tushanshu_logs | 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!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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.]

OPEN LOG; The Masked Man

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

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

RUDE

wrap up here i figure?