John Ryder, The Hitcher

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

((Spoilers for the original version of The Hitcher but not the remake, because the remake made me cringe. If you haven't seen this movie, you have to--it's cheesy, it's freaky, and there is no way I can possibly do any written justice to the sheer creepiness that is John Ryder))



A tall man wandered up to the application table, eying his surroundings dubiously. He looked like absolute hell--his flannel shirt was still sticky with blood, and his trenchcoat looked as though he'd been dragged down a dusty highway, which wasn't far from the case. He seemed calm enough, but in his faded eyes was a kind of intelligent insanity--a malice that was somehow tired and cheerful all at once. In short, he was quietly batshit.

Scotland. Huh. He'd known he was going to a castle, but knowing and doing were very different things--the closest things he'd seen to castles were some of the hotels in Vegas. Being out of the desert was damned bizarre, but from the look of things he was going to be here for quite a while.

He picked up the quill and read the application with raised eyebrows.

What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?

That brought a small smile. He didn’t need to eat, but he’d had McDonald's…what, four months ago? “That gooey stuff you slap on a cheeseburger,” he said. “I don’t know what it’s called.”


2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?

“Why kill just one?" he wondered aloud. "I say start with the redhead--there’s something wrong with his brain.” The irony of that statement was totally lost on him, btw. “The purple dinosaur probably wouldn’t bleed much,” he added thoughtfully. "Even if his legs were cut off."

3. What time is it where you are?

He shrugged. “How should I know? I just got here.”

4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.

He snorted. “I’m returned from the dead, and I can’t say I’ve ever really sexually harassed anyone. It’s not part of the game.” Never mind that he’d been totally creepy with Nash, before he ripped her in half

5. If you are pushing to be in:

A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.

“The Styx,” he said, and laughed almost silently. Pennies over the eyes...it was a joke he doubted anyone here would get, sadly.

B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.

He frowned. "Why?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as his thumb traced a gold band on his left hand. "Marriage is damned pointless, if you ask me." He didn't seem inclined to elaborate.

C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.

“Because you don’t know how to use a match. Gasoline and a match tend to take care of most evidence--assuming you even care that it’s gone.” Evidence had never seemed to stick to him--not that he'd wanted it to, with the Halsey kid. The more suspicion fell on the kid, the more desperate he became--it had been, finally, what drove the kid to kill him.
To stop him. I want you to stop me. He'd gone through a dozen people, before he finally found someone who didn't fold like a wet taco at the thought of being eviscerated. Granted, he'd had to step in a few times and keep the kid alive long enough to work up his nerve, but it had worked, in the end.

D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.

That made him laugh outright. “Define ‘useless’,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “When it comes to a certain kind of work, I’d like to say I’m an expert.” He didn’t elaborate on that, but he did keep laughing. Useless. Seriously.

6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.

Hmmm… “I haven’t exactly got much on me,” he said. “Pistol and a shotgun, but not a lot of ammo. Oh, and this." He dug a small switchblade from his coat pocket, looking at it like an old friend. "I'm keeping this, though."

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ____JR________
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _____JR______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. ____JR_______.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ____JR_________"

Comments

[runaway-stark.livejournal.com]

Despite the blood and the Ravenclaw answer, Arya's wariness was slightly edged out by the bribe. Needle and knives were fine, but since she had seen tha man in the forest (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1153801.html?thread=58330889#t58330889) and after speaking with Ray (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1165692.html) she had seen the wisdom in having a weapon that even a child could wield that could stop someone from a distance. "I'd like the pistol," she said. "If no one else has it yet."

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

Ryder looked at her. He'd gotten good at reading people, during his various stints in the desert--most of the ones he killed met were weak, weak and pathetic creatures who would grovel rather than put up a fight. This kid wasn't that kind--she had the same kind of determination about her that Halsey had, come the finish, but without any of Halsey's half-baked insanity. It was the kind of thing he could actually respect.

"Sure," he said, handing it to her with a crooked smile. "You know how to use it?"

[runaway-stark.livejournal.com]

Honestly? Not really. "A little," she said as she took it and slid it into a pocket. She had a feeling that if she was seen with it, someone might try and take it away. She'd had quite enough of people taking her things away back in Westeros, thank you very much. "You point and pull the trigger." She'd read Ray's Shooter's Bible enough times to have memorized that much, anyway.

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

His half-smile widened. "Here," he said, holding out a hand, "let me show you. This one's easy to load, at least, but you've got to know how to aim so you don't waste your ammo." He'd run across plenty of people who had guns but wouldn't--or couldn't--use them. This kid looked like she'd use it, all right, but she had to know what she was doing first.

[runaway-stark.livejournal.com]

She reluctantly handed the pistol back. "Is it much harder to use than a sword?" she asked. "It doesn't look like it would be."

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

...Hmm.

That was all he had to say. Just 'hmm'. The man had caught Sylar's eye. Maybe he was just making it a habit to approach everyone of interest that showed up in the midst of everything - and, oh, my, there were quite a few fascinating creatures that had shown up in the past few days, he would note. But this man... Just 'hmm'.

Mostly towards the answer to the second question, honestly.

"I'd imagine a man inside of a purple suit would bleed, rather substantially, having had his legs cut off," he offered, almost as if he was attempting to be helpful, and tilted his head at Ryder with a curious sort of look in his eyes. "You might need to brush up on your anatomy a little. The ephemeral artery would make for... quite a spill."

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

A sword? Where exactly was this kid from?

"Don't know much about swords," he said, cracking it open and showing her how to load the bullets into each chamber. "Guns can be very, very easy, once you know what you're doing." He locked it back in place and showed her the safety hammer. "If it's forward like this, it won't shoot--you have to pull it back. Then you sight--" he peered down the pistol's short barrel, aiming at a rather ugly vase, "--and pull the trigger."

The vase shattered, tiny shards of pottery tinkling down onto the floor. "There. You try." He passed it back to her. "See if you can hit that one," he added, pointing to an equally ugly vase not far from the first.

[runaway-stark.livejournal.com]

She took careful note as to what he was saying and doing. The noise was loud and unpleasant, but she didn't flinch, much. She remembered how it had sounded the first time she heard it and knew what to expect now. She nodded as she took the pistol back from him, made sure the safety was pulled back, and took her time aiming. She missed the vase, but not by much. She eyed it grimly. "I'll get better at it."

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

Ryder sat still for a long moment, regarding Sylar impassively as he lit a cigarette. "Arteries tend to spurt," he said at last. "Spray. Make a nice mess on somebody's windshield."

This guy...he wasn't sure what to make of this guy. Great capacity for violence, but broken in a way Ryder had never seen before. Given how many crazies he'd run across, that was saying something. He looked at Sylar thoughtfully, through the blue haze of cigarette smoke. "What's your story?" he asked bluntly.

[wh0-kill3d-m3.livejournal.com]

Laura shivered a little as she read the answer to Question Four.

"You're returned from the dead?"

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

"I'm sure you will," he said. There was nothing condescending in his smile, as there normally was no matter who he was talking to--young she might be, but she had the air of a killer about her. What had caused it, he couldn't begin to guess, but it was a rare, rare thing, and people like her did make life so interesting. "It kicks a little to the left--keep that in mind. You let me know if you need more ammo, okay?" He didn't doubt she'd use it, if the occasion warranted--use it without hesitation. He liked that in a person.

[runaway-stark.livejournal.com]

She nodded and put the pistol back in her pocket. "I'm Arya. In Gryffindor. I'm supposed to vote you somewhere." She frowned. "I'm not sure where to put you, though."

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

"I'm John," he said, returning the nod. "I'm not sure how this place works, but I'll trust your judgment." What she said would tell him a lot about her--more than she would probably like. She was a cagey little creature, and that he too he could respect. She wouldn't spill her guts, even if she was threatened with the spilling of her literal guts.

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

Pretty girl. Looked a little like Nash, he thought, as he lit a cigarette. Pity what he'd had to do to Nash, but Halsey just hadn't been getting the hint.

"Yeah," he said. "Got shot in the chest." He touched the dark stickiness on his shirt, and eyed his hand a moment before wiping it on his pants. "Six times. Kid had good aim."

[waste-lock.livejournal.com]

"Oh, you had to wave the switchblade around and then say you wouldn't give it as a bribe. That really, really makes me want to squib you." Not that Nny had any trouble acquiring knives; it was the principle of the thing.

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

Ryder smiled, a slow and amused smile. "This one's a friend," he said. "Know what I mean?" He clicked it, wiped a dribbled flake of dried blood off the blade, and clicked it shut again. "Something like that--you get to know it. It gets to know you."

[waste-lock.livejournal.com]

"A friend." Nny laughed, a brittle, breathless sound. "Oh yes. I know. Things that whisper to you at night."

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

Ryder's eyebrows went up. Interesting. "Things you keep with you," he said quietly. "Always." This kid was about the age Halsey had been, but he was much, much more interesting than Halsey. Something in him was broken, but in a way Ryder had very, very seldom seen. He'd bet his next meal that, if he'd ever encountered this kid on the highway, he'd've been in for the fight of his life.

He liked that.

[waste-lock.livejournal.com]

"I tried that. The 'keeping with me'." Nny paces irritably, arms crossed behind his back. "You give things power that way. Power over you. You keep them, and they drain you, they drink you and then you're not yours anymore. I don't need another taste of that Kool-Aid."

[wh0-kill3d-m3.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, that'd do it...What's the game? As in, 'not part of the game.'" She tapped question four with a finger.

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

Ryder watched him in silence for a long, long moment, reflective. "What kind of things are you talking about?" he asked at last. "This--" his eyes flicked to the knife "--I've had this for probably longer than you've been alive, and it's never turned on me. What happened to you?" Something had--the kid was a little nutty, but in a sense that seemed to be a close cousin to Ryder's own demi-madness.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Grisly, and mildly disgusting. But... "Yes, that's the general result when you hack through an artery," he replied, a little too matter-of-factually to not be creepy.

What a curious man in his own. More smoking, unfortunately, and Sylar waved a hand, impatiently, to usher the smoke away from his face. Ghastly habit, that - it was disgusting. He didn't show any signs of his discomfort, though, choosing instead to fix Ryder with that same, strange sort of look. "Do I need to have one?" he asked bluntly, eyebrow cocked. Because really, what did he go on about here? His watchmaker-turned-serial killer tendencies? Always the way to impress.

[waste-lock.livejournal.com]

"Thingssss." He grinned fiercely. "I have the tendency to lose track. Of things that happen. It all blurs, you see. Like trying to wash away a stain, but it just spreads..."

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

"It doesn't have a name," he said, with a slight shrug. "I just...have to see if anyone can stop me, sometimes. It's kind of a job, really--every few years or so, I go back until I find someone...worthy isn't the word I want, but maybe it's the right one." It was lonely work, until he found his antagonist--then it got very interesting, very quickly.

[johnryder.livejournal.com]

One side of his mouth tilted up in amusement. "Most people have a story," he said. He'd heard any number of them, in various degrees of detail--some people would tell you anything, if they thought it would buy them a little more time. "I'm sure you do, too." His tone indicated he rather wanted to know what it was, without doing anything so obvious as wheedle. He had a habit of getting more out of others than he gave--in most respects, at least.