acatalepsy_rpg | video | dated at the very end of week one

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video | dated at the very end of week one

[The video opens on a patch of dirt, a leg stretched out along one edge of the screen. Next to the leg a number of very small muddy spots map out a connect-the-dots picture that more creative minds - or just anyone who's ever been a bored teenager - might recognize as a sort-of accurate depiction of one particular x-rated body part. A voice, cracking and hoarse like it has to drag itself over gravel to get its words out, starts speaking immediately.]

Hey, you know what makes me-

[His coughing is harsh and wet but it's only a few seconds before it stops. Hank mutters a curse under his breath, just audible, and hacks up a loogie, spitting it so it lands just so off the end of the art in the dirt next to him. The dirt there goes wet and dark, and with this artistic rendering of a drop of splooge, his masterpiece is complete. When he leans back the camera's in a different position; in the opposite corner from the dirt the screen shows the massive head of a Saint Bernard, taking up a good part of the screen and the majority of Hank's lap.]

You know what makes me feel better when I'm feeling like shit? Bitching about it. Let's bitch, guys. Tell me how shitty you've got it right now. It's not like anyone's got anything else to do here, right? I mean, not unless someone can get this big furry boulder to unglue itself from my lap. I'd have something to do if he'd just play. Look, watch this, it's pathetic.

Hey, Sumo. Fetch.

[Anyone with motion sickness might want to look away; the screen jerks around wildly as the arm with the camera on it moves to grab a rock and hold it in the air like Hank's going to throw it. Then the screen goes still again as Hank has to lean forward to cough, his dog's big, placid face now taking up the whole view. Sumo gives a single low whuff, lifts his head, and apparently settles himself right over the camera because the screen goes dark. There's the muffled sound of Hank cursing, trying to say Sumo's name between coughs, and then nothing as Hank manages to work his other hand under Sumo's jaw and shut the recording off.]

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Writing them is even worse. [He bemoans that fact, has been bemoaning it for almost as long as he can remember.] It'd be easier to just scribble down some bullet points, but no, we have to get all-

[Cayde straightens his shoulders, sitting up with an air of stern disapproval and dropping his voice an octave.] 'Whether we wanted it or not, we stepped into a war with the Cabal on Mars so blah blah blah no one cares'

[He's laughing by the end of it, back to slouching comfortably with lights glinting merrily.] So hit me, dragonslayer. Gimme the wildest thing you got from back home. Doesn't even have to be true.

Yeah, I think you could probably summarize how you started a war with bullet points.

[He says it dryly, smiling, then his gaze goes distant as he thinks.]

Uh. Wild, huh? That’s a pretty wide net. What kinda wild you in the mood for? Gross-wild? Sexy-wild? Action movie-wild, something with lots of explosions? I don’t know, what genre do you like?

Edited 2018-09-27 19:22 (UTC)

Exactly!

Point one: space rhinos are bad and do bad things

You get me, you really do. [Because really, reports and paperwork are probably the worst thing in the world, even moreso than alien abominations and getting shot at on a regular basis.

He shifts, one leg stretching out and the other curved just enough so he can rest his arm upon his knee comfortably. He's settling in, this is now Serious Business.]

And y'know what? All of 'em. All the wilds. I want the weirdest, sexiest, grossest, most action filled thing you got. Go big or go home, eh?

Shiiiit. [Hank scratches at his beard, looking amused and kind of taken aback.] All that at once, huh? I do you one favor and you try to take me for everything I got.

[He stretches out an arm to run a hand over Sumo's fur, his face twisted up in thought. Shit. Not a single thing's coming to mind but he can't not think of something.]

Okay. Okay, how about we take turns. That's a lot for one man, you know? Especially while my body's still trying to boil my brain. How about you start, and I'll jump in. Give me a good gross, sexy base to build on and I'll fill in with whatever.

Hey, like I said, go big or go home. And I don't intend to go home. [He waggles his brow plates, amusement so very evident.]

But you're right, you're right, it's selfish to take and take and not give something back, so I guess I could throw you a bone. [Now he's progressed to teasing, but if anything this is exactly his type of jam.]

So...sexy, gross, I got just the thing. So those space rhinos, remember them? So they were ruled by this big, ugly emperor, massive unit of a guy, who flew around in a giant, world-eating, gold-plated spaceship that looks like Golden Age Vegas threw up all over it.

[He taps his chin, optics flickering with amusement.] But our rhino-emperor gets bored, you see? So he invites some people up to join him and his troops on his space-Vegas ship.

[Cayde squares his shoulders again, making a grandiose swooping motion with one arm.] Welcome travelers! Come, entertain me, grow fat from strength! Bathe with my gladiators, take a stroll through my pleasure gardens, prove your worth!

[The farther into that Cayde gets, the further Hank's eyebrows go up. Does he want to ask how true all this is?

Nah. You know what, he really doesn't.]

Fat from strength, huh? Why the hell'd you leave me with the kinky part? My mind's only going to one place, and I don't know if I want to follow it there. How gross sexy do we want this to get?

The word 'glistening's probably gonna get thrown around, just FYI. Maybe even 'moist'. I don't know if you really want that.

[He offers back another playful 'grin' and a shrug of his shoulders.]

His words, not mine. Something about the whole space-rhino culture, I don't know. Their standard of beauty is 'eight hundred pounds and highly militarized'. You wanna think about that and use the word 'moist'? I'm gonna say probably not.

[Hank ducks his head, giggling. Maybe that should be embarrassing for a full grown man, but his lungs don’t hate him for doing it, so who cares.]

Okay. No moist glistening for us today. Hm. Okay. You didn’t say what people this guy invited up, what kinda company would a guy like that want in space Vegas?

Let’s see, he probably invited up a delegation from, I don’t know... fuck it, from Weight Watchers. Except this is probably the future or some shit, so no one remembers what that actually is, he thinks it’s some kinky shit, so they get in. Except the delegation’s secretly a swat team sent to take him out. Except then, uh, they only try to make their move once they’re bathing with those gladiators, and the rhino king just thinks they’re having a good time. So even if they do get out they gotta get past the rest of the galaxy’s least gardeny pleasure garden, which I bet is full of some real shit.

Hey, Cayde, tell me how accurate I am. That’s probably how it went, right?

[He's laughing halfway through Hank's rendition, and by the time that the man is done Cayde has to take a few moments to compose himself before he's even able to properly speak.]

Close, real close! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were there! After bathing with some real big guys, dealing with some knife dogs in the gardens, and, AND, having to run some sort of carnival race and pull off some impressive dunks, they finally get to meet the emperor himself! Who, up on his giant golden throne, challenges them and sends them to a parallel universe filled with shadows and a giant rhino head that barfs skulls.

[He's on a roll here.]

But our brave fireteam Weight Watchers escape and go toe to toe with the emperor, finally defeating him- but wait! It seems it wasn't the emperor at all, but rather a robot!

[Hank makes it about until the phrase 'fireteam Weight Watchers' before he starts laughing, clamping his jaw shut over the sound soon enough that he only coughs for a couple seconds afterward. He straightens up from the coughing and clears his throat.]

A robot, shit. That means either the emperor's really paranoid, or one of fireteam Weight Watchers squealed. But they don't have time to worry about it because why would you replace yourself with a robot when you could replace yourself with an exploding robot? [Cayde had wanted explosions, hadn't he?] So, our heroes think they're fucked but turns out one of them charmed the hell out of one of those gladiators and earned himself a uh... a boon, or whatever. Some kinda, I don't know, enchanted blubber blanket. Or uh, rhino skin. Which, creepy, but these guys seem like the type who'd do that shit.

So, they survived the explosion. But they still gotta figure out if one of em's a spy, and uh... maybe still fight a robot? How durable is rhino-klingon space tech, would it be scrap by that point or is there time for a few dramatic last words?

[Hell, there might as well be a real fireteam Weight Watchers, it probably existed at some time! But Cayde reaches over to pat Hank's back again as he coughs, a little less rough this time. Is being outside really good for human beings if they're that sick? He supposes he trusts Hank to know his limits, so the small seed of worry that's threatening to burst forth is appeased for the time being.]

Ah yes, space rhino x guardian love, I'm sure it totally exists out there somewhere on the web.

[It...probably does. He doesn't really want to think about that.]

But this tryst has allowed our brave fireteam to survive the robot-emporer's deadly attack! But while they bicker and try to find out who's sold them out, the robot rises again, all scrapped up, to deliver an ominous speech about how delightful it is that our dear Weight Watchers have proven their strength.

Huh. [Hank leans toward him when Cayde pats his back and then stays that way, thinking over the story's next steps.] What would an action movie do right about now? We already did the big climactic fight and the explosion. How about, uh... Okay, it says they've proven their strength but there's more to a relationship than just being able to kick the other guy's ass. It says it has another test for them, if they really want to get to know him, and then takes off on his jet boots that somehow survived the explosion. And then some of our heroes try to jump up and grab onto his ankles right as he takes off, not really giving a shit about how that's probably going to take them up into the air too cause they're too worked up to think ahead.

I'm thinking if it's an action movie than everything blows up again and there's probably some nudity? At least from the action movies I've seen.

[He takes a moment to ponder, pretending to really think on the matter.]

But when the heroes grab ahold and go for a ride, it weighs our good emperor down and the entire lot of them only get a little distance away before they crash and fall through some poorly made floor, right down into the guts of the ship itself!

Okay I'll throw your horny ass a bone, look, the fall probably wrecks someone's shirt or pants or some shit, and the parts of the robot that are still, you know, functioning, get distracted.

So. Okay. You put my mind on this track, you asshole. But look- [He says it in a very put upon way, like he can't believe he's saying it. Because he can't. And yet.] -when the robot gets horny little parts of it that got loose in the explosion start to ping off it. And there are guards coming, cause you can't have your big bossfight end with you falling through the floor without someone noticing, but a lot of their weapons lost their charge or got damaged in that long drawn out fight earlier. So a couple now x rated members of the team have to like, do a little jiggle in the right direction so the horny robot's like a guided missile, little screws and shit hitting guards in the face at twenty miles per hour. But you can only keep that up so long, and who knows what kinda crazy bullshit's on the floor they just crashed into.

Hey, I only have one horn I'll have you know, and it's magnificent.

[But now he's laughing, and everything slowly spirals out of control until he's not even able to continue with the story and instead is curled up on himself he's laughing so hard and intermittently slapping Hank's back to try to ground himself.]

Mercy, mercy. You got one hell of a mind for it all, dragonslayer.

[Hank grins at Cayde's laughter, the look only getting more pleased every time Cayde slaps at his back, so by the time Cayde finds it in himself to speak Hank's smiling pretty wide.]

What, you don't think that's something you'd see in a movie? We could do the thing where like, everyone's x-ratings are blocked out by strategically placed potted plants, that'd make it fit for Hollywood no problem.

Give a theatrical release with the potted plants, and then release the 'uncut' version on holodisc at a later point and make millions. It's a great idea, we'll be rich.

Cool, I only want enough money to buy a basketball team and a mansion for my dog, you can have the rest.

[He considers Cayde, raising his eyebrows.]

You okay, man? You going to survive my amazing, unexpected twist to the action movie of the century?

Got it. I'll fund my own guy in the sparrow racing league, bet the rest of the cash, and triple our income when they win. That's what I call a good investment.

[He's catching his breath, slowly but surely, and there's a flicker of amusement at Hank's mild concern. Perhaps he still lets his hand rest on the man's back though, because it helps to ground him while he comes back down to earth.]

That what doesn't kill me, isn't that how the old phrase goes? I'm just gonna emerge stronger than ever.

Ha.

[Hank never really expected to spend any time as a robot's armrest. Hard to expect a situation you've never even thought about. It's weird how you don't think anything about stuff like that at all - a pat on the back, a hand on the shoulder, all that shit - until you're in a freaky new place where no one really knows you and suddenly someone's decided they like you enough that you're actually feeling real, physical contact with another person for for the first time in weeks.

Maybe if it was any other robot, it'd be weird, Hank'd be awkward and stiff until the hand went away. But Cayde, somehow, feels like one of the most aggressively casual parts of this place, the least weird, despite - you know, the obvious.

Hank gives Cayde a faint, crooked smile, his posture comfortable, relaxed, leaning toward Cayde a little. He can be a robot's armrest, this once. It's not so bad.]

What are you gonna do with all that strength? Strongarm your way on top of the sparrow racing industry? That might be legal, maybe, but it's kinda sounding a little nefarious.

Edited (typo) 2018-10-09 20:15 (UTC)

[Despite everything, despite the plague and the strangeness and the entirely too much going on, it's...kind of nice to just sit here and talk. Maybe he should worry more about Hank being out on the cold ground, maybe he should be just a bit less selfish and stop leaning on him, but it's a comfortable sort of peace that both confuses and, in a small deep part of his processors, relaxes him and so he pushes aside the desire to overthink and just enjoys the moment.]

Nefarious nothing, it's called being lucky. Being really lucky. No one can fault you for luck, right? Besides, my guy's good for it, he's the best around right now. No way he's going to lose.

They sure can fault you for luck, and they probably will. Who's your guy, anyway? Are we still talking about a bird? Cause he should probably watch his feathery little butt, he wins too many races and big guys with really stupid tattoos are gonna corner him in some dark alley.

[He tries to be halfway subtle about clearing his throat, and tries to work some spit into his mouth and down into his raw throat quietly. His voice went kind of patchy near the end there, like a station with bad reception, and nothing fucks up your ability to shoot the shit like not being able to, you know, talk at all.]

Nah, the Colonel is far too honorable. Different guy, different set of standards when it comes to playing fair.

[He can feel the slight shift beneath his palm though, a movement that shakes Hank even if he's trying to be subtle. Still sick, definitely still sick, and not doing any better if the scratchy tone of his voice is anything to go on.]

I'll tell you all about it, promise, but I gotta say that it's getting kinda yuck out here.

[It isn't.]

I'm feeling like moseying on in and taking a leg off, you in?

[Inside has to be better for someone that's sick, right?]

Taking a leg off.

[Hank looks around, considering it. Sumo's not pinning him anymore. Why not? He leans forward to stand up and, hey, it sure is easy to forget you're sick when you're sitting around doing nothing, isn't it. Good thing his body makes sure it reminds him once he gets halfway up, it sure would be a shame not to get this refresher on what being dizzy and kinda fainty feels like.]

Sounds messy. Or maybe kinda kinky. Do that a lot where you're from?

[He mutters it, head hanging and eyes closed while he waits for his body to figure out what it's doing. He'll just hunch against the wall for a second here, no problem. How long has he been sitting here? Fuck it, who cares, he'll remember how standing up works in a second and then he'll be golden.]

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video | dated at the very end of week one

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in which this is all actually canon

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