genessia | [Open-ish] Time for giving up the ghost--it's you I hate the most

John felt that he'd woken up from a massive hangover. Regaining consciousness didn't get the fanfare he'd hoped. Instead, Genessia's finest roughly wheeled him out to meet...

Oh, this guy. Yeah, this might get awkward. At least if it were one of Charlie's Angels, he could crack wise, or take in the sights.

"Uh...I'm real sorry, and I won't do it again. Thanks for the coffee." He takes a sip as if he'd brought it in himself. "So, tell me where my stuff is and I'll get outta your hair."

Edited 2015-04-16 04:45 (UTC)

"Not yet."

Really, Spirit looks calm and almost relaxed in the chair; hands resting in his pockets and watching Everyman with sharp eyes. There's nothing threatening whatsoever. His goal is to get information.

"First, I don't have any of your things. Not here. We never figured out where exactly you were staying." The redhead pauses before adding: "and second, I would be very interested in hearing a little bit about what exactly you were working to accomllish."

"I'm pretty sure I didn't come in here wearing this." He plucked at his gown.

John wasn't sure how he wanted to go about this, really. The story was...ridiculous, at points. No doubt it'd make him look good, but when he got to certain areas...well, let's see where the night takes us.

"Nothing major, just a little self-improvement project." He could tell by looking at Spirit that that answer wouldn't do.

"Being detained cause I'm just so damn 'interesting' is a new one for me. Sure you can't just let me go?" John tried to think of excuses he's heard from the fairer sex whenever they screwed up. "I'm a different person now. That stuff's not a part of me anymore. It's all in the past..."

Well, John laughed.

"All right fine. The story's pretty weird, but all right. One rule: at no point during the story are you allowed to ask if I'm for real. Yeah, I know I've spent a lot of time as a professional bullshit artist. Doesn't matter. Take it or leave it, but I'm not gonna repeat myself."

He would try to make it an entertaining tale, at least, out of a universal sympathy towards people who hate their jobs, as Spirit seemed to.

"Oh, few questions. What kinda time am I looking at? Is 'bad cop' gonna be dropping by? What's your policy on phone calls? Care packages? Butt plumbing?"

"The clothes were ruined by hospital staff. She's now, mostly--some from when you initially were found and some cut by the providers in the heat of the emergency."

Spirit is actually very interested in the conversation--head tiled just slightly to listen in as the other talks.

He nods slowly. "Duly noted. I'll take the story as is. There are plenty of people here who have very unusual backgrounds. It's simply just am aspect of being here. "

The wepon pauses. "Any needs you have we will meet. NAnd there is no bad cop nonsense, it's just me."

No word as to sentence length or how safe his butt would be amongst his roomies. But then, he was a confident sort, and Spirit had a calming effect.

So, John began the story, keeping the energy high and using mildly animated body language.

"Okay. You know how in cartoons, there's two people always hanging over your shoulders? On the right is the angel in white, with a harp, and on the left is the guy in red pajamas with a pitchfork. The guy with a halo tells you to do good, and you know the rest. I made friends with the red one.

Now, I can't tell you how it happened. Even if I could, I wouldn't; you guys have enough retarded demonic s*** without me piling on. But yeah; one day I was just out doing the usual, and along comes this guy to lend a hand.

As far as bad decisions go, it was up there with kicking Hitler out of art school. But I was younger, dumber, and bored, and thought it would be fun. And it was! Oh man, the s*** we pulled on people. Best part was, none of it was 'real.' For example, one girl said she was afraid of rats. I see her next day, she starts yacking to me about some boring crap. Then, bam! Rat in her salad. She runs out of the building screaming, and no one knows why; because, as we've established, there was no rat, just the illusion of one made by the guy on my left.

I mean, I was pretty good at screwing with people before, but now? Night and day, man. Those were good times.

Now, my buddy...let's call him 'D'. D was way into it. Too into it, actually. He was all right at first. But the longer it went on, the crazier he got. Sometimes I just wanted to hang out and not scare the bajeezus out of someone for s**** and giggles. D didn't really see it my way.

Around that time I started feeling funny. Maybe that's just what happens when you hang out with people like D. It was sorta like lucid dreaming. It felt like you were "there", but not really present, ya know? Like you're being pushed around by some dickhead boss, but you're not man enough to tell 'em where to cram it." He gave a knowing smile. "You probably wouldn't know what that's like."

"D was getting worse, too. The stuff he wanted to do wasn't bad, just kinda f***** up. He never wanted me to commit murder or sacrifice firstborn. But he'd say stuff like "John, put a piece of tree bark in the freezer, than press it on your flesh!" or "John, dip a raw slug in sugar and then swallow it whole!". He'd give Genessia's freaks a run for their money."

"Then, one day, as luck would have it, I wound up here." He paused, stopping to take a swig of coffee. "Not half bad. Any questions so far?"

Spirit listens carefully, for both the sake of garnering information as well as the sake of ensuring he's being told the truth. Nobody, regardless of how good a liar they may think they are, can spin a lie and hide every single vocal tell. As far as he's noticed, though, John is telling the truth.

He leans back in his seat. "Questions? I have plenty of questions."

The weapon considers, then, what he already knows from the reports found: that John had been a prankster, but had not been violent--until suddenly one day, he was. A trickster making fun who suddenly became violent. It fits rather well with the perception he has of the man in front of him now: trouble? Yes, without question. Violent? Not necessarily so much.

"Question can wait, though. I'd like to hear the rest first."

"Can't wait to hear 'em. So, moving on. Oh! One part I forgot to mention; pay attention, cause this is important."

"D is named that cause I think he's probably a devil. Not the Devil, a devil. The man downstairs, according to D, has lot of underlings whose full-time jobs involving tempting souls to hell. But then, lying comes with the territory, so maybe D was just making s*** up. Maybe that's why we got along so well.

So, on top of lying, devils like D are very legalistic, when they wanna be. So, before we started working together, he made me sign a contract. I mostly skimmed it. The important rules were these:

1. Together until death do we part.
2. No violence or conspiracy towards one another in case rule #1 starts looking really good.
3. We were always supposed to work together. If we separated, and one party acted alone, then the other party would get full control equal to the length of the time spent on the 'solo career'.

There was other stuff, but those are the main ones.

Now, like I said, I got transported in here, same as you all, but with one crucial difference: No more D! Only one at a time can go through the Bay, right? And then it came to me; I got a new lease on life! Finally I can start having fun without D cramping my style. So, that's just what I did. I started pranking on the Guardians just cause they were the biggest names at the time. That, and the amount of a**-kissing going their way was excessive. I figure they needed to be taken down a peg, as a service.

So, I was having the time of my life screwing with people like I used to, when all of a sudden, D shows up. S*** luck, right? He didn't come with a float or parades, but somehow, I could just feel it. You don't hang out with devils that long before you get the sense when they're around. And then I knew that I was on the hook for breaking rule #3: no using the powers while you're alone.

I didn't wanna think what he'd do once D was in the driver's seat, so I had to act fast. And that's when I got an idea so f*****' brilliant, Rube Goldberg would blush..."

Spirit shifts in his chair, and though he's not taking any written notes its clear that he's carefully listening to every word, making mental notes to refer to later.

"And at what point was that? When did he show up and take over, for an equal length of time?"

He's already thinking of timelines. Which interactions were with John Smith, and which with D? At what point had teh devol taken over?

"And what, exactly, was your brilliant plan?"

Spirit imagines it didn't go so 'brilliantly', seeing as he's currently in prison.

"Oh, it's pretty great. Let me tell you.

So I'm in deep s***. How could I get rid of D for good without breaking the contract?

To start, I knew some things about D that I could use to my advantage. The guy isn't stupid, per se. Ravenous, obsessive, kinda creepy, sure. But not dumb. The former can override the latter though, if you catch my drift. Guy will throw his brain out the window if it means getting his next fix. I figured if I could just wait it out as long as possible, he'd lose his cool and make things easier for me.

Simply put, the guy needed to be put six feet under. Too bad rule #1 wouldn't let me, though I wouldn't know how to begin killing someone like D. Could've asked a priest, I guess, but then rule #2 shows up. No conspiracy." John grinned.

"At least, no obvious ones. This world is full of superhero types, right? And at least one of them had to know how to deal with spirits or demons or whatever D was, right? And then it hit me. I didn't need to ask them for help. I already did.

Now, you might hear some dip**** parents rationalize away their brats' behavior with something like "it's just a cry for help", instead of needing their a** beat. In a way, that's what my jokes became. I had gotten people's attention, and they wanted me put away.

On top of that, there's a weird theory. Say you wanna know something. Anything, really, like directions. If you just ask, someone might help. But say I come along, and tell you complete bullcrap where everyone can hear. Suddenly, there's an opportunity. At first, you were relying on someone's goodwill. Now, everyone has a chance to prove someone else wrong, and they will leap at that chance faster than you can say...crap, what was that called?

Well, whatever. Point is, now I've got everyone hot and bothered, out for my head. All I had to do was redirect the heat to D, and he'd be taken care of while I got off scot-free.

So, first I amped up the pranks to make sure people would take my capture seriously. Hence, the explosions. Managed that by getting involved with some...I dunno what he was; yakuza? He thought my **** was pretty funny, and gave me some funding. Keep your shirt on, nobody died. I just made it look like it was a big deal for dramatic effect.

Then I just needed a place to hole up while people got their torches and pitchforks. The yakuza gave me that too. I knew he'd turn on me eventually; people like that aren't exactly what you'd call subtle. So in due time, where I was would be given away, in public, and a big spectacle would be made without me having said a word.

I knew D would wanna be in on the manhunt, for obvious reasons. He wanted me back, and bad. He really hates being a spirit. Apparently, being incorporeal isn't all it's cracked up to be. And I figured that he'd probably find one of you dumb enough to get possessed and come for me personally.

Yeah, it was a gamble. I mean, what if I was just killed outright by someone else? What if the superheroes weren't all that super, and couldn't handle D? What if D had self-control, and played it smart, trying to catch me once all the hubbub died down?

But no risk, no reward. D knew my tricks inside and out, so I figured he'd be the first to get to me. And he can be pretty manipulative, when he's in the mood. He'd scheme just long enough until he got what he wanted. Two can play at that game.

And, like always, I was right. D got all of about twenty minutes before the Justice League took him out. The whole Godzilla episode was pretty surprising for me, too. I knew something like that would happen...one of those feelings, again. D would show me, sometimes, what he wanted to look like if he ever became 'real' again. That was where I got the picture for that first prank; the one with the devil summoning.

So, here I am. 100% me and devil-free. True, it's in prison, but that's a hell of lot better than being D's b**** for however many months I was screwing around. Even that disease I had, or whatever it was, of feeling "led on" is totally gone. I feel like a million bucks! Best part? Even if D does come back, you guys 'killed' him. Remember rule #1? 'till death do you part'. The contract is null and void. I should be thanking you guys, really. But since Charlie's Angels aren't here, guess I'll take a rain check on that."

He exhaled, stretched, and looked immensely satisfied.

"Alllll right. What do ya got?"

Edited 2015-04-26 01:55 (UTC)

Spirit is quiet for a long few moments, thinking about the explanation he's been given. The timeline is already formulating in his head--John, creating general mayhem by putting up videos to mess with the guardians. Egging everyone on when they get upset and defensive--playing along when they get angry.

Was it the explosion at the church, then, that was the beginning of John's plot?

The weapon straightens his tie and glances away, still in thought. The plan makes sense, at face value. But from his point of view, it's a pretty poorly orchestrated plan. There are so many variables and unknowns, there's no way to know it would go off without a hitch.

"I don't get it. So you two end up in a new world, at different times. You decide to use the powers you've been given through the shared contract, no harm no foul--D isn't here. But then he shows up."

Crossing his arms, he leans back in the chair, tilting his head. "But you're not occupying the same space? So you orchestrate a plan to get him to try and come after you--after painting a huge target on your back by pissing off all of the guardians, their deputies, and damn near anyone else you could get to listen."

A pause, as he shakes his head. "Then you wait. However D takes over, he does. And when they confront 'you', they're really confronting D. Your devil friend is taken out through the efforts of the guardians and their troops, you end up with the shit beaten out of you, and a few weeks later you wake up in prison."

Finally, he sighs. John's plan seems like a shitty one.

"So now what's your plan? You're in prison, and though we're a fairly...open-minded bunch here in Genessia, considering the shit that goes on here, I don't think many people are going to buy your story."

"So you'll stay in prison, until whatever your sentence is has been decided. It won't be a light one, considering people were hurt during the fight with D--the fight that they thought was with you. And that might be the least of your worries. I don't imagine that your devil friend will be pleased to have been bested. How do you know that your contract is really as null and void as you'd like it to be? What's the plan, John, if he comes back saying that your 'till death do us part' was part of a conspiracy, or since it was just him it doesn't count, or something else along those lines?"

Spirit blinks, his gaze unwavering. "It doesn't exactly sound like your other half is the sort who plays fair, after all."

He let out a sigh. He'd laid out the (highly entertaining, he might add. He'd secure the movie rights later) plan, and now this guy is poking holes? Not cool.

"Mm, close but no cigar. Try and keep up:

The contract said we were always supposed to work together. No if, and's, or but's. If he'd stayed back on Earth forever, then legally, I'd have to never use the powers. But then, I'd never get caught or get punished for it either, at least not in this life. Classic catch 22.

The plan wasn't trying to lure him on, by the way. Honestly I'd be happy if he'd mind his own ****ing business and **** off. But we can't always get what we want. Really, it was only a matter of time before he found me. Dude's persistent, and he doesn't have many hobbies. I just had to prepare the proper welcome.

Like I said, D was only there during the rampage part of the phase. It was...mostly me, up till that point. Like I said, I got a few good months out of the deal, he got twenty minutes. Then bam," John punched his palm "Cleanup duty arrives, and I get out of the bargain."

"And yeah, that contract isn't worth the paper it's written on. Dude's dead; no, worse than dead. Wanna know the reason he hung around so long without doing much in the way of tempting? Besides me already being bad to the bone, natch. It's 'cause D was playing hookie. Complete slacker. You think the boss of someone like D's gonna take that ****? Trust me, he's roasting alive on a pitchfork spit while I'm laughing my *** off. Can't do a lot of legal argumentation while Satan has his spiked ***** up D's ***, I'll bet. But I don't need to tell you that; I know all about your working relationship."

He then considered his present circumstances.

"Honestly? I'm not worried about staying here long. You know that shock video; the guy with the gray, faggy haircut who blew some kid's head off with his foot? Yeah, that guy's running around without a care in the world. Me? Oh, boo hoo, some people got hurt. That poor blond bastard got crowned."

John wasn't worried in the least about buying his story. For one, outcome independence. For another, judging by some of the goings-on in Genessia, it wasn't the dumbest thing ever conceived. "Nah, I think my account's gonna go down like a spoonful of sugar. Besides, jail isn't too bad. Three hots and a cot, right? Besides, after pissing everyone off, I could use some time in solitary confinement while people cool their heads. Damn, if only I'd straight-up murdered some twerp instead. Then I'd be living the good life."

(OOC: Is it cool if I handwave how he knew about Mercury? He doesn't have access to a communicator, but magic~)

Edited 2015-05-14 02:32 (UTC)

[Handwave away! I'm not sure if this part of the jerks plot relates to the next but I'm going with Spirit's logic here ]

Spirit doesn't rise to the bait. The criminal justice system in Genessia is messed up, there's no doubt about it--but he isn't sitting in this interrogation room for that. He's here to discuss this psycho's plans.

So he lets John keep talking, reading his chin on his hand as he listens. There's one key flaw--and it is a big one.

When the other man stops talking, Spirit pipes in again with a simple point.

"Death isn't permanent here. And you don't go anywhere. Dead one minute and up in the hospital recovering the next. No pit stops on the way."

He blinks. "So what's the plan when he comes back, John?"

Wow, John thought. He thought Spirit would be way more ticked, especially with what went on between them at the church. John got a lot of pleasure from egging people on, so it wasn't very entertaining. Still, he respected his composure.

"You're not listening, bud. Now that the contract's over, he's back at HQ, probably undergoing a performance review. His superiors won't like what they see, believe me.

Don't ask me how I know. Like I said, the less you know about this bull****, the better.

Besides, what do I have to worry about? He comes back, you guys kick his *** like you did last time. What are superheroes for, am I right?

But hey, if you're really curious, go to hell. *beat* Meet the guy, get his side of the story. He'll back me up, in-between ***-*******'s."

"I don't need to go to hell. It's not really fair to accuse me of not listening if you aren't doing the same."

He leans back in the chair, pushing back enough to rock the seat on the back two legs, arms crossed. Altogether, he looks as nonplussed as he did when he first came into the interview room, the same small frown as he considers the man in front of him who was--either directly or indirectly--responsible for a ridiculous amount of chaos throughout the city.

"Dead one minute and up in the hospital the next, no pit stops. Unless he's left Genessia permanently, then he's still around somewhere." A pause. "And presence alone isn't exactly enough to kick his 'ass', as you so eloquently put it. You may recall just how long people her put up with you."

Bosslady probably wouldn't like it if Spirit considered bargaining with John regarding whether or not the illustrious D was still in Genessia proper. The weapon does have the keys in his pocket, after all--exchanging freedom for information wouldn't be too much of a stretch.

The front legs of the chair click loudly as they meet the floor again, blue eyes watching patiently. He'll try to get the information without any bargaining.

"All right dude, you're the expert on this ****. I just lived with the guy for some odd years."

"Hey, people put up with me cause I'm so much fun. I'd recommend you put D on your 'kill-on-sight' list. I mean, I might be kind of an ********, but that guy's just evil. Then again, you guys have some weird policies when it comes to criminals." He stretched, leaning back in his chair with a precarious balance.

"Need anything else?"

He pauses. Is there anything else he wants? Sure. His kid to not have been killed, to be back home, to get out of this crazy town--there are plenty of things Spirit would like. Many of them are things that Everyman can't provide.

But there is one thing. Just one.

"So what was the deal with the park and the church and all that? I get screwing with the non-natives, but what about all the people who have always lived here?"

Unbidden he wonders about the elderly woman and her story of the boy who did what was best for his town by being the worst. There's no appreciable change in his expression, but he shifts his weight in his chair, managing to look patiently curious as he awaits Everyman's response.

" 'People''s being generous. I did some people watching of my own, ya know. Had to make sure I had the characters just right. But the other average Joe's? They're pretty fake. And fake's something I know all about."

He sighed. The memories of his spree were coming back to him, and he knew that Spirit was asking about events he was personally privy to.

"That stuff was, like I said, to make things more realistic. I guess. Again, nobody got hurt, 'cept maybe whoever had to pay for reconstruction. Anything you mighta' seen there was a trick I cooked up."

He'd wait for Spirit to draw his own conclusions about that one. But if not...

"Hey, funny story..."

"Another funny story. I'd like to hear about it."

He slinks back in his chair and plants his feet firmly as he waits for Everyman to continue, fingers loosely folded in his lap. He just wants to hear more of the story.

Eveeryman's logic perplexes him. Information--even just listening to the other man talk--helps him understand just what's going on though the other's head.

John wasn't the type to use verbal filler or get embarrassed easily. Usually. But even he had to admit that his latest confession would probably make things incredibly awkward. He took a deep breath.

"All right, you asked for it. That old lady you met at the church? My memory's still kinda hazy, but I'm pretty sure that was me."

Luke isn't really sure why he's here. He didn't really want to be here--Everyman and his behaviors and mission are not something he can really understand, and thought he might want to know what the reporter's motivations were, Luke doubts be ever will.

So why he's at the prison standing in the hall, clutching his notebook just for something to hold, he isn't really sure. The boy is quiet; visible by Everyman from the cell as Luke's stopped only a short ways away from the cell.

Criminey, prison was boring. Which is why John's always excited to see people passing his way, even if it results in little more than some heckling. He's pretty surprised, then, to see this kid. Alone, at that.

"Dang, kid. Must've gotten into some real trouble if they put you into a 'Scared Straight' program. What did you do?"

Luke jumps.

He's come to talk with Everyman in truth, though he's almost turned and left several times before mustering the courage to make his way to the actual prison--no small feat, as the guard had initially not approved if the boy's plan.

"I'm not in trouble. I...um," and he hesitates. He what? Wanted to see John Everyman out of the shadows? Wanted to confront him? Wanted to yell at him?

"...I came to talk to you."

Everyman grinned; he wanted to see where this was going.

"Come to chew me out, eh? All right, I think I can take it."

"No. I didn't..."

This isn't working. Why did he do this? Theta no reason for him at all to be talking with Everyman. He isn't sure why he had been so committed to coming. Yet here he is.

"I just...well. You said not to look for the answer you want but to be unbiased. To find the truth instead of finding what I want the truth to be."

He fidgets. With his hat and his bag and his sweater and anything else he can get his hands on. "But... you made up the truth sometimes too. Why--how--what makes that any different? "

John rubbed his chin. Now it's coming back to me. Yeah, what I said was kinda messed up for a kid, but still. That was MONTHS ago. Must've really gotten to him. John made up his mind to curb his language in front of the young'uns. Even he couldn't resist the impulse to present a more sanitized world for the tykes.

"Well, for starters, I was just plain lying, or as I like to call it, expressing my creativity. It was more about what I did. You, on the other hand, just had the wrong approach. Maybe. For what it's worth, even though you were really biased, you were still right, even though you had no right to be right. Am I right? Right. I'm guessing you didn't come all the way here to discuss friggin'...heuristics, or whatever. If you've got somethin' on your chest, you might as well spill it."

Edited 2015-04-20 19:50 (UTC)

Luke has lots of things to say, honestly. But he's stuck, staring, eyes wide. This isn't the person he really expected to meet, honestly--he'd expected someone more like the man behind the dumpster.

The young apprentice fidgets more, and glances away from the cell. What is he here to say, again?

"Miss Kiryuin fired me, you know. In the middle of all of the...of everything that was happening."

...that probably wasn't what he planned on saying, but it's said now.

"Because I went to see the truth for myself. I wasn't supposed to go, but I went anyway. So she fired me."

Edited 2015-04-22 02:01 (UTC)

He puffed his cheeks, trying to hold it in, before erupting into a laugh.

"Hahahaha! Oh man, seriously? What a b-...er, jerk! Maybe OSHA got on her a-, er, butt, for hiring a minor. How great would that be, if she were in the next cell over for violating child labor laws? Man, you should totally press charges. Assuming there are laws like that, anyway." He stopped laughing, returning to his usual relaxed demeanor.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're not missing much. For one, 'the truth' of the whole thing was pretty stupid. And dangerous, going by what happened to Nova City. For another, your boss is a massive thunderc-, er, not a nice lady.

Real talk, since you're waxing eloquent about 'truth' and whatnot. Good lies have a little bit of truth to 'em. I did some people-watching before my stint as a a would-be National Inquirer. There's a reason I made her look like a distant relative of the Fuhrer himself, though mostly just cause it was funny.

I dunno, you seem like a smart kid. Why'd you wanna work for her?" Honestly. Has Luke never had the experience of working under a female boss before?

Luke's cheeks puff themselves, but for an entirely different reason. Even so many months later, he still flushes uncomfortably at the thought of the evening he'd been fired. He'd done what he truly believed to be right. The night he'd fired itself had, unfortunately, become just one in a long sequence of events that lead to the current change in his demeanor, the anxiety and uncertainty. It's different from the boy Everyman had met before--far less certain, far more nervous.

"Miss Kiryuin gave me a job. It's just me from home--well, Clive is here now, and Inquisitor Darklaw. But before that, just me." The apprentice pauses. "I have to rent my flat somehow."

He won't go on regarding how Satsuki had seen potential in him, and encouraged that of him. And perhaps even more than that was simply her presence in the proverbial right place at the right time. She'd been the first adult to take any measure of concern regarding his well-being.

"I have a tea shop now. So, I don't think there are 'child' labor laws. I have to rent my flat somehow, Mr. Everyman."

"Sellin' your integrity for a roof over your head. Mm mm mm." He cucked, placing his hands behind his head as he leaned against the bedpost, looking oddly contented. "I've heard that one before." John was more amused than judgmental.

"People still callin' me that? I'm flattered. Name's John, Luke." He leaned forward.

"So what you're telling me is that, thanks to me, now you're out from the harpy's claw and self-employed? Nice going, Rockefeller." John could think of more hetero things than tea shops, but maybe it's an English thing.

"Crazy world. Looks like I really did 'free you from her thrall' after all. Doing good deeds without even realizin'. That is so me. And yet, I'm the guy in jail while she's in office." He shook his head, grinning. "Sometimes life just ain't fair."

Edited 2015-04-22 04:52 (UTC)

"Mr. John I don't--I'm not selling anything. Miss Kiryuin is trying to help people here!"

His cheeks puff, and the boy bristles, his expression frustrated. And flustered. As if, perhaps, he does sometimes worry that maybe John Everyman was right. Satsuki had, after all, fired him--left him without work and to his own devices. A child.

"She's not a harpy. That's not polite to say, you know."

Keep worrying Luke, because John is never wrong. It even rhymes.

"Pft. Help people, right. Hey, who knows? I hear Hitler was a great community organizer. Trust me kid, I know her type. You know what my granddad used to say? 'You can judge the measure of a man by how he treats people who couldn't possibly be of any use to him.' Granted, she's not a man, but I haven't gotten a close enough look just yet.

So, you tell me. How'd she treat you when you weren't so useful anymore?"

Edited 2015-04-26 02:12 (UTC)

"She treats me just fine." Puffy cheeks and red face, very convincing kiddo.

This is absolutely and positively not what Luke was hoping to accomplish by coming here. He isn't sure really what he wanted to achieve, he just knows that this isn't it.

"She helps me lots. And...and that's not even why I'm here!"

He fidgets and frowns and is about two seconds away from outright stomping his foot. He isn't sure why he's here. He just is, looking at a man who greatly skewed his version of who was trustworthy and who was not--he's not sure what he wants. Resolution? Luke's not dense enough to think that he's going to get any of that..but it won't stop him from trying.

"So getting canned is being treated just fine and 'helping you lots'. Guess we're from different worlds."

Come to think of it, what did John, the most important person ever, want from this? Amusement, he guessed. And maybe, just maybe, a little repentance. This kid was kind of worrying, really. Plus it might be funny to live through the brat vicariously. John was delighted at the thought of a little John. If only he could "infect" him properly.

"Okay. Ball's in your court. Riddle me this, kiddo: what do you want?"

Edited 2015-05-26 04:41 (UTC)

Luke is quiet, frowning. Maybe this was a mistake. He's not sure what to do--John's asked at least once outright and suggested the curiosity at least a few other times--why is he here? What does he want?

He steps back from the cell, blinking. Luke folds his hands behind him, chewing on his lip and tilting his chin to keep his eyes away from John. His cheeks are slightly flushed, embarrassed, as John has him pegged.

"I don't know."

Luke takes another step back, chewing on his lip, shaking his head slowly. "I think I should go--"

"Yeah," he sighs, leaning back on the sparse bed. "Wouldn't blame ya. Prison's no fun. But hey, real talk. Figure it out, all right? What you want. You're a smart kid, shouldn't be too hard. And hey, so long as you're walking, lemme give you some advice. I'd move you myself, but they don't like it when inmates get all touchy.

So, here's how to not look like a sad-sack. Listen up.

Elbows out. Swing your upper body a little. Keep your knees high and out on the leg swing. And put some bounce in your step. Keep your body open, posture straight, and lead with your crotch. Remember, your body influences your mind. If you walk more confident, you'll be more confident. Trust me on this one.

You ever want more pointers like that, I'll be here all week. You walk out of here like I said, I'll have no regrets. Make me proud."

It was late in the day that the woman of many faces decided to pay a trip to the person who'd given her so much trouble of late. Although that trouble had ended up going deeper then she had expected it to, in the end all that happened was a bit of destruction at Kazuya's tower. So, nothing of value was lost!

The face Mamizou wears as she presents herself would be entirely unfamiliar to John, a face remarkably close to her real one, only with the animal features hidden. Brown eyes hidden behind spectacles and a smile on her face, she looked like a normal person. This one didn't seem like a common heckler, nor was she some sort of news reporter trying to report on the false reporter. She seemed to be here for a different reason.

"Well, you don't look very comfortable in there."

The woman's voice is unfamiliar. She crosses her arms across her chest as she speaks. "It looks like it has all the things a cell should have, too. Bars, walls, really, what else could you want?"

"Oh, I dunno. Peace and quiet might be nice." He flashed her a smile, then put his brain into detective mode.

Getting bad boy cred was one of the perks he'd sought out in this arrangement, so it didn't surprise him that a few women would find this dashing criminal desirable. Still, as far as he knew, no press release had been given yet. Either she was a very diehard fan of his, or else someone he was supposed to know.

His memory was still hazy regarding his 'everyman' duration. What women were like this? A few names had appeared for the carnival. And there was a...pursuer, of some kind. He dug a foggy glimpse of headbutting someone in the glasses. Maybe? If she was that one, she seemed to be taking it all rather well. It'd explain the light mockery.

"But I guess you're not the type. Speaking of your type: dang, four-eyes. What would your dad say, if he knew you were into guys like me?"

Of course this woman was a lot different then the one that had shown up at Kazuya's tower. At least her appearance was different. Her speech patterns were vastly different as well. This woman seemed a bit more dignified, the type that wouldn't rot a brain if you listened to her speak for too long.

She also seemed very not here for the purpose of being a flirt. Someone like that would probably have waited until he was out, to greet him with open arms and tight fitting shirts. The amused look that touches her face is all the proof in the world that it isn't that sort of interest that brought her here.

"Father? Goodness, how many years has it been since I saw him? I imagine you weren't born yet. Or your father. Or your grandfather. Likely his grandfather even. This, of course, assumes you have a normal human lifespan." Judging by how she is talking, she clearly does not, but she doesn't seem to be willing to volunteer any reason why that might be the case.

"But I suspect he wouldn't have much at all to say about this little visit. He would understand what I was doing. If you were hoping that I was here to tell you how wonderful you were, to heap praises upon you for all you've done....well, you wouldn't be completely wrong. Mostly, but not completely. I believe you and I may be just a little bit alike. Though I've easily the better manners."

Daddy issues, centuries old, and talks like a blanking alien. Not bad on the eyes, a touch feisty, and has an eye for quality, given her presence. He gave a look like he was sizing her up, especially the torso. "Mm, you'll do." Not here to flirt? Doesn't matter to John, who knew with an unshakeable faith the power of his own attraction.

"Sorry to hear it. If the position's vacant, maybe I can fill that hole." He tried hard not to laugh at that one. "What I mean to say is...I'll be your daddy." He said this with all the paternal affection he could muster. It was slight.

"Or not. Man, hunting for guys centuries your junior. I've heard of cougars, but this is a somethin' else. Dating market must be pretty hard-up." Oh man, another zinger. The innuendo would never cease!

"Well, either way, thanks for stopping by grandma. Some milk and cookies would've been nice, but I'll take heaps of praise too. Good thing that's not the only reason; we'd be here all night!"

"Alike, huh?" John had a hard time picturing that one. Not as aggressively sexual, not the same sex, not the same manner of speech, not in jail...but then, that suited him fine. He liked women when they were unlike; that is, complementary. He brushed that off. "Awesome, you bring the manners, I'll bring the charm. And the looks. And the smarts. And the..." He invited her to finish with wit of her own.

Edited 2015-05-01 02:48 (UTC)

"...Delusions."

The woman fills in that last little bit with a smile on her face. Its the sort of smile that shows she isn't taking things seriously at all. The sort who has been treated this way by plenty of people in the past, and isn't going to be easily taken in by sweet talking and a pretty face. She is clearly not offended by it though, it just seems horribly amusing to her.

"You're pretty bold for someone that has lost his power. I suppose all that self-confidence wasn't solely due to your borrowed abilities." There's a short pause. "Assuming I have all my information right of course. I was hardly allowed all the details. I'm no official, just a perfectly ordinary woman." Sounds legit. After dropping details about her age, she is clearly utterly normal.

"But you might be wondering why I say we are alike. Its simple really. But before I answer that, let me ask you. Why do you think I came to visit you at all? You don't really believe I've come simply to flirt with a troublemaker, do you?"

Smiles all around.

"Gee, I just don't know. Hey, Ms. Manners? Not that these guessing games aren't fun, but most people exchange names when they're introduced. You know mine already, but just in case: it's John. Easy, right? Now it's your turn."

The woman shakes her head, seemingly mildly disappointed. She lets it go quickly enough though. The question leaves her silent for a moment.

"If you need a name to call me, then call me Marion. It isn't my real name. I hesitate to think of the 'mistakes' you might make trying to pronounce my real one. Not that I am trying to insult your intelligence of course. You merely strike me as the type who would not care to say it correctly. Marion, however? It is nice. Simple. And easy to remember."

Smiles? She's got those. Shiny and vibrant and full of happy.

"But since you don't want to play, the answer is obvious. You and I seem to enjoy the same thing, and that is misleading people. There is a reason I am not telling you my real name. It ruins the mystery. Next to no one in this city knows who I really am, WHAT I really am."

She is quiet a moment, letting her bespectacled eyes stare into the prisoner's without a bit of shame. There is no sign of the 'love' John seems to think she has for him there. Nor is there any hatred. Merely amusement. This conversation, it was a game to her.

"And no, I don't intend to make you one of them."

John's smile dropped. "Too bad." Not that John didn't enjoy games of obfuscation, evasion, etc. But John didn't fancy the prospect of cultivating romantic interest out of whole cloth. Could he do it? John believed he could do anything, of course. But worth the effort? Perhaps. In any case, recent events of late had made John weary of his usual routine. Indeed, in the back of John's mind, tucked away in a place he wasn't likely to admit, part of the reason he had done all this was in search of something real, and genuine. It was with a sardonic grin that he received his latest character judgment. Enjoy misleading people? He almost laughed that that could be earnestly said of him.

He found it curious that she fully admitted to her name's phoniness. But then, in John's selfish gaze, he saw only two useful avenues with the visitor. Conversation, or 'carnal knowledge'. John didn't favor either with someone he saw so anonymously. Gently, he exhorted.

"If I wanted a mystery, I'd read a book. It's just a name, not your life story. If you can't be real with me, then I got nothin' else to say."

Yes, John was fully aware of the irony. He even felt the slightest tinge of regret that he might reject one who'd been instrumental in his liberation, present surroundings excluded. Still, he was slowly making it his mission in life to separate the wheat and the chaff, real and unreal. John liked games, but only with players of flesh and blood; people with something on the line. He had had enough of spirits and the ephemeral, whatever guise.

Edited 2015-05-01 07:24 (UTC)

It was much different for the woman herself. She had always thrived off the fake. It was her way of life, the way of life of the vast majority of her species. There was no way to tell how someone would react to her natural form. While it wasn't scary in any way, it was outside of the ordinary for most people. Some people reacted violently to that sort of thing.

But her heritage wasn't the real reason she kept herself secretive. The truth of the matter was that she liked it. She reveled in being the one that no one really knew much about. Even the handful of people she had intentionally revealed herself to didn't know much about her. She preferred it that way, but not because she was in any danger. No one would care if they knew she sometimes had a big, fluffy tail. It was all for her own ego that she lived that secretive life.

The woman releases an overly dramatic sigh. "You are quite troublesome aren't you, Mr. John? But I suppose there is no real harm in telling you a little more. I WOULD say I was disappointed in you for not being willing to do a bit of research, but you are hardly in a position for that, are you? So I shall tell you what the rest of this world knows about me. All of it is the truth. Perhaps not the entire truth, but I won't be so easily goaded into that."

There is only the briefest of pauses before she begins her little story. "Marion, while not my real name, is one I was using for a small period a little while ago. It is actually not too far from my real one, Mamizou. In my time here I have made a mutually beneficial agreement with the guardian of Nova City. While technically I am her 'employee', I do not consider her my 'superior' so to speak. She merely caught my interest. Interesting humans are relatively uncommon, you know."

"Good girl", he purred. "That wasn't so hard, was it Mammaryzou? A little quid pro quo never hurt anyone." And lo, his poo-eating grin was restored, as if by magic.

He managed to hold it up when he revealed her employer. That's two visitors of his who seemed to labor under Satsuki. Just how far did her reach extend?

He dismissed the idea, resolving to stay present and in the moment. This left him to reconsider the woman in front of him whom he was fully prepared to forget had the coyness continued. The name was vaguely familiar. He had planned his last "prank" around at least two people being occupied before going after Satsuki himself. He didn't much care who; that and Japanese names, while fun to mangle, weren't easy for him to remember.

And very vaguely, as if in a dream, he did know of being attacked by a trio of unusually violent women. But that was too little to draw conclusions off of. Back to the game it was; he resumed his role of the jerk.

"Yeah, us humans are real interesting. We talk like people instead of robots." He grinned, poking fun at her formality in the middle of a prison. "You should try it sometime."

He effected a look of contemplation. "So you're not here to flirt, eh? Hah. You're so full of **** your eyes are brown. But whatever, we'll run with that. Well, you're looking at the greatest specimen Genessia's ever seen through monkey bars. Hell, I'm probably this city's finest attraction. I bet the warden didn't even charge for the privilege. An exotic beast, in captivity for the peanut gallery to gawk at.

Can't say I blame ya. I'm well worth the trip. But out of all my features, which one drew you the most? That's a tough one. My breezy, yet engaging conversational style. Or maybe my smarts; refined, but approachable? Or maybe you just wanted to catch me with my shirt off." He tried to throw in a dash of ambiguity himself.

"Then again, maybe with those glasses you see something others don't." Oh so suggestive.

[Open-ish] Time for giving up the ghost--it's you I hate the most

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[Closed thread] Interrogation

Re: [Closed thread] Interrogation

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Oh gosh there were so many typeos....phone tagging X_x;

Re: Oh gosh there were so many typeos....phone tagging X_x;

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I am here to tag the HELL out of this thread

Tag on, brave soldier

I love that you bleep him

Re: I love that you bleep him

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Yay tags!

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Sometime Later idk [Action]

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[Action] Again alksdjflkawejg typeos ugh. Phone tagging

Re: [Action] Again alksdjflkawejg typeos ugh. Phone tagging

John is so supportive, thank you friend

Any time

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Lets see how long it takes to figure out who she is!

Re: Lets see how long it takes to figure out who she is!

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Not dead!

Re: Not dead!