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

[frostythehitman]

WHO: James, Fynn, Togusa, Malik, and Grell! Not necessarily in that order
WHERE: Starting in some rundown area of Recolle idk, eventually heading to the RPD, and then....the hospital? Or, uh, wherever it is Grell looks at body parts.
WHEN: 7/10-ish
WHAT: James gets a handy delivery from Retrospec that has him scrambling to stay palm and get rid of it before he's caught red-handed. But, things will very quickly get out of hand.....
WARNINGS: well, there's a dismembered arm getting set on fire, so. take that as you will.

Comments

[frostythehitman]

[ 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--

[godcards]

[ 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). ]

[frostythehitman]

[ 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. ]

[godcards]

[ 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.

[frostythehitman]

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. ]

[godcards]

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. ]

[frostythehitman]

[ 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. ]

[godcards]

[ 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. ]

[frostythehitman]

[ 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.

[godcards]

[ 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?

[frostythehitman]

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. ]

[godcards]

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?

[frostythehitman]

[ 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. ]

[godcards]

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.

[frostythehitman]

[ 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?) ]

[rygdea]

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.]

[godcards]

[ 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. ]

[frostythehitman]

[ Running is not easy when you have a guitar case to deal with.

As soon as he heard the word 'illegal' out of the cop's mouth, he dove to try and shut the latches closed on the case and run before he could get caught. But he's barely up on his feet, ready to sling the case over his shoulder, when the cop starts freaking out about the arm.

He's screwed. There's no use in running now. He drops the case--half out of shock and half out of futility--and holds his arms up in a gesture of mercy. ]

I swear, it's just a papier mache prop!

[ It is obvious from the foul smell that it is not. ]