(no subject)

[nerves_of_ice]

Another day, another city. He's not sure how long he'll be in this one - weeks, maybe a month or two, if he's lucky. He hasn't been lucky for a half-year or so now, but there's nothing to do about that except stay ready, and move when he needs to.

He'd picked the apartment because it was high up in the building. He prefers it that way; it lets him watch from various angles and lines of sight when he needs to, and gives him quick access to the roof and escape.

Not that he can see much from inside at the moment, of course, having just finished taping newspaper -- multiple thicknesses -- over the windows. It helps; the lines of text and distortion of blurry newsprint photos disguise any shadows that he might cast from within.

James takes a moment to look around. It's got everything he needs; sleeping bag unrolled on the cheap mattress in the corner, the windows (now covered), washroom no bigger than a closet, kitchenette barely bigger than that, even complete with the unimaginable luxury of a full-size fridge...

... ah. Food. Right.

He's not hungry, but food's the fuel that's necessary to keep going. It's too late to go to the market now, though. Instead, he goes to the apartment door, and opens it into Milliways.

Comments

[nerves_of_ice]

His expression doesn't soften, exactly, but the lethal edge to it fades.

The merest flicker of memory teases his mind, of talking about this with someone - the bartender. Right.

"Right," he says aloud. "Okay. I'm listening. Go on."

[v_knidh8er]

Yeah, this is where the plot gets...difficult.

"The Winter Soldier was a real good shot.
The Winter Soldier was.
The Oompa Loompas found that they were caught.
The Oompa Loompas found.
But one called Hat was the one he hit,
The Winter Soldier hit.

The Winter Soldier is the subject of this sentence,
And it was our friend Hat he hit."

[nerves_of_ice]

He draws a sharp breath.

James flicks a glance at the hole in the wall, then back to the two Loompas in front of him.

"... Hat. That's his name? Is he ...?"

He's not sure how to ask.

[v_knidh8er]

Braids, ever the empathetic, interrupts.

"Oh, oh he's still alive."

But Dreads cuts him short.
Don't get ahead of the story, says his expression.

"Now free he took a gun and a stand.
He took a stand.
To Slenderman he tried to command.
He tried to command.
But the Slenderman overpowered the kid.
He overpowered the kid.

The Slenderman's the subject of this sentence.
And rest of can't say what he did."

Thus, you see, their problem

[nerves_of_ice]

Realization dawns, and with it, a thunderous expression.

"Are you telling me that мудак still has him?"

[v_knidh8er]

There's a swell of what can only be called Death Metal music, as all four Loompas very emphatically respond:

"NEIN!"

[nerves_of_ice]

He flicks another fast glance at the wall, with its mostly-hidden occupants, then focuses on Dreads and Braids.

"Okay." A beat. "But he did something. To your friend. Hat."

[v_knidh8er]

"They say when Slendy was defeated,
They found him deep within the cave.
Since then he ain't yet come to
And we've no one left to run to
We think he'll never be the same."

[nerves_of_ice]

The pieces are starting to fit together in a way that he doesn't like.

He'd shot the Loompa called Hat while under attack - which, frankly, he can't regret - and somehow, it broke whatever kind of hold the Slender Man had. Evidently Hat had then tried to fight back against Slendy, and ended up in some sort of coma, unconscious ever since.

And now here the others are, asking him for help. His help.

"I'm not a doctor," he says, baldly. "Or a scientist."

He can't really help the way his voice hardens with loathing on the last word, but he doesn't let it stop him.

"There might be one trustworthy one here, though - maybe she could do something. To help."

Curtis trusts Dejah, anyway, and from what he himself has seen and heard, she seems to ... care.

"What do you want from me? Some kind of extraction operation? Guard duty?"