Post by David Hunter on Oct 8, 2018 13:52:20 GMT -5
The shitty apartment complex that houses our illustrious…hero?...vigilante?...guy? Guy, let’s go with guy.
The shitty apartment complex that houses our illustrious guy—that just sounds stupid. Fuck it, let’s roll with it.
The shitty apartment complex that houses our illustrious guy is about as bad as one would expect when living downtown in Greenville, South Carolina. It’s not exactly Detroit or anything, but a Super 8 up the road probably has better...everything than this apartment complex.
Nonetheless, as our illustrious guy enters into his newly bought room on the eighth floor, the first thing he does after locking his door, is enter the bathroom, find himself the shower, turn on the knob for cold, and just let the less than stellar water flood his face and clothes.
This is David Hunter. Our illustrious guy.
It doesn’t take long before the shower runs its course. Once the water is off, David, now dripping wet and getting the vinyl floors drowned, strips himself of his Star vs. the Forces of Evil t-shirt and blue denim jeans. He finds the nearest pair of sweatpants, seated on the floor near the door, and puts them on.
David looks at the bathroom mirror. It’s small but good enough for what he needs. He moves his hair out of his eyes, revealing the dark brown staring back at him. As the drip-drip of his body continues, he turns on the faucet, this time going for the hot water. His hands find themselves getting wet once more, rubbing his face repeatedly with them, waking up our illustrious guy.
When that ball of shenanigans is complete, David turns the faucet off and enters the living room. A simple tattered couch, an old tube-TV he got at a nearby Goodwill, and a giant-ass opossum clutching his side in pain, bleeding all over and trying to hide his ass.
Wait what?
David spots this opossum easily enough. He doesn’t react, really, despite this creature sitting on its ass and wearing clothes like a normal person.
David does, however, sigh. He meanders on passed his couch, approaching the small kitchen area. He opens the fridge, grabbing two bottles of some local beer he found at a run-down convenience store, and places them on the counter. After closing the fridge, David opens up a cabinet, grabbing a box with a red cross on it.
With the box in hand, David grabs both the beers before making his way to the bleeding opossum.
David sets the box on the couch and the beers on the floor.
“Gonna need you to move your hand there,” David says.
The opossum grunts, letting his reddened hand move. David opens the box and grabs a piece of gauze, as well as a brown bottle. He pops the cap on the bottle and places it against the gauze, letting some of the liquid pour out on it.
“This is gonna suck,” he says.
David places the gauze against the opossum, who lets out a groan.
“Fuck…” the opossum says.
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve felt worse. The bullet isn’t in there at least and it didn’t hit anything but both sides of your skin. Keep pressure on this. Gonna need to stop the bleeding for a bit,” David says.
The opossum returns the bloody hand to the gauze, returning pressure to the wound.
David pops the cap on both the beer bottles, handing one over to the opossum, who takes it. David takes one of his own, and after clicking the bottles together, the two lean back and chug down half of their drinks right then and there.
With a sigh of contentment, they get themselves some air. David stands up, setting the beer bottle down on the floor.
“So…there seems to be a wanted interdimensional criminal in my new apartment. One I could’ve swore I left in Augusta and was in police custody,” he says.
“You really think those human cops could hold me?” the opossum asks.
“No, but I thought we agreed to let you take the fall and then talk to Phil to get you out,” David says.
The opossum sighs, taking another gulp from the beer before continuing.
“You and I both know owing a favor to Phillip Silver is just as bad as dealing with the Council,” it says.
“Only if you’ve been bad. Which, by the way, we totally have been. Should’ve just let the chips fall, Argit. At least than we’d’ve been in control,” David says.
The opossum—Argit—just looks down at the floor. David rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Look man, it doesn’t really matter at this point. You’re good enough at running that I doubt they’d be after me. I’m already cleared. They should have no reason to—”
Even before David can finish his sentence, a knock at the door is heard.
“You sure bad luck isn’t your semblance?” Argit asks.
“I might drink like the old bastard, doesn’t mean I am him,” David says. “Hide in the shower.”
Argit stands up, limping over towards the bathroom as well as he could. David places Argit’s beer into the cushions of the couch, letting it sink into hiding. He then grabs some more of the gauze, placing it around his hand.
Once that’s done, David opens the door, revealing a person in a tan suit standing tall. A woman. Red hair. Kinda cute. A bit too old for David.
The tan suit woman reveals a badge, because that’s what people do when they’re at somebody’s door uninvited. Apparently.
“Ryan Freeman, private investigator,” she says.
Huh. This is new.
“Hello Miss Freeman, how may I help you today?” David asks.
“Mind if I come in? Kind of a private matter,” she asks.
A private matter worth investigating apparently.
David takes a moment to glance over his shoulder. Seeing that Argit is nowhere in sight, he shrugs before looking back at her.
“Yeah, sure. Sorry about the mess, new place and all,” David says.
He opens the door, allowing Ryan to enter. She takes a look around herself, allowing David to close the door behind her.
“What’s with all the blood?” she asks.
David puts his hand up, the one with the gauze.
“Had a bit of an accident a bit ago. New place, kinda eager, misplaced a knife,” David says.
Wow that was horrible. Even David realizes it.
“Right. Well, let’s not mess around then,” Ryan says.
She takes out her pistol, aiming it straight at David. He responds by raising his hands. The hand with the gauze remains folded in though, keeping it in place.
“Where’s Argit?” she asks.
“Last I heard he escaped Augusta. Unknown knows where his tail is now,” David says.
“So you do know he’s an alien. Good, this makes this easier. Is he here now or was he just? Believe it or not, it’s not too hard to track his species,” Ryan says.
“Who’s to say I didn’t just let a dump fly out in the toilet? You don’t know my life,” David says.
Ryan narrows her eyes, cocking the pistol.
“It’s hard to miss a porcupine looking alien when he’s lost his disguise and bleeding out,” she says.
Porcupine?
“Porcupine? I always thought he was more of a opossum,” David says.
“You ever check the quills?” she asks.
“I’ve never had the displeasure to see him naked, so no.”
Ryan makes a noise that David can’t decipher. Nonetheless, the gun remains firmly aimed at him.
“You can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is that you tell me where he is and I go and get him. The hard way is that I take you hostage and we tell your dad why I had to hurt his son,” she says.
David narrows his own eyes.
She touched the Dad button.
“Shouldn’t’a done that,” David says.
David throws the beer bottle at Ryan, who aimlessly fires at the wall. David charges just as the bottle hits Ryan in the face. He sends a right fist into her face, sending her careening over the couch and to the floor.
No noise.
David looks over the couch, seeing Ryan breathing but her eyes closed. A wound has opened up above her eye. Not too bad, but the alcohol in it probably sucks.
Not long after, David clutches his right hand close, grunting in pain.
“Son of a bitch, that hurt,” he says. “Yo Argit!”
Argit stumbles out of the bathroom, leaning against the door frame and holding the gauze close.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“I have some rope in the closet. I’ll get a chair. Let’s tie her up and see why she’s after you,” David says.
--------------------------------------------------------
“So hey, remember that Augusta job?” Argit.
“The one you got arrested for?” David.
“Obviously.”
“What about it?”
“Remember how we had to take down all those security guards?”
“I am aware. Not like we haven’t fought more than them before. Pretty sure we faced off against a hundred or so back in Seattle. Remember that job?”
“The one on the ship?”
“Yeah, we had to toss over half of them just to stay alive. Was a nice survival lesson though. No need to eliminate everybody so long as we survive until the end. Which reminds me, you busy next Sunday?”
“Depends on how this goes, really.”
“Well if you can I have my first match with Pure Class. This big battle royal. Looking like it could be fun. Hop over if you can.”
“Any idea who else is in it?”
“No idea. Doesn’t really matter though. Seven months or seven years won’t stop me from winning.”
“So...what, is this one of those skill tests?”
“Yeah, like that guy in Bismark. With that stupid game show thing he had us do. Ended up being one giant Battle Royale, Hunger Games kind of thing. Same concept, different idea.”
“I’ve watched wrestling before, dude.”
“You’re the one who asked. Just givin it some context is all. I definitely know I’m planning on winning. I’ve worked too damn hard at this point not to. Not to mention I don’t want to live here longer than I can afford it. Too bloody for my taste.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Eh, it’s fine. The couch was some old ladies I jacked off the street.”
"Is it really jacking at that point?"
"Semantics."
“Think this lady's eye’s gonna be fine?”
“Yeah none of the glass managed to get in there. Wait, she’s waking up. Get her gun ready.”
Ryan stirs a bit. When her eyes open, it’s only half of her vision. The bandage wrapped around her right eye blocks out what is supposed to be Argit aiming a gun at her.
“Sorry about the whole bottle in the face thing. Didn’t expect it to hit that deep. But hey, not like there isn't some castle laws about that. There are castle laws in South Carolina, right?” David says, looking to Argit. “Right?”
Argit merely shrugs, his aim remaining true.
“Right. Anyway. Welcome back to the land of those who aren’t unconscious,” David says.
Ryan tries to move, letting a groan release.
“My fucking head…” Ryan says.
“Pretty sure you don’t have one of those. But if you’re actually referring to your headache, then I’ll have to apologize for that too. If it’s any consultation, the gauze around my hand isn’t just for show now. Pretty sure you sprained it or something,” David retorts.
“How long have I been out?” Ryan asks.
“I dunno. For all the benefits of this place, a clock isn’t one of them. Don’t actually have cable or a microwave either so I’m guessing, like…two hours? Three, tops. No worries though, you won’t be here for much longer. Just long enough to answer some of my questions and keep moving on.”
Ryan looks to Argit, her gun still in his hand.
She then looks back to David, who starts flexing his injured hand.
“Not like I have much of a choice,” Ryan says.
“Great. I love it when this is easy. First question, why are you after Argit?” David asks.
“Mr. Silver offered me a contract to bring him back. In exchange I’d get access to Diego,” Ryan says.
“I have no idea who that last guy is, but he sounds like an asshole and not worth it.”
Argit pipes in with, “He is and he isn’t.”
“Why would Mr. Silver want Argit?” David asks.
“Apparently he’s a good person to employ? I don’t know. Do you question Mr. Silver?” Ryan asks.
When neither David nor Argit respond, the silence seems to be a good enough answer.
With a shrug, David continues.
“Why now? I feel like you had a chance in Augusta?” he asks.
“Who do you think let him escape? I posed as one of the cops and tried to get him alone but they got too paranoid and he used that as a distraction,” Ryan says.
Argit’s eyes widen in realization.
“So that’s why all the cops were at the water fountain!” he exclaims.
“Not my proudest moment,” Ryan says, for a moment her cheeks matching the color of her hair.
“Great. One last question: why’d you start shooting? Like…seriously, this is downtown Greenville. That was pretty stupid for a private investigator” David says.
“I’m desperate. I’ve tried my hardest to track down Diego and Nio and—”
“Wait, hold that phone, what does Nio have to do with this?” David asks.
“I’ve known Nio and Diego for so long. I’ve wanted to meet them and question them about who they are, where they came from…” Ryan says.
Argit lets out a snort, with David shaking his head, a frown on his face.
“That’s a whole blind bag of bullshit there lady,” Argit says.
“If you’re resorting to Phil to find out about those two, and getting Argit involved, that means you’re basically as knowledgeable about this as we are. Congratulations, you're above mediocre. Curious though…why come guns blazing at me for?” David asks.
“Well—” Ryan starts.
The front door suddenly bursts open, revealing three white armored folks aiming what look like rifles at all three of the people involved. David and Argit raise their hands, the former dropping his gauze and the latter dropping the pistol.
Ryan doesn’t raise her hands because they’re still tied to a chair. Just thought that's important to mention.
Argit also chooses to commentate further because why not.
“Are you sure bad luck isn’t your semblance?” he asks.
David merely sighs, actually putting credence to the thought.
----------------------------------------------
Three days later, a whole bunch of paperwork letting them free, and about six bottles of cheap beer later, David falls into his now blood-stained couch, staring up at the ceiling.
A red-haired man in a white wife-beater and black jeans walks up. He unlocks some cuffs on David’s wrist, allowing him to fully relax.
The red-haired man puts the cuffs in his jeans pocket.
“Mr. David Hunter, per the accordance of the Council you have been placed under house arrest. You will only be allowed access to work and a limited amount of time outside for other needs for the next 60 days. Once that time is expired, the Council will explore further whether the time should be expanded or if you are to okay to be released. Your accomplice, Argit, is presently under the watch of Mr. Phillip Silver where he will continue to serve for the next year. Any questions?” the red-head asks.
“What happened to that other chick?” David asks.
“Ryan Freeman has been placed under capture by the Council personally until we can decide what to do with her in the future. That’s all I can tell ya,” the red-head says. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, could you not let my dad know where I live?” David asks.
“Gonna be hard. Jack’s been busy doing his own shit. That’s the main reason you’re dealing with me and not anybody else. We’re short-staffed right now with what we’re dealing with. I’ll try and do what I can, but if he gets curious he’ll find the official paperwork.”
David lets a sigh go. The red-head takes a pen and hands a piece of paper over to him.
“You know where to sign,” the red-head says.
David takes the pen and signs the allotted space.
The red-head takes the pen and paper back before nodding.
“That’ll do it. Look, David, we’re getting kinda sick of you and Argit’s shit. So if you could maybe not get into more trouble? You’ve got this wrestling thing going on and you’re really good at it. Focus on that for a bit, alright?” he says.
“Yeah. Thanks Mr. Spicer,” David says.
“Call me Jack. I’m like…a year older than you, tops. See ya in two months. Hopefully not any sooner.”
Jack exits out the front door. Once it closes, David continues to stare up at the ceiling.
Eventually, he starts flexing his still somewhat injured hand.
“I’m starting to think Argit might be right about my semblance,” he bemuses, pursing his lips with a pout in frustration.
The shitty apartment complex that houses our illustrious guy—that just sounds stupid. Fuck it, let’s roll with it.
The shitty apartment complex that houses our illustrious guy is about as bad as one would expect when living downtown in Greenville, South Carolina. It’s not exactly Detroit or anything, but a Super 8 up the road probably has better...everything than this apartment complex.
Nonetheless, as our illustrious guy enters into his newly bought room on the eighth floor, the first thing he does after locking his door, is enter the bathroom, find himself the shower, turn on the knob for cold, and just let the less than stellar water flood his face and clothes.
This is David Hunter. Our illustrious guy.
It doesn’t take long before the shower runs its course. Once the water is off, David, now dripping wet and getting the vinyl floors drowned, strips himself of his Star vs. the Forces of Evil t-shirt and blue denim jeans. He finds the nearest pair of sweatpants, seated on the floor near the door, and puts them on.
David looks at the bathroom mirror. It’s small but good enough for what he needs. He moves his hair out of his eyes, revealing the dark brown staring back at him. As the drip-drip of his body continues, he turns on the faucet, this time going for the hot water. His hands find themselves getting wet once more, rubbing his face repeatedly with them, waking up our illustrious guy.
When that ball of shenanigans is complete, David turns the faucet off and enters the living room. A simple tattered couch, an old tube-TV he got at a nearby Goodwill, and a giant-ass opossum clutching his side in pain, bleeding all over and trying to hide his ass.
Wait what?
David spots this opossum easily enough. He doesn’t react, really, despite this creature sitting on its ass and wearing clothes like a normal person.
David does, however, sigh. He meanders on passed his couch, approaching the small kitchen area. He opens the fridge, grabbing two bottles of some local beer he found at a run-down convenience store, and places them on the counter. After closing the fridge, David opens up a cabinet, grabbing a box with a red cross on it.
With the box in hand, David grabs both the beers before making his way to the bleeding opossum.
David sets the box on the couch and the beers on the floor.
“Gonna need you to move your hand there,” David says.
The opossum grunts, letting his reddened hand move. David opens the box and grabs a piece of gauze, as well as a brown bottle. He pops the cap on the bottle and places it against the gauze, letting some of the liquid pour out on it.
“This is gonna suck,” he says.
David places the gauze against the opossum, who lets out a groan.
“Fuck…” the opossum says.
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve felt worse. The bullet isn’t in there at least and it didn’t hit anything but both sides of your skin. Keep pressure on this. Gonna need to stop the bleeding for a bit,” David says.
The opossum returns the bloody hand to the gauze, returning pressure to the wound.
David pops the cap on both the beer bottles, handing one over to the opossum, who takes it. David takes one of his own, and after clicking the bottles together, the two lean back and chug down half of their drinks right then and there.
With a sigh of contentment, they get themselves some air. David stands up, setting the beer bottle down on the floor.
“So…there seems to be a wanted interdimensional criminal in my new apartment. One I could’ve swore I left in Augusta and was in police custody,” he says.
“You really think those human cops could hold me?” the opossum asks.
“No, but I thought we agreed to let you take the fall and then talk to Phil to get you out,” David says.
The opossum sighs, taking another gulp from the beer before continuing.
“You and I both know owing a favor to Phillip Silver is just as bad as dealing with the Council,” it says.
“Only if you’ve been bad. Which, by the way, we totally have been. Should’ve just let the chips fall, Argit. At least than we’d’ve been in control,” David says.
The opossum—Argit—just looks down at the floor. David rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Look man, it doesn’t really matter at this point. You’re good enough at running that I doubt they’d be after me. I’m already cleared. They should have no reason to—”
Even before David can finish his sentence, a knock at the door is heard.
“You sure bad luck isn’t your semblance?” Argit asks.
“I might drink like the old bastard, doesn’t mean I am him,” David says. “Hide in the shower.”
Argit stands up, limping over towards the bathroom as well as he could. David places Argit’s beer into the cushions of the couch, letting it sink into hiding. He then grabs some more of the gauze, placing it around his hand.
Once that’s done, David opens the door, revealing a person in a tan suit standing tall. A woman. Red hair. Kinda cute. A bit too old for David.
The tan suit woman reveals a badge, because that’s what people do when they’re at somebody’s door uninvited. Apparently.
“Ryan Freeman, private investigator,” she says.
Huh. This is new.
“Hello Miss Freeman, how may I help you today?” David asks.
“Mind if I come in? Kind of a private matter,” she asks.
A private matter worth investigating apparently.
David takes a moment to glance over his shoulder. Seeing that Argit is nowhere in sight, he shrugs before looking back at her.
“Yeah, sure. Sorry about the mess, new place and all,” David says.
He opens the door, allowing Ryan to enter. She takes a look around herself, allowing David to close the door behind her.
“What’s with all the blood?” she asks.
David puts his hand up, the one with the gauze.
“Had a bit of an accident a bit ago. New place, kinda eager, misplaced a knife,” David says.
Wow that was horrible. Even David realizes it.
“Right. Well, let’s not mess around then,” Ryan says.
She takes out her pistol, aiming it straight at David. He responds by raising his hands. The hand with the gauze remains folded in though, keeping it in place.
“Where’s Argit?” she asks.
“Last I heard he escaped Augusta. Unknown knows where his tail is now,” David says.
“So you do know he’s an alien. Good, this makes this easier. Is he here now or was he just? Believe it or not, it’s not too hard to track his species,” Ryan says.
“Who’s to say I didn’t just let a dump fly out in the toilet? You don’t know my life,” David says.
Ryan narrows her eyes, cocking the pistol.
“It’s hard to miss a porcupine looking alien when he’s lost his disguise and bleeding out,” she says.
Porcupine?
“Porcupine? I always thought he was more of a opossum,” David says.
“You ever check the quills?” she asks.
“I’ve never had the displeasure to see him naked, so no.”
Ryan makes a noise that David can’t decipher. Nonetheless, the gun remains firmly aimed at him.
“You can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is that you tell me where he is and I go and get him. The hard way is that I take you hostage and we tell your dad why I had to hurt his son,” she says.
David narrows his own eyes.
She touched the Dad button.
“Shouldn’t’a done that,” David says.
David throws the beer bottle at Ryan, who aimlessly fires at the wall. David charges just as the bottle hits Ryan in the face. He sends a right fist into her face, sending her careening over the couch and to the floor.
No noise.
David looks over the couch, seeing Ryan breathing but her eyes closed. A wound has opened up above her eye. Not too bad, but the alcohol in it probably sucks.
Not long after, David clutches his right hand close, grunting in pain.
“Son of a bitch, that hurt,” he says. “Yo Argit!”
Argit stumbles out of the bathroom, leaning against the door frame and holding the gauze close.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“I have some rope in the closet. I’ll get a chair. Let’s tie her up and see why she’s after you,” David says.
--------------------------------------------------------
“So hey, remember that Augusta job?” Argit.
“The one you got arrested for?” David.
“Obviously.”
“What about it?”
“Remember how we had to take down all those security guards?”
“I am aware. Not like we haven’t fought more than them before. Pretty sure we faced off against a hundred or so back in Seattle. Remember that job?”
“The one on the ship?”
“Yeah, we had to toss over half of them just to stay alive. Was a nice survival lesson though. No need to eliminate everybody so long as we survive until the end. Which reminds me, you busy next Sunday?”
“Depends on how this goes, really.”
“Well if you can I have my first match with Pure Class. This big battle royal. Looking like it could be fun. Hop over if you can.”
“Any idea who else is in it?”
“No idea. Doesn’t really matter though. Seven months or seven years won’t stop me from winning.”
“So...what, is this one of those skill tests?”
“Yeah, like that guy in Bismark. With that stupid game show thing he had us do. Ended up being one giant Battle Royale, Hunger Games kind of thing. Same concept, different idea.”
“I’ve watched wrestling before, dude.”
“You’re the one who asked. Just givin it some context is all. I definitely know I’m planning on winning. I’ve worked too damn hard at this point not to. Not to mention I don’t want to live here longer than I can afford it. Too bloody for my taste.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Eh, it’s fine. The couch was some old ladies I jacked off the street.”
"Is it really jacking at that point?"
"Semantics."
“Think this lady's eye’s gonna be fine?”
“Yeah none of the glass managed to get in there. Wait, she’s waking up. Get her gun ready.”
Ryan stirs a bit. When her eyes open, it’s only half of her vision. The bandage wrapped around her right eye blocks out what is supposed to be Argit aiming a gun at her.
“Sorry about the whole bottle in the face thing. Didn’t expect it to hit that deep. But hey, not like there isn't some castle laws about that. There are castle laws in South Carolina, right?” David says, looking to Argit. “Right?”
Argit merely shrugs, his aim remaining true.
“Right. Anyway. Welcome back to the land of those who aren’t unconscious,” David says.
Ryan tries to move, letting a groan release.
“My fucking head…” Ryan says.
“Pretty sure you don’t have one of those. But if you’re actually referring to your headache, then I’ll have to apologize for that too. If it’s any consultation, the gauze around my hand isn’t just for show now. Pretty sure you sprained it or something,” David retorts.
“How long have I been out?” Ryan asks.
“I dunno. For all the benefits of this place, a clock isn’t one of them. Don’t actually have cable or a microwave either so I’m guessing, like…two hours? Three, tops. No worries though, you won’t be here for much longer. Just long enough to answer some of my questions and keep moving on.”
Ryan looks to Argit, her gun still in his hand.
She then looks back to David, who starts flexing his injured hand.
“Not like I have much of a choice,” Ryan says.
“Great. I love it when this is easy. First question, why are you after Argit?” David asks.
“Mr. Silver offered me a contract to bring him back. In exchange I’d get access to Diego,” Ryan says.
“I have no idea who that last guy is, but he sounds like an asshole and not worth it.”
Argit pipes in with, “He is and he isn’t.”
“Why would Mr. Silver want Argit?” David asks.
“Apparently he’s a good person to employ? I don’t know. Do you question Mr. Silver?” Ryan asks.
When neither David nor Argit respond, the silence seems to be a good enough answer.
With a shrug, David continues.
“Why now? I feel like you had a chance in Augusta?” he asks.
“Who do you think let him escape? I posed as one of the cops and tried to get him alone but they got too paranoid and he used that as a distraction,” Ryan says.
Argit’s eyes widen in realization.
“So that’s why all the cops were at the water fountain!” he exclaims.
“Not my proudest moment,” Ryan says, for a moment her cheeks matching the color of her hair.
“Great. One last question: why’d you start shooting? Like…seriously, this is downtown Greenville. That was pretty stupid for a private investigator” David says.
“I’m desperate. I’ve tried my hardest to track down Diego and Nio and—”
“Wait, hold that phone, what does Nio have to do with this?” David asks.
“I’ve known Nio and Diego for so long. I’ve wanted to meet them and question them about who they are, where they came from…” Ryan says.
Argit lets out a snort, with David shaking his head, a frown on his face.
“That’s a whole blind bag of bullshit there lady,” Argit says.
“If you’re resorting to Phil to find out about those two, and getting Argit involved, that means you’re basically as knowledgeable about this as we are. Congratulations, you're above mediocre. Curious though…why come guns blazing at me for?” David asks.
“Well—” Ryan starts.
The front door suddenly bursts open, revealing three white armored folks aiming what look like rifles at all three of the people involved. David and Argit raise their hands, the former dropping his gauze and the latter dropping the pistol.
Ryan doesn’t raise her hands because they’re still tied to a chair. Just thought that's important to mention.
Argit also chooses to commentate further because why not.
“Are you sure bad luck isn’t your semblance?” he asks.
David merely sighs, actually putting credence to the thought.
----------------------------------------------
Three days later, a whole bunch of paperwork letting them free, and about six bottles of cheap beer later, David falls into his now blood-stained couch, staring up at the ceiling.
A red-haired man in a white wife-beater and black jeans walks up. He unlocks some cuffs on David’s wrist, allowing him to fully relax.
The red-haired man puts the cuffs in his jeans pocket.
“Mr. David Hunter, per the accordance of the Council you have been placed under house arrest. You will only be allowed access to work and a limited amount of time outside for other needs for the next 60 days. Once that time is expired, the Council will explore further whether the time should be expanded or if you are to okay to be released. Your accomplice, Argit, is presently under the watch of Mr. Phillip Silver where he will continue to serve for the next year. Any questions?” the red-head asks.
“What happened to that other chick?” David asks.
“Ryan Freeman has been placed under capture by the Council personally until we can decide what to do with her in the future. That’s all I can tell ya,” the red-head says. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, could you not let my dad know where I live?” David asks.
“Gonna be hard. Jack’s been busy doing his own shit. That’s the main reason you’re dealing with me and not anybody else. We’re short-staffed right now with what we’re dealing with. I’ll try and do what I can, but if he gets curious he’ll find the official paperwork.”
David lets a sigh go. The red-head takes a pen and hands a piece of paper over to him.
“You know where to sign,” the red-head says.
David takes the pen and signs the allotted space.
The red-head takes the pen and paper back before nodding.
“That’ll do it. Look, David, we’re getting kinda sick of you and Argit’s shit. So if you could maybe not get into more trouble? You’ve got this wrestling thing going on and you’re really good at it. Focus on that for a bit, alright?” he says.
“Yeah. Thanks Mr. Spicer,” David says.
“Call me Jack. I’m like…a year older than you, tops. See ya in two months. Hopefully not any sooner.”
Jack exits out the front door. Once it closes, David continues to stare up at the ceiling.
Eventually, he starts flexing his still somewhat injured hand.
“I’m starting to think Argit might be right about my semblance,” he bemuses, pursing his lips with a pout in frustration.
