tushanshu_logs | OPEN LOG; The Masked Man

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OPEN LOG; The Masked Man

CHARACTERS; Yokai and YOU!
DATE; Throughout the month of April. [Mostly at night.]
LOCATION; All about Keeliai!
SITUATION; A certain old man has terrible coping methods when it comes to dealing with racing thoughts and stress. A certain masked man finds himself exploring Keelai through yellowed eyes, and may or may not be running in to trouble in the meantime.
WARNINGS/RATINGS; Possible violence. Otherwise, nothing past PG-13.

See me, the red lines cry. See my role in this story, see that I have a wrong to right; see that I am power and that I will not be denied.

Callaghan hadn't chosen the mask without being ignorant of its meaning; he had, however, chosen it for a multitude of reasons. All symbolism aside, it offered full-face coverage, and hardly blocked his peripheral vision. Secured with the ski mask underneath, it would take (and had taken) a heavy strike to knock off, but since arriving here in Keeliai, he'd made a few further tweaks to ensure that if, for whatever reason, he had to don it again...

To be fair, he hadn't considered donning it for the freedom it offered. Dressing in the outfit again felt inherently good, as did running along the building edges with the microbots enhancing his movements. He did not know parkour, per se, but he didn't need to - not when the microbots were there by his feet to give him the push or pull he needed to cross an alley, not when they could toss him in to the air and his own strength could grab on to a protrusion to haul himself in to another position.

God, but this felt good. It felt right. And as long as he could keep himself out of view, the microbots next to him, and the terrain itself from betraying him...

He just had to be careful, was all. Without nearly as many microbots as he had before, he tried to keep to the shadows. And if that ended up with him overseeing a few gang members or so...?

On one hand, it wasn't any of his business.

On the other, there's something to be said about getting carried away.

((Over the course of the month, rumors will begin to spread regarding a mysterious figure, some mugging incidents [unclear as to what side they were partaking in], and some thefts as well. feel free to put a general time period/area in your first comment, or PM/plurk me and we can do something specific!))

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[if Yokai's realized that he's being followed, he's shown no sign. instead, he's focused on keeping in the shadows, following the by-now memorized path through the streets. when he arrives at his destination- on the outside of a storage facility- he's then focused on guiding the microbots through the cracks between door and wall. pressure, applied correctly, forced through and through and through and

krk

a clench of upraised hands and the door's pushed open just enough for him to slip inside. it's closed a few moments later, and while it's hardly locked, it at least looks secure enough.

it'll give him the privacy he needs to sort through the goods in peace, and salvage anything useful]

[Hiro's eyes gradually adjust to the low light, and when he peers around the corner again, what was indistinct shadows and movement before becomes a human-shaped figure with its back turned to him, surrounded by seething microbots. His microbots. The ones that were scorched to nothing in the fire. The ones that shouldn't even be here, separated by a wall of time and dimension from Keeliai.

And yet, here they are. Wielded by who (or what) he doesn't know, nor how they got here. His first guess would be that someone from home brought them, but nobody he knows is here makes sense.

Nothing makes sense and he can't assume anything with certainty anymore in this place.

Once the door is shut, Hiro edges out of his hiding place - and against his better judgment, sneaks down the alley and approaches the storage facility. He doesn't dare try opening the door himself. Too much noise and he doesn't know who or what he'll find on the other side.

There are windows, though, and a stack of wooden crates piled up by one he can use to get a better view. Biting his lip and stepping carefully, he climbs the stack, wincing and going dead still when one creaks underneath him - and then moving again when nothing happens.

He wipes a grimy window pane clean with his sleeve and peers inside, trying to see where his cloaked microbot wielder's gone.]

[Hiro's crack is timed just as Yokai opens the first box, so it passes his notice- he examines the goods critically, then carefully shuts it down again, deciding it not worth such. then he moves to the next one, the microbots easily prying open the lid- this, however, has them slip inside and out, bringing something to his gloved hand for examination before he closes the lid again.

some of one thing. none of another. the theft is quick and subtle, but eventually Yokai pauses, half-looking over his shoulder.

there's a sudden feeling of deja-vu, and he doesn't quite understand why.]

[Hiro ducks out of sight just as the faint moonlight from the window catches the pale surface of the mask, huddling under the windowsill and clamping a hand over his mouth to stop himself from squawking out loud. A thief. Possibly stole his design, too? But how? And who on this stupid turtle, besides one of the foreigners or maybe the metalworkers, would even know how to reproduce it?

None of it makes sense.

He needs a closer look.

Carefully, so as not to cause another creak on his way down, Hiro climbs off the stacked crates and looks around him. He can't go through the main door, but there's another side door he could try and - locked, he finds, as he creeps over and finds a padlock in place. There's a package chute, though. The kind that flips open and allows anyone outside to deposit a package for whoever's inside to pick up, without entering the building. Which gives him a really bad (or great?) idea.

The chute isn't locked, and with some effort and little noise Hiro manages to tug it open. It's dark inside, and he can't see through to the other side, but there's enough room for him to fit, so he hikes a leg over and attempts to climb in and...doesn't account for the spring mechanism being enough to abruptly pitch him forward into the interior when his other foot leaves the ground. The hatch slams shut behind him with a sharp, metallic clang that's definitely not stealthy at all.

And he's stuck. Balled up inside what amounts to a mailbox, definitely won't open no matter how hard he elbows it - and he thinks better of it, because that wasn't a quiet noise, and maybe he'd better wait until he's sure it's safe before trying to work his way out.

If he can work his way out. As it is, he barely has room to move, and it's stuffy and cramped and shit, this was a bad idea.]

[well, that clang certainly catches his attention. Yokai stiffens, growing tense, already thinking of possible escape routes, paths, how best to ditch pursuit-

-but nothing. there's only that sound. did something fall? the microbots - jagged and tense - begin to smooth down piece by piece, assisted by him raising a hand in gesture and actually 'lowering' them towards the ground. easy, easy...

now to figure out what the hell that was.

it actually doesn't take him long to find the source- some sort of chute? a gloved hand raises to open it, give him enough room to slip inside...

and then he stares.

just...stares.

oh.

that boy looks painfully familiar.]

[That boy is terrified. Curled up in a ball, saying prayers and hoping against hope the approaching footsteps will pass on by and let him figure a way out of this mess on his own. They don't, of course. They get closer, and Hiro stays very still, clutching a wrench to his chest and feeling his own pounding heartbeat pulse through it.

The hatch opens.

Hiro doesn't waste time thinking or trying to negotiate; he catches a glimpse, for a couple of seconds, of a pale and red-marked mask in the dim light, and then he yells and takes advantage of the extra space to throw the wrench, tumble out onto the floor and then attempt to run like hell.

This, this is his master plan.]

Edited 2015-04-12 01:38 (UTC)

[this master plan is foiled by the fact that as soon as the wrench is thrown?

SLAM.

or rather, an attempt at slamming the hatch closed, because the wrench kind of gets wedged in before he can fully shut it.

nonetheless;
shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitwhendidhegethereshitshitshit]

[This was not the plan. Colliding with the hatch and getting smacked roughly back into this tiny, cramped box was not the plan. There's a series of metallic thuds from limbs smacking against the interior of the chute and a sharp cry of pain, and then Hiro's pushing back, kicking and shoving to the best of his ability against the not-quite-shut hatch because as long as it's open he's not locked in completely.

He grips the handle of the wrench and twists it so the masked man can't shove it back in with him and shut the hatch without getting in his reach; it's cracked just enough that he can slip a hand and the bravest glare he can manage through.

For extra measure, he kicks at the hatch a couple more times.]

Who the hell do you think you are?!

[nopenopenopefukkin NOPE

actually, that's not quite the stream of thought in Callaghan's mind right now- it's closer to a series of images, memories of the last encounters with Hiro, the familiar rising panic, the understanding that this is a problem and the boy will not let up and will not let this go and he cannot risk him leaving this place alive and

this won't bring her back

Robert swallows once, then tenses as he makes his decision. at Hiro's next kick, he lets the hatch fly open, and reaches in as well- the microbots move with him as he tries to take hold of Hiro, and with a surge of strength, not only pull him out but outright throw him on to the floor.]

[Okay, but seriously, who the hell do you think you are. Because Hiro doesn't know. And he'd like to find out.

He doesn't have time to think about this; he kicks at the hatch and is shocked to find it gives this time without resistance, throwing him off balance, giving him no chance to defend himself when he's yanked from the chute and thrown roughly to the floor. He lays there for a couple of seconds, stunned, a bundle of scraped knees and bruised elbows and confusion and oh, no, this was a bad plan. If he'd had any doubts about whether the masked man might be hostile, they're gone now.

He recovers quickly enough, fumbling in the dark until his fingers close on the wrench and then stumbling to his feet, shooting a panicked look in the masked man's direction as he gets his bears and backing up a few steps in preparation to flee. Which way is the door, again?]

Those microbots. Where - where'd you get those?

Edited 2015-04-13 01:41 (UTC)

[Hiro doesn't have much time to recover. the masked man is advancing on him, step by meaningful step, fingers flexing at his sides as the microbots move beside him. crawling like ants, as responsive as trained hounds, they seem to echo the malevolence of their controller and, at a gesture, are shooting forwards to snap at Hiro's legs.

no running.

and no response, either- Callaghan is too busy trying to process everything to formulate proper words right now. there's only the ominous silence, and the tnktnktnk of the microbots.]

[No answer. Hiro's not sure what he expected, honestly. Regardless, he's just about reached the limits of his courage, and running seems like the best option right now - which he does. Only to be stopped short by cold metal snagging one of his ankles and tripping him up, sending him to the floor again with a yelp.

His first instinct is blind panic, but he crushes that because he can't, not now, not when he got himself into this mess. Okay, Hiro, think. You're on your own. Nobody's coming to snatch you up on a scooter and bail you out.

He rolls over and he throws the wrench. Again. Only this time his aim is better and there's nothing in the way to stop it.]

[on the bright side, the wrench hits the man in the leg.

on the down side, aside from a stumble and a grunt of pain, he only seems so affected by it. the microbots certainly don't let up, tightening around Hiro's legs as the man clenches his hand.

a chain-like length leads back to him, into his grip- and while the microbots are only so strong on there own, there's enough of them to use each other's strength, and Callaghan's own that when he pulls back, it's like a braided rope.

tugging Hiro right back towards trouble and someone who, by the hunch of his shoulders, looks unhappy at best]

[There's maybe a split second's self-satisfaction at hitting his target, but it's short-lived, because it does nothing, and Hiro curses at himself because that was really his only weapon and now it's gone.]

No. No no no no no -

[For what it's worth, he fights - he kicks and yells and struggles and, when he's close enough, rolls and attempts to hammer an elbow down on the guy's foot because it's what Tadashi always taught him about self-defense - you don't have to be big, you don't have to take them down, you just have to hit them hard enough to hurt, to give yourself a chance to get away -

Not that Tadashi's here, is he? Or he'd probably be singing a different tune.]

[oddly enough, those words are very close to what few words are parsing through Callaghan's own mind. denials, panic, because if Hiro gets out- if Hiro tells- everything he's done here is gone- Tadashi will never forgive him-

he ignores the pain in his leg, barely manages to pull his foot out of the way, and is then moving to try and pin the boy with both microbots and mass. Hiro's quite a bit smaller than the ones he trained against, way back when, but some things are only so different-

-like how getting an arm around his neck is an excellent way to gain the upper hand in any grapple.]

[It's funny, because if anything happened to Hiro - Tadashi would never forgive him for that, either.

It's hardly a fair fight. Hiro's nowhere near a trained soldier, for one, and nowhere near the masked man's size, for another; nor is he armed with his own microbots, which were designed to endure more force than Hiro could possibly exert and not break. He strikes concrete instead of foot with his elbow (s h i t), curls in on himself in pain, and moves too slowly to avoid being grabbed and pinned and goddammit. He kicks and twists ineffectually, but he's not big enough - not strong enough -

And then there's an arm around his neck and his brain blanks out in terror. He's nothing if not persistent, though, squirming desperately against the masked man's grip and digging nails into his wrist and yelling in hopes somebody will maybe hear him.]

[an arm around his neck, a hand at his mouth, pressure tightening- it's not the best chokehold, but training and muscle memory has taken over and is pressing against the arteries. he could just-

twist-

in a detached sort of way, Robert can appreciate how different this is from the previous ones. he'd never gotten this physical with Hiro before, not even in the worst of the scuffle- there had always been something distinctly impersonal about it before, a matter of taking care of business, so to speak. between the microbots and even Baymax, both their hands were clean.

but he's only so many microbots, and there's no Baymax, here. there's his rational mind noting that there is no way this can end well, and the more emotional side of him desperate to simply keep this from getting worse.

he shifts his position, bearing down on Hiro, his own breathing ragged and stilted from stress]

[The hand over his mouth cuts off anything more than muffled protests, and even those die off, eventually, into a keening, frightened whimper. His imagination supplies him helpfully with any number scenarios for what happens next; maybe the masked man snaps his neck, maybe he chokes him until he quits breathing -

- pressure. Hurts. And for maybe a couple of seconds he panics and kicks up more of a fight, twisting his head from side to side and jerking against the microbots holding him until his vision starts to fuzz out around the edges and he feels lightheaded (too fast. shouldn't this take longer?). He squeezes his eyes shut.

Maybe he can fake unconsciousness and th

Not even seconds enough to finish the thought before the sudden drop in blood pressure takes him out, eyes rolling back into his head and everything going limp.]

[only when Hiro goes limp does Callaghan begin to ease up; only when Hiro doesn't respond for a few more seconds does he let out a heavy breath and further slacken his grip. a hand presses to the boy's neck, then he hastens to work of the glove, and press bare fingers to skin.

there's a pulse. Robert bows his head and closes his eyes, a minute amount of tension bleeding out of him. he feels...somewhere between exhausted and nauseated, to be honest, and there was barely even a /fight/. it's the fact that this isn't a matter of microbots and armored assistants, but the fact that if he kept the chokehold a few seconds later, he could have seriously crippled if not flat-out murdered Hiro.

murdered.

he swallows, and realizes that he can't...he can't finish this. not here and now. for all the situation, he can't do it here, not when there's nothing to gain from it and nothing to lose, either. he picks himself up, ignores the trembling in his hands, and takes hold of Hiro by the jacket collar.

he needs to...get out of here. can't leave Hiro here. maybe- if he does this right-

maybe he can convince Hiro this was all some sort of nightmare. some...dream. there's dreaming here, he's had a bit of it himself, but he just needs to...

get out of here.

in very short order, there's nothing to the building to note that he was ever here in the first place, nor Hiro- aside from a wrench, lying in the middle of the floor, perfectly innocent and forgotten.]

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OPEN LOG; The Masked Man

DELICIOUS

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photoshop wouldn't cooperate :||

but WHAT WAS THE SURPRISE :[ :[ :[

i WAS GOING TO TRY N COMIC THE RESPONSE BUT YOU KNOW WHAT THAT SSSS PANEL IS BASICALLY THE REACTION

http://i1274.photobucket.com/albums/y439/ruddyowls/SHOOT%20IT_zpsmgu64yfb.png

p much

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I am taking far too much delight in Hiro's terror tbh

RUDE

wrap up here i figure?