#peter bruni

[chronophotographic-gun]

Assault on Precinct 13 (1976)

[filmap]

Assault on Precinct 13 John Carpenter. 1976

Ice Cream Truck 11513 Berendo Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90044, USA See in map

See in imdb

[letterboxd-loggd]

Assault on Precinct 13 (1976) John Carpenter

April 6th 2025

[scenesandscreens]

Assault on Precinct 13 (1976)

Director - John Carpenter, Cinematography - Douglas Knapp

"There are no heroes anymore, Bishop. Just men who follow orders."

[pollywestgw2]

Free

Dear Mr. Barlow ( @rhynna ),

Well, this is an odd letter to write.  I assume you’ve been working on my divorce from the missing Peter Bruni, but in meantime, well -- he showed up.  And tried to do some pretty awful things, and in the end, ended up dead from it.  I made sure a copy of the paperwork went to Garenhoff so no one starts that nonsense up again.  I’ll of course reimburse you for any time spent pursuing the divorce.  

Speaking of legal formalities -- I’d like to pursue a formal name change, in both Kryta and Lion’s Arch.  Sod that Helena Bruni, she’s never had anything but bad luck.  How about you help me make Polly West a permanent sort of thing?

All the best, Polly

[many-voices]

Name someone you’ve failed. What did you do wrong? How do they feel about you now? {For whomever you'd like to torture}

(Yay character torture!  There’s one I want to write and one that I don’t want to write, but it keeps hitting me upside the head anyway.  So I’ll do both.)

“Failing people is easy,” says Jovan Rogala after setting a weathered ribbon in his book to mark his place.  “You can do that as easy as slipping into a bath. Slip into failure, soak your head, wait until they’re gone to stick your head back out.  Or drown.  That’s always an option.”  His words echo in the large, nearly empty room.  A bedroll on a few cushions, a stack of books, a lamp.  The rest is all worn wallpaper and water-stained floors, but he looks entirely at home.

He lets out a breath that stirs the ends of his extravagant mustache.  “We all called him Pretty Ben, on account of – well, you get it.  He had a girl back in…gods, Claypool?  One of those little places.  And he wanted to stay true to her, but I’ve never liked drinking alone.  So I talked him into being stupid, his stupid made a baby, and now he’s shackled to someone out of honor, because he’s rigid and I was a shitty friend.”  

He shrugs.  “It’s a small failure among all the others, but it sticks in my craw. Probably because he sees me as the villain of the piece when he was the one who chose to flip the girl’s skirts up.”  There’s a long pause.  “But I was a shit of a friend.  So that’s that.”

(Next one’s cut for discussion of spousal abuse)

Polly would never say it out loud.  She’s a vocalist; she knows more than most people the power words can bear.  But in the darkest, coldest, most lonely hours, trapped in her tiny stone cell, she wonders if she could have fixed things by being a better wife.  Maybe he never had to beat her.  Maybe things never had to have gone wrong.

If she hadn’t wanted to be a singer so badly, she’d never have made him jealous in the first place.  If she hadn’t pushed her dreams, he wouldn’t have found them so frightening.  If she’d just shoved herself into a tiny, dark, screaming little ball and swallowed it entirely, become a glossy, pretty statue and never said a word crosswise, maybe he would have loved her, and everything would have been all right.

[justfilms]

Assault on Precinct 13 - John Carpenter 1976

[pollywestgw2]

☾- Are they prone to nightmares or dreamless sleep?

(( Let’s pretend it’s Mavros asking (though he’d put it another way) so she’ll actually answer honestly. ))

“In jail, I dreamed every night.  About you, and those either got me going –” She lifts her head from his knee so he can see her grin and wink. “– or left me just sobbing.  I mean, I figured you moved on ten different ways from me, given how long I was gone.  

“I dreamed about Peter at that waterfall.  Choices I’d make, what would happen.  And sweet Lyssa, did I dream about singing.  Over and over, always the same place.  That Rurikton amphitheater, and everyone I know would be watching and no one would applaud, and doll, it was the worst.  The worst.”

Her head rests back down onto his knee, and when a large hand sinks into her hair, she lets out a tiny, content sigh.  “Haven’t had one of those nightmares since I got back.  Guess I needed the right bed and the right man again to get some sleep.”