exsiliumlogs | what makes these monsters cry;

Entry tags:

what makes these monsters cry;

Date & Time: sometime last week.
Location: in the city outside the hold; en route to an abandoned museum.
Characters: remy; & nill & sam.
Summary: remy is a thief who is bored. there are people who come into contact with him doing extralegal things. is legality even a worry here? who knows.
Warnings: n/a.

It had started out based on something Collette had said. Skateboards, and the museums in the city. From there Remy had gotten the idea, and since then the old abandoned places had become his regular haunts. There is something sad about those places, lonely and almost pathetic. Who would want to preserve items like this? Old CD's and satellite dishes. The remnants of the age he came from don't seem worth remembering.

But he'd scaled the place once with a mission, and now it has become a challenge. Old and abandoned as it is, the museum provides all sorts of interesting twists and turns for him to test himself with. He can crawl through half-buried doorways and life partially-shattered glass cases. Not everything is useless, either, and he often comes away with a modest haul. He's saving these things, he believes.

Tonight is cold and rainy, and he's coming away from the museum with a layer of dust in his hair and eyes. The city is cold and quiet, most of the natives having gone to bed for the night. But there is still the occasional Transport milling about. Remy hides his haul in the folds of his coat and travels across the rooftops, but occasionally he finds himself on the street and walking along beside the closed-up shops. It stands to reason that someone would run into him, eventually.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sam, however, is not quite ready to hand it over. Turning it around in his hands he looks up at the man again, taking note of the dust that still lingers in some places despite the rain.

"Where'd you score it?"

"Y'know, a polite man would've just handed it back without askin' questions." His voice isn't chiding, just conversational.

"My family wasn't big on manners."

He shrugs, it is true. His father disciplined him strictly, but never about please and thank yous. Instead, he taught him to follow his instincts and ask the hard questions.

"You could just answer."

"I nicked it." He laughs, and shrugs. "Not many stores y'could buy that in 'round here, are there?"

An outright confession, now that he wasn't expecting.

"Where from?" He supposes it doesn't even really matter, the police would probably be able to locate the rightful owner. This is the sort of thing someone's bound to notice is gone.

"A place I might want ta go back ta, so I won't be sayin'." He holds out his hand, again.

Far from handing it over, Sam straightens up, slipping the gem in his pocket.

"Sorry, change of plans."

His look is flat and his eyes flash, briefly.

"Homme, don't steal from a thief. It's really not a smart move."

"It's not stealing if it was never yours. I'm taking this back."

Maybe it's not smart but heck, he's sick and tired of being smart. He's angry at Exsilium, at Dean, at the Initiative, at his father, at the monster who took his Jess away from him. And it's time to release some of that.

"Back ta who, 'xactly?" His voice is a hoarse laugh. "You don't even know where I got it."

But he's already observing, deciding what the best strategy for stealing the gem back would be. It's a matter of pride, after all, and one hand reaches into his jacket pocket, settling on his cards for a moment. That seems a rather drastic move, for something so small, but he has been spoiling for a fight...

"The police can figure it out."

Why he isn't just knocking the guy out and dragging him to them, he isn't entirely sure. Maybe it's his lack of experience, yearning to turn into real experience. Maybe it's his need to prove himself a worthy adversary.

Maybe he just really wants to punch someone and imagine all those faces that anger him in his place.

“’Cause they’re jus’ so good at what they do? That’s cute.” Another laugh, meant to be as annoying as it probably is. But beneath that he’s comfortably irritated, and so he takes a step back and lifts a hand. It’s not a particularly threatening gesture—there’s a handful of playing cards perched between his fingers instead of a weapon clenched in his hand—but somehow he seems more serious, brows narrowed over unnaturally red eyes.

One card flashes, pink and then white-hot as he tosses it into the air between them. The explosion that follows isn’t particularly powerful, but it’s enough to blow a grown man back a few steps.

"Yeah, well, everyone needs a little help from time to time." Which is what he's doing here isn't he? Helping out the police, retrieving stolen property.

He frowns at the cards, his instincts screaming at him that something's not right and then -- he's blown back. His first instinct is to reach for his gun and pull it out, aim it at where the man was last standing. But he's fazed, his eyes water from the sudden light and his vision is blurry and full of spots.

"Hold it right there!"

Remy, of course, has used the opportunity to move. He doesn’t pull his staff, because that would imply he’s taking this seriously, but he does keep a few cards up his sleeves just in case. He’s not really interested in hurting this guy—though that attitude could stand to be taken down a few pegs—but who doesn’t like a good fight?

At Sam’s latest demand, though, he has to roll his eyes. “An’ make myself a cleaner target? No, thank you, homme.” He’s moving fast, now, trying to get behind Sam.

[The man is nothing more than a blurred shape, but a blurred shape can still be followed, so Sam turns after him, gun pointed.

Oh hell no he's not letting him get behind him. This is life and death now - he doesn't know what he's capable of.]

"Holding it's the one scenario you don't make yourself a target, homme."

_{( He doesn't doubt his ability to dodge a bullet, but that's no reason to take getting shot at lightly. So before that has a chance to happen, Gambit pulls another round of cards. They light up his face when he charges them, and there's a laugh in his expression. When he tosses tosses them, this time, he plans for two different directions-- one hitting the ground between them, another bursting at eye level. There's more force behind them, this time, the explosions being just that. )}

[This time, Sam knows to watch out, so the minute he sees these specs of light in the man's hand, he jumps to the side and covers his eyes, firing a shot towards where he stood.

The explosion still knocks him a couple of paces backwards, but at least his eyesight recovers quicker this time around.]

_{( The bullet shoots past him and Remy only just manages to shift his weight in time to avoid it. At this point he does pull his staff, and as it extends to full height he uses it to lever himself to the other side of the roof.

He laughs, again. )}

C'mon. You don't really think you're goin' ta take me wit' a gun, d'you?

[This guy is really starting to piss him off. And frankly he would much rather to just go at it hand to hand but he seems to be concealing more freaky weapons than anyone should ever be allowed to.

What is he?

If he's not afraid of guns that might mean he's immune to them, and his gun isn't evolved yet which would mean -- this is trouble.

Well, he'll just wing it.]

Watch me.

_{( Remy raises one brow, which is either a sign that he's incredulous or that he does intend to watch. He's never gotten along well with self-righteous hero-types--or maybe they've never gotten along with him--but this guy is shaping up to be more of a pain in the ass than he'd anticipated.

He spins the staff between his hands for a moment before he lunges towards Sam. Getting close isn't smart, but it's a surer way of ending this. He swings the staff around, aiming the weapon for the other man's collarbone. )}

[Sam may be out of practice, but he's not that out of shape that he'll allow an incoming attack like that to hit him.

No, he has been with Dean for a few months now. He's gotten back on the everyone-wants-to-kill-us train.

He moves aside, and tries to grab the staff, tearing the skin in his hands apart in the process, but he pays it no mind.]

_{( When Dean's hands catch the staff, Remy lets it go. He was holding onto it with enough force that he thinks that'll catch the other man off balance, and even if it doesn't he's dispensed with the weapons and aiming a punch for the side of Dean's face.

Very mature. )}

[He is caught a little off balance, which reduces the impact of the blow since he's halfway back as it hits.

Still hurts like a goddamn bitch, and still knocks him off his feet.

He scrambles up as quickly as he can, aiming the staff at the other man's legs.]

_{( He could gloat at this point, say how much stronger that punch could've been if he'd put a little kinetic energy behind it. But he's not in the mood, shaking his hand out from the impact and planning his next move before--

The staff hits him in the ankles, and he manages to sink to his knees before he falls flat on his face, but barely. He grits his teeth, hands braced against the ground. )}

Proud a' yourself, are we?

[The gun is pulled again, aimed at close range right at the man.]

That'd be a yes. Ready to hold it, or should we test your invulnerability to evolved guns?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

SOB THIS SOMEHOW ENDED IN MY SPAM I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T SEE IT ;;;;;

not to worry!

;;; you're too good to me

<3!

<3!

no subject

Sam c:

aahaha talk about freudian slip. sorry sam :')

it's ok everyone wants to punch Dean in the face he gets that c: