Post by Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro on Dec 2, 2014 20:11:05 GMT -5
It was a very important question. Not the content of the thing, that was relatively unimportant. The value of the statement came from the fact that he had been asked something. Up until this point Weiss had been acting on impulse alone, just reacting to external stimuli rather than making an actual choice. Were it not for this he very well could have continued the trend. After all, the sight of the hulking armored figure inspired more than enough fear to send him scrambling off in the opposite direction, more than likely screaming all the while. A large part of him wanted to do just that. His drive for flight was notably stronger than fight, and it had always served him well. But rather than move in a threatening manner or bark out some insult, the stranger had chosen to make a query. Which of course meant, as per the social contract, it was his obligation to form a coherent response. Doing so required him to think about how he wanted to respond. That forced him to shift gears. Swallowing his fear like a bitter pill, he forced himself to calm. Evening out his ragged breath helped immensely, the frantic beating of his heart slowing to a less harrowing pace. For what felt like the umpteenth time is recent months, he repeated those wise words: The calm one is in control. And just like that, the world came back into focus. All the fine details that had blurred together in his single-minded focus on escaping were plainly visible. The cold pavement that pressed against his hands, the echoed footsteps that clapped in the distance, the bite of the wind on his face. It sobered him, bringing back a clarity of mind. Enough, at least, to get him asking the right questions.
Who is this guy? Marine? Unlikely. If his pursuer is any indication, local law enforcement are familiar enough with the description of ‘Mister April Fools’ to pick him out of a crowd. Plus whiteshirts never miss an opportunity to display that gaudy heraldry of theirs, and he didn’t see any seagull emblems on this dude. Random citizen? Possible, but not that likely either. Imposing suit aside, this guy was armed. Not like, guy trying to look tough by carrying a pistol everywhere either. No, from what he could see it looked like a small cannon. You don’t walk around with that sort of thing on your back when you’re just running to the corner store to pick up a carton of milk. What else can he pick up? Diving suit? It looked hella modified, but that was certainly what his getup was for. He could see where the joints and helmet were sealed against water, the air tanks on his back, and what may have been a gage for regulating internal pressure. Scientist? Probably not, for the same reason as before. Salvager? That could work. He’d seen them work recovering merchandise from a wrecked cargo ship. It could be a pretty cutthroat field from what he’d heard. Not to mention the inherent dangers of the ocean, what with pirates and sea kings and the like. Okay, that was a good theory to run with.
Next, motivation. Why is he asking who I am? Ya don’t usually bump into someone and then press them to identify themselves. Abnormal circumstances then. Curiosity. Better than him being pissed off. Why curious? Oh. Because he saw the kid running around with a marine hot on his tail. Okay, fair point scary dude. That meant he knew he was in trouble with the law. And THAT made him a threat. So what to do? Obviously can’t give him more information. Lie and walk away casually? Lie and walk away casually.
“Pipi freakin’ Longstockings. What’s it to you?” The runaway grunted, rising to his feet and making a show of dusting himself off in the hopes it would help solidify the tough guy act. He was not feeling particularly tough at the moment. Knowing his luck, that was probably the name of some super-criminal revolutionary or some crap. It certainly wouldn't surprise him. The metal man was at least kind enough to let him stand, though when shifting backwards the suit made a dreadful hissing noise that drew Weiss’ attention. Now, he was relatively new to the whole engineering thing, especially when compared to some of the people he had worked with. But that sound was distinct to him. He had heard that same hiss almost constantly, every single day, for just over a month. He’d have to be dead, deaf, and dumb not to recognize it by this point. Steam. In particular, highly pressurized steam, the sort you used in engines and the like to convert the energy from heat into mechanical work. Which was damn strange thing to have integrated into a diving suit. Now those sealed joints he had seen held an entirely different meaning. Hissing when he moved. Wait, pressurized steam to move the parts? Why the hell would anyone need a thing that? The amount of force those things could generate would only ever be useful for huge industrial tasks, like moving a train. Or, as he noted quietly, crushing something with your big-ass metal gauntlets. Suddenly he did not feel all that comfortable standing next to Mr. Giant Murder Machine.
“There he is!” A voice shouted urgently from across the street. The runaway immediately flattened himself back against the wall, more out of reflex than anything else. Watching from tiny of sliver of shadow that the noonday sun provided him, he saw a squad of marines flood into the plaza, forming a ring around them with the sort of speed and efficiency that came from regular combat drills. Every avenue of retreat was cut off save for the direction he had come from, but he really didn’t want to backtrack. Too big of a chance to run into you-know-who.
Now, from what he understood it was not standard procedure to have fourteen (He counted) rifles pointed at a suspect while placing them under arrest. He was in even worse trouble than he thought. What the hell had Goldenweeks and her dumb gang done that even a mention of their name brings out the military in force likes this? Things were not looking good for him. The leader, or at least the spokesperson or something, stepped forward and rattled off an order. Though, as orders go, he was at least rather polite about it. “Sir, we’ve had reports of someone in a diving suit destroying public property down at the docks and fleeing the crime scene. We’re going to need you to come with us.”
It took him a few seconds to process that, looking from the uniformed peacekeeper to the suspect and back again. When the connection hit him, Weiss nearly tripped over his own feet. Holy hell. This guys weren’t after him. They were after this big dude here. Suddenly the fourteen-gun salute made more sense. As much as he loathed to side with the Navy bastards about anything, they had a point. He’d have been pretty cautious too if he was trying to arrest a monster truck on two legs.
Still, this was a positive development. They had definitely seen him, he could freely admit his hiding spot really did not accomplish much else besides making him feel better. And they hadn’t reacted. Which meant they did recognize him, hadn’t seen the posters yet. At the docks, they said? Maybe they were from another island or something. Either way, it worked for him. A most cunning plan was taking shape in his head. Maybe he could just walk outta here unscathed. He wasn’t sure if the stranger was looking at him or not, or if he was smart enough to figure out what was going on, but he really didn’t care. This was all the dude’s fault in the first place. Rubbing at his eyes with the base of his palms until they were red, he ran out into the center of the ring.
“Help! Please! The b-bad man kidnapped me!” Weiss shouted, crocodile tears streaming down his face. It was the oldest trick in the book. Making yourself cry isn’t that hard, after all, and he was nothing if not a good liar. Besides, everyone already thought he was just a harmless child who could not do anything on his own. Why not take advantage of that? It worked, too. The riflemen hesitated, taking their eyes off the sight and lowering the tips of their weapon slightly. Their leader looked shocked for a moment, but then switched his expression to pity, and started waving the child to come over to him. Bingo. Once they took him aside, he could slip away into the backstreets and they’d never find him again.
However, things did not go quite as planned. “YOU!”
The sound of it made him cringe, freezing just a few steps away from the hand that had been offered to him. “…Fucking hell, are you serious.” The kid muttered under his breath. Really? This is going to happen? RIGHT when victory was within reach?
“There you are you little brat!” Stomping out from the very same alley he had been hiding in came that damn super-marine chick that had been chasing him all over the place, her face red as a tomato. A very, very angry tomato. Pointing a sharp accusatory finger at him, she all but growled. “You are NOT getting away this time.”
The sight of one of their own after his hide killed any chance he had at coming off as a helpless victim. If anything, the deception just pissed them off even more. Rather than have all their weapons pointed at the armored diver, a few of them had elected to take aim at Weiss himself. But when they moved to put his head in their sights, they realized the young thief was already gone. In that brief instant, he had scurried back to take cover behind Augustus’ legs, deciding to use him as his personal bullet proof shield. He was not much of a fighter, but when it came to cowardice, he was second to none. And with the failure of his first gambit, he decided to approach things from a different angle. “Kill-bot! Destroy them!”
Who is this guy? Marine? Unlikely. If his pursuer is any indication, local law enforcement are familiar enough with the description of ‘Mister April Fools’ to pick him out of a crowd. Plus whiteshirts never miss an opportunity to display that gaudy heraldry of theirs, and he didn’t see any seagull emblems on this dude. Random citizen? Possible, but not that likely either. Imposing suit aside, this guy was armed. Not like, guy trying to look tough by carrying a pistol everywhere either. No, from what he could see it looked like a small cannon. You don’t walk around with that sort of thing on your back when you’re just running to the corner store to pick up a carton of milk. What else can he pick up? Diving suit? It looked hella modified, but that was certainly what his getup was for. He could see where the joints and helmet were sealed against water, the air tanks on his back, and what may have been a gage for regulating internal pressure. Scientist? Probably not, for the same reason as before. Salvager? That could work. He’d seen them work recovering merchandise from a wrecked cargo ship. It could be a pretty cutthroat field from what he’d heard. Not to mention the inherent dangers of the ocean, what with pirates and sea kings and the like. Okay, that was a good theory to run with.
Next, motivation. Why is he asking who I am? Ya don’t usually bump into someone and then press them to identify themselves. Abnormal circumstances then. Curiosity. Better than him being pissed off. Why curious? Oh. Because he saw the kid running around with a marine hot on his tail. Okay, fair point scary dude. That meant he knew he was in trouble with the law. And THAT made him a threat. So what to do? Obviously can’t give him more information. Lie and walk away casually? Lie and walk away casually.
“Pipi freakin’ Longstockings. What’s it to you?” The runaway grunted, rising to his feet and making a show of dusting himself off in the hopes it would help solidify the tough guy act. He was not feeling particularly tough at the moment. Knowing his luck, that was probably the name of some super-criminal revolutionary or some crap. It certainly wouldn't surprise him. The metal man was at least kind enough to let him stand, though when shifting backwards the suit made a dreadful hissing noise that drew Weiss’ attention. Now, he was relatively new to the whole engineering thing, especially when compared to some of the people he had worked with. But that sound was distinct to him. He had heard that same hiss almost constantly, every single day, for just over a month. He’d have to be dead, deaf, and dumb not to recognize it by this point. Steam. In particular, highly pressurized steam, the sort you used in engines and the like to convert the energy from heat into mechanical work. Which was damn strange thing to have integrated into a diving suit. Now those sealed joints he had seen held an entirely different meaning. Hissing when he moved. Wait, pressurized steam to move the parts? Why the hell would anyone need a thing that? The amount of force those things could generate would only ever be useful for huge industrial tasks, like moving a train. Or, as he noted quietly, crushing something with your big-ass metal gauntlets. Suddenly he did not feel all that comfortable standing next to Mr. Giant Murder Machine.
“There he is!” A voice shouted urgently from across the street. The runaway immediately flattened himself back against the wall, more out of reflex than anything else. Watching from tiny of sliver of shadow that the noonday sun provided him, he saw a squad of marines flood into the plaza, forming a ring around them with the sort of speed and efficiency that came from regular combat drills. Every avenue of retreat was cut off save for the direction he had come from, but he really didn’t want to backtrack. Too big of a chance to run into you-know-who.
Now, from what he understood it was not standard procedure to have fourteen (He counted) rifles pointed at a suspect while placing them under arrest. He was in even worse trouble than he thought. What the hell had Goldenweeks and her dumb gang done that even a mention of their name brings out the military in force likes this? Things were not looking good for him. The leader, or at least the spokesperson or something, stepped forward and rattled off an order. Though, as orders go, he was at least rather polite about it. “Sir, we’ve had reports of someone in a diving suit destroying public property down at the docks and fleeing the crime scene. We’re going to need you to come with us.”
It took him a few seconds to process that, looking from the uniformed peacekeeper to the suspect and back again. When the connection hit him, Weiss nearly tripped over his own feet. Holy hell. This guys weren’t after him. They were after this big dude here. Suddenly the fourteen-gun salute made more sense. As much as he loathed to side with the Navy bastards about anything, they had a point. He’d have been pretty cautious too if he was trying to arrest a monster truck on two legs.
Still, this was a positive development. They had definitely seen him, he could freely admit his hiding spot really did not accomplish much else besides making him feel better. And they hadn’t reacted. Which meant they did recognize him, hadn’t seen the posters yet. At the docks, they said? Maybe they were from another island or something. Either way, it worked for him. A most cunning plan was taking shape in his head. Maybe he could just walk outta here unscathed. He wasn’t sure if the stranger was looking at him or not, or if he was smart enough to figure out what was going on, but he really didn’t care. This was all the dude’s fault in the first place. Rubbing at his eyes with the base of his palms until they were red, he ran out into the center of the ring.
“Help! Please! The b-bad man kidnapped me!” Weiss shouted, crocodile tears streaming down his face. It was the oldest trick in the book. Making yourself cry isn’t that hard, after all, and he was nothing if not a good liar. Besides, everyone already thought he was just a harmless child who could not do anything on his own. Why not take advantage of that? It worked, too. The riflemen hesitated, taking their eyes off the sight and lowering the tips of their weapon slightly. Their leader looked shocked for a moment, but then switched his expression to pity, and started waving the child to come over to him. Bingo. Once they took him aside, he could slip away into the backstreets and they’d never find him again.
However, things did not go quite as planned. “YOU!”
The sound of it made him cringe, freezing just a few steps away from the hand that had been offered to him. “…Fucking hell, are you serious.” The kid muttered under his breath. Really? This is going to happen? RIGHT when victory was within reach?
“There you are you little brat!” Stomping out from the very same alley he had been hiding in came that damn super-marine chick that had been chasing him all over the place, her face red as a tomato. A very, very angry tomato. Pointing a sharp accusatory finger at him, she all but growled. “You are NOT getting away this time.”
The sight of one of their own after his hide killed any chance he had at coming off as a helpless victim. If anything, the deception just pissed them off even more. Rather than have all their weapons pointed at the armored diver, a few of them had elected to take aim at Weiss himself. But when they moved to put his head in their sights, they realized the young thief was already gone. In that brief instant, he had scurried back to take cover behind Augustus’ legs, deciding to use him as his personal bullet proof shield. He was not much of a fighter, but when it came to cowardice, he was second to none. And with the failure of his first gambit, he decided to approach things from a different angle. “Kill-bot! Destroy them!”