silentspringlogs | Act 1, Scene 1

Entry tags:

Act 1, Scene 1

« Who: a surly teenager (John Doe) and you
« What: May catch-all
« Where: Numbers's house, Arthur's house, 'school', the neighborhood
« Content Warnings: cosmic horror probably discussed, body horror probably discussed, lots and lots and lots of cursing; if you wish to encounter him specifically with Arthur in another place, feel free to hit us here.

Closed to Grady - Numbers Residence

The first sound from John's new human throat is a scream. He'd started it before he had a body and then once he does, once he has, he can feel the strain of it on said throat, the roughness, and with it the prickling realization of skin, of weight, of gravity and balance and it's all so much, so fucking much, it'll take him a few moments to focus, to figure out where and what and there's no way in fuck he'll get to 'how' but at least he figures out how to breathe after a coughing fit.

Coughing fits suck.

He'll push himself off of the bed, stand on wobbly legs, and when he finds a mirror, there's another scream, this one with words:

"What the fuck?"

If Grady is home, that might be it, but if he isn't, John's going to try and investigate this new location, this new place, a sinking guilt in his gut as he sees pictures of 'himself' with someone, an older man, in a life that he doesn't seem to be able to access for some reason even a little. He has no idea where he is or why he's here but he's going to see what he can find here...

A New Home - Numbers Residence [open]
...guess what? If you come to visit Mr. Numbers, there's a chance (after school hours, of course) that you'll actually get a surly teenager to come to the door. His greeting of choice is a glare and a what like you just interrupted him doing something.

You may have. There's really no telling.

Home is Home - Lester Residence [open]
There's an even greater chance, a few days after his arrival, that you will find him in Arthur Lester's home during his non-school times, nearly always answering the door and definitely cleaning up the place, given the state it's been in since Arthur's 'wife' disappeared.

School's In For Spring [open]
John has to go to school. John has never gone to school before. John has never been something in a world that had schools like this, which is why he hates this by default even if it's been stressed to him that he has to do as he's told (ugh fuck that), go to his classes (...okay, that's interesting at least), eat the school food (... it's not as good as food he's had everywhere else including what he figured out for himself), behave himself (he is), and not just spend all day at the library (why? he's supposed to learn here! he can learn much faster on his own!) before taking the bus back.

...he hates the bus. Immediately. First thing he's going to have to figure out is how to get a bike.

Won't You Be My Neighbor [open]
You might see him on errands by himself or walking with Arthur any where you might expect either of them to be. Either way, feel free to say hello.

And don't be surprised at the foul mouth.

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Wrench really does try to exercise some modicum of discretion when it comes to 1960s sensibilities. It's not so much a matter of wanting to fit in around town as it is a simple habit. His past life never afforded him much opportunity to discuss things of a personal nature, and he doesn't see any reason to start now.

Discretion is one thing, though, and civility is quite another. By now he's gotten used to bursting through the front door of the Numbers residence without need to announce his arrival. If there's any reason that should change, he doesn't know it. Wrench doesn't bother to check to see if his partner is home; he's not with him, so where else could he possibly be?

So forgive the sudden intrusion. The front door creaks on its hinges and Wrench closes it with no particular gentleness. Before he gets down to the business of toeing off his shoes, he stamps his feet in the entryway as a warning of his arrival.

John doesn't know who this is. John doesn't know how to identify him even if he knew to expect him. John's experience being 'John' mostly involves being attacked and tormented at every turn and seeing every single other sentient being as being hostile-until-proven-otherwise. That is why John, who's given Grady his knife and given Arthur his gun, is going to go completely still and silent before hastily look around the room that he's in to figure out some sort of weapon...

John's silence may be directly proportionate to the noise Wrench makes while moving about. He can be stealthy when he needs to; he just doesn't bother most of the time. And here in Numbers' home, he's not bothering with too much of anything. It's a sure sign that the man isn't trying to avoid being caught. Though it's entirely possible for someone to mean harm blatantly and openly. He knows that from experience, and so he can't fault anyone who assumes similar.

It doesn't strike Wrench as strange that Numbers hasn't come to greet him yet. He assumes the man's just caught up in something. Or maybe he's out, in which case the vacant house might as well be his for the exploring. Wrench is still baffled that they have homes. It's a hundred times nicer than anything he's ever known, and he happily beelines for the kitchen to see what the bachelor of the house has in his refrigerator.

He hears him start to move towards the kitchen, no doubt looking for the person who's home, and that puts him in the perfect position. He takes care to keep tucked back against the wall in the same direction of the person coming, put them at the least likelihood of seeing him. He gets his hands on the chair easily enough and he suddenly has a great appreciation for Arthur's grunts and groans and huffs as he had to lift something because Things are Heavy, fuck them.

It's when he sees the man pass by on the way to the kitchen that his danger sense activates fully, the adrenaline hitting his system hard and he's so unprepared, so unaware of how it can make him feel, that he almost feels like a person possessed as he runs at him, swinging the chair along with his bodyweight to try and clobber him to the ground to get the advantage.

Edited 2024-05-24 00:31 (UTC)

There are some benefits to being inexplicably pulled backward in time and given an entirely new identity. Especially if you've spent the last decade on the run from the US Marshals, or trying to evade death from those who might wish you harm. On the whole, Sweetwater has been pretty quiet, but Wrench never completely relaxes. That's especially true with everything he's been through lately. Holding a man at gunpoint and trying to force him to drive you past an invisible barrier around the city isn't without its consequences.

It's left Wrench feeling an odd mix of on edge and out of touch, and his reaction time isn't what it might be otherwise. But it's hard not to see the movement of someone dragging a chair toward you, even if that particular someone is a rather short child. He catches movement out of the corner of his eye and turns just in time to see the furniture a moment before it connects.

Wrench is more shocked than he is hurt, though it does hurt like hell. The tall man doesn't cry out. Instead, he absorbs the impact with a solid huff and stumbles backward. He doesn't have his gun on him either. He had to toss that when they were stopped on the outskirts of town. Wrench doesn't have much useful at all, apart from his towering frame, but he's never really liked brute pugilism. The kid is just a kid, though, so he reaches out like he means to yank the offending chair straight out of his hands.

John's answer is a feral snarl, not the scream of a scared child but the warning growl of a cornered mongrel. He's going to hold onto that chair as hard as he can, as long as he can, right up until he feels like Wrench is pulling the hardest.

Then he's going to let go and drop to try and go for his knees.

The kid isn't as strong as him, but Wrench is pretty damn furious. He's not sparing much mental energy to logically think through the situation, but he assumes the errant teenager is probably a thief of some kind. Certainly, Wrench doesn't think he has more claim on the house. He's being a hell of a lot rougher than he would if he thought for even a second this was all just a simple misunderstanding, so when the boy lets go, Wrench is still tugging.

The backward momentum coupled with the lunge does a good job taking him off his feet, and he crashes to the kitchen floor with a heavy thud and a sharp burst of air. The kid, of course, is already there, and Wrench doesn't think twice about driving a kick at him.

The kick catches him in the shoulder and he snarls again, this time in pain. But this, at least, is not new, either in general or in the physical sense. Which is why he grits his teeth and aims a punch at Wrench's crotch.

"Motherfucking fuck, that hurt!"

Wrench is no stranger to pain himself. He wishes he could say that he's learned to ignore it, but he's not quite so inhuman. For the most part, though, he's trained himself not to let it become a motivator or a deterrent. He'll stay the course through it, even if he knows it means inviting it back on him time and time again. But right now just coming off a round of re-education at the hands of the town's questionable doctor, he's had just about enough of being hurt for a little while.

The punch lands and Wrench snarls. He's not fucking around any more. Wrench aims his next kick square at center mass, then scrambles back to his feet. He may have lost his gun, but he's far from completely unarmed. With a little distance, he produces an auto knife from his pocket and unsheaths the blade, holding it out like a warning. Breathing hard, he waits and watches for the kid's next move.

The kick lands, and he's much bigger, which is why John goes tumbling away, pain bright in his center. It hit him in the stomach, painful but not dangerous, and he starts looking around to see if he can find anything.

And ends up with a leg of the now-shattered chair.

He'll hold it on Wrench, wary and glaring at him as he stands up. There's a glance at the knife, but he doesn't look like he's deterred by it. On the contrary: kill him and he either gets out of here or -

Shit. He'd lose Arthur again. That just makes him grit his teeth through the simultaneous physical and emotional ache.

"Why are you in my fucking house?!"

Edited 2024-05-25 17:59 (UTC)

It's been a while since the tall man has found reason to kill anybody. If the situation demands it, he won't hesitate, but the truth is that he's not eager to end his streak of relative pacifism with the murder of a teenager. So he lets himself be held in this odd stalemate, trying not to look at the splintered leg of the chair like he might actually burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of this all. Shouldn't this kid be in school? Come to think of it, how many other children has he seen around town since his arrival? Wrench has to admit that he hasn't been paying much attention.

At least the kid seems no more eager to make the first move and end this odd standoff, though he is speaking. Wrench manages to catch the last word of that, but he simply raises his eyebrows and continues to stare. The words linger in the air for a fraction, and then the tall man lifts a finger to his ear and shakes his head. Of course he didn't bring a notebook; he was on his way to visit Numbers of all people and he hadn't expected this ridiculous interruption. But the kid isn't making any moves to leave, which is ludicrously bold for a petty intruder.

I'm Deaf, Wrench signs, giving a little more. He's not letting go of the knife just yet, but he does hold up a finger. He's sure Numbers has a pen and paper around here somewhere. Sure enough, Wrench finds a pad not far away with what looks to be the beginnings of a grocery list on it. The thought is so absurd he tucks it away for later and scribbles:

I can't hear. Explain why you're in this house. Make it quick.

The gesture to his ear has him pausing (considering his own situation with Arthur) before he frowns and yes, he'll let the man write something down. Once he's done, John's going to gesture for Wrench to step away from the notebook. He's not going towards it until Wrench is away.

Considering Wrench hasn't sheathed the blade, this isn't a bad idea. The gesture still makes the big man roll his eyes, though. He snorts something like a perturbed sigh and slides the notebook and pen a few inches towards the young boy, then takes several steps back from the countertop.

Go on, he signs in return, signaling the stranger forward.

He'll roll his eyes right back because fuck you, he lives here, before he goes to look at the notebook.

Then he'll roll his eyes again as he writes his answer in a handwriting that will be very familiar to Wrench if he's used to dealing with Arthur. Because it's Arthur's handwriting.

Because I live here now. The man who lives here is my "father" according to this place. Who the fuck are you?

He'll hold that up for a moment, then pull it back to write something else-

~~Who the fuck are you?~~ Who the fuck are you, asshole?

Wrench stifles the instinct to take a step closer. He can read the words at this distance and he's not in the mood for any more cheap shots from the kid with the chair leg. In a show of something like good faith, he finally does close the knife and stick it back in his pocket. Wrench raises his hands in a gesture of innocence before pointing at the notebook and wiggling his fingers at the boy to hand it over.

He's seen a lot of Arthur's handwriting over the last several months. Their best efforts at communicating have been slow and laborious for them both, but Wrench doesn't mind. He's not sure what the hell else he's supposed to do in this town anyhow, and the tall man has a soft spot for people willing to give that time back to him. Which is why he's almost instantly less defensive now that he's got the boy writing.

But those words coupled with that familiar handwriting make him double-take for a couple of reasons. He hunches over the countertop to craft his reply.

The man who lives here is a friend of mine. Old friend. From before we got here. We've been here a while and he never mentioned you. Why's that?

Wrench slides the notebook and pen back.

He'll take it and he'll read it before he grumbles in obvious irritation. Then he's writing back.

I didn't know that. He didn't tell me about you either. And I showed up a couple of days ago. Apparently the pictures changed to show me in them now.

There's an obvious pause before he writes a little lower.

Sorry about the chair. Everyone said this place is trying to fuck with us. And you're huge.

And sliding back.

Until the last sentence, Wrench is almost starting to feel guilty. Then he reads that last line, and he doesn't bother to hide the derisive snort. It's not the first time someone's taken a run at him for exactly that reason, but it's happened less and less since he's grown out of high school. The kid's words remind him of the boys who thought they'd make themselves tough by picking on the tallest guy they could find in the courtyard. It's been a long time since that's the worst that Wrench has had to worry about, but the boy's sentence immediately brings it back.

Same thing at my place. I had a "wife." She woke up here, same as me. Pictures of us both on the mantle. But she left somehow, and the pictures erased her.

I'm Wrench. Your name Arthur?

John's answer is an eyeroll. He is fucking small compared to what he's used to. And in a threatening situation, he has 'the element of surprise' and little else. He's not going to feel bad for making sure he doesn't die, asshole.

But the transformation in John is immediate as he reads the name 'Arthur'.

Scribbling intensely-

John. My name is John. Arthur is

He looks almost pained as he tries to come up with a word, a phrase, something that works. There's one word, but he's not sure, after everything, if he's allowed to use it. He swallows as he carefully writes out-

my partner.

It would be quite possibly the greatest understatement in the history of all understatements to say that Wrench isn't fond of the police. But right now he's looking at this kid -- John -- like he might need some intervention from the local force.

Wrench takes back the pen and circles that last word a few times curiously. It's certainly not an unfamiliar word, and he's quite intimately acquainted with the various nuances it contains. He might've told Teddy that Numbers was his partner when the two of them first met as well. There's no meaning here that can possibly make sense, or explain why John and Arthur's handwriting is a dead match for one another.

So you knew each other before you came here, too. You write just like him. He buy you off some warden or something?

John has no idea what that look is for, or why it's being directed at him. But he's going to frown at the way the pen circles it for his own anxious reasons before he takes them back to answer.

I used to have his left arm up to the elbow. And I did most of the driving.

He didn't buy me. The book I was trapped in was sent to his office. When he opened it up, I took his eyes. I got the arm later.

Okay hmm. After a moment, he'll add-

I wasn't human before this place. I didn't have a body of my own.

Another moment before he adds-

I'm a lot fucking older than fifteen or whatever this place made me.

And the notebook will be handed back, after he underlines 'a lot fucking older'.

Not too very long ago, Wrench woke up in the 1960s. Not only that, but in a home next to a person intended to be his wife, surrounded by pictures of the two of them in moments he never even lived. Not too long ago, Wrench's own partner was dead. Now he's standing in the kitchen of a house that's said to belong to Numbers, and the photographs on the wall have transformed to pictures of the man he's known all his life alongside this child he's only just been punched in the nuts by...

This still manages to be one of the strangest things Wrench has ever been told.

So you're an alien parasite who commandeered his basic motor function. You're the reason he's blind. And he lets you call yourself his "partner?"

Yeah, Arthur's said his piece and as the actual blind guy, John is going to give a shit about his opinion more than rando dude who kicked him in the stomach.

I'm not an alien. Or a parasite. He hates that fucking word. What I am would literally make your brain fizzle out of your ears if you attempted to fully understand it. Even beyond that, you don't know shit about us or what we've been through and if Arthur didn't tell you, I sure as hell won't.

And it's bullshit that he's blind. I'm not in his eyes. They should work now. I don't know why they don't. It's probably something to do with this place.

Maybe you used them all up. They only had so much juice, and you wasted it before he could get his turn back. His arm seems to work.

Wrench can't quite hide the smirk as he writes that retort. He might be risking the kid's anger, but if the boy actually had the capability to do any of the things he's threatening, Wrench imagines he might've already proven it. There are others here who have claimed to have abilities, and none of them seem to have them any more. So maybe it's just the town taking things at random.

If that's the case, Wrench wonders if he shouldn't be glad that he didn't have anything valuable enough for them to snag. This town, strangely enough, has given more to him than it's taken from him.

Got the attitude of a teenager, don't you? So who trapped you in the book in the first place?

Eye. roll.

That isn't how it works. At all.

And he didn't have powers, not since he'd been inside of Arthur. It's a level of cosmic understanding that humanity wasn't built to be able to handle. SAN damage. He pauses before he adds-

I'm not saying anything until Arthur gives the okay. I told you enough.

Suddenly you're an expert in how things work around here? Great. We've been waiting for one of those to arrive.

It's almost criminal that Wrench can't convey more of his tone through writing alone, but John only needs to look at the mocking expression on his face as he pens those words to get a sense of what the tall man is really thinking. By the time he gets around to replying to the last statement, he's practically ready to beat his head against the kitchen countertop.

That's fine.
You better figure out how to fix that chair before your dad gets home.

The second he gets the notebook back, he's scribbling his reply.

I didn't SAY that. Stop being an asshole.

And if 'dad' didn't want his fucking furniture ruined, he should have told me that he has a giant coming by every once in a while to be a dickhead to me. He can fix it himself.

I've already been cleaning all the parts of the house he let get disgusting. Fuck that.

You punched me in the fucking crotch. I'm going to be an asshole for a while, if it's all the same to you.

Funny thing is, beyond all the eye rolling and the heavy sighs, there might actually be a hint of a smile trying to peek through Wrench's expression. He is an asshole. In fact, he's downright bitchy at times. There aren't many people who know that, outside of Numbers. It's not as though the man has had opportunity to carry on too many conversations. Grousing at this parasite in a teenager's body is hardly the most meaningful discussion he's had since arriving, but it's just low-stakes enough to impart a bit of levity onto this otherwise-incomprehensible situation.

I come by a lot. Now you know. Trust you won't attack me next time.

Most of my existence has been things attacking me. I didn't want to die.

Now that I know you're not here to kill me, I'm not going to attack you. I'm not stupid.

A moment before-

And you kicked me in the stomach when you're twice my fucking size. Didn't feel great either!

I only kicked you in the stomach after you hit me with a chair.

Wrench underlines the whole sentence, like it's the final word on the matter. He can't pretend he doesn't understand the impulse, though. He's lived a lot of his life watching his own back and assuming that everyone's out to harm him. The kid did what he needed to protect himself, and that will undoubtedly bode well for him here in Sweetwater.

Otherwise, Wrench wouldn't be too keen on the idea of Numbers sharing a home with someone likely to get him killed.

Hungry? He writes the single word on the next line before abandoning the notebook and pen in favor of whatever might be left in the refrigerator.

Teen. age. eyeroll. He doesn't even know it's a teenager thing, but he's definitely giving a very teenage boy eyeroll.

They're not going to get anywhere arguing about who hit who (John is very firm that you came into his house so fuck you, he was defending himself) and there's a much more important thing to worry about.

Yes. Did you bring food?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Act 1, Scene 1

Numbers residence

...up for getting hit by a chair?

r o f l, I absolutely love it

thank yooou : )

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