The Snatcher (
subconmodo) wrote in
daybreakacademy2019-01-18 09:45 am
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Entry tags:
28 Bleach Vats Later
WHO: Avery Atchison (
subconmodo), Imelda Rivera (
no_dejare_de_quererte), Héctor (
unpocoloco), Peter Parker (
made_up_names), Souji Seta (
punches_fog), Shuuji Miwa (
willnotbeyourneighbour), Ellie Williams (
elliexir), Fakir Ansel (
schwanenritter), Bumblebee (
thebreakfastbug), Orihime Inoue (
leekspins)
WHERE: North Dakota
WHEN: January 18th, 2019
WHAT: Obtaining funding for the Academy at the cost of one's dignity. Unless you're in the cleanup group.
WARNINGS: None atm. Will update as they pop up.
Note: Full mission details/plotting can be found Here
To Avery's credit, he had tried to prepare his students for this. The zombies had been the easy part. The corpses were slow and weak and as long as none of them did anything stupid they wouldn't be in danger. Wouldn't help the smell or the grossout factor, but such was life, death, and undeath.
Their clients were another matter entirely.
"It's not death that's going to be our enemy here," Avery had said during the briefing. "It's customer service." And if he wasn't allowed to rip into this bunch of stuck up jerks (literally as well as figuratively), neither was anyone else. He'd let minor acts of passive aggression slide, but that was it. And maybe, just maybe if they were lucky enough, Avery might be able to convince the bigwigs to let one or two of them fire off something or another.
---
The cleanup crew is much luckier. The smell may be worse (rot and burning flesh and whatever scents habe wafted up in the wake of Coldsteel's blow-shit-up-themed office party. Avery looks to be just Abbott on his last legs as he suits up alongside everyone and hands out holy water and runecasters, all the while grumbling about how he needs a pay raise.
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WHERE: North Dakota
WHEN: January 18th, 2019
WHAT: Obtaining funding for the Academy at the cost of one's dignity. Unless you're in the cleanup group.
WARNINGS: None atm. Will update as they pop up.
Note: Full mission details/plotting can be found Here
To Avery's credit, he had tried to prepare his students for this. The zombies had been the easy part. The corpses were slow and weak and as long as none of them did anything stupid they wouldn't be in danger. Wouldn't help the smell or the grossout factor, but such was life, death, and undeath.
Their clients were another matter entirely.
"It's not death that's going to be our enemy here," Avery had said during the briefing. "It's customer service." And if he wasn't allowed to rip into this bunch of stuck up jerks (literally as well as figuratively), neither was anyone else. He'd let minor acts of passive aggression slide, but that was it. And maybe, just maybe if they were lucky enough, Avery might be able to convince the bigwigs to let one or two of them fire off something or another.
---
The cleanup crew is much luckier. The smell may be worse (rot and burning flesh and whatever scents habe wafted up in the wake of Coldsteel's blow-shit-up-themed office party. Avery looks to be just Abbott on his last legs as he suits up alongside everyone and hands out holy water and runecasters, all the while grumbling about how he needs a pay raise.
no subject
He takes a minute to cover his face with his hands, take a deep breath, collect himself. His hands drop to rub anxiously at his arm instead.]
I was trying to get home, I got sick, and when I woke up I was dead. I think my friend, or... something or someone buried me out there, in the outlands. Maybe that caused it, I really, really don't know, but I was still... here. And I found a few others like me and I figured out this magic thing a little bit more so I could look... alive... ish. But I'm dead. Very definitely dead.
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I don't hunt undead people. [ He says, in the middle of a mission where he wandered of specifically to fight the undead. Uh. His shoulders sag a little. ] Not like you anyway.
... How long have you been like this?
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Even if he's still going to give a deadpanned look for that initial comment.]
Most undead aren't like me. That's why everyone attacks first and asks never.
[But he appreciates the sentiment, Peter. Which is why his expression softens.]
Ten years. I've been dead for ten years. [And if Peter does the math on that, he'll quickly see that lines up perfectly well with his being lost and homeless and gone from his family. Needless to say, it was a short tour.]
no subject
He swallows thickly at that, looking a bit stricken. He hasn't known Héctor for long, but - he likes the guy well enough that him being dead at all is an unpleasant shock? Couple that with having been dead ten years apparently, and doing the math on how that lines up ... oh. Oh, he gets it now. ]
That's why Imelda hates you so much. She hadn't seen you in a decade.
[ He can't imagine the pain of being dead that long, only to return and find that the person you loved most has flipped out enough to be angry at you on sight. (Except, y'know, that's literally what's going to happen to him with Gwen.) ]
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[He answers rueful because otherwise he'll just sound crushed.]
When I finally made out of the outlands, I tried to call on a payphone-- got some guy named Ricardo who'd never heard of her before. I tried to write letters but I got a hunter on my case for it about secrecy and if any got through nobody responded back anyway. I've been trying to get to México but obviously I can't keep this up all the time, let alone afford plane ticket after plane ticket. And I hate waking up in morgues, it's worse than getting buried, you got the screaming and the mess...
[Roughly he shakes himself out.]
I'm getting off topic. The point is. Yes, nobody has seen me and nobody knows I'm dead. I thought maybe my friend would say something but obviously he didn't. And Imelda... well, I still left. It's still my fault. So, at this point, I'm just trying to get home.
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But okay, he doesn't need more details. That's. Bad enough. ]
You need to tell her though. Like - okay, even if she doesn't forgive you, doesn't she at least have the right to know?
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I... tried to tell her. But she'd doesn't want to hear it. And what would it do anyway? Make her feel guilty? For a man she thinks who knows what terrible things of?
[He shakes his head.]
There's something more important than all that anyway. Someone else I have to see. For whom it is important to know.
[He looks down, staring at his own bony fingers.]
Which is why I'm going to try and leave... during this mission... while I'm finally across the ocean.
no subject
[ But he won't tell her, or at least he won't intentionally tell her. There's a distinct possibility that he'll jsut blurt it out or lie so poorly that she'll figure it out anyway, but. Them's the breaks when you decide to tell Peter literally anything.
His expression softens a bit at that last part, though. Looking at the ground, not meeting Héctor's gaze. ]
Who is it?
(MAJOR COCO SPOILERS)
My daughter.
no subject
Deep breaths. He looks back up again, determination in his face. ]
I'll help you get back there. You just gotta, like, get past all these zombies and stuff, right? Then you're at least on the right continent.
no subject
He knew you were a good kid, Peter.
But he should focus for now. He shakes his head.]
I'm not worried about the dead. It's the living I've got to worry about.
[He glances back, where the clients move about with the destruction and Imelda and Avery stand nearby.]
I'm hoping to make it to one of those trees without anyone noticing. I'll shift back to a skeleton behind one and after that I'm sure I can make it to the forest. Even if I've got to split myself apart to do it. If you could, maybe, try and direct those guys to shooting at the undead on the opposite side, that would help.
[A breath rushes out. This is happening. This is really happening. He's almost there.]
Oh, and one more thing.
[With only a short and uncertain pause, he reaches forward and hugs Peter tight. Then he steps back.]
Thank you. And don't forget what I said, Peter, take it easy on yourself. Also there's a guitar in my room back at Daybreak. If this all goes well, it's yours.
no subject
So, a distraction then. As stupid as possible, to make sure the undead hunters are shooting in the opposite direction, and also Imelda and Avery get madder at him without noticing that Héctor's slipped off. ]
You got it. Just start running when you hear people yelling "Peter no," okay?
[ He turns back - and. Pauses. Hug? Hug okay. He turns it, short but firm. Trying not to crack any of his dumb skeleton uncle's bones. Dammit, Héctor, you don't get to just leave after making Pete get attached like this. ]
You too, okay? You gotta like - find a way to tell me you made it. Snapchat or something.
[ Because that's so much safer than literally any other kind of communication?? ]
no subject
I don't know what that is, niño. [And he can't help but laugh a little.] But I'll try.
Maybe my girl knows about it.
[Because once he reaches her, he's sure nothing in the world will ever drag him away unless she tells him to go herself.]
Don't get hurt. And don't get detention forever.
[And with that he turns, moving towards those distant trees.]
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For the moment. ]
sliding this in here to drag hector back...
It doesn't take long to hunt him down. A person can only get so far on foot, and it's not nearly far enough to outdistance Pepita. The large chimera circles in the air overhead, descending only when Imelda spots the runaway and gives the order to land.
There's more than enough time for Héctor to prepare himself for this confrontation--and yet, maybe not enough time at all. The chimera lands on the ground, each paw making a soft thud and an indentation in the ground. Imelda slides off her familiar back with her jaw set tight and fire in her eyes.]
And where is it that you think you're going?
no subject
His heart, the one that is decidedly not in his chest at the moment, gives a lurch then, the sight of a chimera's shadow flying over him. He whirls fast, looking up to the sky just in time to see it descending upon him. He stumbles back, landing upon the ground, and his body flickers with light. He's human again, just in time, but in time to run.
His arm raises to shield himself, like it might protect him from a giant jaguar.]
Imelda...!
[He crawls back, dragging his bad leg, still glancing about for an escape.]
I... I...
no subject
[Her anger is palpable, much like their first meeting in that banquet hall. She all but stalks over to him, coming to a stop just a few feet away and crossing her arms over her chest.]
You didn't think I was going to keep my eye on you? You thought you could just run off in the middle of our mission like we wouldn't notice? Is that what you're trying to say? When I signed up for this mission, I hoped you would at least take this seriously. But I guess some things don't change, do they?
no subject
Imelda, wait, you don't understand--
no subject
[She cuts him off again. He's so pathetic, cowering on the ground like that. The urge to yank him to his feet is intense, but at the same time, she doesn't want to move closer.]
This mission is important. What we do at the Academy is important. This is not some field trip that you can take for a joyride. Do you understand that?
no subject
Imelda, we are serving drinks to a bunch of rich bastardos while they blow up the dead! They're leering at you and they're sneering at kids every moment they aren't shooting things five times more than necessary! This isn't important, it's disgusting!
[He steps back, head shaking.]
The mission is just about over anyway. They don't need me here and they certainly don't need me at the Academy. I can't do anything for them! They probably wouldn't even notice I'm gone!
no subject
[And in the end, regardless of the fact that this is some rich private school, that is the fact that Imelda focuses on. At some point, possibly soon, the world is going to face a crisis, and Daybreak Academy needs to be there. If that means dealing with a bunch of pampered military assholes for one day? So be it.]
There are billions of people in the world right now, but only a very small fraction of those are with us. Believe me, I never in a million years would have chosen you to help with something like this, but if the Academy has brought you in, then it needs you--for whatever unfathomable reason.
So this time? You don't get to decide when you've had enough. You're coming back with us whether you like it or not.
no subject
She holds up the world and their mission, smart and responsible Imelda. She even suggests, knowing it can't be true, that he must have some value back there. But he can't. He can't do this.
And even as she cuts him with those words, brings his breath to draw, somehow he still manages to stare her down.]
No.
[He shakes his head, and takes another step back.]
No! No, I'm not going back! I don't care! Hate me all you want to! I'm not going to the academy, I'm not going to Europe, I'm not going back on that plane! I'm going home!
[His voice cracks. And then, sharply, he turns.]
no subject
Home? Are you joking? That is over a thousand miles from here. [The look she gives him now very clearly details how insane she thinks that is.] Are you planning to walk there?
no subject
I've walked farther. I'll make it.
[Of this he's sure. Even with his broken bones.]
no subject
...You have no food. No water. No map or transportation. You don't know where any cities are--and even if you did, you have no money to buy supplies. Did you even think this through? [Her guess? Probably not.]
What happens when you get mugged on the side of the road? Or picked up by the police?
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