'whoops not as abandoned as i thought'

[cubone_i_guess]

The papers had grown like weeds, stacks like thistles ever higher, then fell and spread runners. The coffee table had filed a formal complaint. Boss had decided some of them tasted good. And between Kyousuke's work and Pan's books, there were just way too many dead trees for one apartment to take. So, the boxes were put in the apartment. The papers were put into stacks. The stacks were put into the boxes. The money for some random place was put into some random guy's hand. It was a thing of art, really, if tedium was beautiful. In that case, pure poetry in motion.

In reality, everyone hates moving, but it had to be done. Besides, it kept Time out of the apartment, and he could make a thing or two again every once in a while. That would be nice, since it was Kyousuke's calling and all that. He would start out with a...Probably something that could pass for a canine, he had decided while sorting papers in folders for their exile into a studio. Something only about yay high (that is, 3 feet), but very broad. More like a horse in the back. Something that could carry a box or two, maybe scare off anyone who would break in. Something with floppy ears, but short fur. Now the colouring and the internal details to work out while he packed and....


With a box balanced on his new pet, two more in Kyou's own arms, and a backpack full of other needed shii-Iii-mean supplies, he went to check out the place he had bought for the first time. It was a fixer-upper, in TLC tv channel terms, and a dump for those with better taste than to watch home improvement shows. Smelled funny too, but that could have something to do with the meth lab.

"Don't eat anyone. Live and let live, all that. And then we'd have to clean this out ourselves." And with that, he started to unpack in a less illegal-looking chemistry devoted corner of the place.

Comments

[territum]

Oh, bother. Someone was in one of his more neglected labs.

There was a light on, showing weakly through the grimy window. That meant either a careless visitor or a present one. He could wait it out, never have to have a confrontation at all -- or indulge in a bit of theatrics.

He did so love his theatrics.

The unique aspect of this particular roughshod Blüdhaven flophouse (or, well, former flophouse: the cubicles had been knocked out with hammers, and the trashheap re-labeled a 'studio') was a cellar, once used as a dismal little kitchen by the city's long-gone destitute, now used as a place of repose by a certain notorious figure. The cellar had access from outdoors, though barred from the inside and locked, rustily, from the outside.

Gaining entrance was no matter for a psychic.

He hadn't been in costume coming in, but the Rook kept a sparse facsimile of his outfit down there; a hooded black mantle with only a sad smattering of his eponymous feathers, and a gas mask with red, bulbous eyes. He kept his finger primed at the trigger of an aerosol can - weaker batch, more useful as a conversation piece rather than debilitation.

Smoke bombs were easy to create, and he happened to have a rotted crate of them down here. Unceremoniously he shoved it off of its teetering stack and listened, satisfied, as it burst like a loud, splintery balloon. A few of the smoke bombs went off, payload blossoming into the gloom. He kicked a couple more into activation.

And now, to wait. If the guest wasn't here, then oh well. All he'd wasted was excess.

[cubone_i_guess]

"Wonder what that was..." Kyousuke's 'worry' was only a mutter into the eyes of the now only kind of dog, as he was busy changing a few details of the face. Namely, some horns and the ears. As with a quick plucking motion he changed the floppy ears so something shaped more like a bat's (hmm, fur tuffs? No, later if at all.) he deliberated with the "Old girl, should we go see if some drugs exploded or something? If it would set of fire alarms, it would have by now." The beast made a dull clicking noise (his usual default, from when he made things more frequently)that elicited a sigh. "Wouldn't you rather me do nice horns, maybe change the muzzle shape so you don't look like a dog on Halloween? Fine, fine." A flick of the wrist and it sported two hasty sets: two small stubs in the middle, and two longer ones outside those with what he considered a sloppy curve, both on the back of the skull. "Come on then, let's go have a look see. I gave you good night vision, right?"

And so off the strange duo went, treading past whatever the hell this junk was to find the cellar he didn't know he had. The lights didn't work ("who the hell was Murphy, anyways?") and it stank of smoke, chemicals, and a strange...more biological something that set the animal on edge (as noted by a soft, dull clicking tempo), but only made the biped more curious.

"I don't see anything, do you?" He murmured before calling down the stairs, "Hi, honey! I'm home!"

[territum]

Something moved in the swirling black beyond the stairs leading down. And then the something spoke, in a lilted, rather learned voice that went ragged, suddenly, on points of unpredictable emphasis.

"All settled in, aren't we? You've even brought a pet. Certainly you know how to break a place in."

The figure of an animal wasn't hard to recognize at the man's (male voice, didn't sound too strained by bad habits) side. He debated: to withdraw, or advance? He decided to withdraw, slowly, until his outline no longer could be seen shifting to Kyousuke's view. He could make a circuit about it, loop around the messy layout if his visitor decided to follow him down, or simply be out of the line of a charge on account of the animal.

[cubone_i_guess]

"Oh Ba'al, I hope I don't end up spending as much time here as you make it sound. And the 'pet' is just a work in progress. Haven't even coloured her yet. I'm thinking maybe stripes. I never did many stripes." The man sat down, one knee and an arm working together to support his head. "Don't like animals? She's asleep." And so she became, laying down in what was only a controlled fall with a thump of punctuation.
"You smell funny, by the way. Smell afraid, for someone who sounds so confident. Packing heat?"

[territum]

Well, there were two options to what this visitor was, neither mutually exclusive: he was one of 'Haven's growing population of metas, and actually capable of smelling fear, or (or also) a total loon.

"Come closer, and perhaps you'll find answers."

[cubone_i_guess]

"Aw, but I just sat down. You're the one who broke in, I say you do the walking."