Closed RP: Paintballs and Duct Tape FTW

[usethepoker.livejournal.com]

Susan had been reading.

It was usually a bad thing, when Susan devoted enough time and energy to research--it very rarely ended well. On the Discworld it had been easy enough to tell a good idea from a bad one (not that knowing something was in fact a bad idea had stopped her), but at Hogwarts the line was rather blurred. There were all manner of fascinating things to play with here, and sometimes they were things best kept away from someone like Susan.

In this case, she’d discovered paintball guns. She had learned from her target practice with Stephen that she should not be given a real gun…well, ever, but paintball guns were far less lethal. She had an idea that, were paintballs to be replaced with some sort of pudding-coated ammunition, they could serve well against evil clowns, particularly in the hands of those such as herself, as they would be much less of a danger to innocent bystanders.

Shaun had written to his girlfriend, who had sent out a pair of the paintball guns they’d had in the garden shed (formerly occupied by Shaun’s zombie flatmate). Shaun, well aware that he was likely going to wind up with an earful of paint, had agreed to go with Susan and be a moving target.

The initial idea had been that they shoot at the provided targets, but that didn’t last long. Susan, frustrated to hell with Shaun’s well-meaning critique, turned on him and wound up shooting him right in the forehead.

“Ow!” Shaun staggered, pressing a hand to his yellow-splashed forehead, staring at her with a surprise that was almost comical. “What’d you go and do that for?” He could already feel a lump forming, a truly spectacular goose-egg. He very nearly tripped over his own feet, and Susan, appalled, nearly dropped her gun.

“I didn’t mean to hit you in the forehead,” she said, hoping she’d not concussed him or anything. “Good gods, I haven’t cracked your skull or anything, have I?” Susan stepped forward, chagrined, but before she could even try to make him let her have a look she staggered herself, pain stabbing through her ribs.

She pressed a hand to her side, and when she brought it up she saw it was sticky and bright blue, as was her shirt. Shaun snickered.

“Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?” he said, hopping backward as she leveled both a glare and her gun at him. “Come on, it was only fa--”

The sentence was cut off quite effectively by another paintball, which managed--purely by chance--to thwack him square in the chest, exploding purple all over his ancient T-shirt. “It was an accident,” said Susan, with a small and rather vicious smile. “Now it’s war.”

She shot at him again, but missed, and took off over the uneven ground, headed for the cover of the hay-bale targets. She took a paintball in the back for that, before she could dart behind shelter, and there came a furious scrabbling as she climbed up onto one of the bales, taking sight through the scope (yes, Shaun’s paintball guns had scopes. He was a dork).

Shaun himself scrambled down behind a grassy hummock, turning it into an impromptu foxhole. “Oh, you feel lucky, punk?” He was a much better shot than Susan, and after a few rounds managed to hit her in the side of the head, knocking her off the hay bale.

She fired as she went down, and then held up a paint-covered hand. “Wait, wait, time out,” she gasped, laughing and wincing all at once. “I don’t know how to reload.”

“Oh, come on, I showed you,” Shaun grumbled, holding out a hand for her gun. “Look, see, you just pop the old shell-case out, right there, and jam the new one in.” He fumbled the first few tries, and shot Susan a glare that dared her to comment. She didn’t, but she did snicker.

“If you say so. All right, five minute break, then Round Two?” She gave him a paint-splattered smirk.

“Sit-down sounds like a great idea,” Shaun said, flopping onto the grass. “I’m too old for this.”

Susan quirked an eyebrow at him, pulling two bottles of water from the bag she’d dragged down and handing him one. “You’re what, thirty? You’re much too young to be too old.”

“Oh, shut up.” Shaun took the water, wishing vaguely it was beer and wondering if the hospital wing staff would laugh at him if he were to go in for bruise-balm like this. They probably would.

Comments

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Why did she do it? ...Because he'd tried to steal her brain? ...Again? Maybe because he'd smashed that other man over the head with a cricket bat. Or it might have had something to do with his freezing Susan's poker and cracking the thing in two. Who knew?

"She..." He could have explained, and told the truth, but... he liked Delirium. There was a strange part of him that almost wanted to protect her from himself, like he'd tried so hard to do with his mother. It hadn't ended well, when he'd tried to show Virginia Gray just what he could do. How would it have ended if he told Delirium what he was capable of? He looked down at the ice cream again, pausing for a few long seconds, before he finally decided on three simple words that could answer most of any question.

"I don't know."

[endless-del.livejournal.com]

She watched him--he was struggling with something, but she didn't know what. Maybe he needed another bee.

" ," she said. " ."

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

'Struggling with something' was definitely one way to put it. 'Full out lying to Delirium so she didn't run, fast, in the other direction' was probably better. It had completely destroyed him, his mother locking herself in her room after he'd showed her what he could do. Delirium freaking out would not help matters at all.

His eyes flickered back to hers as she spoke, and he swirled his spoon around in the ice cream for a few long seconds, clearing his throat. She had no idea how true that was right now. "Yeah, they do. People are... strange."

[endless-del.livejournal.com]

Delirium sometimes knew when she was being lied to, but now was not one of those times. " ," she said gravely. People were strange--granted, she made a lot of them that way. She hadn't made Sylar strange, though--something else had done that, and she was trying to kick that strangeness in a happier direction. One with sprinkles.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Glad she wasn't a person... Huh. Even with the butterflies, the mix-matched clothing, the ... strangeness, he'd never thought of her as inhuman before. Did that mean she was something else? An angel? ...A demon? She couldn't have been a demon. She was too nice to be a demon. Demons didn't give people ice cream and soothing. "People are an infection," he replied in a slow sort of voice, finally lifting his spoon and studying the ice cream on the end with narrowed eyes. "They need to be cured."

[endless-del.livejournal.com]

Delirium wasn't fully up on just what an 'infection' was, but it didn't sound like a good thing at all.

" " she asked, curious. The butterflies, equally curious, landed all around the rim of her bowl, their wings taking on all the hues of the sprinkles.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Had he said that aloud? Oops.

"An infection," he repeated, and nodded once, swirling his spoon around. "A disease." He finally took a bite of the ice cream, savoring the sweet flavor in his mouth for a few long seconds before he allowed himself to speak again. "People who do..." He let his eyes flicker back up to Delirium for a moment, furrowing in on the woman with... almost a question lurking in his eyes. "Bad things. People who ruin it for everyone else."

[endless-del.livejournal.com]

Disease was a little easier to understand--many of those who moved through her Realm had mental diseases. " ," she said, offering some ice cream to the butterflies. " "

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

People did bad things because they were people? It made sense but... Sylar was frowning, another scoop of ice cream lifting halfway to his mouth and just kind of stuttering to a stop right there. Lazy, melting drips plopped into the ice cream bowl below, as he contemplated. "Well, that's no explanation," he finally decided on, pushing the spoon back into the ice cream and swirling it around in the sprinkles. "They shouldn't use that as their excuse. It's a cheap way out." Ruined it for the rest of everybody.

[endless-del.livejournal.com]

Delirium was not good at explaining things. It was kind of part of who and what she was. " " she asked, as the butterflies landed on her toes. The butterflies didn't know too much. She herself did, and so could speak from experience.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Sylar paused for a few long seconds, letting his eyes flicker to Delirium's, darkly, for a moment. "You said to be careful what to put in my head," he replied in a slightly edgy voice, lifting the spoon and studying it. "Because I can't get it back out again." And shoved the ice cream in his mouth, raising an eyebrow at the woman with a question lingering on his features. Why?

[endless-del.livejournal.com]

Delirium's mismatched eyes regarded him, almost sadly. " ," she said. " ." She had been Delight, once, long before humanity, before some now-forgotten hurt had turned her into Delirium.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

The ice cream was almost forgotten, in his hands. Delirium had so much to offer, and he was just absolutely infatuated with her. Nothing sexual, obviously, but, God. "Hurt you," he repeated in a slow voice, picking up another spoonful of ice cream. The stuff was practically soup now. "Why? What happened to you?" The look in his eyes was all too intrigued with this conversation to not be creepy.

[endless-del.livejournal.com]

She shrugged, the butterflies rising as she did so, and reached out to poke a passing bird. " " The butterflies settled all over her head again, wings beating gently against her hair. " "

Destruction remembered more about her than she did herself, but she supposed that was all right. " "

Her mood abruptly brightened, at least a little. " " Bees did indeed help. Bees, much like ice cream, were an all-purpose palliative.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

"Oh."

It must be nice. To be able to forget, at least. Not that Sylar would want his mind wiped, God, the last thing he wanted was to lose track of who he was. But... still. That kind of bliss of not having to live with knowing what you'd done in the past. It was tempting.

Knew too much. He'd always been convincing himself that he couldn't know enough. He had to get more abilities, gain more and more power. It was practically what he lived for, at some points, just the need to be important. Here was the exact opposite, in the flesh, knowing too much and trying to forget what she did, just for her own bliss.

Bees... didn't help much. The cloud one she'd given him at his sorting was pretty cool - Jimmy Sunshine Applebaum the Third had become rather taken with fluttering around his bed, landing on his pillow, or going off to look at his books - but bees in general... eh. "They do," he agreed anyway, nonchalantly swallowing another spoonful of ice cream soup and shrugging. "A little."