saveyourbrain | this is a [test] of the emergency broadcast system

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this is a [test] of the emergency broadcast system

TEST DRIVE MEME

> The Park. Man, what a nice day out. Why not enjoy it? I'm sure -- shit, yep, there's some echo monsters.
> The Mall. Exactly what it says on the tin! Dodge the hordes of teenage mallrats or take part, whichever suits your tastes.
> Rainy Day. Agh, it's fucking awful out. And is it raining those vermilion things?? Now you've got an Echo to contend with on top of everything else. Find some shelter, quick!
> PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION, HOW FUN
> The most horribly kitschy Arts and Crafts Fair you can imagine.
> Wild Card! Make up your own.

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Arts and Crafts Fair

There's a well-dressed man wearing designer sunglasses making his way slowly through the craft fair's aisles with a distinctly unenthused expression upon his face. This was hardly Jack's first choice for a way to spend what little free time he had, but he had sworn to himself that he'd step outside of his comfort zone and try more new things. And this was sure as hell something new. Even though a lot of the vendors seemed distinctly old. And smelled of patchouli. And it didn't help that it was almost Christmas, and half the stuff available was twee festive nonsense. Mittens and scarves as far as the eye could see, wreathes made out of increasingly improbable materials, and far too many folk thinking they were clever to seal jellybeans and chocolate covered raisins in a plastic baggie and label it 'Reindeer Poop'. This was both stupid and a waste of time, for he hadn't seen a damn thing that he'd care to purchase for someone as a Christmas present.

Until he came to a metalworker's stand, where there's an assortment of work on display. Particularly interesting are the handcrafted belt buckles. He's not entirely sure why they're suddenly so interesting, the craftsmanship is good but not great... but they've gotten him to stop and linger. That's got to be worth something. That's got to be significant. And he's finding himself suddenly reminded of a cousin of his that he hasn't spoken to in a while. Maybe he'd appreciate one of those as a gift? He had been meaning to stop by Aikawa's and say hello, hadn't he?

"...so." He raised his voice and looked to the vendor. "How much are they?"

Public Transportation

These retirement parties are going to be the death of him. Too many of his firm's senior executives have been departing after long and profitable careers, and that of course means taking them out after work to drink, and celebrate, and drink some more... and now it's past midnight, he's drunk as a skunk, and sure as hell not driving home in this state. Honestly, he'd have preferred to skip the whole damned thing, if he could have done it without losing face at work. And now he's getting the train home, and disliking every moment of it.

It's not like he didn't fit in with the rest of the rabble, at this point. His tie was loosened, his sport coat had a concerning stain near the shoulder, and he reeked of alcohol. Sitting back in his seat was uncomfortable, and so he was slumped forward slightly, forearms at rest on his legs. Just two more stops and he'd be within walking distance of home. Surely nothing could go wrong between here and there.

Hajime would have preferred to be driving his motorcycle back home, but he hadn't wanted to bring it with him. Not when there was a chance it could be traced back to him as they searched for more clues as to what those giant snakes were down in the tunnels.

He hadn't found any snakes, but what he had found on his way back home were a few generic street thugs looking for an easy mark. They weren't Blood Keys, just ordinary idiots out looking for a quick buck...and while Hajime hadn't been able to transform, he'd been able to fight them off fairly well.

He still looked like a mess; one of his eyes was swollen shut--not like he could transform during that fight--and it looked like he had a long green line drawn across the side of his face. His clothing was torn, and judging by the way he was glaring at people with his good eye, he didn't want to be bothered. At least he knew the injury would be gone in the morning. He grabbed the first empty seat he could find, accidentally bumping the drunk guy--really, he could smell the alcohol from the front of the train--as he took a seat. "Sorry."

Wait. He knew that drunk guy. Maybe he should get out of there before the drunk guy recognized him and realized just how beat up he was at the moment.

Jack let out an indistinct grumble when someone bumped into him, displeased but not having much success in forming a full sentence to express it. He then looked away, shaking his head and passing a hand over his face. Of all the nerve, seriously, can't he see that he's in no state to be hassled? It's an idle anger, the kind of emotion that his sober self wouldn't try acting on, but he's considerably lacking in inhibition right now. The hand on his face slaps down to the seat next to them, and he turns his head unsteadily about, ready to say something withering and likely regrettable.

"You..." The words catch in his throat when he sees just who it is, although it takes a moment to fully realize it. He looks like hell, and could use a haircut, but... "Hajime?" And all pretense of getting into a fight with someone on the train evaporates, because it's his cousin. He sits briefly straighter, then leans in closer. "What in the hell have you been doing, kid?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Though, really, an adult having a little bit too much to drink was nowhere near as bad as walking around looking like a few miles of bad road. Hajime leaned back in his seat, wincing a little as he grabbed at his right side. Must've gotten kicked harder there than he thought. "Some guys thought they could take my wallet. I wouldn't let them." At least he seemed satisfied with himself.

"You're still the same as ever, aren't you?" Jack didn't miss that wince, and felt a pang of sympathy. He, too, settled back in his seat, giving his head a rueful shake. A short one, because it served to make him feel dizzy. "At least it's for a good reason. Uh..." And then he looked a little closer, saw that there was some sort of green smudge on Hajime's cheek, and of course felt the need to say something. "You've got some... green? You've got some green on you."

Hajime had to grin at that, even if it made his cheek hurt even more. Still the same, even if he was turning into some bug-thing. That was somehow reassuring. "Yeah, I guess so." Any good cheer he felt there seemed to evaporate at Jack's sudden concern about that green stuff. He'd thought that cut had scabbed over, and his hand automatically went up to check on it. He looked down at the green on his fingers before wiping his hand on his already torn shirt. Jack might have noticed the color draining from Hajime's face. "One of the guys that jumped me had a paintball gun," he said, hoping Jack was drunk enough that this wouldn't sound as stupid as he thought it was.

It sounded pretty stupid, even as drunk as Jack was... but hey, the thugs in this city, they were pretty crazy. A paintball gun wasn't entirely out of the question. So he shook his head (Once. Only Once. A single shake.) and laughed. "Cripes, you're lucky they didn't put your eye out, doing something like that. You seriously fought off some thugs with guns?" Even paintball guns were still guns. He was grimacing a little now, torn between drunkenly macho bravado and sensible concern for his cousin's well-being. "Hajime, seriously, you've got to know when to back down...."

"Yeah, I fought them. They had a knife, too." Hajime probably shouldn't have seemed quite so proud of himself, really, especially not since the guys he'd just tussled with only had the one knife between the three of them. But the Blood Keys had guns when he and Shou ran into them, and that was close enough. "They need to learn they can't just go around taking things from people. I'm not backing down from that..."

Man, his luck with muggers was terrible lately. "Besides, you think I look bad, you should see the other guys. I can take care of myself." Which was probably not the sort of thing he needed to be saying to his older cousin, who could very well tell his mother about this, but something within him was just horribly rubbed the wrong way by the thought of backing down from a fight.

Funny, listening to this, Jack was starting to wonder if telling Hajime's mother would actually be a good idea. The young man had always been headstrong, but this was just reckless. "It's the police that should be showing them that kind of thing. The police!" He made a sound as though he wanted to protest more, but the precise words of protest were getting tangled on his tongue. He finally settled on groaning and passing a hand over his face.

"...aaaah, I should just be glad you're okay. Does this happen a lot? Tell me this doesn't happen a lot."

"The police are..." Hajime caught himself before saying anything he probably shouldn't. Saying that the police wanted him dead probably would not help matters much. "...they weren't anywhere in the area. I had to take care of myself. It ended well enough."

He fidgeted in his seat a bit, wincing a couple of times as a few injuries reminded him of their presence. "It doesn't happen a lot, no. Usually I'm not out that late. Do you usually end up on the trains like this, too?"

"Aah, I get it. Never a cop when you need one..." And with that choice of conversational direction, Hajime was doing a fine job in keeping himself from getting told on, essentially.

Especially with the questions being turned right back around. It was Jack's turn to squirm, although not nearly as painfully. "Not... usually. Only when there's been a cause worth drinking for." He rubbed at the back of his neck and laughed, plainly embarrassed. "We're both going to be hurting, come morning...."

As long as his mother didn't find out about this, Hajime was just fine with the way the conversation was going.

"So what was worth getting that drunk for?" Hajime asked. He'd never been much of a drinker...or comfortable at parties. Still, there was a sympathetic nod. "Something tells me you'll be feeling it worse than I will." It helped that he knew he now healed much faster than a human would. He'd have a little bruising, maybe, but that would be the worst of it.

"Retirement party. Send one of the old guys off, put on a smile, and when they're looking to shuffle some people upstairs, well... they'll remember." He grinned, plainly pleased with himself. He had never liked parties, but he could do parties. Because you had to. Because you needed to. Hajime's sympathetic nod was appreciated. "Pff, are you serious? Your eye looks terrible. Put something on it when you get home, okay?"

"What, you've all got to share hangover war stories in the morning?" Hajime didn't sound too convinced as to the wisdom of this business decision. But he knew how Jack was. Jack could work a room, while he preferred to just hide in a corner somewhere...

He had to grin a bit when Jack told him to put something on his eye. "I think it looks worse than it is, but don't worry. I've got a bag of peas in the freezer. Should be fine in the morning."

"There'll be a bit of that, yeah..." Yet another thing to not particularly look forward to... but he'd handle it. Wear the thick sunglasses, order the extra large coffee, grin sheepishly, retreat to the safety of one's office by citing the actual headache that you're fighting...

"You still at home, or have you got a place? I'd hate to see the fuss Chiyoko'd make, she caught you coming home like that." He's trying to tease, but he's honest, there. Once you've gotten Hajime's mom started... well.

"I've got my own apartment now. It's small, but...it's still mine." Hajime gave a very obvious wince at the mere mention of his mother's name. "I'd have to tell her I fell off my bike or something, and then she'd go off on another one of her rants about the motorcycle..." He really hoped Jack didn't tell her a thing.

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this is a [test] of the emergency broadcast system

Isaka / Peacock Undead | Kamen Rider Blade

Public Transportation

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