Description: What happens when you wake up after a beatdown that could have been your last? You hope to go somewhere a little safer, if your legs can carry you that far. Legs that can carry you away from things like angry children with fighting prowess... and legs that hope that that friendly guy with the mohawk has a car to cart you around in. No dice on his end. No dice on the kid's end to prove some immature point. No dice on the friendly mohawk man's personal quest.
Oh, man. His everything. Such is Howard's plight after coming to somewhere around here. A part of him believed he was good as dead in the hands of Ojike no Oni, but no, here he is... looking all chewed up and beaten down. He didn't see Raizo when he came to. And now here he is, groaning and grumbling along the damaged Boardwalk of Sound Beach. The invading forces have already passed through once. They may be back again.
It's deathly quiet, as people have abandoned shop in this time of crisis here in the very early afternoon. The sky is appropriately overcast with the promise of rain in the near future. All the better in which to stumble along uninterrupted, the Pacific teacher figures. Ol' Rusty is already drawn, clutched tightly in his right hand as his only reassurance. That he still has his cellphone and wallet, somehow, doesn't improve his mood any. These people are dangerous.
So far, he is the only person he's aware of traversing this stretch of a once happy place through the daylight hours, now a ghost town of a beach tourist trap in itself.
He's not the only one on the stretch though. Considering how empty things are, and the problems in the rest of the city, this place might be one of the safer spots in the city for a fighter...which might be why Heavy D! seems to be hanging out here. He's not walking along, however, instead simply sitting against the railings of the board, dufflebag beside hm as he rubs at his eyes.
He's not sure where to go from here, at least as far as what he should be doing. Most of his attempts to get a lead on Brian haven't panned out exactly....
Chaos? Invasion? Ha! A certain young man doesn't seem to have noticed or at the very least showed much concern. Why? It's simple; Tyler just doesn't care. He doesn't know the full extent of this attack on Southtown. However, he isn't totally unaffected by it. The boy tries his best to avoid said conflicts while trying to go about his own life selfishly. That brings him to the Boardwalk, where it seems to be pretty destitute of the conflict that has been plaguing Southtown for a while now.
Currently, Tyler has his skateboard with him and he's rolling down the Boardwalk on it. His skateboard is black with red grip tape on the top and a red dragon on the underside with red wheels. He's cruising along as he performs an ollie and lands on a near by railing where he does a grind down along the top of it in HeavyD's direction where the man is leaning against said railings.
Howard's limping along continues pretty smoothly, for such a movement that is indicative of anything but. He grimaces and grunts every so often along the wooden path under his feet, dragging them along in a steady journey towards... well, somewhere that's not here. If the beach is clear, maybe he can make it back to Pacific. If it hasn't been overrun by now. Last he checked his cell, he hasn't any voice messages or anything. Maybe it's still safe. For a given value of safe. He strongly, strongly hopes it's safe.
Safer than... than some kid that skateboards not too far from him, making the older man flinch as he leans up against a stand for support, pointing Ol' Rusty out in the direction of the... no, just a kid, seems like it's just a kid, he shouldn't do that, he chides himself on the inside. Much like other things he shouldn't have ever done. Shouldn't have ever left Pacific. Shouldn't have taken his truck. Shouldn't have /left/ his truck near that place. Who knows what they would have done to it by now.
Just as he thinks it might be safe to just continue looking back the way he intends to slouch along comes the view of a very tall man leaning out over the railings. The same railings that kid is grinding down. He clears his throat best he's able in this situation to be a good samaritan. More than he accomplished with Raizo, he bitterly muses.
"Hey! Hey! Look out!" He calls, failing to work up enough to really specify who should be looking out for what as he guides his left hand across a booth counter to keep himself standing.
Heavy D! may seem to be out of it, but he's not completely unaware of the situation. He hears the scratch of skateboard deck on metal railings. He knows the sound well enough from home, even if the slums don't quite have so many skaters these days. Looking up, he sees Tyler coming by on his board, slowly leaning himself out of the way and getting off the railing as the skating kid passes by. "...nothing better to do around here?" he asks a little strangely as Tyler passes by.
It's kind of hard to not notice the young man as his skateboard trucks make an obtrusively loud metal against metal screeching sound as he grinds down the railings. He's well aware of HeavyD but someone shouts 'Look out!' and that actually draws the boy's attention like, WTF? Then TJ is like 'OMG' when he turns his attention back to HeavyD and he gets oftly damn close to the man as he passes by. He barely catches the man's fleeting words as he grinds down the railings a little ways further.
Tyler then ollies off the railings to land right infront of the other man that seems to have severe health issues. It might seem like he's going to fly right into Rust at first, but the boy grabs the front end of his skateboard with his hand and sticks a landing on his feet. "Whoa....", Tyler says while grinning cockily and running a hand through his hair,"That was a close one huh?" Tyler gives Howard a good look over for a moment and flatly states,"Dude, you look like you've been through hell." If that weren't blatently obvious, thanks TJ for pointing it out! NP!
Then Tyler looks back at the other guy that asked him if he had something better to do, he actually ignores the badly beaten Rust selfishly as he approaches HeavyD,"Yo dude, you say something?" It's like he already knows what HeavyD said, he just wants the man to repeat himself while he's standing there up in his face. Arched eyebrows, cocky attitude, oh, Tyler's definately asking for something... "Weeellll?"
That warning turns out a lot better than it did when Raizo was under attack by that... that guy was not a person. The Demon. Why's he even still alive after /that/, the teacher wonders. He sighs in the slightest relief of that, letting himself slouch all the more. Back to your pain stupor.
At least, until the sk8r boi looks like he's about to jump off and crash into the Pacific teacher! He leans his (sore) back against his present support and brings up his left forearm to take a hit that doesn't actually come, unable to tense his fist enough for the full effect of what he'd pull. His face is the perfect look of weary terror for that moment as Tyler makes that face he never really likes seeing. Those /grins/. Those people who come at you with those, those grins.
"Uh... yeah, yeah, I have been," he responds with a low, quiet tone as he lowers his forearm and winces. Ooh, ouch, son of a... yeah, he has been. If he were more alert, there'd be lecturing. There'd be yelling. There'd be... a lot more than what's here right now. That he can walk and get around respectably enough on his own two feet after that really says a lot about himself. But without that context of what left him like this, he's a pretty pathetic sight to behold. The combover, at least, hasn't gotten any worse. Thank the heavens for that.
As Tyler confronts Heavy D! in his own little way, the teacher tries to make up for lost ground. Once he can work out the kinks in his, well, everything. A couple of disconcerting joint pops follow as he takes another few new steps towards his uncertain destination of 'hopefully Pacific High.'
Heavy D! looks on as Tyler lands, nearly running into...someone else, apparently. Geez, more people on this boardwalk than have been for the last few days. Slowly, the boxer stands up looking at the student...and what looks like an older man who had been through hell. Slowly stretches his neck as he stands up, shaking his head. "Just wondering if you had anything better to do. From what I hear, the streets aren't exactly the safest place around right now," he says, sighing slightly, and then turning toward Rust. "...you look like you know pretty well first hand..."
The obnoxious student furrows his eyebrows as he's about to say something but before he can Heavy D! addresses the other man. That kind of throws the boy off balance momentarily before he raises his tone of voice at the man in a confrontational mannerism,"Yo man! Like I care if Southtown gets overrun by terrorists! I'm not afraid anyone, I can handle myself. Better believe it!" The young man looks back at the roughed up Rust and grins at them arrogantly, running a hand through his hair again. "Who cares bout that dude, I don't even know him," Tyler makes it sound like it matters that /he knows/ somebody. Tyler turns his attention back to Heavy D! again dropping his skateboard and throwing his arms out,"What? You're one to talk, old man. Shouldn't you be taking your daily nap right about now or something? Or maybe back at that old folks home watchin' your Soaps!"
How can anyone not know the streets aren't exactly the safest place around right now, in Heavy D!'s words? They're all over! Leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. Southtown is not a good place to be, but... you know, Mr. Rust thinks to himself, maybe it's good that kids can ignore all the shit that happens in the real world, just sticking with their friends, their hobbies... their own little reality of dreams. Man. Man oh man. What he wouldn't give to be young again.
His face, flushed with fatigue turns to irritation as Tyler regards him like somebody that doesn't matter. The hell, kid. He sighs and shakes his head. He probably wasn't too far from that when he was his age, come to think of it. But damn, kid, damn. He harrumphs as he tries to pull himself along.
"Yeah, uh... I just came from, from Gedo," he motions with Ol' Rusty towards some direction that is probably supposed to mean 'Gedo' but really points out towards the sea. Who knows how long he's been out? At least a night. Maybe more than a day? He doesn't know, that's how hard he got rocked. "Overrun. They... look, they aren't... they aren't taking prisoners. Even before I left, the radio... the radio was all about... explosions... injuries... they got a death toll running."
This recount of how shit got real (because this is some real shit right here) gets interrupted with a juicy cough.
Heavy D! frowns a bit. Sounds like a lot of the kids back home, honestly. Confident to the point of arrogance, but also kind of oblivious to how any kind of crisis or issue actually affects them. The kind of thing he kind of helps hammer out of them in the gym a lot of times. This isn't Metro unfortunately, and he doubts he has the time to teach the skate punk anything...not to mention he's not sure just how deep things run here yet, being only recently arrived.
Instead, D! turns to Rusty, blinking at the name 'Gedo'. "...I just ran into a big kid from Gedo who was guarding the northern road in. He said things were pretty ugly," he says....before gesturing to give an idea of just who the student might be. "Sumo kid, barrel around his waist..." He also frowns...'death toll'? Oh, christ.
"That sounds like the jolly green giant!" Tyler scoffs, shaking his head. "What an idiot..." He shakes his head and blurts out ignorantly,"Who cares? This town sucks anyways."
"I fought Gan, he's tough, but I'll find a way to kick his ass, yup I will." Tyler tilts his head to the side, giving Heavy D! a dirty look, "Dude, you can't just ignore me like that, I'll kick your ass!"
The shop teacher's head turns a little at mention about a big kid from--- okay, not Preston, whew, but who knows where that boy and his friends'll go. Have gone. Will be going? But any mention of the word 'kid' in regards to anything here is not a good sign. He shakes his head at Heavy D!'s gesturing. Hasn't seen anyone like that in person since he's gone around... but he's sure he's heard the name, what was it...
The revelation comes in after 'who cares,' that the youth is Gan... something or another, rumor has it he's almost a match for Haggar. This bit of info is almost passed up entirely from the absolute /nerve/ of it all. "Son. Hey. Son," the teacher sets Ol' Rusty against the counter he's using for support, leaning against it so he can shake with his left pointer finger appropriately. "While you're all, you're all... 'who cares,' that... that could've been your family. Your, your friends... don't /say/ that." He shakes his head, trying to put on a good stern face in between the aches that are a little too much ache for him to handle at present. "Don't... don't /ever/ say that about shit like this."
Heavy D! lets the older man take care of the chiding for the young punk. He just shakes his head. "Look...I have more important things to deal with than correcting a bad attitude," he says to Tyler, shaking his head and looking back over to Rusty, at least once the banged up man finally says his peace to Tyler.
"So how bad is it elsewhere?"
Tyler wrinkles his nose at Rust, giving the man a disgusted look as he responds,"Dude.... Dude. My mom is out of town and I've got no friends here. So I repeat; This place sucks!" Then the boy repeats the same facial expression at Heavy D!'s comment. Insulting him? That's it! "I'll show you attitude!" Tyler musters up a loogie in his throat ready to project said phlegm as his lips roll up into a circle and he turns to face Heavy D!
When asked by the heaviest D of them all, Mr. Rust sighs before sucking in a big breath to try and recount everything he's been through so far, scratching the side of his head with his left hand. How bad is it elsewhere...
"Well... the school I teach at, Pacific, 's... 's all holed up by now." He frowns, because dammit, he knows there are some kids from there that are running around town for whatever reason. "Before I went to Gedo, I got a call. That, that they were focusing on Gedo for some reason or another... I got Raizo to come with me, but... but, we didn't get in." His voice starts to trail off around 'we didn't get in,' at which point Tyler starts jabbering off. He holds up a finger to the larger, fitter, likely stronger boxer as he looks off to the side to eye the youth.
Why is he not surprised that he doesn't have any friends? Perhaps in vain, he tries to diffuse the situation as best as he can with a clearing of his throat as he adjusts his weight onto his less achy foot. "You need... look, you need to get home! I'm, I'm not lying. It's not a joke, it's not some... some god damn contest. The hell will your mom do when she, when she gets back and sees you dead?!"
He kind of wonders why his own dad hasn't tried to get in touch with him yet, this crap must be all over the international news by now.
Heavy D! just shakes his head at Tyler again. The loogie is....well, he doesn't care if the kid spits at him or not. More pressing matters again, and he's not willing to fight another kid for no reason. Gan, at the least, had the excuse of guarding the road in. Tyler just seems to be picking a fight.
Focus remains on the teacher, sighing. "...I'm supposed to be looking for someone around here. Someone who's...probably helping make things hell as it is, someone I used to consider a friend and a teammate. Until I can find him though...whatever there is to do....I mean, it feels like the crap back in Metro about two years ago."
COMBATSYS: Tyler has started a fight here.
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Tyler 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: HeavyD has joined the fight here.
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HeavyD 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Tyler
PPHFT! Then Tyler sharply turns and unleashes his phlegmy projectile at the teacher. Well, for one, the other guy didn't seem phased at all. Two, Tyler just doesn't like teachers at all. And well, this was a perfect opportunity.
"Shut the hell up! You ain't my boss! And I hope Gedo does get destroyed! I hate that lame school! I hope this whole town gets obliterated cause I don't like living here either! I wish I had never moved here in the first place!" Tyler shouts annoyedly as he picks up his skateboard then suddenly the boy twists his body, lifting that skateboard up just enough to try to whack Rust along side the head with it if he manages to catch the man offguard.
COMBATSYS: Rust has joined the fight here.
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HeavyD 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Tyler
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Rust 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Tyler's Random Weapon.
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HeavyD 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Tyler
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Rust 0/-------/-------|
The teacher listens to Heavy's words on why he's here. Yeah, they're both looking for someone. Except he himself is down a car and has no other lead as to where any of the missing kids might be other than 'Gedo,' but yet he can't trudge back that way. If Raizo, one of the greatest there's ever been, can't do it even with his help... was his help even worth much?
All of a sudden, a loogie ends up in Howard's eye! He utters a half-formed curse in surprise as his free hand tries to rub off whatever's gotten into it, his elbow creaking as though it didn't want to bend any further. "Agh! Hey, what was that..." He's cut off by Tyler's loud tirade, talking about how he's not 'his boss,' how he hopes Gedo gets destroyed, this whole town... believe it or not, if it weren't for the teacher rubbing his eye, he wouldn't have mustered any real speed in which to place said arm against the oncoming skateboard, which strikes into said forearm with enough strength that recently inflicted wounds just start stinging again.
"The hell are you hitting me for?!" The teacher exclaims, back bending painfully over the counter in which he is now not so much leaning against as he is pushed to, not moving his forearm from its defensive position even if he can't quite tense it as much as he'd like.
COMBATSYS: Rust takes no action.
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HeavyD 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Tyler
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Rust 0/-------/-------|
...oh, lord, what's this now? Talk about bad attitude. He had expected the loogie to come his way....so he's a bit surprised when Tyler suddenly spits it toward Rusty...and then tries to whack the poor man with a skateboard. "Hey, hold on here," he says, trying to mediate things...and when he sees that PROBABLY won't work...instead reaches to try and do something uncharacteristic for D!: use a wrestling hold. Oddly enough, something he learned from the old teammate he's looking for.
Trying to slip behind Tyler, the boxer quickly tries to loop his arms underneath the kid's arms...then put his hands behind TYler's head to hook on a full nelson, hoping to restrain the skateboard brat. Nothing terribly tight or meant to hurt seriously...but enough to at least keep the kid from trying to whack Rusty again with that board.
COMBATSYS: Tyler endures HeavyD's Quick Throw.
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HeavyD 0/-------/-------|===----\-------\0 Tyler
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Rust 0/-------/-------|
Tyler was about to try to whack Rusty again but that's when he gets restrained by Heavy D! in that full nelson. He drops his skateboard to the ground as he gets grabbed. Tyler squirms in Heavy D!'s grasp, kicking and shouting,"Let me go! I'm going to kick his butt!"
Then Tyler lifts his arms up and he tries to fall straight down in an attempt to slip out of the hold; He's pretty adept at wrestling, he's watched enough of it on TV that is! That's where he's learned a lot of his moves from none the less. As the young man tries to slip out he grabs hold of Heavy D! and pops his hips. He tugs at Heavy D! and tries to throw the man over his shoulder trying to give him The Old Heave-Ho... Nothing entirely fancy, just a simple hip-toss manuever.
COMBATSYS: HeavyD interrupts The Old Heave-Ho from Tyler with Quick Throw.
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HeavyD 0/-------/------=|======-\-------\0 Tyler
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Rust 0/-------/-------|
That was a bit surprising...but it's obvious D!'s not a slouch in that kind of situation, not to mention his strength advantage, enough to overcome Tyler's attempt to leverage him over. Grunting slightly, D! pulls back, keeping his full nelson hooked in on Tyler and keeping himself from being yanked over with that surprise hip toss. "Calm down, kid. I don't care your issues with your home town, but it's a different matter when people are actually dying."
If there's one thing Mr. Rust hates about Southtown, it's the hair trigger kids. The locales /and/ the students at the school he teaches at. Southtown is the fighting capital of the world. It's one of the reasons he was overjoyed to get a job over there. Now, after such a thorough beatdown which makes him question a lot of things about his choices coming here... this is probably one of the reasons why he is already considering that maybe, just maybe, he's not cut out for living here.
Heavy D!, the good man he is, tries to restrain the kid from doing any sort of further assault upon him. The man winces as Tyler squirms against D!'s hold and tries to hold out a hand to himself. "Whoa, whoa. Whoa! Whoa. H-Hey..." You know, he wonders on the inside, would he be this hesitant if he were in prime fighting condition? He groans at the thought, edging around what he's been using as a crutch for his balance. This is also because he was pretty sure Tyler was about to hurl that man over at him and he's... not quite confident about his ability to catch bodies that size flying at him right now.
Heavy D! more or less says his piece as his worry melts into a passively grim look on his face. Ol' Rusty is still drawn, but not held in a position that suggests striking or much aggression as he tries to shake out his left arm after that last sting, because... well... that kid knows how to swing a skateboard.
COMBATSYS: Rust takes no action.
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HeavyD 0/-------/------=|======-\-------\0 Tyler
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Rust 0/-------/-------|
Tyler finally stops squirming after he realizes he can't get out of Heavy D!'s grip. He sighs, giving the Pacific High teacher a dirty look still. He says,"Okay okay.. I'm done, I'm done.. let go of me." He grits his teeth, still wincing as Heavy D! tightens that grip firmly on him. "I'll leave you alone! Just let me go!"
COMBATSYS: Tyler takes no action.
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HeavyD 0/-------/------=|======-\-------\0 Tyler
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Rust 0/-------/-------|
Heavy D! sighs...and releases the hold on Tyler. He was only trying to keep the kid from attacking again, maybe humble him a little. No serious damage intended or anything. Loosening his grip, his arms pull back, taking a few steps away to make sure Tyler's in good working order...but keeping wary in case the kid tries another trick. "Go home then, keep your nose out of things. YOur attitude, you're gonna get killed out here."
Tyler drops down to the ground to his feet after Heavy D! releases him from that full nelson hold. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, he snarls angrily at them before he moves over to pick up his skateboard and then he turns to quickly spit at Heavy D! before he hops on his skateboard and takes off like a bat out of hell, yelling out to them over his shoulder,"Screw you! I'll do what I want!"
The teacher stares at the angry teen somewhat blankly after he decides to shove off, whom then happens to leave with a choice insult. Another prolonged groan of a sigh, his tired brown eyes watching Tyler speed off into the distance.
"Thanks," the teacher finally speaks up. He grunts, rubbing at the eye he was spit in again. "If that was the best the kid could hit for... if that was the best he could do," he shakes his head. He'll be okay, soreness in his arm be damned, if that was all that kid could inflict upon him. Howard Rust, even at his weakest, is made of tough stuff. Physically, anyway.
He leans back against some railing for support. "Don't... don't know what else I can tell you." Except a moment later, he does. He lifts his head. "I spoke with Ryu... yeah, that Ryu, last I knew, headed to the hospital. Don't know if he's, he's there, or if something else came up... he called someone else up, but... don't know anything 'bout it."
Heavy D! just palms his face, frustratedly. He's not sure of what to make of things like that sometimes. Some people can see the world go to hell and think of only themselves it seems.
"It's no problem." His attention piques at the name 'Ryu', though. "...man, if he's involved..." he says, feeling a little more dread. Only something serious might bring that kind of guy to fight for something other than the fight itself. "...Well...just a thought...you seen a guy with short blonde hair, and an oversized football pad on one shoulder?"
"Short blonde hair... oversized football pad on one shoulder?" Howard repeats those words slowly as those gears in his head turn. He looks up a ways, one eye nearly shut, and then shakes his head. His neck makes a most unpleasant 'crick' somewhere in there. "Nope... haven't seen anyone like that."
He hasn't. But the context behind the question suddenly has a light shine upon it as he squints with the other eye as he sizes up Heavy D! up and down, as though he should recognize him, and... in fact, sure enough, once the threat of an out-of-control kid is out of mind and that pain in his left arm dulls enough that he doesn't have to think that much about it, he pops the question. "Hey," he points with his left finger again, "you're Heavy D, right?" He pronounces the 'D' wrong by not pronouncing it as such it should be written with an exclamation mark at the end.
Seems D! is still not quite so used to being actually recognized sometimes....but when the man brings up his name, the boxer raises his eyebrow slightly. "Yeah, that's me," he says...not minding the lack of ! at the end of his name.
"Huh." Is that all the man has to say in response to being in the presence of one of Metro City's best boxers? The teacher rubs the back of his head as he leans against the railing as soon as he finds a part of his back that doesn't sting when he puts weight against it.
"Then... then I bet I know who you're talking 'bout, but..." But what? He lowers his head as his hand travels up to the top of his scalp. That this man is willing to even touch his own abominable combover, even with a glove on, may give insight into what level of fortitude he must have against the forces of Bad Taste itself. "Never seen him in person, or, or even really hear about him. I, uh... can't really help you."
Heavy D! sighs. Well, seems D!'s running into dead ends like this all over. "Yeah...well...thanks anyways," the boxer says, his own hand coming up to brush along his head, wedgehawk and all. "I'll find him eventually, I guess. Either way....if the schools need any help or anything..."
"I don't know, I... I really don't know if there's anything anyone can do for Gedo." With how they were able to deflect even /Raizo/ at the gates, the teacher has his doubts. It's all over his face. And his wounds. Of which there are plenty visible. That he's still up and about, well...
"Hey, uh... hold up." Howard starts to dig into his pocket with his left hand. "You have, like, a cell or something? If I see the guy, somewhere... or hear anything, I could give you a call." Here's to hoping the forces plaguing Southtown aren't attacking the cell service providers. Tiny as his is, it's his lifeline to the goings on and those who might be able to do something about it.
A cell?
D!'s still had to get used to little things like that, avoiding such luxuries for the most part, but phones have become indispensible like that it seems. "...number...yeah," he says, walking over toward where is duffelbag is. "Hold on." Fishing into the bag, he finally pulls a phone out. Not quite so hi-tech compared to the recent phones...but it works for what he needs.
And you know what, Mr. Rust wishes they still made phones like the one D! is holding right now, because all the ones in stores are too small for his thumbs. He looks behind himself as a cautionary gesture to make sure nobody's stalking him, or looking to sneak up and kill the two of them. That both guys here even /have/ a moment of quiet is a true luxury in today's Southtown.
"Oh... right, I didn't introduce myself," he says as he finally fishes the stupid phone out of his pocket. Man, he hates that thing. At least it didn't fall out of his pocket when the Demon was moving him. "Name's Howard, I teach over at, at Pacific... shop. And I, uh, in happier times... I fight in the League."
If Heavy D! has been watching League matches on TV lately, the guy might be somewhat familiar - even if he's barely enough to be considered a side event in the eyes of some.
Heavy D! finally gets his number from his phone, writing out his number on a small sheet before handing it to Rusty. "There," he says, keeping his own phone out in case he needs to add in a number for something. "Howard, huh...didn't realize you were a full time fighter yourself."
"Ahhh... not full time." He /is/ a schoolteacher. Even if Pacific students don't need to always attend class, he, as a teacher, needs to be present for a lot of the week. It's demanding. Sometimes, it is incredibly demeaning given a stark contrast he has with the rest of the staff. He's not from a rich background, he didn't go to an elite college, and some people scoff at his qualifications in which to even be /teaching/ at the school. He got it more for his work experience than anything - and being able to read and speak Japanese fluently.
And here he is now, with the crap beaten out of him (he's sure the likes of Mr. Marshall will give him more crap to make up for what was lost) and speaking with yet another guy lost in the middle in search of something themselves. He takes the number with a nod using two of his fingers on his left hand while the rest clutch the tiny phone precariously. He turns his hand to get a good look at the number, his thumb feeling around the keys to be certain as to which key he is hovering over when he pushes one in. Something that takes a lot of concentration as he keys in each number slowly and surely. This is really hard when your thumb is too big for the damned keypad.
It'd go faster if he put Ol' Rusty down so he could do this with his actual dominant hand. He's too far on edge to even consider this. After all, that psycho kid might come back and want to hit him again, and then what?! "Okay... I, uh, can I borrow your pen?"
Heavy D! holds out his pen for Rusty as it's asked for, even as he looks over the rather small phone. It's always interesting to see how far ahead Japanese phones are compared to American...but that's not exactly the most important thing on his mind. He just waits for the number, his own phone held carefully and ready to put the number in.
Hint - they are smaller, full of things you probably won't use or need, and are far easier to lose and thus that much more pricey in which to pick up another and renew your plan all over again!
"Just, one sec." The teacher clears his throat in a rather noisy fashion as he ambles back over to the counter with pen in hand (the same hand as the paper and the cellphone, which is no small feat) and sets them all down. Tricky issue here. His right hand, the hand he actually /writes/ with, doesn't want to let his bestest friend in the whole wide world go, because as it is, the rusted length of pipe may be all that stands between him and the morgue if something were to pop up again.
He tries to write in his number on the provided paper beneath D!'s phone number, struggling to clearly write out his own with his off hand. It'd be easier if he put down the pipe. He grits his teeth and tenses his face as though this were an epic confrontation between man and his own limitations in scrawling out this series of numbers in which D! can contact him by.
After all this, he exhales loudly and wipes his brow with his forehead before returning the paper over. "There you go."
Heavy D! takes the small sheet of paper, looking over it, and quickly punching in the number written down. QUick as he can do it, anyways. Even as big as his phone is in comparison, it takes D! a while to get around the options to save the number with his fairlly big hands. "THere, done."
Those numbers look like they were written by someone in kindergarten writing numbers for the first time. Hopefully that man with the LIES FOR HAIR doesn't actually write reports and slips like this.
"I'll, I'll let you know if I see something," Howard says as he wheezes through his breath from a cramp that suddenly races up his back. Argh! Of all the times... he could just fall over and try to rest it off, but guess what. No car, no ride to Pacific. He has to walk. He has to endure every little painful step, and brother, that stuff isn't pleasant.
"I don't want to stay here... too long," he motions with his head out towards the great unknown that is beyond their field of vision, as who knows what threats are lurking once they get out of here, "never know when they, when they plan on attacking again."
Heavy D! nods, pocketing his phone one the number is finally put in and saved. "Yeah...thanks....you sure you don't need help anywhere?" D! finally asks, noticing just how hard a time Rusty seems to have simply standing up and walking around.
'Hard a time' is putting it pretty lightly as he shoves the phone back in his pocket, culminating in him trying to clench a fist as hard as possible with his left hand as he rotates said arm around the shoulder socket. He groans. "I'm going back over to.. to, to Pacific," he points with Ol' Rusty out towards Sound Beach. "It's not far."
It's a fair number of minutes on foot if traversing the length of the beach, make no mistake.
Heavy D! frowns. He's not sure he should be letting the guy go just as is...but he seems to be good for it, however much it takes him. "...hope you get somewhere safe," he says, shaking his head as he walks off on his own, perhaps to find some sort of safe harbor himself.
A rather sober encounter after that bit with the kid, but that's better than an explosive ending with a bunch of psychotic people nipping at your heels while they attempt to do... whatever it is that requires taking down a school, anyway. Hopefully the rest of the way home ends up about as uneventful as it could possibly get, Howard reflects as he manages a wave to D! on the way out.
He leans heavily against the railing the whole way until he's out to the beach. At which point there is no railing. Ol' Rusty is also much too short to be used like, say, a cane. He grunts and looks upon his weapon of choice with distaste. He knew he should've picked the longer one. Oh, should he have ever!
He halts in his building rage, looking upon the pipe with wide, sad eyes. Aw, no, Ol' Rusty, I didn't mean to think that of you. Just don't slip out of my hand.
His thoughts swerve in and out of sanity in between bouts of fear, constantly reminding himself silently of the fact that rusted lengths of pipe do not actually have thoughts or emotions.
It starts to rain.
Log created on 15:50:23 02/23/2009 by Rust, and last modified on 02:48:37 02/25/2009.