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Unwelcome Guest

cont. from here

He hadn’t been expecting anybody - not even the pizza guy, for once. Jacket kept a baseball bat by his door for just such occasions, and brought it with him now, though he kept it out of sight as he unlocked the door and cracked it only partway open.

He looked like somebody prepared to use a baseball bat at his doorstep; gazing out with a look of apathy and mild wariness, with dark circles under his eyes suggesting he did not sleep well or perhaps did not sleep regularly.

Jacket still didn’t draw the bat when he saw who was at his door. Sleuthing. What did that mean? It couldn’t mean anything short of following him here. The other man had no name to go off. Jacket didn’t leave a lot of bread crumbs, if any. He wasn’t easy to follow, either; but of anybody, he wouldn’t put it past another operator to pull it off. A former operator, that is.

He studied the man, idly wondered how long it might be to starve him out. Considered, too, his own supply of groceries and how long it would last him, or if he had work in the next few days. But he knew that wasn’t likely to work. If the other knew where he lived, the man could just come and go as he pleased. The thought made Jacket’s insides churn with loathing. He looked away for a beat, swallowed, studied the man again.

“... Get a pizza at least,” he murmured tiredly - then the door was shut, quietly, and a couple clicks of the lock were heard.

#helmetedher0 #v: the abyss #1 800 PARA #t: Unwelcome Guest

@helmetedher0

“Well don’t fuckin’ eat me, you psycho! Leave it for the mushrooms!”

Eugh, mushrooms.

☢ >> “A bitch needs to eat!! The fuck do you think I use these fangs for - eating leaves? Catching insects? Filtering krill??”

#helmetedher0 #replies

"Horses and ponies are not the same thing." We know this. We've seen it.

“….But…what if they are? It’d make sense, Honestly. Ponies could be baby versions of Horses. I mean….I think so at least.”He pauses to think this one over.“….Then again, you could be right, but I don’t know. I don’t care enough for farm animals to really know, either.”

#Phonecall #helmetedher0

❝ When I’m dead, just throw me in the trash. ❞

always sunny ask meme

☢ >> “And waste a perfectly good corpse??”

#helmetedher0 #ANSWERED.

@helmetedher0:

Yeah, he’s been there himself. Drinking hard is something he’s a little bit too used to by now, and he would be lying if he said it were for a different reason. Life is just too much of an effort lately, but he doesn’t want to throw in the towel. It isn’t that he hopes things will magically get better, but the thought of dying is, surprisingly, still unappealing to him.

He sometimes wonders why he’s put his life on the line so many times, but reaches the eventual conclusion that brushing with death makes life all the more meaningful… Or rather reached. Nowadays nothing seems to make anything meaningful, and the paranoia that came attached with said brushes with death wasn’t worth the risk.

“Nothing much,” he admits, offering her a shrug as he watches her down her beer. He’s tempted to tell her to pace herself, but it isn’t his place. “The usual existential crisis, you know how it goes. What’s goin’ on with you?”

truth be told, alex always wanted her life to mean something. it didn’t mean shit in hawaii, where she watched members of her company get killed without being able to do anything. it’s got her rationalizing shit she knows is technically amoral, technically evil, but when you live in gray - morality subjective. people are mixed, on one hand they love and relish the vicious slaughter of these russian scumbags. on the other hand? it’s a little more complicated, but it’s war; it always is. biker’s as irrational as she is some days, crazy but in a different way. she gets him, he gets her to an extent. she can feel judgmental eyes as she lowers her bottle of beer to rest in between her hands at the bar. existential crises are their normal, hell is their normal. it maybe a neon jungle, but they’re living in the gray. they both are. ❛ work mostly. ❜ that’s vague; incredibly vague. if only biker knew the shit she was in now, if only he knew she was killing people for fun. mimicking the miami mutilator, butcher, a ghost wolf, whatever they called him now. a sigh slips from her lips. ❛ it’s been alright, for the most part. what’s got you freaking out? ❜

#helmetedher0 #💀 —— ❛ horror building as the world seems to collapse / 001.

❛ Long night, huh? ❜

MORE QUESTION SENTENCE STARTERS.

status: accepting.

❛ UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR, ❜ alex huffs as she downs half of the beer she had only just gotten in less than fifteen seconds. she really should pace herself, but there’s no time like the present. right? ( wrong. that’s how you become an alcoholic, alex. ) she hasn’t really thought of what happened, what continued to happen, the deaths that she saw every time she closed her eyes, but who needs that when you have friends? she’s quiet for a long while until she finally glances over at him. ❛ you don’t look too good either. what happened? ❜

#helmetedher0 #💀 —— ❛ it seems like there’s something i should know / asks.

Answers (helmetedher0)

@helmetedher0

It took a long time for him to understand. It didn’t seem possible for the ‘prank caller’ to survive their encounter. Police reports mentioned a survivor and Richard hadn’t understood. It took a long time, but he had a lead. It didn’t make sense that the other man survived, but Richard had gotten shot in the head and kept fighting.

This bar is seedy with dimmed lights and only a few people in it. Outside of the city, outside of the spotlight. He had asked around about the man. He used to have dyed hair and judging by what Richard had done to him, his face was likely fucked up. The blue hair and the scar were all he needed to mention. Apparently, he came here a lot.

Richard was a little jealous. The guy must not care if the men that sent him to kill him the first time find him again. And here he was, trying to lay low. Then again, the police and mafia didn’t suspect this man. Not like with Richard.

He sat at the bar and waited. He ordered a beer but hardly touched it. He was watching for the other. When he finally entered the bar, Richard tried not to look directly at him. As soon as the other seemed to settle, he decided to make his move. He changed his spot to sit a little closer to the other. This wasn’t going to be easy, Richard was awful at talking to people. He would try though. Maybe he could lie to him and convince him to help.

His eyes drifted to the other people in the bar. All of them looked like hicks, all of them looked older. They were likely the youngest people here. Without looking directly at the other, he finally decided to talk to him.