Yep” Jack whispered back to Damien, trying to get over the nausea and shock. Damien seemed to be handling it better but then again, so was he compared to the first time. ”We have a few options. 1, We throw caution to the wind and both go. I lose my anonymity if I had it but we're both safer overall. 2, You go and talk to me about it later. I remain hidden but you put yourself in danger against an unknown parties of unknown strength. 3, I go and you get somewhere safe until we get a better handle of what's going on. Again, lose anonymity but you stay safe. I recommend we not do anything today though; that would be like painting a bull's eye on our backs removing any doubt of our ability and possible putting us in the path of the airport shifter. As for the actual plan, I say I go alone or we throw caution to the wind and go together, but we can decide later if you want.” He laughs quietly, then says to Damien "This is of course assuming the airport shifter couldn't take one or both of us on. They would have to be pretty drat good in order to get that much time." Let's get this show on the road!
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Feb 20, 2014 23:54
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Rusty, Alcoholic Bum There were plenty of times when Rusty had drank on an empty stomach before. It wasn't pleasant, but he'd gotten used to it. And if it'd just been that, he'd have kept it down fine. But combined with the wrenching in his gut from the time shift, it was too much. Hand clapped over his mouth, the bum rushed out of the bus, and collided with a trashcan. He clung to it as his stomach turned and emptied, and for a good few moments after. "Hh... hh..." Stumbling back to his feet, Rusty stared bleary-eyed at his surroundings, as he tried to remember where he was, and why. There was Gary, driving away. From... the aiport? An aftershock of the sickness brought everything back in line. A line he'd have to walk, one step at a time. Forcing himself into some semblance of composure, Rusty tried to ignore the looks of the people as he made his way through the rotating glass door into the airport. "Hope I remember how to... to do this..."
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Feb 21, 2014 10:46
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie Damien doesn't like having to be told what to do(Authority issues probably stemming from his issues with his father), but he doesn't have much in the way of options. "I should be worried, but I'm not. More angry and curious than anything. Let's take these donuts and coffee's back and head our separate ways for the time being. I don't know how many more of us there are out there, but we should try to find the others. Maybe come up with a plan." pre:Damien Space: This is just sickening... Having to rely on others to protect myself. Nonsense. I'll play this hand, but then I'm shuffling the deck. Playing by MY rules. "How much do the Donuts and coffees come out to, ma'am?"
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Feb 26, 2014 00:13
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October 7, 9:00 AM++ T+3 sec. Rusty, Alcoholic Bum Rusty stumbled a bit as he pushed his way into the concourse of the airport. It was like a damned trip down memory lane. When had he been here last? Back in the late 80s? It was all kind of hazy but he vaguely recalled a family trip to uh... Disneyland? It'd been a lovely trip and his ex-wife had bitched at him every step of the way about how expensive everything was, and well it'd just sort of blurred together into a pastiche of screaming, tiny airplane portioned bottles from the hotel mini-bar (and the flight over, and the flight back), and ageneral impression that he'd broken something important to Michael on that trip. He steadied himself against another trash can and gave another wet heave which turned into a hacking cough. Ugh, the inside of the airport just about looked like how he felt. An elderly clerk stared daggers at him from the only open terminal, hand already on the phone in case she needed to call security. Jack Tully & Damien Porter "Twenty. Four. Dollars." Mary didn't even bother turning her head, enunciating each word clearly as she plonked the cardboard box of coffee onto the counter and taped the box full of donuts shut. She packaged everything together and pushed it across the counter towards the two whispering men without comment. Whatever the hell it was that they were up to made no difference to her either way, alternative lifestyles were somebody else's problem to worry about. Damien smiled graciously as he held out his credit card, waving Jack away before the old veteran could finish pulling out his wallet. "I've got this. Call it my apology for getting us off on the wrong foot earlier." He scribbled his name illegibly on the receipt, leaving a (no doubt astonishing to the lumpen waitress) five dollar tip. "You have a good day now Mary. Hope everything works out for you." As they walked into the shelter, coffee and donuts in hand George called out to Jack and Damien from the battered folding table and its sparse load of discounted bread products. "Hey guys, you're just in time. I was about to open the gates and start spreading the loaves and the fishes. Ooh are those fresh? Smells like they're fresh. Nice." He motioned towards the end of the table as the queue of homeless patiently waiting at the end of the room eyed them blearily. "Just go ahead and set those down at the other end of the table there, I'll finish setting up and handle the serving in a sec unless either of you feel like giving me a hand?" He smiled, hopeful and cheerful at the prospect of their contributions either way or not. Nicole Smith Nico dozed off gently, drifting in the sleep of the just. Well not really like just just, but definitely within a certain parameter definition of screwing someone over for when they inconvienced you and then something about a mission accomplished. Yeah, definitely a mission accomplished. Four hundred bucks was a healthy amount of weed and maybe a new phone and there were all sorts of ways she could disguise her unexpected windfall from her roommates so they didn't get too pissy about her picking up her share of the rent or the utilities. Or the booze from last week she'd promised to chip in for. Either way sleep was an easy and necessary fix for whatever pseudo-time travel hangover still afflicted her and she had no problems getting comfortable in her now empty and comfortable bed.
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Feb 27, 2014 02:25
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Jack Tully – Veteran Jack smiles broadly, laying down his various offerings on the table. “Sure George, I'll lend a hand. Have to get out of here soonish though.” Nothing else to do just yet. Let's stay scoping out the shelter for a bit more.
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Mar 2, 2014 20:24
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie Setting the donuts and coffee down, the young executive looks around the shelter and wanders about somewhat aimlessly for a moment to decompress and also to see whatever it was that could be seen. Growing weary from doubting himself and the uncertainties of the situation, he needed the mindless stroll. A stroll to remember, to focus... Eventually he catches up with Jack. He approaches him with a smile and gestures as if they were only just meeting. Shaking his hand, he quietly begins to speak. "You have my card. Call me if something comes up. I'm going to see to some business." Keeping an eye out for remarkable details or items within the shelter while I wander. +2 Business-Minded if it applies. Walking to the parking lot at a brisk pace, Damien eventually finds his vehicle. Getting into the seat and buckling in, he grips the steering wheel and stares into his mirror at himself, experiencing time slip forward, half expecting it to rewrite itself or slip further unexpectedly. He sits in that contemplative silence for an indeterminate amount of time before starting the vehicle and heading to his loft. Bring it on!
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Mar 4, 2014 05:11
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October 7, 9:00 AM T+3 sec +++ Jack Tully – Veteran Damien hands you a card before wandering off to do his own thing, apparently satisfied with having come this far and whatever impressions he may have made. It's still kind of hard to figure exactly where he's going with all this but your best guess is he's willing to play ball. You take a quick look at him as he makes his way out the door and presumably his car out in the street. With a really flashy foreign car like that it wouldn't be hard to find him again even if you didn't have the card anyway. You spend a good amount of time helping George set out dishes and serve breakfast. All in all it's a good morning and you keep an eye out for Rusty or anything else of interest to no avail. Nothing's really changed from the last time you were in here last week, with the same faces, same mundane problems, same conversations. Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie "Oh hey wait! How much was the coffee and donuts? Let me give you a receipt, it's tax deductible because it counts as a donation. That's Porter, P-O-R-T-E-R right?" Taking down the information carefully and meticulously, George passes over a carbon copy and clasps at Damien's hand warmly. "Thanks a lot for your help Damien. You're welcome to stop by and join us later for movie night if you're interested, we've got some old Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin if that's your thing at all. No pressure or anything but we're always happy to see new faces here at the centre. Thanks, really." The vagrants of the shelter eyed him glumly, no doubt uninterested in him beyond the capacity for spare change and fried bread products but otherwise prove unremarkable and beneath notice. None of them glare or flinch in the way that Rusty did, and taking discretion as the better part of valor he decided not to press the issue further and left. October 7, 10:00 AM Nicole Smith Life was pretty good for Nico since she'd won that lottery ticket, even if the stupid gypsy curse had caused her to grow hair on the backs of her hands. Electrolysis is totally a thing anyway, and she was completely flush with cash. A million bucks is a million bucks, well ok maybe less because of taxes or some poo poo but still. Margaritas, maybe drinks with coconut in them (or drunk out of coconuts) and Oh! And she could totally use the cash to make investments or something, buy a fancy car to really rub it in the faces of all those assholes who said she'd never make anything of herself. Like that fat old bitch from high school, the uh... Computer Science teacher? And her parents, and Eric. She grinned at him as he pushed away at the deck, his rumpled sailor's hat making him look even stupider than normal. "Keep mopping, prole." Jack Tully The rest of breakfast is pretty low key. The guys at the shelter are a pretty insular and close-mouthed crowd, but having known you for a while and seen the well-deserved origin of your good reputation they're pretty comfortable with you around. After the clearing up and last of the leftovers distributed you help George see them out and lock up. The shelter is after all, closed from 10-5 during the day. Doc, one of the shelter's residents calls out to you as he goes through the dumpster behind the building, searching gamely for anything worth salvaging despite the fact that it's probably already been picked clean by earlier risers. He motions for the bundled bag from the kitchen you're holding and you pass it over. "Nothing edible left in there huh? A guy can always hope right? Thanks for the donuts Jack, it's really nice when they're fresh like that." There's pretty much nothing but empty boxes, waste paper, and recyclables and you both know, but he gives it a double check just in case. "Yeah no problem, it's a real lovely way to start your day with a fire drill so I figured in the least coffee and donuts would help. Plus the guy I was with wanted to chip in, lend a hand. How's things for you Doc?" "Mm, I get by. Hey what's the deal with that guy anyway? He really gave me a weird vibe and for a second there I thought Rusty was going to take a swing at him in front of the cops." "You know I'm not entirely sure. He's some kind of bigshot lawyer and he says he wants to help Rusty, and maybe get a hand from me on a thing. Did you happen to overhear any of what he said to Rusty?" "I dunno it was all too quick to make much sense out of. Kinda like that pretty blonde earlier today. Stopped by, asked me if everything was ok, something about what time it is and eh, gone." Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie The drive home had been a pretty contemplative one. Counting him there were at least four(?) time travellers. The hobo, the politically connected retiree, himself, and whoever it was at the airport who apparently had more time than all of them combined. That same person might be responsible for the jump at the west side of town. Since time could be taken and accumulated, the airport jumper had probably been doing so for quite a while. Damien checked the street behind him in the rear view mirror, looking for any strange cars or signs of pursuit. The coast looked clear enough, but thankfully he lived in an expensive new condo with the best security that money could buy. If anybody suspicious was following him or came sniffing around the various security cameras and staff on site at the building would be able to lend him a hand. In the worst case scenario where he was the victim of a would be home invasion/time robbery the very large and well paid guards would no doubt be able to intervene. He set the machine for hot tea as he checked his phone, aligning his keys carefully and setting them in place on the kitchen countertop as he swiped his phone. Four missed calls (Roger, Henry, Ellen, and Ellen again) and a text message, he must have put it on silent somewhere along the way. pre:8:00-11:00 Appointments rescheduled or pushed back, check schedule for new times and contacts. Couldn't shift 11:30 with your dad, Roger and Henry need you to call them back re: this morning ASAP. How long will you be gone? Having spent longer than he'd like slumped over the trashcan emptying the contents of his stomach (apparently time travel and vodka didn't mix so well) Rusty looked up in surprise at the tap on his shoulder. "Sir are you alright? Sir?" An older man with a faded blue AIRPORT SECURITY jacket stared at Rusty's eyes in concern while his partner stood cautiously at some distance away. "Do you have somebody we should call? Do you need an ambulance?" The man's voice was quiet, polite, and calming, and he held his open hands up as he spoke, although the other guard muttered not too quietly in the background. "Come on Hank, at least let me get the cuffs on him. I mean for gently caress's sake you can smell the booze on him from outside the building. Let the old lush dry out in lockup while we wait for the real cops to come haul him away." Puppies are dicks fucked around with this message at 06:03 on Mar 12, 2014 |
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Mar 12, 2014 03:01
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie I actually said poo poo out loud when I read the text message as if I was going to be hard pressed for not having responded to anyone in hours. Then I realized I was crazy and that it wasn't a real text message lol. At least Elena tries Damien thought as he looked at the phone sullenly. Father could wait, but making Henry wait would look bad for me across the board. Before getting settled in, Damien turns his nervous anxieties into fuel for his business acumen. He picks up the phone and dials Henry first. "Henry, Sorry I couldn't get back to you sooner, I was working on a 'non-profit'" Damien says laughing at the idea into receiver hoping to goad Henry into laughing as well. pre:A Damien Aside "Like PHML would actually do anything that didn't turn a profit." "Although telling that old geezer about it. I better actually be able to live up to my word." "First the acquisition." Damien doesn't hold out anything. He dives head first into the business and for the first time all day, the thoughts of time travel leave his mind. +4 Manipulative, +2 Charismatic to try and make amends with Henry and the other partners. Damien's father was going to be disappointed in him irregardless or at least that's Damien's take. Afterwards he'll reach out to his receptionist Elena and ask her to pull together all the details she can find on the shelter. Damien's morning excursion should at least prove fruitful in the eyes of PHML. I'll use +2 Business Minded to communicate those details to Elena. Taking whatever verbal reprimand he was going to get, he pulls up the acquisition bid he had been working on and gives the proposal a quick review (+2 Business Minded / -2 OCD: Look at the way this information is arranged... I'll need to reconfigure this file before I send it), then he sends it to Henry. Finally, he pours himself a glass of bourbon before heading anywhere else. Sorry for monster post, was getting into it.
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Mar 13, 2014 23:52
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Rusty, Alcoholic Bum "Mmalrihh..." Rusty tried to hold together his slurred and collapsing words, and push himself back onto his feet. This was important, he couldn't screw it up. He just needed... he just needed a minute. Or two. "'m alrihh. I'm here t'... here t' see..." Gears turned in his head. What could he say? What would work? What would get these security guards to leave him alone? There had to be someone important involved somehow. But someone who'd agree. Someone who'd want to see him, too. "'M here to see off my nephew." Before the words could even process, Rusty was letting them out. "Dame... hic... Damian Porter." ...poo poo.
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Mar 14, 2014 00:03
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Jack Tully – Veteran 'Hmm... A woman? A blonde? An unknown person hanging around where they have no reason to? An unknown person hanging around where they ought not at the same time the as of yet unidentified time-traveler? An unknown person of suspicious character hanging around the exact place a known time-travel event recently occurred? An unknown pers-' “Did this blonde happen to have a French accent, Doc?”
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Mar 14, 2014 09:22
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Time has been changed. Time has been advanced by 3 seconds. October 7, 10:00 AM+, T+3 Seconds Pain, terror. Time has shifted, pushed forward by 3 seconds. The perpetrator is located in the high school on the far outskirts of the north side of town. Time is now locked until the end of the Scene/Hour! Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie Time shifted and seconds into his call with Henry Damien turned the phone away from his ear and clenched his teeth in pain. Time had gone forward on the clock by the merest fraction of a moment, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt like a bastard to match. He'd definitely gotten better at it though, covering up the effects of the discomfort anyway, and returned to his call without a moment's pause. "Alright, sounds good. Just wanted to make sure you don't gently caress this up. You do need to take care of Adelson though, and if you manage to get him squared away I'll get the rest of the board to back your play with a severance package or suing him back into the Stone Age. Do what it takes, make sure he doesn't turn state's witness or manage to give them anything actually incriminating." Eyes already scanning the documents on his home laptop, Damien made noises of assent at the right times as the older man continued his own twisted version of a pep talk. It was obvious the old man was nervous, which made sense given that some of the kickbacks and insider information they'd received was through Henry's contacts in the Chinese government. Treason was an outdated and stupid thing to charge someone with in this day and age, but the narrow circle of people who actually knew enough to matter would be more than happy to plead the fifth when subpoenaed and the relevant documents were never more than five minutes away from a shredding party anyway, so all he really had to do was make sure shell companies, paperwork, and chain of suppliers was suitably obfuscated. That and make sure the cripple didn't ruin it all by running to the SEC, drawing down more heat and attention they didn't need. Damien turned his attention back to the call, listening with one ear that Henry's tirade was nearly over. "And Damien? Don't gently caress this up." Everything looked good. Assuming no government regulators or forensic accountants got into their files right now, the wheels of bureaucracy, corporate loopholes, and close-mouthed third party buyers would take care of themselves, and the acquisition would go over without a hitch leaving the PHML another $125 million the richer with various tax deductibles. Whatever his worries (a possibly different and new time traveller at the town's high school among them), the wind farm acquisition was definitely not one of them. It was so good it might as well be airtight. He stared at the bourbon he'd poured, considering whether or not to make it a double when his phone lit up with an incoming call. Unknown number? He flipped it over and accepted the call. "Uhm, hello is this Mr. Damien Porter? This is Ethyl down at the Heathcliff airport. Your uncle is down here waiting for you and he seems to be having a uh... medical episode." Jack Tully – Veteran "I dunno, French, Polish, Slovenian, whatever the gently caress. She had a rolly thing and- hey you ok Jack?" Doc grabs your shoulder and steadies you as the pain from time forcibly advancing quicker than it should tears through you. The high school, somewhere on the football field. You grab at the wall and try not to grimace. "Jack? You having a heart attack man? Oh god poo poo! George! Hey! Help! We need help!" Doc shouts, his voice rising from concern to full on panic as he calls for help and echoes through the alley. Rusty - Alcoholic Bum "Yeah well he can bail you-" Time rolls forward and with it Rusty does too, hands locked in a hard grip on the trashcan as he totters forward. "Oh whoa there!" "Hey! Get on the ground sir! Hands on your head, face on the ground! Don't move!" "Steve back off! Put that loving thing away, he's having some sort of fit!" Airport security moves into action, well Hank does anyway as he tries to catch Rusty (and fails) while his partner backs away even further and draws a taser from his belt. Rusty and the trashcan land heavily with a hollow clunk, doing nothing good for the mostly empty contents of his stomach which threaten to back flow up his throat again with the remainder of what vodka was still in him. "Wait, guys Damien Porter is the guy who was in here earlier. I'm calling him right now." The clerk called from across the concourse, phone already in her hand as she dials. "Uhm, hello is this Mr. Damien Porter? This is Ethyl down at the Heathcliff airport. Your uncle is down here waiting for you and he seems to be having a uh... medical episode." Nicole Smith Eric had such a lovely time trying to mop up the trail of tears behind him that she almost felt bad for him, almost. Taking another sip from her coconut, Nico pondered what else to do with her newfound wealth and prestige when suddenly she sat bolt upright in the bed and gasped, the gorge rising in her throat. "Wha?" Motherfuckers in the high school!
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Mar 14, 2014 20:55
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Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie As Ethyl's message echoes throughout Damien's thick inconsiderate skull, he immediately becomes apprehensive. "An uncle, huh? Yeah... OK. Be right there. Thanks Ethyl." He robotically says into the receiver before shutting the phone. He drops it onto the table and slams his fist down shortly after, then repeatedly. "gently caress, gently caress, gently caress! Who is loving with me?!" He shouts at the emptiness of his immaculately decorated loft. He has half a nerve to go grab the gun he kept locked up in his bedroom floorsafe, but instead he washes back a xanax with bourbon and grabs his keys realizing that taking a gun to the airport might not be the wisest move. Whatever rolls applicable for driving like a crazy drunk to the airport, Uncle needs a ride. Don't imagine I have anything at all useful for it outside of being a dick with an expensive car.
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Mar 15, 2014 06:19
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Jack Tully – Veteran “I'm alright, I'm alright, I'm alright” Jack groaned in between hard breaths, trying to calm Doc down before anyone Let's put them +4 Army Veteran reconnaissance skills to work.
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Mar 18, 2014 18:32
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Nico Uggggghhhhh! For fucks sake! She'd never seen a show or movie where time travel basically just meant some people got oval office-stomped over and over again by excruciating pain, since apparently sci-fi writers were loving hacks, but here she was... and she'd just managed to fall asleep, goddammit! Sitting up in bed and rubbing eyes that hadn't enough time to generate any of the usual post-sleep gunk, Nico was more or less furious at her powerlessness. No car meant she couldn't drive over to the high-school to investigate (and smack down) whatever son-of-a-bitch that'd just hosed her most miniscule of naps over, no phone meant she couldn't call around for a car, and no remaining weed meant she didn't have anything to help her fall back asleep. Uggggghhhhh. Rising from her altogether too short of a slumber, Nico considered her options and arrived at the barest semblance of a plan. She changed out of the frumpled clothes she was still wearing from yesterday night's party into a skirt plus low cut t-shirt combo that, even she would admit, was probably on the wrong side of the flirty / slutty divide, groggily cursing up a storm all the while. It took a bit of doing, several double checks to make sure the dirty (but not as dirty as what she'd been wearing) clothes she was changing into hadn't been subject to her earlier vomit storm, and a couple of semi-collapses from a standing position to laying on her bed, but eventually she managed to get dressed and ready to enact phase two. Phase two was alcohol and caffeine. There were some leftovers in the freezer from the night before. Leftover alcohol was one of the primary boons of throwing a party - no sense in paying for it if you could just collect the remnants off motherfuckers that were too inebriated to keep tabs on their poo poo - and she performed a quick bit of alchemy on a fourth cup of coffee and a bottle of green-label Jack. A few sips of the wonder-drink to wake her back up later, and she was nearly ready for phase three. The nearly part was because she hadn't yet looted Eric's laptop. A quick pass into his stupidly, naively, dumbfuckingly, mercifully unlocked room and acquiring his computer was accomplished. Onto part three of her cunning plan. Stepping into her front yard, squinting due to the sun's predictable but entirely unwelcome presence, Nicole locked the door behind her and then proceeded across her lawn (either not remembering or not caring about Ernesto's dire condition, take your pick,) and from there up the street. From what she could recall / gauge based on the sun, it was noon~ish and therefore Mark and his roommates were probably awake. They were phase three. Mark, much to Eric's chagrin, had always had waaaaay too obvious of a crush on her, and had never really felt a social compulsion against making that painfully loving clear. Which sucked a lot for Eric, obviously, and her a little bit (since Mark was basically an internet libertarian personified, white middle class male fedora wearing bullshit and all) but today it was gonna come in handy. Laptop stashed under one arm, pilfered menthols and lighter in her pocket, Nico made her way up the street toward's Mark house, silently cursing the sun, the highschooler, and the uncaring nature of the universe towards her desire for sleep with every step. Motherfucking Mark better have some goddamn weed and an operational car, otherwise this entire venture was for naught. Eventually arriving at the front door, Nico stared at their doormat ("Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one trying to gentrify this neighborhood" in big white letters) for a few seconds, sat her mostly alcohol coffee down on the patio, and then began a triple assault on the house consisting of ringing the doorbell, knocking on the door with the hand that wasn't holding Eric's laptop, and shouting loud enough to exacerbate her own headache. "YO! MARK! YOU AWAKE?!" Rauri fucked around with this message at 07:39 on Mar 19, 2014 |
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Mar 19, 2014 07:31
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October 7, 10:00 AM++, T+3 Seconds Nico A shadow flitted by on the other side of the peephole and Mark poked his head out, his face red and flustered. "Nico! I wasn't ah, what brings you, erm hold that thought, I just gotta go and do a thing real quick! I'm definitely awake, and I'm here!" He shut the door so fast he almost slammed it, and through the closed door she hear the clattering of falling furniture and footsteps as he ran down the hall doing whatever it was he was doing. A muffled curse and thump later he opened the door and smiled at her in what was probably a lot more suave and inviting from his perspective but all she really saw was the slightly off colored film of plaque irregularly lining his teeth. She gave him partial credit mentally for the Sinatra playing softly in the background (Swinging on a Star) but ultimately a F+ for the low rent Hugh Hefner vibe from the bathrobe he'd thrown over himself. "So, the elusive Nicole Smith. How's it going? I heard that Eric, the foolish fool, finally made the biggest mistake of his life and let you get away. You holding up ok, buddy?" Watching him read from an invisible script of lame lines located somewhere two feet above her head and to the left reminded her of the time he'd carried a color printer to her house to print out a flier or something she'd needed for the bar. God the guy was such a creepmo, but at least he was pretty easy to see through and emotionally manipulate. Nico almost laughed aloud from the schadenfreude, but choked it back and turned it into a very friendly grin as she took a stiff drink from her mug. "Mm guy's a chode. Don't know what the hell I saw in him. You have a working car and weed right?" "Why yes, yes I do. And in fact I was just about to sit down to some brunch and would you care to join me? We can split a bowl as part of a morning constitutional and discuss weighty matters." Putting aside that the three facts were not related at all, she eyed the inside of Mark's house. It was the same cookie cutter Baby Boomer piece of poo poo ranch she lived in from the cracked linoleum up to the crappier and smoke stained wallpaper, and the overall mess and dumpster-dived furniture was the same too. The way he'd been carrying on earlier probably meant his roommates weren't home but honestly Mark was a bit meh. Whatever sad Hungry Man dinner he'd microwaved for himself would probably take the edge off her not-quite timeover, but that meant actually sitting down across a table from him. Eeeh. Jack Tully – Veteran "Christ Jack, you scared the poo poo out of me. You got any pills you oughtta be taking? I can run inside and get you a cup of water or something." "No, I'm good Doc. Thanks. Just give me a second to get my sea legs." The alley was faced by the rear of the shelter and old theater on the one side and various fire exits and back doors for storefronts on the other. Taking a careful and cautious look around, Jack saw nothing (and more importantly no-one) out of the ordinary. It looked like he'd stopped Doc before anyone else noticed his 'seizure.' "Hey I'm not a medical doctor or anything but when a guy your age seizes up and grabs the wall like that it's probably a sign of stroking out. Are you sure you're ok?" Damien Porter, Nouveau Yuppie "He's right through here Mr. Porter. What did you say was wrong with him exactly?" Damien had tamped down on his anger, driving as fast as his BMW and local traffic would allow back to the depressing and squalid local airport. Bringing a gun to the airport would have been a dumb move, but now that he was here actually looking them in the eye he realized the airport security guards would hardly have noticed. They stared at him in slack jawed expectation, somewhere between intimidated at his presence and an eager to please expression that he'd long since learned to peg down as "Crap I hope we don't get sued." Rusty "You're welcome-" Ethyl frowned into her phone, surprised by the abrupt ending. She shrugged at the security guards standing over Rusty. "He hung up. But he said he's on his way down right now so maybe give it a half hour tops?" "Well did he say anything about his uncle's uh, heart condition? I mean, should we move him? Does he need insulin or something?" "I dunno? He didn't say where he's coming from or anything about a medical condition and hey should he be lying on his back like that?" Rusty coughed a wad of vomit and phlegm, staring upwards at the airport's ceiling. Well gently caress, what was he going to do now? Porter was on his way and uh... He tried to think of where he was going with this line of thought. Wasn't he here for something else? There was somebody he was looking for. The older guard, Hank, nudged him on the shoulder and rolled him over onto his side gently. "ss'flights! Was a flight-er earlier today right? I missed it because I was downtown!" "Yeah there's all sorts of flights, Mr. Porter. Let's just get you over to the security office ok? You ok to get up? We're just going to take a short trip over to the office, set you up with a cot and a drink of water ok? Do you need an ambulance?" "No, no ambulance. Get 'm nephew Damien Porter." "Alright we're just going to head down to the office and wait there for him together ok?" Although the other guard kept eyeing him suspiciously the two of them worked together well enough to ease Rusty off the ground, over to the office and onto a suspiciously familiar cot. It was stained and creaky in the same way his cot at the shelter was, and after giving him a dixie cup full of water they turned down the light and left him mostly to his own thoughts. "He's right through here Mr. Porter. What did you say was wrong with him exactly?" poo poo. Had he dozed off? How long had he been here? Porter? Damien Porter was outside of the room right now? poo poo. Rusty looked around the back room which served as a first aid station. There was the cot, a coat hanger, a desk with a beat up old chair, and a first aid kit hanging off the wall. The bottle was still in his pocket, albeit mostly empty, and otherwise he had nothing else to use as a weapon to defend himself with in the event that Porter came loaded for bear. The room had no windows and only the one door and just outside was the rest of the security office and uh... another door beyond that? He remembered vaguely going through a bunch of doors so legging it out the back wasn't a very viable option. He probably still had time to do something though. Maybe if he hid under the bed? poo poo.
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Mar 26, 2014 05:06
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| # ? Apr 26, 2024 08:44 |
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Rusty, Alcoholic Bum No, no, no. This wouldn't work. If Rusty attacked, if Damien attacked, if anything violent happened... it'd be Rusty's word against Damien's. And Rusty would lose. (That is, of course, assuming he survived at all.) No one would believe anything else. Rusty would have to win without fighting, because to fight at all would be the end of it, the end of his chance to make things right. Funny, how Rusty's thoughts were always sharpest during his hangovers. Running his fingers through matted, unwashed hair, the bum thought long and hard for a plan B. His plan A had been obvious from the moment he realized what his drunk self was thinking, but... it wasn't exactly a master's stratagem. Still, it was better than hiding under the cot and waiting for death. Instead, he grabbed the doorknob, yanked as hard as he could, and put on his best "I'm harmless, old, and slightly senile" expression, the one he used when he went to the church soup kitchen. And then, he hugged Damien Porter as tightly as he could. "Damien, m'boy! My goodness, how you've grown!"
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Mar 26, 2014 06:11
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