Open Post 002

[2020mod]

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musebox • rules • character list

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[waiting]

[ He couldn't really say what made him glance down the alley he passed. Maybe it was a holdover from being a bodyguard, always looking in the shadows for whatever might come out of them. Maybe it was just pure dumb luck.

The glint of light off the barrel of a gun was always gonna be something he could recognize, even in the dim light. Especially when it was being waved around in a manner that was more menacing than casual.

He was moving before he could even think about it, striding into the alleyway without even waiting for the other man to call for help. The heavy thud of his footsteps announced his presence, of course, and the would-be-mugger whipped his head around -- Jesus, just another drug-addled kid -- gun already half-lifted to shoot.

Bradbury didn't give him a chance. Instead, he was stepping forward, fist smashing right into the kid's face and knocking him flat to the ground in a tumble of limbs and flannel. Knuckles stinging, he turned his head to look at the guy, breathing hard. ]

You'd better get--

[ A gunshot echoed through the alley, loud enough to make his ears ring, but not nearly enough to drown out the sudden flare of pain along his right arm, and he stumbled back with a curse. Of course he'd have backup. ]

[viced]

Sh-- [ Half-formed curses escaped his lips, before he stopped, watching and watching. Shit, he couldn't move, and with good reason. It took him a few, it honestly did. Sight was one thing, but sound was another, and he'd know that fucking voice anywhere. He'd worked with the guy for years, he'd been friends with the guy for ages, he'd--

Well, there were some things that weren't important.

He held himself to the wall, watching Bradbury (and it was Bradbury, he could tell even with the fucking hair) take down someone. Christ, if only he knew, and he hoped, and prayed that he didn't know who he was saving.

Better to be a good samaritan than shot by an ex-best friend when you figure out he's alive.

When had he become so callous?

Even though he couldn't do anything overt, he dropped to crouch at his ankles, holding his head with his hands. A frequent position he effected, when he needed to hide the dull glow in his face, the thing he couldn't escape, no matter how much plastic surgery he got to hide his scars.

He shut off the guns, with his head, no blood seeped, no burst vessels, just a sudden thought.

He'd been around them for too long, perhaps. ]

[waiting]

[ The rest of the kid's gang -- two more, just as young and just as stupid -- let out curses when their guns refused to respond no matter how furiously they pressed the triggers, but by then it was too late.

Even with one arm hanging by his side, screaming for his attention every time he jostled it, Bradbury was moving in a silent blur, too fast to be human. Closing the distance between him and the kids -- fucking idiots, really -- and reaching out, fingers brushing one wrist, and then the other.

They crumpled to the ground without a word, unconscious, but there was still one teenager left, clutching a hand to a nose streaming blood, babbling something about ImPorts and fuck -- ]

Quit while you're ahead, kid. [ Kneeling beside him, Bradbury clapped a hand over the kid's hand, catching him when he fell and easing him carefully to the ground. A tall order, with only one arm responding, but no need to give people any dead bodies to chase after.

In the darkness of the alley, he couldn't get a good look at the man he'd just saved, but he knew -- there's no way he could pass as ordinary. Not now. ]

Hey. [ Quiet, harsh. ] You okay?

[viced]

[ Was he a fucking idiot? Mitchell maybe could have done something, anything to get them someplace the cameras didn't look, if he hadn't revealed himself to be an import so blatantly. He could feel the hairs at the back of his neck itching, tingling, reminding him that they were being watched. Well, not they. He was being fucking watched.

Always.

He grunted in surprise, affecting wide eyes and a cautious stare. ]

I'm fine, thanks for the assist.

[ He was hovering, already backing up, though. He couldn't, wouldn't stay in this spot. He was going to be caught, if he weren't careful. He'd already straightened, a few inches higher than he ever was, thanks to the heels of his shoes. They had been constructed just to make another detail off. The more that he wasn't like Mitchell Hundred, the better. He was thankful for it now.

His eyes blinked. Still without inflection, a softer voice, familiar only to those who'd spoken with Adrian Maskin, he grimaced. ]

You alright?

[waiting]

I'm fine.

[ He wasn't. Not really. But the guy didn't need to know that, and -- shit, what the fuck was he doing? Couldn't he have left well enough alone? He could feel the blood trickling down his arm, soaking into his jacket sleeve and trickling to his fingers, but only just. Good sign, he figured. If there was any nerve damage, at least it wasn't so bad that he'd lost all feeling in his arm.

The other guy seemed his height, or maybe that was just because he walked with more of a stoop now, hunched in over himself like he was trying to hide. Hiding was a good idea, actually, adrenaline making his heart beat triple time as he glanced around the alley. So far, no sign of anyone else, but that didn't necessarily mean anyone wasn't coming.

Not even twenty-four hours in the City and already he was fucking it up. Some things never changed. ]

Get outta here. [ He hissed it out between gritted teeth, hand coming up to clamp over his injured arm, stop the bleeding. What he needed to do was fine somewhere away from here to really sit down and assess the damage. ]

And if you really wanna thank me, forget you ever saw me, all right? [ He was taking a step back, two, farther into the shadows of the alley, swallowing convulsively as the adrenaline left his body shaking. ]

[viced]

[ If he were a kinder person, if he'd been the kind of person who took care of his friends, he wouldn't have followed his command. Mitchell Hundred had often tossed his friends aside for convenience. He wished he hadn't needed to, he wished it could be something that he didn't need to do, but self-preservation always won out.

It always would.

He couldn't account for anyone else, he couldn't trust anyone else out there. Even fucking Bradbury, he couldn't trust. It was cold, yes. He knew it was. He was well aware of what he was doing.

He nodded. ]

Don't worry. I'm good at keeping my mouth shut.

[ He turned, and ran. Literally, he jogged out of the alleyway. He ran like a fucking coward. He could have stayed, and at least helped him, but he didn't. He ran. He needed to run, he needed fucking out of there.

But it didn't mean he felt good about it. He headed in a direction familiar, he still knew the streets of the City better than most. He jogged away, breathing harder than he should have been for just taking a quick run away.

He didn't stop, even when he was far away.

He kept running. ]