06-24-2016, 06:22 PM
“Karl Jak,” Nanaki interjected, stepping past the vexed gunslinger. He’d have to speak quickly if he wanted to get a word in between Christa’s volcanic bouts of ire; so far, it seemed that her greeting for most people involved a gun trained on their head -- he didn’t want to see the rest of her armaments. “So you’re the head of Syntech? The man that orchestrates the Abyss?”
The smarmy executive stared blankly for a moment before fluttering his meticulously-groomed eyelashes and furrowing his brow as if the question were obvious to the point of amusement. “Yes,” he said incredulously, “Where have you been? My gorgeous mug is on half of the posters back at the facility.” That same ridiculous smile remained spread across his face.
“So,” the fiery feline continued, ignoring the showrunner's characteristic half-mocking tone entirely. “Then you must remember past participants.” He could hear his begrudging companion cursing gratuitously behind him as she attempted to pick up the molten mass of metal that the man had seen fit to liquefy before her.
“Yes, kitten,” Karl sighed, crossing his arms, “Tough think, though, that we should focus on the task at hand. Unless of course you’d all like to die out here-”
“Vincent Valentine,” Red XIII blurted out, his voice rising over the executive's smooth words. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his temper around the slick businessman. “Where is he?”
“How should I know?” Jak replied without batting an eye. He extended an arm, idly tugging at the sleeve of his designer blazer and shaking loose some dust. “I’m not a babysitter, I’m an entertainer. Where that gloomy vagabond went after going belly-up on my island isn’t my business.”
The burgundy beast gritted his teeth, burning holes into the ambivalent shyster’s forehead. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders tense up as he let out a low growl. “You have to know something, this is your show,” he spat, not taking his eyes off of Karl.
“It’s my circus, yes,” the man responded, meeting the furious feline’s scorching stare with a smug smirk. “But we don’t exactly take down insurance information here; what happens to entrants is their own fault. I merely provide the venue.”
“YOU SON OF A BITCH,” a familiar female voice called from a few feet behind the beast, interrupting the duo. “MY GUN!”
“Oh, hush,” Karl said, waving a hand in her direction dismissively. “Next time don’t point anything at me that you’re not willing to lose.” He then turned his gaze to the snarling beast at his feet. “And you might watch your tone as well, Whiskers. I have no problem pulling out those teeth of yours if it makes my life easier. Capisce?”
Nanaki fell silent at the man’s remark, his face falling slack. However he might want to posture and demand answers from the greasy executive, he could do little but fall in line in the end. Like it or not, Karl was in full control of the situation even after his plane literally fell from the sky onto the wrong island. The entire verse was his sandbox, the Primes were simply borrowing his toys. The burgundy beast was not convinced that Jak knew as little as he let on, though he failed to see a reason that he would lie about such a thing. As he had said himself: he was an entertainer. Surely there was no entertainment value in kidnapping a man and issuing no ransom. If Karl didn’t know Vincent’s whereabouts, who did?
“Mother fucker,” Christa fumed, turning away from the smug showrunner. “By the end of this, I’ll rip that man’s tongue through his grinning teeth if it’s the last thing I do.” She glared at the earth, her shoulders rising and falling as she seethed with rage.
Red shot her a glance, feeling his blood pressure increase as irritation replaced bewilderment. “Hey, I’m not a raving fan either,” he responded, more in an attempt to shut her up than to make conversation. So far, it seemed like every human he had encountered had managed in some way to get under his skin. Typical.
“Yeah, whatever,” the fiery female shot back, throwing a spiteful look over he shoulder at the showrunner, himself carelessly trotting toward the other group of entrants. He was speaking to them, though neither Red nor Christa made an attempt to listen.
“Pity about her,” the crimson canid said softly, gazing at what remained of the woman. Despite his negativity toward humans, he couldn’t be angry at a corpse. Death was never something he wished on even his worst enemies.
Christa remained silent, averting her gaze. Red couldn’t tell if she had taken offense to his remark, of if she just wanted to stew in peace. She crossed her arms over her chest, staring back into the forest. He wondered if maybe she was still concerned about her previous encounter with the unknown predator.
Nanaki shook his head, more than happy to not have to feign interest in conversation. She continued to near-literally issue fumes of hate-smoke as she seethed in Karl’s direction. The burgundy beast focused his attention instead on the dusty duffel bag they had found, now lying in the dirt after being tossed aside during Christa’s fit of rage. He ignored the glowering woman, walking over to where it lay and giving it a sniff. Though the air itself on the island had an odd tang to it, nothing ominous or off-putting emanated from the black bag. Gingerly, the feline took the zipper between his jaws, tugging the bag open.
“Empty?” Red said aloud, pulling the zipper all the way across. He moved the flaps of fabric with his nose, giving it a thorough inspection before noting a single item on the bottom of the bag. The small item was wrapped in brown material and smelled repugnant: sweet and somewhat like peanuts.
“What’s in the bag?” Christa growled from over his shoulder. The question was phrased more like a statement than a true inquiry.
“Not much,” the burgundy beast answered. He wondered if being perpetually angry was as exhausting as it looked. “Just some disgusting food item.”
The feisty female pushed the feline aside with her foot, taking hold of the bag’s strap and tugging it closer. She reached into the bag, rooting around for a moment before pulling the small rectangular object from within. She stared at the item for a few seconds before immediately dropping it to the dirt, the duffel following a moment later.
Red looked down at the gift, noticing the brown plasticky wrapper emblazoned with upper-case blue font. It looked to be some kind of confection, though none with which he was familiar. He laid a paw on the bar, rolling it to reveal its message.
He glanced up at Christa, a small smile spreading on his lips. He rolled the bar over once more, displaying the second message.
Snickers indeed, he thought with a smirk.
The smarmy executive stared blankly for a moment before fluttering his meticulously-groomed eyelashes and furrowing his brow as if the question were obvious to the point of amusement. “Yes,” he said incredulously, “Where have you been? My gorgeous mug is on half of the posters back at the facility.” That same ridiculous smile remained spread across his face.
“So,” the fiery feline continued, ignoring the showrunner's characteristic half-mocking tone entirely. “Then you must remember past participants.” He could hear his begrudging companion cursing gratuitously behind him as she attempted to pick up the molten mass of metal that the man had seen fit to liquefy before her.
“Yes, kitten,” Karl sighed, crossing his arms, “Tough think, though, that we should focus on the task at hand. Unless of course you’d all like to die out here-”
“Vincent Valentine,” Red XIII blurted out, his voice rising over the executive's smooth words. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his temper around the slick businessman. “Where is he?”
“How should I know?” Jak replied without batting an eye. He extended an arm, idly tugging at the sleeve of his designer blazer and shaking loose some dust. “I’m not a babysitter, I’m an entertainer. Where that gloomy vagabond went after going belly-up on my island isn’t my business.”
The burgundy beast gritted his teeth, burning holes into the ambivalent shyster’s forehead. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders tense up as he let out a low growl. “You have to know something, this is your show,” he spat, not taking his eyes off of Karl.
“It’s my circus, yes,” the man responded, meeting the furious feline’s scorching stare with a smug smirk. “But we don’t exactly take down insurance information here; what happens to entrants is their own fault. I merely provide the venue.”
“YOU SON OF A BITCH,” a familiar female voice called from a few feet behind the beast, interrupting the duo. “MY GUN!”
“Oh, hush,” Karl said, waving a hand in her direction dismissively. “Next time don’t point anything at me that you’re not willing to lose.” He then turned his gaze to the snarling beast at his feet. “And you might watch your tone as well, Whiskers. I have no problem pulling out those teeth of yours if it makes my life easier. Capisce?”
Nanaki fell silent at the man’s remark, his face falling slack. However he might want to posture and demand answers from the greasy executive, he could do little but fall in line in the end. Like it or not, Karl was in full control of the situation even after his plane literally fell from the sky onto the wrong island. The entire verse was his sandbox, the Primes were simply borrowing his toys. The burgundy beast was not convinced that Jak knew as little as he let on, though he failed to see a reason that he would lie about such a thing. As he had said himself: he was an entertainer. Surely there was no entertainment value in kidnapping a man and issuing no ransom. If Karl didn’t know Vincent’s whereabouts, who did?
“Mother fucker,” Christa fumed, turning away from the smug showrunner. “By the end of this, I’ll rip that man’s tongue through his grinning teeth if it’s the last thing I do.” She glared at the earth, her shoulders rising and falling as she seethed with rage.
Red shot her a glance, feeling his blood pressure increase as irritation replaced bewilderment. “Hey, I’m not a raving fan either,” he responded, more in an attempt to shut her up than to make conversation. So far, it seemed like every human he had encountered had managed in some way to get under his skin. Typical.
“Yeah, whatever,” the fiery female shot back, throwing a spiteful look over he shoulder at the showrunner, himself carelessly trotting toward the other group of entrants. He was speaking to them, though neither Red nor Christa made an attempt to listen.
“Pity about her,” the crimson canid said softly, gazing at what remained of the woman. Despite his negativity toward humans, he couldn’t be angry at a corpse. Death was never something he wished on even his worst enemies.
Christa remained silent, averting her gaze. Red couldn’t tell if she had taken offense to his remark, of if she just wanted to stew in peace. She crossed her arms over her chest, staring back into the forest. He wondered if maybe she was still concerned about her previous encounter with the unknown predator.
Nanaki shook his head, more than happy to not have to feign interest in conversation. She continued to near-literally issue fumes of hate-smoke as she seethed in Karl’s direction. The burgundy beast focused his attention instead on the dusty duffel bag they had found, now lying in the dirt after being tossed aside during Christa’s fit of rage. He ignored the glowering woman, walking over to where it lay and giving it a sniff. Though the air itself on the island had an odd tang to it, nothing ominous or off-putting emanated from the black bag. Gingerly, the feline took the zipper between his jaws, tugging the bag open.
“Empty?” Red said aloud, pulling the zipper all the way across. He moved the flaps of fabric with his nose, giving it a thorough inspection before noting a single item on the bottom of the bag. The small item was wrapped in brown material and smelled repugnant: sweet and somewhat like peanuts.
“What’s in the bag?” Christa growled from over his shoulder. The question was phrased more like a statement than a true inquiry.
“Not much,” the burgundy beast answered. He wondered if being perpetually angry was as exhausting as it looked. “Just some disgusting food item.”
The feisty female pushed the feline aside with her foot, taking hold of the bag’s strap and tugging it closer. She reached into the bag, rooting around for a moment before pulling the small rectangular object from within. She stared at the item for a few seconds before immediately dropping it to the dirt, the duffel following a moment later.
Red looked down at the gift, noticing the brown plasticky wrapper emblazoned with upper-case blue font. It looked to be some kind of confection, though none with which he was familiar. He laid a paw on the bar, rolling it to reveal its message.
He glanced up at Christa, a small smile spreading on his lips. He rolled the bar over once more, displaying the second message.
Snickers indeed, he thought with a smirk.
Quote:1221/2400 words, per Google Docs
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