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( closed )
Who: Yusuke Kitagawa (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tricksune) and co.
What: general catch-all, currently custom prompts only, but feel free to pm me if you'd like me to write you one!
When: march, possibly april
Where: various
Warning(s): will warn in threads
tricksune) and co.What: general catch-all, currently custom prompts only, but feel free to pm me if you'd like me to write you one!
When: march, possibly april
Where: various
Warning(s): will warn in threads
/closed to boxer
But there's still so much happening, and it's easy to tune into the buzz of activity and out of his own head; he barely notices when Boxer actually shows up, busy applying a cold compress to some poor sap's burns, Goemon barely a shimmer behind him. His persona dismisses itself entirely when he blinks up through his mask and spots a familiar, teal sword sticking out like a sore thumb. ...He actually showed. ]
—Boxer.
[ He calls out to him, not too loudly, hallways carrying enough reverb that shouting is a headache. Getting to his feet, he excuses himself quietly from his charge, filling in beside Boxer instead, wasting no time. ]
He... [ His mouth twists subtly. ] The body.
[ He's supposed to get him to Sanctuary, but as it stands, Richie lays peaceably in the shadow of a small alcove, not far from the lab doors. Out of the way, out of sight. Back turned so he might just be recovering from a bender gone too far, sleeping it off. ] It's over here.
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Doesn't take long in the recovery zone for what's happened here to settle in with grim finality. (What happened to Cloudbank was horrific but it was clean, broken down into component parts and blank slates, emptiness and quiet. This is bloody and burning and still, even in the recovery, chaotic and aching.)
Catching sight of Yusuke in one piece, even after getting in touch, is a hell of a relief. On his feet and making himself useful to boot. Kind of puts a lot of the adults around here to shame. Himself included, maybe. Probably.
He catches up, and Yusuke points out the body in the corner. Familiar and still and shadowed. He takes a breath. More for the psychological benefits of it than anything practical. Okay.]
Okay. Yeah, I see. Sorry I didn't get here sooner.
[Though the matter of Richie's slotted down to second place, at the moment. He has one hand occupied with keeping the Transistor propped up against a shoulder, as usual. (All glowstick albatross, so constant when he's on his feet that he's almost gotten a little too used to the weight of it.) But the other catches carefully at Yusuke's shoulder to pull them to a stop. Just out of reach of the alcove so he can turn to try and get a better look at the kid through that mask.]
...Take it from me, he's not in a hurry. [Not dismissively, really, and not unkindly. But lets be real. Richie's body can wait a few more minutes if they need it. (He'd know.) Carefully casual, if even-tempered. A little bit wry. Maybe too much for the circumstances. But we all have our coping mechanisms. Then, to the point—] Sure you don't want to sit this out?
[Just because Yusuke's apparently got the steam for the extra mile doesn't mean he has to force himself through it. He doesn't want that. He doesn't think Richie would, either.]
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If anything, Boxer must've headed over straightaway. There were probably more urgent needs to tend to, but for all his relative composure, Yusuke can't totally think straight. He can't leave Richie there. It's not driven by any logical argument, but the issue's rolled through his thoughts so many times over it's compressed to a point, a fixation: he has to do this. He'd lost control of his death—what would happen if he let this get away from him, too? Richie may not be in a rush, his spirit already galloped off to wherever it's meant to go, but the same can't be said for him.
So as nice as it'd be to crumple under the offer, he gives it a slight squeeze instead, more reassuring than warm, responding politely. ]
I don't mind. [ He trails for a moment, then, ] Or rather... I won't relent on this. But thank you.
[ There's no point in losing his head in all this. He'd asked him here, and despite his unfaltering cool, Richie was no stranger to Boxer; he wasn't going to foist this whole thing onto someone who's just lost a friend. ]
Besides, he's very frail. [ ...It was like his skin was barely tethered to the muscle anymore. ] You may need the extra hand.
[ He's grateful his mask leaves his expression hooded, because he grimaces at the thought. For all his conviction, there's a moment spent in lost wavering as he slips away, drifting forward towards Richie aimlessly. ]
Though I'm not sure where to begin...
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Wish I could say I didn't know the feeling.
[His experience with this sort of thing mostly involves being left with no time for anything but leaving the remains behind to be Processed away for good. No time to spare for the bodies, for the sake of those still living. Not exactly the same situation, now. But...better to be here than not, he figures. And better the two of them than no one at all. They'll figure something out.]
Lets see...
[He catches up to Yusuke in a few deliberate steps and crouches down in front of the body, bracing himself against the ground with the Transistor propped up beside him—suppressing the little flip of vertigo that comes with recognition, the fresh twist of horror as the gore-streaked face resolves into a friend. (Time for that later, he knows, when this is done and Yusuke's been looked after and no one else is at any more risk of joining ol' Rich in the Country. He takes a good look and it hurts, sure as shit. But he breathes it in and buries it deep.) Still, without looking away—quietly angry, edged with incredulity—]
...the hell did they do to 'im?
[Why? Never seen anything like it. He exhales, and seems to notice something. Or...the lack of it. Frowns, for a few seconds, gone quiet. Then, absently—]
No Trace... [Is he disappointed, or not? Would it help, to be able to speak to him one last time? A weak warbling echo of his old self, before he slots away for good? Maybe he'd hoped, at least. for a few last words. To better understand what the hell had happened, here. Or...for Yusuke's sake, if nothing else.] Guess he's too far gone.
that's a very rude icon for this ftr
He's not sure what Boxer's looking for—Richie's long gone without a trace, yes—but if nothing else, he gives him the moment to hurt. It'd taken him some time to recover his own footing, and it seems to slip again now that he's here, right in front of the body again.
But anger is something he can relate to, a fizzle of emotion that he hasn't afforded enough time between the grief and disbelief. There's a line of tension threaded through his response as he shifts his weight, eyes narrowed slightly. ]
They were tortured.
[ Yusuke finally closes the distance for himself too, crouching and gingerly reaching out to touch the crook of his elbow, like it might scald him. On the contrary, it's not warm at all. ]
Even the survivors are battered... it's unthinkable.
[ Unjust and unkind and utterly despicable. To use people like this—he'd thought he knew human cruelty back home, but it always goes so above and beyond his expectations. His expression hardens with scorn; better anger than inaction. (Though it stings still to say survivors, somehow callous to the body in front of them right this instant.) ]
Something to be dealt with later.
[ Retribution could wait. After a pause, he tries to squirm a hand under Richie's shoulder, slowly so the skin might not rupture. ] Mind his head.
my range is very limited, I gotta work with what I can
(Some fringe group, hunting people down to take their lives and use them for their own ends. For....what? The good of the city? Feels ironically familiar, in a way, once that part comes to light. Life's funny, that way.)
But...one thing at a time. No real chiding, yet, despite the sharpish studying look leveled Yusuke's way for the news, and the declaration, and everything that comes with it. (One thing at a time.) Still, carefully—]
Whole city's wise to them, now. [Ought to help this from happening again. Or...well. Here's hoping, anyway.] Ought to slow 'em down a little.
[He leaves the Transistor leaning against the wall and moves to counterbalance as Yusuke carefully shifts the body. Hesitating only briefly when the state of the body protests the treatment. Rich isn't (wasn't) too big a guy, even when he was at his best and better at keeping all in one piece. Yusuke—though wiry—is tougher than he looks. So, between the two of them, it shouldn't be too hard to get him up and out to somewhere a little more dignified than collapsed in a corner. Figure it out from there.]
On three.
One—
[Two—]
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So, they do what they can, where they can. He shoots the same sort of look back, almost severe in its determination to get to the next step, whatever that may be. He can't say what that is, but it can't be enough of a roadblock to lose traction completely. They have to get through this day to the next, somehow.
One. Two.
—A few things happen on three. They manage to hoist up Richie's body. Yusuke feels his skin twist off his muscle, ripping under his hands.
And then, all at once, it vanishes. The corpse evaporates out of his hold wholly and completely before he can even fumble to catch it, because there was nothing to drop in the first place. The sudden disappearance has him stepping back, inertia threatening to tip him over now that nothing's weighing him down.
He keeps his balance, but his composure wipes blank. He stares at the whole lot of nothing between them for a long, long time before his gaze wobbles up to Boxer instead.
What? ]
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Knocked for a loop and suddenly relieved of Richie's weight, he rocks himself back into balance. ...physically, anyway. Just about everything else takes a little longer to adjust. Kneejerking opposite Yusuke, he lifts his head for a look around instead of down—as if expecting the body to materialize in eyeshot, or something. Then, once that impulse has passed, to see if anyone else is as surprised by this turn of events as they are.
But the locals in the background don't seem to have noticed this disappearing act at all. Going about their business without a blink.]
Um.
[So much for staying rational. As Yusuke recovers, he holds his hands up, palm out, as if in surrender, or demonstration. (Nothing up my sleeve...) Or, maybe, for the sight of the blood spotted on his fingers, soaked into the wraps on his hands, as if to prove there'd really been a body there to begin with. (There was, of course there was. There are smears of blood and worse still there to tell the story. But...nothing else. No Trace. No neat nightmare pile of Processed white blocks. No body.)
Wasn't his doing. (So what—) Dumbly, he shakes his head.]
...I got nothin'.
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He looks over Boxer's hands, staring hard into his empty palms and the dots of dark red seeped here and there, same as his. From the blankness in his expression, it's clear Yusuke has absolutely nothing to offer either.
After a few dumbfounded seconds, he lets his hands drop to his sides, shaking his head. ]
...Me neither.
[ Maybe it's the straw that breaks the camel's back, but he laughs softly, cracked. A mirthless smile curls under the lip of his mask, hugely resigned. ]
Are we losing our minds, Boxer?
[ The day had gone from harrowing, to gut-wrenching tragedy, and now to something downright surreal, the sheer amount that's out of their hands beginning to reach a boiling point. ]
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Uneasy, he drops his palms and shifts on the spot and mirrors Yusuke's tight smile, breathes out in a grim little huff. Short and subdued.]
Good company, at least. If you are, then so am I.
[Wouldn't be the first time this place made with the illusions and hallucinations and whatnot. At this point...nothing to do but roll with the punches.
(Though now, with the shock fading and the immediate confusion settled down, he's got to wonder. It feels at least a little like the teleport tech the Orbiters use to get them from point a to point b. Even if it is...what for? Covering their tracks?)
Mystery that it is, it's honestly fallen quite a few rungs down the matter of priority, right now. Richie's up and gone, however it happened, but Yusuke's not. Kid's a real mess. Rather than spend more time grasping at straws, twisting themselves into knots about what they can't change and won't make sense of, here— Boxer claps him carefully on the shoulder again and cants his head back the way they came.]
How about we get you cleaned up a little? See if things don't start making a little more sense.
[Get him off his feet and away from the boiling point for a minute. He won't insist Yusuke leaves the cleanup efforts here and now—even if he's not far from suggesting it, anyway. But if nothing else, the kid needs a sit down and a second to process. Maybe a little of the first aid they're passing around for good measure.]