recolle | IF I CAN'T PUN ICLY, THEN BY GOD I'M GOING TO TAKE EVERY OOC CHANCE I'VE GOT

[ Time since opening this new package: about an hour.

That's roughly how long it took for James to open it up, see an honest to god FLESH AND BLOOD REAL DISMEMBERED ARM, and scream and panic for a few minutes. Then look at it again and poke it, just to make sure, and freak out again upon realizing it's actually, really, 100% real. Then about half an hour for him to stop shaking, start breathing normally again, and put together a plan of action.

Which is why he's now carrying his guitar case through the streets, walking as briskly as one can while carrying a guitar case gingerly like a newborn baby. He's sweating bullets and looks skittish. He wants nothing more than to get to his destination already and quit it with the paranoia. ]

[ Hey buddy. You know what would help with that paranoia? Running into that dickbag that got into a fight with you at prom. No big deal. Though it's less 'running into' and more, Malik definitely sees James, and sees him acting weird, so he decides to tail for a block or two to see what's up.

It'll probably be harder to get punched in the face again while James has his arms full, and Malik sees no reason why he shouldn't capitalize on this opportunity.

So, from behind James, he says: ]

Hey. You steal something?

[ LIKE IT'S THE MOST CASUAL QUESTION IN THE WORLD. ]

[ Can people jump three feet into the air out of pure terror? Because James is pretty sure he just did. His heart may have stopped too. He might be clinically dead right now.

He tries his best to school his face into an expression of neutrality but he's not fooling anyone, least of all himself. At least the annoyance in his tone is genuine. Ugh, he hates this guy. ]

No. What, a guy can't walk down the street with his guitar in peace?

[ RIP Bucky. ]

A guy could, but that's not you - I could see you sweating all the way down the block. [ His gaze is almost cat-like as it focuses on the case. ] It's not like I'll go to the police... You obviously have something that isn't a guitar. If you planned on stealing something you should try to be a little more discreet.

[ He's pretty blatantly mocking, sorry not sorry. ]

[ He hugs the case tighter at first, as if keeping it closer will somehow help. But then he forces himself to reconsider--the grip on the case is caused the issue in the first place, right?

Slowly, partially to not to jostle the arm inside the case too loudly and partially to telegraph just how casual he is about this, James shifts the guitar case to one arm, then slings the strap over the shoulder and across his back. ]

I didn't steal anything. Unlike you, I've got better things to do than steal stuff. Like work on songs for my new album.

[ He's trying to be cool and nonchalant but he just looks and sounds angry instead. And while the fear has left his pose, he still looks extremely tense. ]

[ That jab doesn't even hurt, come on. ]

Like you are right now? Is that why you were practically rushing down the street?

[ Given that he isn't drunk and on edge like he was at prom, Malik is unfortunately enjoying this - his shiteating grin evidence of it. He knows something is up, even if James didn't actually steal anything - but his behavior is a serious red flag, being seen by a kid who's more than familiar with illegal activities. ]

Whatever it is that you're doing... You're going to get caught.

[ James clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes. ]

I'm not going to get caught, because there's nothing worth getting caught for!

[ He says it not just as a retort to Malik, but also as a reassurance for himself. He's going to get rid of this arm, he's going to go home, he's going to pretend like none of this ever happened, and no one will be the wiser.

But to do that, he has to get going. Before the arm starts...rotting, or smelling, or whatever it is corpses do, he's not actually sure. And the longer he sticks around here, the more likely he is to actually get caught.

So, bye Malik. This is James turning his back to you and starting to walk away. Yeah, he's supremely uncomfortable with having his guitar case exposed to him like this, but he has to keep up the act of nonchalance somehow. ]

[ Malik slows his pace, letting James get ahead. It would be simple enough to skulk off to find something else to kill time, or somewhere else he could stir up trouble. But Malik doesn't like the feeling that he's lost control of a situation, or that he's lost. He doesn't just let go.

So he starts following James again. He wants to know what is in the case. He wants to know what James is up to. A guitar case if far larger than anything he'd tried to steal - from stores, pickpocketing, or otherwise - but he can't help but wonder, reaching his hand out slowly, if maybe, just maybe, he could hook his thumb under the strap and lift it up and over James' head fast enough before he could get all defensive and grabby.

He's going to try, and then he could finally find out what's in that stupid guitar case. ]

[ You might think that, being on high alert, James would notice the strap's movement, but he just chalks the weird twinge up to nerves.

At least until he sees the strap snap over his head and the guitar case leaves his grasp entirely.

He immediately whirls around and makes a jump for it. He is not about to let this guitar case fall into the wrong hands, goddammit, and if that means tackling Malik and the case to the ground, then so be it. ]

Get your hands off it--

[ Well. The weight shift in the case is bizarre, but it reaffirms Malik's suspicions that it wasn't just a guitar. He's grinning, even when James whips around to face him.

He's quick to back up to avoid the lunge. And he cackles. ]

No, I think I'll hang onto this for a little while! You can relax now! You have nothing to worry about! It's perfectly safe with me... whatever it is. Hahahaha!

[ He had walked backwards a few feet, but now? He's bolting.

Bye.

(He's still laughing). ]

[ The last look on James's face before Malik turns around is one of pure terror and rage. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up but as soon as he realizes Malik is running, he takes off like a bullet.

If there's one thing that he's learned to do very well from football, it's run like hell and tackle people to the ground. He must go down, at any cost.

Which he does. James takes a running leap at him once he's close enough to Malik, slamming his shoulder into his back and sending them both crashing to the pavement with a hard thud.

In all the kerfuffle, the guitar case flies overhead, bounces once, and slides across the ground. With all the roughhousing, the latches have come undone and the top of the case is now lying flat open, revealing the contents of the case:

Crumpled newspapers acting as cushion for an entire human arm, severed at the shoulder in a haphazard mess of gory chunks. ]

[ Maybe this would have been easier if they were both drunk again; Malik certainly had no idea who he was dealing with, as far as athletics were concerned. Hitting the pavement knocked the wind right out of him, and as he's sadly a scrawny beanpole, he doesn't the muscle to a) push James off or 2) crawl to freedom. That doesn't mean he doesn't try, pawing ineffectually at the ground, but he stops once the open guitar case catches his eye.

He wheezes in lieu of laughing. ]

No wonder you were so jumpy.

Fuck!

[ He has no idea how to interpret the sound Malik is making. Is it surprise? Horror? Mockery? Or are his lungs just collapsing under James's weight?

(James almost hopes that last one comes true, until he realizes that then he'd have an arm and a body to dispose of. No, there's no easy way of making Malik forget about this.)

He scrambles to his feet to snap the case shut again and sling it over his shoulder and marches back. Hopefully Malik is still out of it from the tackle and close enough for James to grab at his wrist. ]

No one can find out about this. And you're going to help me get rid of it. Got it?

[ He tries to sound stern and menacing, but there is a tremble in his voice. He has no idea what he's doing, and now not only does someone else know what's going on, but it has to be this colossal asshole. This is way, way out of his league. ]

Hey-- [ He was going to snap about being grabbed, since he actually had soem breath back, but it cut off in short order.

'Help,' huh? ]

What's in it for me?

[ He's not in the best position for negotiating but Malik is nothing if not a difficult bastard. ]

[ James freezes up a little at that. Honestly? He doesn't know what threat he could possibly make here, really. He almost offers a beating, but he already knows Malik doesn't much care about getting roughed up.

But he's desperate and out of options. ]

If you don't, I'll rat us both out to the cops with this.

[ He jabs his thumb over his shoulder towards the guitar case. ]

[ Malik makes a sound somewhere between a growl and general frustration. Maybe if it were someone else, anyone else, he'd be able to escape or at least flip the other shit about how they really woudn't go to the cops. But given how their hatred for each other is, Malik isn't taking a chance and assuming that James is just bluffing. He's sure the cops would be both exasperated and glad to have him in their grubby hands again. Ok, handcuffs. But still. ]

...If you get caught, I'm running. Do you at least have a plan?

[ We'll get to the whole 'so did you murder a guy' in a moment. ]

[ He lowers his tone to just barely above a hiss. There's no one else around in the streets right now (THANK GOD) but he doesn't want to take his chances. ]

I was on my way to burn this thing and get rid of the evidence, before you showed up.

So now you're helping me with it.

[ Malik groans. The last thing he wants to do is take orders from this guy. He almost considers risking the police getting involved, but decides against it. ]

Why don't you just bury it?

Because if I bury it, it's still around for someone to dig up. Burning it's gonna leave behind nothing but ashes.

[ Whether Malik wants to move or not, James is forcing it now. He starts walking and forcefully tugs Malik along, walking them both over to the empty lot by the abandoned 7/11--he'd originally scoped the place out for the cover of his first album, but found that the place worked as a nice, quiet space for him to do some lyric writing that wasn't behind a dumpster.

Of course, now it's going to be tainted forever as 'the place where I got rid of a body part', but James isn't concerned with that right now. ]

Bury it deep, you idiot. [ Still, James has his mind set, and Malik has no little choice but to let himself be dragged along on this little escapade.

Once they get to the empty lot, he finally asks: ]

So, is this your handiwork? Or did you get mixed up with the wrong people?

[ While he did come out here with a plan, it's not fully-formed. Sure, he got to the lot, but he didn't think about how he'd burn the arm once he got there. He can't just have it out in the open. So it takes James a few minutes of looking around before he finds a trash can. Meanwhile, Malik's asking questions as if somehow he's legitimately at fault here. Jackass. ]

Neither. Retrospec just sent it to me this morning. I had nothing to do with it.

[ He lets go of Malik's arm to pull the guitar case off his shoulder and set it on the ground, but he squints and glares at him. Don't you dare run, because I'm watching. Hopefully that will be enough of a deterrent, because he can't do this with one arm preoccupied.

Which is when he sets about to pulling the arm out of the case, haphazardly wrapping it in all the newsprint he stuffed in alongside it. ]

Get the lighters out, they should be in the case too.

[ He says it with a bit of a grunt, as he hauls the arm over to the trash can and drops it in. It's not that heavy, but it is nauseating, and also has enough joints that it keeps trying to move on him. GROSS. ]

I see they're stepping up their game...

[ Malik will listen and grab the lighters though, if only to tear his gaze away from the arm. Nasty. ]

Need anything else while I'm over here? I'm not going to be your servant if you change your mind in a few minutes.

[ He takes the offered lighters and leans into the trash can to get them as close to the flesh as he can. ]

All I brought was the arm and the lighters.

[ Duh, dude. It's not like he had the presence of mind to grab anything else.

He lights all the lighters he can manage in both hands and runs them over the arm as well as the surrounding newspapers. It takes a good few minutes of effort, trying to get the flames to stick, but eventually the arm does begin to catch, and smoke begins to rise. The smell isn't strong, but this close up, it is an awful scent.

And yet, relieving, because he can breathe easy knowing this is all going to be over soon.

(How long does it take to burn a limb to ashes, anyway?) ]

What's this? An illegal bonfire?

[Asks the nosey cop that so happened to stroll on over. Fynn missed a majority of the conversation but what he doesn't miss is the putrid stench and the gray smoke. He coughs a few times as he wanders closer, his gaze set on the little bonfire the duo made.]

You do know this is going to win you a ticke---HOLY SHIT! IS THAT AN ARM!?

[Uh oh! The jig is up.]

[ The jig is up and Malik is outta there - he did say he'd run if they got caught. So. There he goes, and with the last words: ]

Bye, loser!

[ Right, because it's not like Malik isn't highly identifiable on his own anyway, but, okay. ]

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frostythehitman - 2017-07-14 06:01 (UTC) - Expand

IF I CAN'T PUN ICLY, THEN BY GOD I'M GOING TO TAKE EVERY OOC CHANCE I'VE GOT

on high alARM [James, Malik, Fynn]

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