[log] What a Rhysaster [closed]

[bookofnope]

Characters: Beckett, Rhys, Angel, Vaughn, the Cat
Location Building 100 plus outside
Date: Day 165
Summary: BREAKING NEW: Local noodle makes break for freedom, knocks vampire on his ass; companions found drugged with sleeping pills at home.
Warnings: Violence, aforementioned drugging, probable talk of murder and death.

Toplevels below!

Comments

FIGHT; Beckett and Reeser!

[headjacked]

[ The hardest thing to stomach (aside from, y'know, feeding his best friends sleeping pancakes) is, of course, Dumpy's reaction. The baby bot tries to follow Rhys after he drapes the yellow ducky robe over Angel and Vaughn. Quietly, Rhys nudges Dumpy back, again and again and again until the little guy gives up.

He donks against the window, seemingly watching as Rhys departs. Rhys, feeling exceptionally lightheaded and detached from reality. He staggers through the snow, jacket and backpack bright yellow/red beacons, respectively.

This is fine.

He's fine.

Fine. ]

[bookofnope]

[Those red and yellow are so bright, Beckett hardly believes he's seeing them at first. He's more or less staggering himself, fighting through the weather and the bleary sluggishness that's been weighing his every limb like lead during the daytime, for days now, ever since he woke again. He's too tired to even be shivering properly. He stops and blinks into the middle distance, trying to decide if he's dreaming.

He might be. The chances of actually finding Rhys in time to stop him are negligible. He's really acting on a hope here that he would probably not even entertain if he were in his right mind. Rhys gets this response out of him, they both do, how do they do it...]

Rhys?

[Even as he calls out he's moving forward, faster now that he has a concrete goal. Maybe he's speaking to thin air. He's going to take that chance.]

[headjacked]

[ The odds are, indeed, not in Beckett's favor. And yet, here Rhys is. Seemingly.

Yeah, seemingly. Maybe Rhys can play that to his advantage? It's a thought that races through his mind as he briefly pauses, shoulders hunching before he looks back at Beckett. ]





I was never here.

[ He waves his hands for dramatic effect. A+ plan. ]

[bookofnope]

[Yeah. Maybe if he didn't wave his hands.

As it is, that definitively ruins the effect. Rhys has a ridiculous amount of Arm and any bit of that waving is bound to attract attention. Beckett does slip fingers under his glasses and rubs his eyes just to be sure. But there is Rhys, still, perfectly solid. Or as solid as Rhys ever gets.

One way or another the first step is to get in Rhys's way and stop him moving on. He does that before anything else.]

Where are Angel and Vaughn?

[headjacked]

[ Jig's up, huh. Rhys stops, impeded by the vampire in his path. ]

They're fine, th- th-they're back that way. Go take care of them, okay?

[ After a quick point back in the direction he came from, Rhys moves to sidestep Beckett, and what a mighty sidestep it is. Considering, you know, the Massive Amount Of Leg.

Just let him go, Beckett. Please. He's silently begging. ]

[bookofnope]

[He's going to have to beg harder. Beckett moves as he does, still blocking the way. It isn't like him to do this - to stop someone doing what they think is right. He's just not sure, very not sure, that Rhys is strictly thinking right now.]

They would not have let you go. Not on your own. What did you do to them, Rhys?

[headjacked]

And I wouldn't have hurt them, or done anything to them that could leave permanent serious lasting damage. Or. Hrggnn.

[ Rhys fidgets, momentarily distracted from his escape attempt. He stops with the sidestepping and pulls the coat of his sleeve over his flesh hand. ]

They're just sleeping, Beckett. It's okay.

[bookofnope]

[It's far too late in the day to be sleeping (unless of course you are a vampire who should be out of the nonexistent sun and sleeping the sleep of the dead and no, he is not thinking that). And he believes Rhys about not hurting them. So, given the equipment he knows the three have, Beckett connects the dots instantly. His look is incredulous.]

You drugged them?

[headjacked]

[ Rhys absolutely refuses to make eye contact. Or move much at all, really.

Which is enough confirmation in itself. ]

I --

[ And then he suddenly DOES move, very quickly, trying to nudge Beckett out of the way by force and break into a run. ]

[bookofnope]

[No on you don't. Beckett is tired, and he does rather underestimate Rhys, but he is still tense just for this possibility of sudden escape. He moves, if not with equal speed, still fast enough to grab the back of Rhys's coat. And because he knows exactly how to resolve this move, grabs for Rhys's arm before he can shimmy out of that coat like the two-dimensional slip of a noodle he is.]

Please don't make this more embarrassing than it has to be.

[He is not expecting a fight. He may be expecting tears.]

[headjacked]

[ Embarrassing.

Without warning, Rhys throws his non-grabbed arm back, ramming either a very pointy or very dense metallic elbow into Beckett's chest.

Pick your poison. ]

ahahaha I knew this would get this reaction XD

[bookofnope]

[That was a very dense metallic elbow.

Beckett doesn't even get to cry out. The point of the impact goes right between two ribs, and his much-abused lungs indignantly respond by going on strike. He reels from the pain and the sudden choking, stumbling back half a step. His grip on Rhys's coat fumbles and loosens.

Not the grip on the arm, though. His fingers convulse there, tighter if anything, digging through the clothes. No, he can't let go, even if he stops breathing he can't let go.

(At least Rhys is spared another snarky comeback.)]

[headjacked]

[ There was nothing good or satisfying about that. Not even when Jack appears and starts cheering, complete with enthusiastic clapping and praise.

"My man!"

Rhys shakes his head and tries to move again, but Beckett still has his arm. He pivots and grabs at the stubborn fingers, encasing them in a cold metal grip. ]

I could -

[ Break them? He COULD. He won't. His voice trails off into a stammer and he just tries to pry the hand off. ]

RESCUE? Beckett and a fleabag mostly

[absentconstellation]

[ The Cat had seen Rhys adding a strange substance to the pancakes. He had seen the nervous behavior. He had seen the others begin to grow drowsy, and finally to fall asleep. Through it all he made no protest. He only watched. What could he do anyway, if he decided to intervene? He had no powers. He could not stop a grown human from drugging his friends any more than he could wake the sleepers.

Instead he napped.

He napped until he heard footsteps outside the house, whisper quiet in the snow. He watched the door until it opened. ]

HELLO CATTE

[bookofnope]

[The footsteps are followed by a fumble at the door, the creak of it opening, and then the sound of chattering teeth and miserable coughing. Beckett has not enjoyed his bit of a lie-down in the snow, thank you Rhys. He comes in part furious, part afraid, part dazed with both and with the cold, and calls out as soon as he can catch his breath:]

Angel! Vaughn!

[He comes stumbling in, still batting snow off his coat and hat. He is not looking for a cat and not noticing much, and may as a result be scattering some of that snow on small constellations who do not deserve such treatment.]

HELLO BATTE

[absentconstellation]

[ The Cat sees this coming, and races out of the way of the stumbling man, fur on end. Please do not step on him, Beckett.

From the corner of the room he mews a protest of this rude behavior. ]

[bookofnope]

[No stepping, fortunately, but the small darting movement does alarm him, and he snaps into a battle ready tension, snarling instinctively under his labouring breath. If an anomaly -

- but no. It's a cat. One of the ghost cats? But those have never been visible before. He squints at the shadow in the corner.]

If you can talk, please do it now before I get excited.

[absentconstellation]

I should hate for you to get excited.

[ He would also hate for Beckett to decide he's the enemy here. He has claws, but he does not feel like using them. ]

[bookofnope]

It's less impressive than it used to be. [The alarm drains, and it comes through in his voice. A talking cat is practically mundane, in context.]

Are Angel and Vaughn in the other room? A pair of humans. Probably sleeping. I don't know if you care to tell humans apart from one another.

[absentconstellation]

They are asleep, and unharmed. Whatever drug Rhys used it has not stopped their breathing.

[bookofnope]

[Oh, God. He hadn't realised how badly frightened he was for them. Beckett takes a deep breath, and doubles over coughing again, relief and lack of air making him dizzy. He has to sit down. Has to find his rather abused handkerchief and blow his nose and clear his throat before he can get a proper breath in. Getting worse again, damnit, he's going to kill Rhys, he's going to kill him twice...]

I'm not - not going to ask if you could have stopped him.

[He's just asked. Justify yourself, small snackish-looking creature.]

[absentconstellation]

[ He harrumphs. If there was anything he could feasibly do to help he would, but he's not in the habit of going through other people's things looking for handkerchiefs. ]

And how should I have done that? By asking very nicely? Who would have been left to make sure the three of us didn't die in our sleep?

[bookofnope]

[That's a fair point. He gives something between a groan and a sigh.]

I see what you mean. My apologies. You must be in an even more frustrating position than the rest of us.

[absentconstellation]

You can only begin to imagine the ways in which my powers and senses have been dulled by this place, Beckett. There is naught we can do but wait for the others to wake.

[bookofnope]

Oh, I think I can imagine just a little. [With raised eyebrows over his glasses.] Unless you are something on a scale I'd find frankly distressing to encounter here... I don't imagine you know just what he used to drug them? Was it just sleeping pills?