Description: It's just another day at Abigail's garage - hard work and play in equal measure. Little does he realize that his afternoon is about to be ruined by a little bit of Chaos.
He's not needed at the UN. Roxy, J, and other employee types are probably either at their homes are elsewhere in the sprawling garage and scrap yard if they hang out or even live here. The repair and modding shop is closed and as such he's finally got time to himself for once. So it's time for one of Abigail's favorite hobby's.
Pretending to be a car!!
"Vrrooooom,vrooooom!!!" his deep voice bellows as the ground itself shakes and shudders from his steps, minature earthquakes probably setting off seismometers elsewhere in Metro City and triggering local 'It's Abigail' alarms from his trundling and lumbering. The superhuman hot rodder likely triggering alarms a few blocks away as he moves about in his own little world.
Though in truth he's more of a forklift then a car right now as he's emerges from the back of the scrap yard into the neon sign lit front of the garage..carrying what appears to be a stacked pile of scrapped and wrecked cars and vans in a feat of superhuman strength that would cause the average Andore to cringe. The metal groans and compresses like tissue in the grasp of his monstrous arms as he reaches a large open space near a huge pile of tires and bellows out "Rrrrttttt!" whilst bringing his colossal body to a stop. He then begins rumbling, "Beep! Beep!" as he backs up several paces..and then drops the towering stack of motor vechicles with a loud KATOOOM that bounces the entire area and all loose material nearby up several meters and back down again.
Abigail dusts his hands off and just grins, apparently ready to get to work. It's really about the finer things in life.."Ha ha ha!!"
A strangely familiar noise comes drifting through the air only a few short moments after Abigail brings his car-play to a cease, turning his attention instead to tinkering rather than pretending. At first it is little more than a distant sputter, a faint whisper on the wind that he might well not take any notice of amidst the background noise of his workshop. However as the seconds tick by the ghostly sound slowly grows in strength becoming at first a haunting echo of his own pretend cars noises, as if heard down a long and empty tunnel, before blossoming into a full-on imitation.
"Vrrrrrooooom, vrroooooom, vroom, vroom!"
As the source of the noise draws ever closer, its approach now abundantly clear, it becomes possible to distinguish slight differences in these noises from his own. Their creator has a higher-pitched voice than him and the tempo of the engine seems to be off, mimicking something other than the high-octane power-houses that are often found in the large trucks that he loves so much. However, his vast knowledge on such things would certainly allow him to notice the distinct patterns being presented here for what they are - a classic Harley Davidson chopper!
It isn't long before the owner of this magnificent vehicle comes careening into view. There is a flash of sleek metal and hot rubber that is quickly obscured by a billowing cloud of dust as the rider skids to a sudden halt outside the open bay of his garage, the sound of crunching gravel accompanied by an alto imitation of his own mimicry of tire rubber grinding on pavement.
The cloud of dust lingers in the air dramatically for several long moments before finally settling down enough to give anyone who happens to be looking a good view of their visitor. A young girl, clearly still in her teens, sit atop a sleek bike. Despite it being well past Halloween, she looks like something that emerged when a fantasy convention collided with a horror movie, decked out in a dull orange pointy hat and an outfit covered with enough spikes and belts to give any goth a case of jealousy. Oh, and she has four arms.
Upon closer inspection, the girl's hot ride proves to be little more than a high-class sports bicycle. It too shares her fashion sense, covered in skulls, leather, and iron spikes in equal measure. It's obvious lack of an engine, however, means that those noises were clearly added by the girl herself. Kicking the parking stand down with a sharp snap of her foot, which is completely bare and covered with something that looks like it might be tar or soot. Her toenails are a bit on the...talony side too. Swinging off her bike with an energetic hop, the girl drops onto the ground and turns to throw her arms wide towards the garage, her heavily outlined eyes wide and eager.
"Fear not, noble automobile! I COME IN PEACE! Ha...! Hahaha!"
The colossus is busy reaching for his welding mask when the first bit of distant vrooming reaches his ears. At first his expression is neutral with his eyes squinting and his lips pursing in thought...but it doesn't take long for him to place that sound and his face lights up in delight and expectation. "..A modded Big-V Twin 88B???" he ponders while spinning a gigantic wrench around his fingers with surprising dexterity and speed considering the fact that his fingers are as big as tree branches. "Hmm..no.." he rumbles after some consideration. He then just looks confused and turns just in time to see the approaching storm of dust and flash of metal and rubber erupt into view infront of his scrap yard.
The dust cloud comes billowing forth, briefly rolling over the gigantic mans frame until a snort of his nostrils and then a sudden rippling flex of his gargantuan physique seems to emit a blast force that contributes to its rapid dispersion. "Hey!" he begins to rumble..only to suddenly pause and let his shoulders slump as he takes in the sight before him.
Truthfully....he's not sure what he is looking at. His mouth drops open slightly as he stares at the..uh..girl..and her bike. Grey eyes squint under the heavy makeup around his brow and he blinks in open confusion. "What th'.. Who th'....How th'.."
There is a long pause and then the behemoth just lets out a confused, "Hruurhh??"
Sorcha's multi-colored gaze shifts from the building itself to the towering pile of muscle with a face - a face that currently has a very amusing expression. The girl leans forward and dashes in a flat out run towards Abigail, scampering across the clutter of the garage like some kind of mutant monkey that studied parkour in its free time. She does slow down even an iota, running face-first into the tree-trunk of the large man's leg and, like she did with the workbenches and half-built cars, simply turns her forward motion into upwards motion until she is hanging from the front of his shirt like a cat that has climbed the drapes and suddenly finds itself stuck, claws tangled in the fabric.
"HELLO NEW FRIEND!"
The voice that comes spilling out of the girl's face is hard to describe in any one way. It is at once both ear-piercingly shrill, like nails on a chalkboard, yet also gravelly and rough, as if rocks were being tumbled about in a bucket. The two discordants sounds blend together into a truly turbulent noise that seems intentionally designed to be as annoying and intolerable as possible. And loud, she is very loud.
Lifting her two uppermost arms towards Abigail's face, she grabs him by the cheeks and leans in close, grinning like a madwoman behind the heavy scarf that covers the lower half of her face, but the delight in her eyes, both the regular-looking brown one and totally not regular ominously glowing red one. She uses her lower arms to retain her grip on his shirt, planting her feet on his stomach for good measure.
"I heard from a very reliable source that there I can get some sick accessories for my ride here! Showmeshowmeshowme!"
He may literally be the size of an entire jungle gym..but he's actually not a jungle gym and he certainly doesn't appreciate being treated like one! It seems that he doesn't have much choice though as before he knows it, Sorcha's face is filling up his entire vision and in turn Abigail's confused metal-head pit bull like visage is swamping her view point with his eyes wide open and expression contorted into one that is rapidly changing from confused to a mixture of confusion and bubbling annoyance.
A massive shadow engulfs Sorcha's body as behind her, Abigail's immense hand lifts up, fingers spreading wide like the opening legs of some sort of monstrous japanese spider crab and huge palm descending down towards her body with full on intention to envelop her torso and pull to get her free fro him.
"Gaaahhh! Get offa me! What do I look like, a play set! Offoffoff!! What're you, some nutty Darkstalker!?"
Either unaware of the impending approach of Abigail's giant mitt or uncaring about it, Sorcha remains firmly up in his grill until said hand wraps around her twiggy torso with ease. The girl puts up no real resistance to being pried away other than refusing to uncurl her clawed fingers so that when she is removed several chunks of the large man's shirt come with her, puncuated by a telling 'riiiiiiip' sound.
The witchy teenager cackles noisily at this, unconcerned that she's pretty much entirely at his mercy since he's literally got her in his hands and she looks way less durable than the small mountain of cars he was carting around earlier. She throws the shredded bits of shirt up into the air causing them to rain down around the room like confetti.
"HahaHaha! Can't tell me what to do, you're not my /dad/!"
Throwing all four of her arms up into the air, Sorcha's body suddenly becomes very slippery and she slides right out of Abigail's grip as if covered in motor oil, dropping onto the floor. She hops up into the air to snatch her hat, which was too large to fit through the chubby fingers, and plop it back on her head, then immediately scampers off deeper into the garage, laughing madly.
"Where's the stuff?! The bits are MINE! Want it, need it, getitgetitgeit!"
So Abigail is shirtless now. HE HUGE. This also means that the sight of his of huge body trembling, quaking and rocking in an epic version of Fred Sanford's oncoming heart attacks is like watching a series of continental plates slamming together under his skin. It'd be impressive looking if it weren't for the fact that in his face he looks like he's about to die. He sputters, stutters and then suddenly bellows out a roaring "JJJJJJ!!!! ROXY!!!! TWO-P!!!!" that literally causes nearby warehouse windows to explode from the force and sends his deep bass voice rocketing up and down the entire Bay Area district with the very ground shaking to accompany his bellow.
..There is, of course, no answer. The three are long gone, conveniently , as if having some premonition this was going to happen. Abigail also forgot he said they could borrow his monster truck. Just wait till he see's that's also gone.
And so when no answer is forthcoming, the titan turns and starts stalking back into the garage after the spider girl. "Get back out here!" he roars, ducking his head to get in and then spreading back to his full height as he looks around desperately for her.
As to the interior..it is massive. All sorts of machinary, fork lifts, cranes, compactors, shredders, magnetic lifts, junker machines, tractors, i-beams and other assorted massive pieces of equipment and scattered bits of all sorts of automobiles can be found and that's not to mention the scrap yard beyond which contains towering piles of the stuff. It's a certifiable wonder land for any mischief maker.
Mischief-maker? Abigail would get down on his knees and thank the gods for his luck if he had been graced with the fortune to be harassed by a mere prankster set on harassing him for some mild amusement. What he's got running loose in his precious garage is far, FAR worse.
Chaos has turned its wandering gaze upon him and sent its avatar.
Despite her short little legs, the mutant girl proves to be incredibly fast and agile as she tears about the place, richocheting from one place to the next like a frictionless pingpong ball. She scampers over machinery and under cars, seemingly attracted like a moth to flame towards every button and lever in the place that does something incredibly bad when fiddled with.
"Oh, what's this one do?!"
The sound of grinding metal and gears fills the air as something jams while Sorcha maniacly wiggles a toggle back and forth for a few seconds before getting bored and moving on to a large panel. Her eyes sparkle with delight at the plethora of options laid out before her, reaching up with all four of her arms to wail away at them as if playing some insane tune upon the various buttons that only she can hear.
"Hey! Watchwatchwatch!... it broke. KyaHahaha!"
"NOOOOO!" roars Abigail, his body literally turning red. His muscles literally enlarge, ballooning his physique bigger and bigger and steam rises from his body as his temparture reaches levels capable of frying eggs. But this is nothing he can simply crush and be done with. Not with sparks flying, warning beeps resounding, alarms blaring and the sound of equipment of jamming and crushing itself wildly as things not meant to be turned on are cranked up to the 11th and then beyond.
He stands there, both hands on his head as chaos incarnate races back and forth far faster then his reflexes will allow for and if to much more time passes the damage done could be irreparable.
But Abigail is at times under estimated where wits and thinking are concerned. He woudn't have gotten this far as company president if there wasn't some sense for these things and some capability at running a show and earning the nickname 'chief' for more reason then simply being bigger then just about everybody on the planet. He eventually..thinks and then rapidly makes his way with the fanfare of a thundering bull elephant, down the garage towards the location of the master switch box.
"ENOUGH!" he thunders , ripping the box door off and then reaching in and rapidly flippling switch after switch after switch. Breaking some in the process and then finally grabbing 'The Big One' and pulling that with a flare of sparks flying, lights flickering, machines dying down..and then darkness save for the moonlight from outside. A final grinding of gears breaking and metal whining resounds and then silence.
That merciful silence lasts all of two micro-seconds.
"Awwww! YOU BROKE IT!"
The chaotic terror lets out a very teenage whine from somewhere in the darkness. Soon after the sound of her feet scuffing on the concrete begins to echo through the now powerless and almost completely dark garage, interrupted occassionaly by the sound of loud crashes as the contents of shelves and boxes are upended in her wake.
"Need some of this... and one of those! Don't forget that! SHUT UP, I KNOW HOW TO DO IT!"
The parade of disturbing sounds continues unabated for almost half a minute. Impossibly, the noise of a power rachet being used to bolt something into place fills the air momentarily, but after a couple of repetitions it becomes clear that it's actually just the girl making the noise as she fiddles with whatever it is she's meddling with.
Eventually, the fake tools are stowed away and the little pest skitters closer, her softly glowing eye suddenly coming into view off to his side. The girl steps into the moonlight and presents the object that she's made with random bits of his stuff, some sort of canister with a tube and a nozzle and...
Black fire erupts into being around one of Sorcha's many hands and she grins yet again behind her scarf, eyes literally twinkling with mischief. She twists a value on the contraption and moves the arcane fire infront of the nozzle causing a terrible burst of acrid heat to fill the room as it flares up into a the largest butane lighter he's probably ever seen. Probably the only one powered by Chaos Magick! (tm) too.
"I made this for yooou~!"
Oh boy. Abigail's eyes widen as the arcane flame bursts to life and casts strange dancing shadows across the broken equipment and smouldering gears of his warehouse. He grimaces and then suddenly the grimace slowly turns into a villainous grin. "Oh no you don't.." he rumbles before turning and stalking for the entrance to the warehouse and the outside that lies beyond.
"Yeah?? Well why don't you come bring it to me..and then you can watch as I demolish your precious brike and crush it like a tin can!" His pace picks up now, a heavy thudding occuring as his feet begin moving into a slow jog while his deep voice rumbles, "Brrrrrrrooom! Vrooom!!" as he charges for the outdoor. His head warps the garage door, crushing through it on his way out. "I'll make it my own personal paper weight!"
Sorcha wields the giant blowtorch that she somehow MacGuyver'd together completely in the dark triumphantly, waving it back and forth while continuing to cackle in that ear-rending voice of hers. That is until Abigail decides to cheat and change the rules!
That's not the game they're playing! She's breaking /his/ stuff, not the other way around!
"Hold it! Time out! Unsportsmanlike conduct! Ten-yard penalty and DEEEATH!"
Discarding the lighter over her shoulder carelessly, the teenager scampers after Abigail, catching up with him easily enough. She throws herself at the lumbering giant's leg, wrapping onto his ankle in an attempt to slow him down. Naturally, this does very little as she weighs about as much as a wet towel and has strength roughly matching that as well, despite her multitude of extra limbs.
So she resorts to Plan B: Operation Go For the Ankles!
Pulling her scarf away, Sorcha finally unveils the part of her face that had been hidden underneath, which proves to be a pretty normal teenage girl's jaw - until she opens said jaw and reveals a set of teeth that any shark would be proud of.
Indeed impressive.. perhaps even terrifying! Frightening even! But now she's trying to use said teeth to bite into the flesh of a man that takes cars and compacts them between his hands like balls of aluminion foil and who takes hits,, without moving, that would make a run away semi truck flinch and back off. Damage and damage resistance is Abigail-Territory baby, and here he is Chief. The bite gnaws at his ankle trying to dig into flesh that's resisted katana's and pipes wielded by some of the world's strongest and he bears down on the bike like some sort of incoming boulder.
"What's that supposed to do??" he taunts, "Scratch an itch?!? You got to the count of three to get off my leg and take it down a notch or I'm turning your bike into a slinky! Three!!!"
" his huge hands tense, knuckles cracking with a sound like tree trunks splintering and boulders breaking. He swings and swells his massive arms to the side and then reaches hands down for the bike, stretching his arms out so that he's grasping for either side of the thing with intention of treating it like an accordion, "TWO!". His mammoth fingers start to curl in as he brings his arms down to do the deed.. "O--"
Sorcha goes to town on the meaty ankle like a dog with a bone but, for once, her twisted mutations prove ineffective! Usually just seeing her chompers is enough to get most people's attention, much less having pieces of their anatomy gnawed on, but her chosen target is either incredibly resilient or has grown to large that it takes longer than usual for the signals to travel from his feet to his brain. Kinda like a dinosaur. Does that mean has has a brain in his butt too? Just incase, she keeps chewing away until Abigail comes to a stop infront of the bike, reaching down to smash her precious creation with those oversized hands of his.
Seeing that she cannot win this round in such a fashion, the young girl decides to rely upon yet another useful trick - crocodile tears! Dislodging herself from the giant's leg, she scampers between his feet and wraps herself around the bike protectively, hanging from it's side like some kind of spider despite the imminent crushing.
"Nooooo-ho-ho-ho!", she sobs dramatically, giving Abigail big tearful puppy eyes. " I /hate/ slinkieeees! They're so la-ha-ha-meeee!"
"Grrrnnnn.." rumbles Abigail, frustration and fury practically boiling out of him like a cauldron set to blow. His huge hands spasm, lingering on either side of the bike as if both it and the chaos bringer were sitting in the middle of a trash compactor just waiting for that on button to be switched.
But he holds. He can't bring himself to just squash her and the bike like a bug just yet. Not without screaming at her a little more at least. That will help some.
"Look at what you've done with my place! It could take -weeks- to get all of that repaired and re modded!!" he thunders at her, booming voice loud enough to shake the earth and the force of it enough to cause her clothes and hair to flap around wildly from the blast of wind expelling from his immense lungs. "And that was my favorite shirt! You think tank tops this big grow on trees! I'll have to borrow one from the Andores and they're to small!!"
That bit of nonsensical fury aside he just glares at her and then finally straightens back up though he pauses long enough to reach down to rub his leg where the gnawing was happening. Damn girl.
"Dammit..what you do -want-? I can't mod your stupid bike if my place is a wreck! How're you gonna pay me back for this??"
Sorcha's miserable melodramatic performance lasts only until the immediate threat is gone, after which she lets go of the bike and flops onto the ground, pushing back to her feet with a fresh hop of enthusiasm. His thundering yell causes her to reach up and hold the pointy hat in place as her hair and clothes flap about wildly but his outrage seems to fall on deaf ears judging by the goofy grin she's sporting the whole time, her lips peeled back to reveal the zipper-like triangles of her interlocked teeth.
When he finally stops ranting and gets around to asking what she wants, the girl's grin only widens further, creepily seeming to stretch her mouth far wider than should be natural.
"What do I want? Hahaha?! Simple! Disorder! Entropy! CHAOOOS!"
The little mutant throws her arms apart as she tilts her head back in maniacal laughter as if to embrace the universe itself within those spindly limbs. Her crazed antics stop almost as soon as they began, however, and she suddenly sports a rather normal expression as she makes little gestures with her hands.
"Also, maybe a customized frame cage or some blinged out hubcaps. Do you have 700Bs?"
"700b's? On this?" Abigail looks down at her bike again. His expression remains displeased. A perpetual scowl as he continues to run the figures in the back of his mind on just how he's going to afford the repairs he undoubtedly needs throughout the entire garage. After a moment though, he becomes more neutral as he considers what it would take to hook her up. "Well yeah I do...and I can do a custom frame cage that'll---wuh--buh--wait a second!"
He shakes his head furiously, his jowls rippling back and forth on his broad features bull dog like until he finally snaps himself back to reality.
"You can't just get out of paying me -back- for the damage you've done here! No deal! I aint modding nothing until you figure out how you're going to get my stuff fixed! You can't just go running around causing chaos in folks place of bizness? I got books to balance!"
He glares furiously at her now, nostrils flaring like some exhausted beast of burden, "All you psychopaths running around out there.. How's you causing chaos gonna get me my money?" he jabs a finger at his massive chest, muscles bunching up with audible creaking sounds as the sinew pulls, hauls and thickens like the stretching of industrial leather. "I have to buy lots of food to feed this body!"
She can't? Huh, someone forgot to tell reality because it's precisely what she's been doing for quite some time now. Unless that voice in the back of her head that keeps telling her that nothing is real was right all along! IT ALL MAKES SENSE NO-wait, what were we talking about? Oh yeah, sweet bike accessories!
"Money? Hahaha! You want /money/?! Son, I got all the dollas! CASH FOR DAYS!"
Sorcha removes her hat and digs around inside of it for a moment, tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as if this simple act requires some sort of concentration. There is a lot of disturbing rattling and rustling sounds from within the cloth cone and even as he watches she leans forward driving her arm deeper and deeper into the mystical headwear until it has vanished completely up to the shoulder into a recepticle that can't be more than half its length. Eventually, she lets out a shrill, "Aha!" and draws her limb back from the cavernous maw and presents perhaps the fattest roll of greenbacks Abigail has ever seen. Well, they probably were green at one point, there's quite a few stains on them of questionable origin, some of which distinctly look like blood. Might be best not to ask.
"Remember kids, crime pays!"
"Uh." rumbles Abigail. "Uuuuh. Hrm. Huh." He takes the huge roll of bills, pinching it between his meaty fingers, and just sort of stares at it. There's blood on it. Okay then.
"....Alright fine, you win. I'll mod your stupid bike." He unrolls the bills and begins flipping through it, counting it up mentally and then muttering, "Crazy girl, why didn't you just pull this out in the first place! It's still gonna take me a bit. I gotta get some stuff fixed before I can do it..."
But all in all he seems satisfied. Suddenly he doesn't have a reason to be as angry as he was aside from the inconvenience. Money seems to be magical that way. This new reality almost annoys him even more but he ends up calming back down and just giving into the absurdity of it all.
Stuffing the money into his pockets he grumbles, "Bring the bike back in a couple of days and I'll hook it up. What else do you want on it. You got multiple arms, why not use 'em for something when riding! I don't even know what a darkstalker like you wants with a bike. I can't do nothing magical to it either so don't ask!"
Sorcha plops the hat back onto her head and pumps her arms in triumph, dancing around in a little circle as if a simple cash transaction were some kind of victory. Once more the power of money wins the day and all is right with the world. Capitalism, ho!
"I'm not a Darkstalker!"
She interjects in response to his words, having been called that more than once now. Honestly, how could a lovely young flower such as herself be mistaken for one of those gross monsters? The nerve!
"Those weirdos don't even live here and they smell funny! Call me Sorcha! Cuz, ya know, that's my name. AND NO YOU CAN'T HAVE IT!"
"You're...not?" Abigail blinks in confusion and then once again when Sorcha expresses protectiveness over her name.
"I don't want your name! I got a name! It's Abigail. See!?" He points towards the now dark sign which..is probably impossible to read as..oh yeah..the power is off.
"Ugh.." he rumbles, "The power." He points at Sorcha, "Come back later! I'm closed anyway. I'll mod your stupid bike when you come back and I've got my stuff fixed."
That said he turns and starts stalking towards the entrance to his garage once more, pausing only long enough to grab the remains of his tee shirt from a pile of tires. "Stupid..crazy...six armed...magic girl...biker.." he grunts as he steps off.
Sorcha, apparently pleased that her name is not in any danger, waves at him as he leaves with her twin pairs of arms.
"Kay, see ya Abby! You're a turbo sweetie! Hugs!!"
Ofcourse, with his back turned he probably doesn't notice when she unfolds all four of her hands to reveal the large bulging red eye protruding from the center of each palm. She brings all four of her hands up to rest against the side of her face, creating a freakish array of glowing eyes arranged around her wide-mouthed Cheshire Cat grin. The eyes all slowly rotate to follow the giant man as he wanders off, pulsing ominiously.
"I've got my eeeeeyes on you, hehehe...!"
Log created on 23:08:32 11/16/2017 by Sorcha, and last modified on 05:00:29 11/17/2017.