InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Nothing noble about being poor"

caradoc kaine thinks you're the bestest~ (bound_caradoc) wrote in bound_rp,
@ 2014-06-02 22:15:00

Current mood:	scared
Current music:	F+tM - Dog Days Are Over
Entry tags:	caradoc kaine, ernie jackson, herb jackson, in progress, private, ross richards

run fast for your mother, run fast for your father...
Date: June 3rd, 2013
Time: Late afternoon, 3:30pm
Location: Jackson & Jackson: Professional Dicks
Characters: Caradoc Kaine, Ernie Jackson, Herbert Jackson, Ross Richards
Description: Quokka gone wild
Status: Private, in progress

She didn't know how they had found her.

One minute, Caradoc was taking the long way home, walking slowly, staring into shop windows as she ambled past them, and the next she was ducking down an alleyway hiding behind a dumpster quickly shucking her clothes and shoving them into her backpack before shifting into her slightly faster four-footed form. She knew on a subconscious level that the sight of a slightly oversized rat-like creature loping down the way with a purple backpack on might attract attention, but she assumed that being around shin-high was a bit less attention-grabbing than a teenager booking it down the street.

She could hear the hunters coming into the alley behind her, shouting for a 'Ms. Kaine', which she ignored as she took off once again. She wasn't sure how long she'd been running when she spotted an open door and headed towards it. As she got closer, she could hear people speaking inside. Taking a moment to stash the backpack behind him bushes, she ran inside the building and started to climb the first person she encountered, just in time for the men chasing her to catch up.

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bound_herb
2014-06-03 11:47 pm UTC (link)

Yep, Herb was pre-tty impressed with what him and Ernie had managed to do with a lick of paint, a sledgehammer, a few purloined letters from various posh signs around town, and a pile of amphetamines as big as both of their heads.

He was still a bit twitchy, actually. Which was making the remodelling all kinds of fun.

"FORE!" He yelled, swinging the sledgehammer into the counter that had, inexplicably, been there already. For a second-story office space, it looked like someone had just had their own personal bar set up here. Complete with the remnants of booze, which they'd happily taken as motivation to get the work done.

But, Jackson & Jackson: Professional Dicks was coming together, slowly but surely. It was their little side project during the time it took Delia to get her shit together and find them a phoenix, cobbled together through graft, bribery and blackmail. It was actually Ernie who'd had the bright spark, and wonders truly never did cease, it seemed. The problem with casing joints, he'd said, was that people got annoyed when you camped outside of their houses in beaten-up Volkswagens. What if they actually invited them in?

Thus, after a particularly awful mistrial involving a purloined exterminator's van, they'd hit upon the idea of a PI agency.

What they weren't prepared for was the sudden rodent invasion, which made a beeline for Ernie's pocket, before the clattering of boots sounded on the stairs.

"Our first customers, Ernest!" Herb shouted. "Look sharp!"

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ex_bound_ern238
2014-06-04 07:47 am UTC (link)

The sweat ring around the collar of his shirt was satisfying, as it was an indicator that they were making progress. "This aint golf, and are you trying to break the tile on the floor? Unless you can lift a shit ton of tile from somewhere can you swing with a little less reckless abandon? Hm? SHIT." He said, clearly agitated by the amphetamines. They didn't make him only faster, but they made him angry...faster. Well, not just anger, but everything. That was what the booze was for. They had scored big with the leftover file cabinet, and mini refrigerator. Sure, they were both an ugly 80's sort of brown faux finish, but they could work with that. Hopefully.

He grabbed the hammer, and swung it around wildly making the most terribly stupid noises as he knocked sections of the bar out. "Yeahehaeahehaehahaa!" He shouted as the hammer broke through more stuff. "Fuck yeah! Whoooo!" He made a kicking motion and added a pelvic thrust. Accomplishment.

He didn't actually see the rodent crawl up his pants, but he felt it, which caused him to look down to see the rodent crawl into his pocket. It took him approximately half a second to go from manic to manic-freakout. He opened his mouth and lost all manpoints that he had managed to accumulate during his life, as a shrill scream exited his mouth as he ran around their new-to-be office. It took him even less time to shrug out of his shirt and pants, and fling them in the corner. The footsteps were his last concern. After a second of freaking, he found a bottle of gin and started chugging it.

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bound_caradoc
2014-06-07 12:59 am UTC (link)

...just when Caradoc thought she was safe, she was put into an even worse situation. The guy who's pants she decided to use as a climbing post, apparently thought nothing of committing a little animal cruelty. Well, she'd remember that... at least once she stopped being dizzy. Poking her head out of the discarded pants, she quickly shrunk back when she heard the men who had been chasing her enter.

Approaching Herb, one man held out a picture, asking if he'd seen the girl in it, while the other began looking around. Running as quietly as she could, Cara made her way along the wall, intending to find a safer place to hide. Of course, it was while she was out in the semi-open that she overheard the man with her picture mention a few crucial things = "We suspect she's one of those shifting types, some kind of rodent. If you see her, give us a call. There's a reward in it for you."

Well... that wasn't good. The men lingered, waiting to see how Herb would respond, and yet none of them bothered to look down, which made it rather easy for Cara to creep up behind the man now in possession of her picture and a business card, grab onto a more baggy part ot his pants, and use them as a ladder of sorts to get to higher ground.

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bound_herb
2014-06-17 08:07 pm UTC (link)

"Can't say I have," Herb replied, cocking an eyebrow at the man. "But if you're in the market for missing persons, Jackson & Jackson is the right place!"

Herb noticed the other one poking around, and cleared his throat, loudly. The whole thing was a little off, to be honest - the kind of men in front of him didn't seem like the kind of court baliffs who'd come looking for some juvie who'd skipped bail, and the fact that they didn't seem to be in the slightest bit alarmed by his naked, gin-swigging brother was...

...well, even by his standards it was a little odd. He had to admit, the reward did sound tempting though. His hands tensed around the sledgehammer, resting it on his shoulder as he placed the photograph and the business card on his desk - which, at this point, was more mortar dust than wood - and smiled coldly.

"I think you should be on your merry, mate," he said. "No girls here, unless you're counting my dear drunken sibling over there. Now, best depart, before you... QUOOOOOKKKAAAAA!"

His sentence was interrupted as the furry creature crawled up his trousers, sharp little bastard claws sticking into the flesh of his leg. He wheeled around madly, trying to see what the hell the creature was doing, when he felt an alarming, yet satisfying thump vibrate down the head of the hammer. The man he'd been talking to flew backwards, out for the count, and barreled into his partner.

Who unfortunately connected with the supporting wall Herb had been taking his very best swing at moments before. A chunk of plaster dislodged from its precarious fastening, coming down with a sickening crunch-puff onto the other man's head. Both collapsed to the floor, landing in a heap that could only be described as an undignified position, heads in each other's laps.

Herb's mouth hung open for a moment, before he became acutely aware of the quokka still clambering up him.

"You little furry bastard!" He yelled, swinging the hammer in a vain attempt to knock it off. "Our first customers! ERNEST! FETCH THE SHOTGUN, THERE'S A GOOD LAD."

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ex_bound_ern238
2014-07-04 12:31 am UTC (link)

Ernie managed to recover and stood there, in his underwear and watch horrified as his brother possibly killed their first set of customers. "Goddamnit! You've killed them! And if you haven't we'll have to work for free. For. Free. And we don't even have any money." He practically shouted, stupidly.

He was completely oblivious for a moment until he heard the word shotgun. "Oh! Fuck! The rat!" He shouted as he ran to the corner of the room and grabbed the shotgun and aimed it at Herb's leg. "Hold still! I'm an excellent shot!" Not that he'd have to be with a shotgun. He was guaranteed to hit something with buckshot. His finger moved to the trigger and began to squeeze gently. If you had asked one of them if they believed in God the second before Ernie pulled the trigger the answer would have likely been a rather resounding, 'No..

If you had asked them after a ceiling fell from the ceiling and hit the barrel of the gun, the answer might have been yes. The square shape tile had fallen from the ceiling and knocked the barrel of the gun to the left right before it had gone off, so instead of shooting Herb and the rat-like-creature, the buckshot hit the passed out men on the floor. "What the...?!" He exclaimed as he tossed the gun across the room, and nearly shit his pants when the gun went off again.

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bound_caradoc
2014-07-05 08:52 pm UTC (link)

Caradoc couldn't believe how shitty her luck was. First, she had to run away from hunters. Then she thought she'd found a safe place but between getting tossed against a wall, nearly whacked with a sledgehammer, and shot at, she knew she should have chosen more wisely. Was it her fault that quokka were social animals and she hardly knew this place? No, not in her opinion.

She was going to have to remember the faces of everyone in the room, at least she hoped to once her heart rate returned to normal. Was she having a heart attack, or was she imagining that? Either way, this had to be the absolute worst day of her life and no mistake. This was ten times as bad as the day her father sent her off, that much she knew for sure. At least she had a name though; one of the guys, the one who threw her and then shot at her, was Ernest. And if she had to level a judgment on him in the heat of the moment, he was a wet paper bag and a total douchebag.

If she wasn't in fear of her life, she might've laughed at the way the shot went awry. The buckshot missed her completely - she checked herself just in case before attempting to jump to a counter - and hit the ceiling. At least now she knew that if she made it out here in one piece the hunters would be delayed in chasing after her, maybe even enough so that she could actually find a safe place to hide out for the time being. At least now she knew that Ernest and whoever the other guy was were not friends to quokka, regardless of how adorable she was in this form.

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bound_herb
2014-07-09 08:54 pm UTC (link)

"Oh no you don't, and it's a quokka, Ernest, not a rat," Herb said, reaching out to grab the struggling rodent by the tail, as he hung it upside down and peered at it. "Weird though, almost like..."

His brain suddenly caught up, flash-forward-style, to the events around him.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Ern," he moaned, still holding the quokka. "You've fucking killed them!"

The prognosis wasn't great, that was for certain. Both men were... leaking... profusely onto the floor, and more ominously, not really moving. Now, Herbert P Jackson, entrepreneur, showman, well-respected man about town was no physician, but he suspect getting shot would wake anyone out of a concussion.

"Bollocks," he said, for want of anything else, as he began to rush again, sweating profusely in the small room. He didn't think the sound of the blast would be too noticeable, in that they'd been practicing creative demolition all day, but he did think that two rotting corpses might draw a little fuss.

"There goes the evening," he sighed, anticipating a night of rolling up bodies in bags before carrying them out to the van in the dead of night. Meanwhile, as the rodent squirmed, they had another problem.

"Erm, Ernest," he said. "I'm not sure this is actually a quokka."

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ex_bound_ern238
2014-07-16 02:31 am UTC (link)

"What the fuck is a quokka?! It looks like a rat, and clearly it has nefarious intent. Right, I'll take care of it. I'll shift into a wildcat, and I'll eat it." He said before his brother stopped him from doing stupid and directed his attention to the men on the floor.

"Yeah, well I was standing my ground." He said defiantly with a puffed up chest. "Jive turkeys came in here trying to hurt someone. Coulda been us you know!" He said with a nod, as he considered what could have happened if they hadn't been subdued. "Dynamite would solve this problem..." He muttered as he walked to the spot where the men were laying.

He didn't know that buckshot was capable of killing people, he'd seen that one movie where that lady took buckshot straight in the tits, and she was okay... "Yeah, well...what? It looks like vermin to me. Now you probably have the plague or something. Let's put it in a box and sell it to a kid or something for a quick fifty." He suggested as he looked at the thing, with its eyes and face.

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bound_caradoc
2014-07-22 05:08 am UTC (link)

Okay... what type of rampaging fuckwad grabbed a creature by the tail? Apparently, the asshole who was holding her, that's who. She wriggled, cursing her chubby adorableness as she tried to scratch or claw at the guy holding her.

She could understand everything they were saying, and she had to admit the one with the shotgun was starting to concern her. He better not try shooting at her, that really wouldn't go over well. Admittedly, she could easily solve her current predicament by shifting back to her human form, but then she'd be naked around two strangers and that idea really didn't appeal to her in the slightest.

Hey! She wasn't vermin, and she certain was worth more than a quick fifty. She stopped struggling, turning to give the guy holding her a look that very clearly read 'is this guy for real?', waiting to see how he reacted as she plotted her next move.

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bound_herb
2014-07-29 03:38 pm UTC (link)

"Gaaaah!" Herb shouted, as the creature gave a very definite turn of its head towards him. "Not a quokka, not a fucking quokka!"

He took the struggling creature over to the corner, and placed it there, before rapidly retreating and taking the shotgun from Ernie.

"Give me that, you plum," he snarled. "Your shotgun privileges are well and truly revoked. Besides," he paused, jabbing his finger at the corner, just as his vision started to kaleidoscope, the mushrooms from earlier obviously taking effect. "Think that one's a shifter."

He looked to the side, and his brain reset, deleting the last few minutes of conversation as his eyes widened.

"Fucking hell Ernest, you killed them!" He shouted, before glancing into the corner of the room again. "And how did the fucking quokka get into the fucking corner! For fuck's sake," he chambered a round in the shotgun, and levelled the weapon at the animal, completely oblivious to history repeating itself.

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