Four Painful Years

>Ask what happened with your neighbour after you hit him with four-and-a-half-tons of thirty-mile-an-hour iron justice.

[left]MAXWELL: “So, how’s your first act of vehicular heroism sitting with you? That was one hell of a move!”

TRENT: “Yeah man, shit was nuts. You just like, Tokyo drifted ‘round the corner outta nowhere and gunned it like a metal rhinoceros. That scumbag never saw a damn thing coming!”

JULIE: “Heheh… It sounds pretty awesome when you put it that way.”
JULIE: “It’s been sitting… not all that good, actually. It’s not even really sitting, it’s like… just kinda hovering its butt over the cushion, y’know?”
JULIE: “Like it wants to sit but can’t ‘cause it suspects someone put a whoopee cushion there?”

MAXWELL: “Anything we can do to ease that kiester into a seat?”

JULIE: “You can give me closure.”
JULIE: “Is he... Did I...”
JULIE: “... kill him?”

TRENT: “Nah, the bastard survived. He was so loaded up on charms and experimental chems it was a wonder you got the forks through him at all. The cops needed to saw through his ribcage to get him unstuck and he still wouldn’t die.”
TRENT: “Whatever, he’s a shoo-in for death row at this point. Deserves it too. Hope he chokes on his own vapors, the scum-suckin’ - ”

MAXWELL: “Whoooaaa man, slow up on the grit, yeah?”

TRENT: “What?”

MAXWELL: “Let’s be considerate about this kind of thing. Julie’s been a Flipsider for barely half a day. Obviously she’s still gonna have Mundane reservations about death.”
MAXWELL: “I’d rather her not get the impression that we revel in carnage like sadistic animals.”

LUCA: “Speak for yourself, Princess.”

JULIE: “No no, it’s fine, Max. I think I needed to hear that.”
JULIE: “You guys coulda got hurt. I don’t care how many creepy warlock bones had to break to prevent that from happening. And… yeah, if the magical feds wanna put him through a noose, I guess he’s getting what’s coming to him… I just didn’t want to live the rest of my life as his executioner. I don’t want to be anyone’s executioner. Besides, I’m not qualified… I don’t think.”
JULIE: “Phew… Not a murderer… not a murderer…”

MUSTAFA: “Mother’s mandible, why is moulting always such a sore subject on this planet?”

JULIE: “... Huh?”

LUCA: “Snort.”

MAXWELL: “Moose, c’mon, I just said...”

MUSTAFA: “Fine. Since no one else in this room has the pumps to do it, I will be the one to put an end to these delusions before our dear friend winds up headless.”
MUSTAFA: “Julie, take it from someone who was once in your position. You are, and forever will be, a good person. That your heart urges you not to kill is truly wonderful, enviable even. That, given the choice, you would spare even the most reprehensible of people is a trait worthy of the highest praise. But that, my friend, is your greatest illusion.”
MUSTAFA: “You are being hunted by monsters. Not ‘people.’ Monsters. Remorseless creatures with black, empty hearts who will do anything in the name of greed. They do not know mercy, they do not know shame, and they will try to strangle you with every olive branch you offer them. If you are to survive in this world, you must realize this unfortunate truth.”
MUSTAFA: “Kindness is a powerful weapon. Like all weapons, it can and will be turned against you.”
MUSTAFA: “... That is all I wanted to say. Sorry.”

MAXWELL: “... God damn it, Moose...”[/left]

---

The room is dead quiet, and everyone’s feeling the awkwardness. Max pinches his brow in frustration. Mustafa stares pensively into the middle-distance. Trent fidgets nervously while looking around for something to change the subject. Luca’s messing with her phone, but even she has to clear her throat just to break the silence.

You’ve never heard Mustafa talk that long or that emphatically about anything, and you’re starting to wish it’d stayed that way. He’s the gentlest giant you’ve ever met, yet here he is encouraging you to kill-or-be-killed. It’s jarring. Uncomfortable. You’ve always known him as this super-nice, older foreign guy, but he’s like… maybe a wanted refugee or something? From space? Is this just how it’s going to be with everyone? Your face screws up as your headache pounds.

Luckily, Trent’s lack of an attention span swoops in to save the day before anxiety has the chance to rear its ugly mug.

---

[left]TRENT: “Yooo, where’d you get that mess!?”

MUSTAFA: “Is that Himmelsdraaft? Brings back memories…”

MAXWELL: “Yeah, actually, where’d that come from Jules? A bottle that size is worth more than this entire building.”

JULIE: “A big armored guy named Vermillion threw it at me.”

MAXWELL: “Oh, that’s right! You’re a real big shot now, having all these important meetings with important people! How’d that go?”

JULIE: “Coulda gone worse! I ended up attending this thing called - ”
JULIE: “... Hey! I didn’t say you guys could open that!”

LUCA: “Trust me, you woulda got nowhere tryna drink this alone.”

TRENT: “Yeah. ‘Sides, what kind of monster keeps something this bougie out in the open and doesn’t share it?”

LUCA: “Someone order pizza. With sides. We’re getting through this bottle tonight.”

TRENT: “Nice. Got any coupons, old man?”

MUSTAFA: “Such irresponsibility from all of you. Pizza should be the least of our worries...”
MUSTAFA: “It’s the breadsticks I don’t have coupons for. Hold on, let me check my wallet...”

JULIE: “... Maxwell, I’m lost.”

MAXWELL: “Can’t see how. They always get like this around booze. You know that.”

JULIE: “Heh. Yeah.”[/left]

>Trust your friends, they're still the same people.

They sure are. Just with more bits and bobs stuck to them. And a little morbid, compared to what you’re used to. Also super powers. Can’t forget those super powers.

Mustafa’s face comes apart at the seams every so often. He has to fix his moustache whenever that happens. You hope he doesn’t do that thing he did back at Grosvenor with the neck and the spiny bits. That was pretty gross.

Now that you can get a good look at him, Trent’s got a few physical eccentricities as well. Sprigs of vegetation peek out from his bushy head of red hair, and his freckles shine in direct light.

Maxwell and Luca haven’t changed, though Maxwell’s even prettier today than he usually is. You pretend not to notice.

There’s no way Mustafa’s human. The rest… you’re not sure. Think it’d be rude to ask?

---

Maxwell, Mustafa, Trent and Luca... What are they? Feel free to make a Suggestion! Make something up, or, failing that, borrow something from mythology or published fiction. The setting is flexible.

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995 Influence

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