Born Better Than Your Best

"I don't care what you are, I don't care where you come from: I've fought worse. You'll just be another meaningless name in my killing spree." ((Roleplay account for jeff-the-killer's Jeff. Profile pic by a-sleepless-death. Go check them out.))

[with-undying-rage]

tothebeatofthesun:

“You had five… never mind.” Styx rolled his eyes and brought his cigarette to his mouth. “Trust me, I ain’t going out of my way to stare at you any longer. What the hell did you do to yourself?”

He left the cigarette in his mouth and reached up to pull his hood back down, shaking out his thick black hair with a small hiss of relief. Hoods that tight were suffocating. Next to be removed were his gloves, which he shoved in his jacket pockets, and unzipped the jacket itself. It always felt nice to release the more constraining parts of his work outfit, nice enough he started trying to blow smoke rings while Jeff changed.

Jeff walked around the van, briefly glancing around to ensure no one was staring (who was he kidding, no one ever came around this part of town anyways) before he took off the loincloth, and began putting on his more “regular” clothes. “Got the Michael Jackson treatment,” he said, deadpan, before sliding the shirt past his head. "Feels nice to be fully dressed again. Having my junk hanging out ‘s fun an’ all, but it’s starting to get a bit chilly out here.”

He came back around to greet Styx, giving him a pat on the back before motioning for him to get on the passenger’s seat. “Make sure you turn that damn thing off ‘fore you get inside, I don’t want my van to smell like cigarettes for the rest of the week.”

The doors to the vehicle unlocked and Jeff climbed onto the driver’s seat: The inside of the van was dilapidated, as was the outside, with random trash strewn all about the dashboard and floor, varying in content from bullet casings and weapon parts to candy bar wrappers and old newspapers. “There’s a couple of bags of meat on the passenger’s, feel free to just shove them to the back seat. Let’s get going.”

[with-undying-rage]

tothebeatofthesun:

“Whatever suits you man, just wanted t’ know.” Styx left his cigarette unlit until they were outside, focusing instead on folding his wings down in a more compact fashion, to lessen the chance of someone spotting them from a distance. 

Styx stopped next to Jeff but just out of immediate reach, watching the man as he looked around with a certain amount of caution. He found his lighter and lit the cigarette, holding it in one hand as he put the lighter away. “That name sounds kinda familiar. Uhh, four?” 

“The fourth explanation, then,” he grinned, waving Styx to follow him as he began walking towards his vehicle; An old, beaten up Ford Aerostar with red paint so worn out it looked like it was slowly turning yellow. “Wanted to test the effectiveness of revealing combat armor. Surprisingly ‘nuff, it works. Never have I had more freedom of movement, and having my ass hanging out feels empowering.”

He popped the back open, tossing his bag of equipment in it and reaching inside to pull out a change of clothes: A pair of jeans, a black shirt and a sweater. “Unfortunately, I stand out enough as it is, so driving ‘round but-ass naked probably ain’t a good idea,” he said, before shutting the door. “I’m gonna go to the other side of the van and change. Don’t peek or anything.”

[with-undying-rage]

tothebeatofthesun:

“What do you mean people ain’t paid to kill eldritch creatures that happens all the damn time.” Styx hesitated a moment before taking a few steps after Jeff, at the same time reaching for a pocket sewn on the inside of his jacket. “Didn’t know if you’s with a particular organization, don’t get all puffed up.” 

He pulled a small box of cigarettes from his jacket and set one between his teeth, looking back at Jeff as he put the box away. “’s long as you aren’t expecting something in return I’ll take you up on that. Name’s Styx. Now, do I want to know why y’r not wearing pants?” 

“I ain’t much for working with a team,” he shrugged nonchalantly, walking just ahead of Styx, up the hallway and down the stairs. “’sides, ain’t much I can do with a group that I can’t do by myself. Having to work under a handful of amateurs would just slow me down.”

Soon they were stepping out of the lobby and into the parking lot. Jeff was glad for the change of scenery: It wasn’t that he disliked the motel’s gloomy look, he was used to that kind of thing, but he could do without the stale smell of mold and cigarettes.

“Jeff. Jeff Woods,” he introduced himself with a wave of his hand, hardly turning to acknowledge Styx as he searched the parking lot for his van. “Pick a number from one to five.”

[with-undying-rage]

tothebeatofthesun:

with-undying-rage:

“… What, were you expecting flowers or somethin’?” He seemed genuinely confused, as if he weren’t the naked-ass man who’d just obliterated an eldritch creature in the middle of a seedy motel. “Kid, I ain’t ever seen you before, when else did you expect me to hit on ya? I highly doubt we’re gonna meet each other at the macrame club once we’re done here.”

He shook his head, a smile on his lips, before peeking back into the room, pulling a duffle bag from around the doorway and swinging it over his shoulder. “Well, shit, I should probably get going before anyone decides to come and check out what that whole disaster was,” he nodded towards the hallway ahead of them “Need a ride outta here?” 

“Usually, usually people would, not, flirt at all in that case. And don’t call me kid I swear to god.” Styx scowled and stretched out his wings a little to look bigger. “You ain’t that much bigger than me. The fuck is a macrame?” 

Before answering that question, Styx looked into the room himself, just to confirm this guy was telling the truth. He looked back towards Jeff, “who ‘re you with and why ‘re you offering favors?” 

“Yeah, well, usually people ain’t paid to kill eldritch creatures, but here we are am I right?” He laughed, patting Styx in the shoulder and pushing the wing aside so that he could walk past, stopping a few paces away from him. He shot him an odd look, seeming a bit confused by his questions. “I dunno what you mean by ‘who I’m with’, but I’m offering to take you a ride because you don’t seem like the driving type and I just offered to fuck you, so I figure I might as well pretend like I was going to be nice to you either way. Now, you walkin’ back home or what?”

[with-undying-rage]

tothebeatofthesun:

Styx raised an eyebrow as he slowly sheathed his machete. “Man, are you fucking serious? I hate clients who do this. ‘Let’s hire three hitmen on one target, what’s the worst that could happen’.” He reached back with one hand to forcefully lay his feathers flat, not wanting to look too angry about it. It wasn’t good for his record to be beaten to the kill. 

“Have to admit, ‘ve never come across this species of thing bef- …wait. wait. Did you just hit on me? Did you seriously just fuckin’ hit on me?” Styx’s wings snapped out and back in irritation. “In front of a fuckin’ corpse, in th’ middle of a hit. Seriously?” 

“... What, were you expecting flowers or somethin’?” He seemed genuinely confused, as if he weren’t the naked-ass man who’d just obliterated an eldritch creature in the middle of a seedy motel. “Kid, I ain’t ever seen you before, when else did you expect me to hit on ya? I highly doubt we’re gonna meet each other at the macrame club once we’re done here.”

He shook his head, a smile on his lips, before peeking back into the room, pulling a duffle bag from around the doorway and swinging it over his shoulder. “Well, shit, I should probably get going before anyone decides to come and check out what that whole disaster was,” he nodded towards the hallway ahead of them “Need a ride outta here?” 

[with-undying-rage]

tothebeatofthesun:

Did he just say that was the weirdest thing he’d ever seen? Scratch that because this was without a doubt the new king event of “what the actual fuck is my job”-dom. Death by randomass shinigami could not top this. The one guy who prevented Styx from completing his hit by turning into a god damn jellyfish could not top this. And the main reason why- this whoever the fuck, was human. He expected this kind of shit from demons. It just happens. Styx had years to develop a sense for this kind of shit, and he knew there was nothing innately inhuman about the man in front of him.  Something had gone seriously wrong here and instead of an edge-fest the outcome was this. How on earth do you respond to that, seriously? 

In lieu of answering what the man had said, partially because Styx hadn’t even gotten around to registering he’d just been hit on, Styx pointed at the grade-A mess of gore and broken gun with his machete. “Y’ think you fuckin’ killed it yet?” he said sarcastically, his southern accent slipping through in his bewilderment, then asked the real question he wanted an answer to- “’re there any more in there ‘r was’hat it?”  

Not even a reaction to his flirting. Disappointing, but he understood: Jeff had been led to understand that he had a somewhat... Outlandish personality, especially when he was happy.  And how couldn’t he be happy? That kill had been fucking sick.

“Ah’ mean, you can never be too sure with these things, you know?” He said, with as shrug of his shoulders and a roll of his eyes, briefly glancing to look at the pile of pulp that had previously been the cultist. “They regenerate and reproduce and regurgitate or whatever the fuck and before you know it they’re all back together again. If you really wanna kill ‘em dead, you gotta make sure they’ve got nothing to come back from.”

Admittedly, maybe “over a hundred shells” did border on the excessive end of the spectrum, but hey, what could he say? He was through man. And he’d be caught dead before he was called out for failing to kill someone. “In there? Nah, place is deserted save for the weird smile all over the walls. Should probably have it torched after I’m gone. There’s probably a dozen or so more of ‘em out there in the wild, but hey, they ain’t paying me to kill those.”

[with-undying-rage]

tothebeatofthesun:

In his life, Styx had seen many strange things. He had seen many things while working. He had seen many strange things while working. But this? Threatened to take place as The Weirdest Shit, top crowned and royal in a fancy throne. If Styx hadn’t literally died while working before it likely very well would have. Styx froze, one hand still over the machete’s hilt, not even blinking as he attempted to process what he was looking at. At first the eldritch horror writhing on the remains of the door was all he could look at, but then his eyes flicked to the newcomer, which sent him back to attempting to process what the hell just happened. 

Eldritch horror creature that was once his mark, okay. That shit just happens sometimes. It certainly changed up the protocol of the job, but it wasn’t completely out of left field. Newcomer, very strange, no clothes, white in a different way than Styx which confused him further, a fuck ton of guns what the fuck what do you need all those guns for? Styx strained his wings to break the weak binds he’d put on them and drew out the machete. Not moving, not yet, need more information first. If this jackass turned even one gun on him Styx would be at him with a blade in two seconds. 

Fortunately for Styx, it seemed as if Jeff hadn’t even registered his presence yet, his attention far too absorbed by the monster in the hall to care about anything else. He drew one of the AA-12s, having it at ready in the blink of an eye, and took but a third of a second to properly aim it before unloading, hammering shell after shell after shell into the helpless beast, the pelts cutting through tentacles and flesh alike as if it were butter.

The thunderous roar of the shotgun was only interrupted by a loud “click”, indicating the drum had been emptied. This was everything but a problem, however: Jeff simply threw the shotgun, tossing it straight at the hellspawn’s tentacle-face with all of his might, before grabbing another one, resuming his relentless battering as if it were no big deal.

The process repeated, time and time again, way past the point where the creature had stopped moving and was reduced to a red-greenish paste splattered across the ground. Only when the last of the shotgun’s had been emptied did Jeff stop, lowering his weapon to survey the damage. He gave the area where the stain that had once been the cultist remained a good, hard look. It was done. He took a deep breath...

Before leaping into the air, screaming with joy before throwing his shotgun straight at the ground, not unlike a football. The AA-12 (one of the sturdiest, most reliable guns ever created by men) shattered upon impact, sending bits of metal and shrapnel flying all over the hallway -- not that Jeff seemed to mind. He was far too bust celebrating, both firsts pumped into the air.

“BOOYAH, BITCH!” He shouted victoriously, at the pile of pulp, laughing as he broke into a very, very poor version of ‘the salt shaker’. “YEAH! C’MON! WHO’S THE BADDEST KILLER ALIVE? THAT’S ME!”

The grotesque spectacle of a naked, leathery, half-naked milk-white man dancing to the beat of his own ego lasted for a solid minute before he finally let out a loud “WOOOOOH!” and jumped back, leaning against the doorway. 

He took a moment to catch his breath before, surprisingly, turning to look straight at Styx, adopting his best ‘paint me like one of your french girls’ pose. “Sorry for that, I assume you were either here ‘cuz you liked him or wanted him dead,” he smiled. “Either way, I’ve got a loincloth and a recently cleared motel room, I’m sure I can make it up to you ~”

[with-undying-rage]

tothebeatofthesun:

There was little that could drag Styx from his home territory, with its convenient access to both reliable resources and adorable boyfriend, but work always ended up taking him to hell and back. And this set was through Donovan, so he couldn’t turn it down, not without hearing about it for the next four months every time he checked in. So there he was, knife held firm between his teeth as he checked over his work clothes for the final time. Jacket zipped tight. Pants tucked solidly into his boots. Spare weapons packed firmly into their places. Although most of the time he couldn’t care less, the moment just before a grand entrance Styx paid extra attention to his outfit. A loose piece of fabric or lost spare could throw the whole game. 

Styx took the knife from his teeth and tucked it carefully into its pouch, just for the moment. He sighed without making much sound and tried for the dozenth time to figure out how exactly to manage his damn wings. He knew by brute memory how to wrap and conceal himself, his normal body, but jesus christ, all this white feather shit might as well be an alarm. He folded them tight against his back and loosely wrapped them down and out of the way, and only then was he ready to slip down to the streets and towards his mark.

He paused in the last blind space he knew of and quickly ran through what he already knew in his head, not that it helped him much. Bluntly try to gun the place or sneak in with a blade? Always the real question here. Could probably get a good twenty seconds free on the mark and anyone with him by flaring the wings, unless this was a demon-inducted organization, which it probably was, nothing this big could avoid meeting at least something inhuman. So that’s not a good bet, and there was also the fact that Styx didn’t carry any large guns, so without that free period a guns-blazing approach wouldn’t work well. At the same time, sneaking in with a knife was low-power and predictable, even if reliable. It seemed up to personal choice and well christ that was no contest. Styx smirked a little as he reached down to place his hand over the hilt of machete #1 at his waist. A good reliable toy. Sharp, light, cut like a bitch. All that was left was to get inside.

The man Styx was coming after was a particularly slimy one: Ex-leader of a well-known cult, skipped town after his last sect was caught due to their involvement in a series of gruesome, ritualistic murders. After months of searching, authorities remained unable to find him; not only was he constantly on the move, but he had an uncanny ability for hiding, constantly picking spots that were so out of the way most wouldn’t know about them, and even if they did their unsavoriness staved off most unwanted visitors. 

The motel they currently found themselves in was probably the “safest” location he’d picked in years, and that was saying little: With it’s run-down appearance and decrepit atmosphere, one could be forgiven for thinking the place was actually abandoned, with the only sign of anyone inhabiting the place being the occasional distant whisper, dull bump or arrhythmic scratching coming from within the rooms.

The one that Styx had been staking out, however, was quiet. Dead quiet, as a matter of fact. Which made it all the more startling when, out of the blue, the door shattered open, flying of it’s hinges straight towards the opposite end of the hall. Riding alongside it was the cultist -- or well, most of the cultist. The body remained the same, dapper suit and all, but his neck had been cut into a stump and instead of a head he now had a mass of seemingly infinite withering tentacles, which whipped and swung around the hall like the multiple heads of an angry hydra.

So engrossing was the gross, horrible spectacle, one could’ve been forgiven for not noticing the bright-white, leathery-skinned behemoth of a man who walked in afterwards, completely naked save for a rather fortunately placed loin cloth, and the five AA-12 shotguns strapped to his back. He stood at the doorway, staring at the abomination in front of him with a mix of curiosity and disgust.

[with-undying-rage]

(Knights and Mages AU) The Call to Adventure || askredrhymer

[with-undying-rage]

askredrhymer:

Her eyes widened at his declaration. He-He doesn’t care? After everything, he was still willing to stay and live with her. Either he was crazy or she was lucky. Or both. That too. 

“You sure are something, Jeffrey, you know that right?” Roxana giggled before putting the ingredients down on the counter, pulling Jeff in for a hug afterward. “You can stay, just- well, just be careful ok? Breyon is a safe town from the creatures, but not everyone is so kind.” Hopefully no more drama would come about while he stayed, or at least hopefully it’d minimize.

“Thank you, Jeffrey, it means a lot,” the redhead parted from the hug, suddenly deciding to take the opportunity to tease him. “Your face is still red though. Embarrassed about something?” she said with a chuckle as she went to grab a pot and pan, “Or is that just your face still being red from anger?”

Hearing her laughter lifted his spirits in a way that he could not explain. He embraced her in a hug, a relieved smile on his face. “I know. But don’t worry, I can look after myself. I don’t think anyone’s gonna be trying to mess with me, and even if they did... Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I had to fight my way out of some trouble.”

Maybe they weren’t clear of trouble just yet, but knowing they could handle it together already made everything seem a little bit better. The town’s folk could try to put them down all they wanted -- it didn’t matter. They didn’t have to stop being happy. Long as they worked hard and stuck as a team, they’d be alright.

“Pft. Just a bit shaken up ‘s’all,” he said, his eyes inconspicuously wandering away from Roxana and his arms folding over his chest. He wasn’t trying way too hard not to look uncomfortable. Nope, not at all. “I should probably just get to working on the door. Let me know when dinner is ready?”

[exitstageentropy]

help i tied knives to all of the roombas and now i can't get down from the couch. also i bought like 20 roombas.

     [ msg to;  Lovable Asshole™ ]

[ txt. ] JEFF. WHAT THE FUCK[ txt. ]WHAT PART OF “I EXPLODE WHEN STABBED” DOESN’T SEEM TO GET THROUGH TO YOU[ txt. ] we have a two bedroom apartment what are we even gonna do with that many roombas????

[with-undying-rage]

[txt] DOES IT SEEM LIKE I THOUGHT THIS THROUGH AT ALL?

[txt] to tape knives to them obviously

[txt] roomba deathmatch

[txt] unfortunately roombas seem to lack the killing power necessary to destroy each other

[txt] so now they’re just hovering around… menacingly…

[with-undying-rage]

(Knights and Mages AU) The Call to Adventure || askredrhymer

[with-undying-rage]

askredrhymer:

“I don’t want to burden you with this stuff, Jeffrey. The rest of the town already thinks lesser of you for moving in with me because of whatever I am and that seems to bring things down in its own way.” She put down the bags as Jeff did before going over to the counter, leaning up against it. “And plus, I’ve heard some of them talking about,” her voice faltered, “us, involving you know,” she gestured vaguely with one hand, averting eye contact, “since we’re not, well, married. This arrangement isn’t exactly normal.” 

There was a nod toward his request about cooking, to which she began heading back to the pantry to gather ingredients to work with. Tonight the plan was to make steak to treat themselves since that hadn’t happened in a while, and now it seemed to be all the more deserved. 

“The padlock should work for now, I used some magic on it, but I can reinforce it tomorrow just to make sure, along with anything else that’s broken…” Roxana sighed out of frustration again. Things were supposed to be nice for them, though stuff like this kept happening because of her. And here was Jeff, eager to help with fortitude in his spirits. It was… It just.. She couldn’t understand. 

“Are you sure? Really? I’ve got more than enough money to spare to get you a room or even a home to live in. At least that way you wouldn’t get tired of… of all this nonsense…” At least that way you wouldn’t get tired of being around me. 

Jeffrey’s face would’ve probably been pretty priceless had the situation not been so awkward. The pale boy’s complexion slowly but surely shifted in tone towards something more in the ‘tomato’ category as he averted his eyes from Roxana, a deep embarrassment suddenly overtaking him. “I- I don’t care about what they say!” He declared loudly, folding his arms over his chest. “They can talk ‘bout me as much as they damn well please! It’s not like any of them were helping me out when I was out on the streets.”

His expression hardened slightly, profound self-consciousness giving way to a quiet anger, the feeling of resentment towards the town he lived in  still palpable in his tone. “No one gave a fuck about me when I was sleeping in piles of hay, stealing leftovers for something to eat. You were the only one that showed any kindness to me back then...”

He walked over to Roxana, placing his hands over hers. He remained completely stern, steadfast on his resolution. “You’re my friend, Roxxy. I don’t care if it’s hard or if people don’t like me. If it’s okay with you, I want to stay by your side, okay?”

[with-undying-rage]

askredrhymer:

“Oh-um, thank you,” she took the hoodie, slipping it on with a pleasant sigh; the body heat left on it helping warm her faster. And with her being so small, it covered her enough to act almost like a dress. She was grateful for the offer, but couldn’t understand why he was being nice now, first him extending an ear and then his hoodie? Was he too drunk to care at this moment in time? If he was, he’d probably forget most of the conversation by the time he woke up…

Red nodded, gesturing Jeff to follow her back to the apartment. “Emotions are difficult for me is all. With the -em- other guy, I realized how I felt much too late and was -um- turned down before anything could really happen. I cannot blame him though, I must have overstepped boundaries plenty of times and gotten too close considering we were not in an relationship so,” she shrugged. “As if I had a chance. Stupid me. Plus, as I mentioned and sure you have realized, I am not exactly pretty, so that may have been part of it. Not many people would want to date someone with a face like mine…” He would forget this right? Prior experience with drunks said yes, so maybe. Hopefully.

Please forget. I do not wish to make myself more of a fool than I already am.

“Ah, just, forget it. It is me being dumb about stuff.” She ran a hand through her hair, not caring about it getting messy for once. “How about um- How have- How have you been? It has been a couple weeks since we last saw one another, and well, knowing you, a lot can happen within that span of time.”

“The other guy sounds like an asshole.” The words that came out of his mouth sounded foreign: He spoke on instinct, without thinking, catching even himself off-guard. It gave him some stop, but... yeah, he supposed that was how he felt. “I - I mean... it doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong, at least nothing that merited what he did to you.” 

He shrugged. He wasn’t sure where he was going with all of this. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking at this point. “I dunno, just... you shouldn’t be blaming yourself for that, Red. Sometimes people are just cunts. You can be as nice as you are, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

‘I would know.’ He thought that, but fortunately knew better than to say it out loud. No point in getting all self-petty in front of Red. She had enough to deal with herself, she didn’t need him throwing his emotional turmoil on her plate too.

“You keep saying you’re not pretty,” he let out a light chuckle at that. “I don’t get that. I mean, maybe you look a bit different, but that sure as hell don’t take away from your charm. And shit, if a guy like me has game, you sure as hell have no excuse.” He laughed, going silent for a moment before continuing. “I dunno, I think maybe you just make yourself a bit too hard to love. Just... people like you, Red. I sure as hell do. Maybe you just gotta try to accept that?”

[with-undying-rage]

(Knights and Mages AU) The Call to Adventure || askredrhymer

[with-undying-rage]

askredrhymer:

Roxana sighed again, somewhat relieved that the lock was in good condition once again. However there was still the mess upon the gate and house overall to take care of…

“Jeffrey,” she spoke after standing back up, “this is all my fault over here, you shouldn’t bother stressing out about the mess; it’s happened before and I’ve managed just fine, but um- ugh,” she ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to ever see this kind of thing happen while you lived here, but I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

The redhead gave in to his offer reluctantly, picking up the bags of groceries to take inside. “This is… This is going to happen every few months just so you know, so if you don’t wanna stay with me, I’ll understand…”

“It ain’t your fault, and it ain’t your mess,” he said, one arm wrapped around Roxana’s shoulder as he guided her inside, his free hand being used to carry the rest of the bags along. Right now, he supposed it was important that he stuck close to her and tried to give her some level of comfort.  Yeah, he was bad at it, but... he could try, right? “Don’t try to make this worse just ‘cuz I’m here now. We’re a team, right? We should deal with this together.”

He opened the door for her, heading towards the kitchen so that they could dump all the groceries in the pantry. He was pretty sure the back shed had all the tools he needed to come up with at least a temporary fix. He’d start thinking about something more permanent the next morning, after they’d had some dinner and a good night’s sleep.

“Alright. Would you mind getting started with the cookin’ while I go see if I can make the pad work again?” He asked once he was done accommodating his share. “Maybe I can just block with with some plywood for the night and get to some real carpeting in the morning, but...”

Jeff sighed, looking down at the ground. There was a long moment of silence before he started talking again. “Roxxy, if this keeps happening, we’ll fix it as many times as we gotta. And if I ever catch the guys doing it... then we’ll take care of ‘em, and you won’t have to worry ‘bout it again.” His gaze wandered back towards her, a look of firm determination in his eyes. “Got it?”

[with-undying-rage]

(Knights and Mages AU) The Call to Adventure || askredrhymer

[with-undying-rage]

askredrhymer:

She blew a raspberry at him, “You’re getting there. Maybe soon enough you won’t need me to cook for you anymore!” She giggled, making reference to his earlier comment.

“Wait, so is it easier to make repairs to the weapons or to make a new weapon altogether? Because I’m sure some broken ones would be pretty hard to fix. But armor, does that depend on the damages?” Her lips flattened, mind attempting to figure things on its own. Jeff just said that a weapon could take a day or even more to make because there was a chance they’d have to start over and-

Thoughts cut short when he spoke to her. “Huh? Oh, sorry, what? C’mon, Jeffrey, don’t be silly. There’s nothing wrong with making a second trip back, we could at least drop everything off and then head out again,” she told him. “Plus, I’m not as strong as I look, my arms are gettin’ kinda tired over here. What kind of stuff do we need to get again anyways-” the ‘s’ lingered as she saw what he was trying to prevent her from noticing.

The gate to her home had been vandalized, someone had even taken the time to break the lock in order to throw rotten food upon the house. The icing on the cake being words painted in red on the front saying “GET OUT INFECTED!!!” It was a mess and it appeared as if most of her chickens were missing too.

“Not again…” Roxana sighed, dropping the bag of groceries just inside the gate so she could take a look at the damage. “You can go back to the market if you want, I’ll take care of this…” After saying that she crouched in front of the broken gate-lock, casting a spell to repair it.

The defeated look on her face as she gazed upon their vandalized home broke his heart a little bit, the resignation in her voice only serving to draw the point further home. Her words were the worst part about it, however: “Not again”. How many times had she had to deal with this bullshit? How much of this horrible treatment had she had to endure?

“Hey, Roxxy, c’mon,” he said, wrapping his hands around her shoulders, trying his best to sound comforting. But what could he say? He’d never been good at this kind of stuff, helping other people through rough times. And even now that his friend needed him, he felt stuck. “You’ve worked enough for the night. Here, help me carry the bags inside, I’ll take care of the mess.”

He knelled by her side, looking down at her face. God, she really didn’t deserve this. He swore, if he ever found the person who’d done this to her, he’d make them pay...

“Listen, I know it looks kinda rough, but it’s nothing we can’t fix if we work together, right?” He gave her his best confident smile, trying to reassure her. “We’ll raise some new chickens, clean this all up, maybe I’ll start painting the gates like I’ve been meaning to -- it’s no big deal, right?”

[with-undying-rage]

askredrhymer:

“Not as drunk as you could be?” Her brows furrowed in uncertainty, unsure how seriously she should take him. The scent of alcohol clung to him, but there was also the fact that he was talking well enough.

Oh. He was in the bar. That would explain why he was drinking and how he was able to call her out so soon. Still, that didn’t explain why he was checking up on her. “I am fine, thank you, but why are asking?” He held no interest in her, it had already been expressed; their relationship was strictly pleasure. This wasn’t one of those times either.

“It was not a date either, he was an information broker and we just made it look that way. No one likes me enough to have a romantic interest anyways…” Red shrugged and then crossed her arms over her chest, a poor attempt to keep warm. “I mean, I like-erm-I liked someone, but um, they do not feel the same so you can imagine how that went, and moving on has not been easy-” she chuckled dryly, scolding herself for almost telling Jeff that she liked him. You told me you did not have any feelings. It wasn’t going to happen, no reason to bring her hopes up. “And how lucky would I be to find someone that would willingly date someone that looks like this?” she gestured to her face, another dry laugh.

The halfbreed sighed. “I need to head home, Jeffrey. It is late and cold out and I would rather not just stand here and talk. Although if um.. you would like to walk with me, you could? In about a mile I will be close enough to the apartment to teleport inside without fainting, and considering your condition, it would be impolite to not offer you a place to stay the night…” Even with their current situation, she couldn’t just turn him away. He’d either do something stupid and end up dead or nearly dead, or just get lazy and sleep out in one of these alleys, neither scenario was exactly the greatest.

Man, maybe he was drunk. He had to be. How could he even excuse coming after her considering everything he’d done to try and drive a rift between them? How could he believably justify the fact that he still cared about her, even after all of the horrible shit he’d said and done? And just for all of it to turn out to be a fucking setup anyways -- ‘deadliest killer in the multiverse’ his fucking ass, he’d just played himself like a god damn chump. 

“Right, right, I should’ve known that...” he said, running a hand down his face. “Listen, I dunno, I know what I said the other day, and I’m probably not the person you’d wanna talk to if you were going through that kinda thing, but...”

But what? She’d made it awfully clear: He’d hurt her. She was trying to move on. Who did he think he was, barging into her life again after he’d tried to cut things off? What was he trying to do here?

“... I’d like to walk along with you, if that’s okay,” he said after a moment, not quite knowing where he was going with all of this still. All he knew was he didn’t want to leave Red like this. He unzipped his hoodie, slipping it off before handing it to her. “Here, you need it more than I do.”

[with-undying-rage]

askredrhymer:

Stupid girl, you should have brought a coat or at the very least a scarf or a shawl, Red scolded herself. Even with winter making its current transition to spring, the air was still cool and crisp, the dew upon the cars and puddles having been iced over. Perhaps I should go on the sidewalk instead and hope to hail a cab…

At least the transaction with the man went well. She got the information she needed, no unnecessary means were taken, and their whole date-gone-bad act went off without a hitch. So the night hadn’t been too bad. And once she got home, she could just-

Her stomach turned to knots at the familiar voice. Was that- “Jeffrey?” Red replied, heading back the way she came. Oh. It was. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” Hadn’t their last conversation consisted of taking time apart? Maybe he needed help with something or- She approached him, possibly overstepping boundaries, and took a closer look. “Wait. Are you drunk?” That was it. He just needed someone to watch over him or to get where he needed in his current state.

This was… awkward? No. That wasn’t the right word. But it was something like it. The redhead felt uneasy in front of him. She’s been repressing her feelings and convincing herself that everything between them had meant nothing. It hadn’t quite been working out either… Now what? She’d already responded and confronted, it’d be rude to just leave all of a sudden.

It hit him as she turned around to face him that he had no idea why he’d followed her at all. Their separation, after all, had been final, he’d made that clear, and he’d been pretty blunt about it. What made him think that she still held any fondness for him, in any way?

And yet... her first reaction upon seeing him wasn’t to run away or punch him in the face. She wasn’t happy, that was for sure, but this was much better than he’d been expecting. Perhaps he could do something positive, for a change? Make things better and still terminate the relationship without --

Wait, drunk?

“What? No. Nononononono.” He motioned adamantly with his hands -- but was he? God, he HAD been drinking a lot. Maybe he was tipsy and he just hadn’t noticed.

“... Listen, I’m not as drunk as I could be, but that’s not the point.” That was the lamest way in which he could’ve initiated that conversation and he knew it. Still, he forged onwards. “I was in the bar a few seconds ago, and I saw what happened and just... I dunno. It all looked pretty nasty. I thought about going after the guy, but I mean, maybe you wouldn’t have been happy about that? Fuck, I’m talking too much. Are you okay?”

[with-undying-rage]

askredrhymer:

Lovely. After one job had been done, another was assigned. Only two days of recovery were given, but at least this assignment was just gathering information compared to the one-man raid that was performed. Even then, the injuries weren’t that bad, bruises here and there, and some stitches given to her leg, all that could be easily hidden.

Once everything was set, the Proxy went to the set location, an out of place bar that was filled with shady characters of all sorts. No attention was given to any of the patrons, only a hand raised with two fingers toward the bartender signifying she’d like two drinks, as she headed toward a corner. Shortly after a man came in and sat across from her.

From an observers point of view, it appeared to be friendly conversation that went to flirtatious. Plenty of smiling and the occasional giggle. Though after about an hour of talking and pleasantries, the date seemed to have gone downhill. Shortly after the man placed his hand over Red’s and something else was said, an expression of offense crossed her face which was followed by splashing her drink over his face and then leaving through the backdoor. However in reality and if one were listening to the conversation, it was information being exchanged, the end of their meeting being the man taking a roll of money from her hand as payment. 

When she was outside, the halfbreed took a deep breath, glad it was finally over. The only downer was that it was cold out and she was clad in a dress that didn’t exactly help with keeping warm. Should I just teleport home? No… It is too far, I would wind up unconscious on the floor. Well, taking the alleys would have to be the option until she was close enough. Maybe about a mile and then all would be well back in the apartment.

He was about to get up and walk out of the bar when something he heard stopped him -- the sound of a familiar voice far to his right, slightly ahead of him. He spun the empty whiskey glass in his hand, catching a glimpse of a very familiar red mane of hair through the prismatic reflections. His heart skipped a bit. Had she come here looking for him? How had she found him?

He relaxed as he noticed the man sitting next to her. No, she wasn’t here for him, she was hanging out with someone else -- and apparently they were really close. He felt a pressure on his chest, a quick pang of jealousy, but was quick to suppress it. It had been two weeks, she’d moved on. He’d expected her to take longer, but in a way, he was glad she was feeling better so soon: She’d be fine, she could move on with her life. Now it was just his turn to do the same.

So distracted he was with his own thoughts, vaguely watching what little alcohol remained pool at the bottom of the glass, that the commotion following the drink being thrown caught him completely off guard. He turned to look at the duo’s direction just in time to catch a glimpse of Red walking away, leaving out the back door.

There was a good moment there where Jeff hesitated. What should he do? Go after the guy? No, likely to cause a scene, and if Red came back inside she wouldn’t like what she saw. Just leave? Probably the best choice, but then again, the feeling of uneasiness he was feeling right now...

Fuck it, he said eventually. He got up, keeping his head low as to not catch anyone’s attention, and exited the same way Red had left as inconspicuously as possible.”Red?” He called out, his eyes adjusting to the poorly lit alley. “Are you here?”