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Tweak says, "Liars waste so much time."

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Rocket Raccoon ([info]by_a_whisker) wrote in [info]hobbs_end,
@ 2015-08-14 14:18:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:arkham origins: the joker, gotg: rocket raccoon, rating: pg-13

WHO: Rocket & The Joker.
WHERE: The Black Dog motel.
WHAT: An unusual deal is about to be made.
RATING PG-13.
STATUS: Private, just started.


As far as he knew, the number of… incidents had lessened over the past week or so, assuming that time here worked the same like it did everywhere else. Rocket wasn’t counting on it, but then again, there was nothing to suggest that time in Hobb’s End was different. Perhaps it was, if only someone in town could leave the fucking place.

Although he had places to be, beyond the town, it could wait a bit longer, considering the miniature shockwave that just swept through the town. Rocket had been testing one of the beds of the motel when the shockwave occurred. There was no damage to the motel, from what he found: not that he genuinely cared, because there were other buildings to claim as his. He wasn’t the only one living here, but that would never change his mind.

Shockwaves weren’t normal, even in his world. What was there to do, if he didn’t investiate? How did one even start, though? There was one clue, and that was the distinct sound of someone or something pawing through things that didn’t belong to them. Specifically, the lobby.

Rocket still had some ammunition left, so with one pistol in hand and the other still in its holster, the anthro raccoon carefully made his way down the hall, straight to the lobby. It was true, what he assumed; Rocket was short and couldn’t see over the receptionist’s desk, but sight wasn’t necessary. The smell of Human was a big enough clue for Rocket.

With a growl, Rocket took hold of the desk’s edge and lifted himself up to the top, his hind-feet scrambling at the flaking wood. The stranger had been pulling out drawers and upending them, and god knows what. Their contents didn’t matter to Rocket, but he couldn’t forgive a stranger for this. Who the fuck just waltzed into someone’s home like this, if not a thief?

“You’ve got five seconds to leave, Whitey, if you want your head to stay in one piece.” If the stranger simply turned around, he’d see that Rocket had both guns drawn and aimed, point-blank, to said stranger’s head. It might be a shame, wasting his bullets on a thief, but better a thief than someone such as Gretel.



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[info]thanafruitcake
2015-09-19 06:35 am UTC (link)
The voice held a commanding edge, its tone offering a no-nonsense quality to it. It did not affect the Joker the least bit, save for one exception - whoever the voice belonged to, they were quite arrogant. Confident that they had the advantage here. He'd try his best to prove them wrong; Joker always enjoyed a good challenge.

For a while, up until the stranger had thoughtlessly interrupted him, Joker had been taking his time exploring the motel he had woken up in. That was distressing enough as it was. So far, nothing he could find explained exactly where he was, or why. Or why he was alone. Not even a trace of Harley was evident. Nothing to suggest anything at all, honestly, besides the startling realisation that he shouldn't be here. The clown saw nothing recognisable about the motel.

It wasn't a worry. At least, until the stranger had arrived.

Busy engaged emptying another drawer, having made a small collection of room keys, which were of the traditional sort (no swipe-cards in use, apparently), Joker straightened up when he had been barked at. It was more of a growl, really, suited more for....

Turning around to face the stranger, curious to get a glimpse of whomever it was before he made any decisions concerning how friendly he should be, considering how rude they were - the clown stopped short of saying anything too reckless.

What was he looking at? An overstuffed, walking toy? Holding two guns, their barrels trained on him, to make the situation more dramatic. Nothing he could take from this scene was at all comforting, or remotely helpful to him.

Gripping the wooden drawer between both hands, utterly perplexed, Joker stared back at the raccoon. It looked like a raccoon. The similarity stopped there. This furry creature with an attitude bigger than it was, talked, and had access to weapons. It obviously had no inkling who he had threatened, either, which he guessed was the first clue he's had all day.

It was a good thing that such creatures were commonplace in Gotham.

The corner of his lips turned upwards into a smile - a genuine one, not a mocking smile - and the clown calmly answered the raccoon's request, not fazed by the danger.

"Where did you get those? At the same carnival game where you won yourself as a prize? One freak to another: Harl would love you."

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[info]by_a_whisker
2015-09-25 04:13 am UTC (link)
Finding another Humie in this entire town was one of the last events he expected: a Humie that’s alive, no less. Hobb’s End wasn’t a very popular town, all things considered. Rocket remained undecided on whether he actually liked the solitude, but now that he had found someone new, perhaps this was his chance. The stranger’s reaction would prove to Rocket how much the raccoon cared about sharing company; so far, it wasn’t looking all that good.

Rocket’s aim didn’t waver. He remained focused on the man, impatiently waiting for him to say something, anything. There was nothing of value in this motel, Rocket knew that, but still. What gave anyone the right to enter his home? Or previous home, rather. He’d already moved into another building, and yet he could not easily forget who it was that he’d met here..

The man’s question was to be expected, on the basis that it made little sense to Rocket. The raccoon frowned, both ears flicking forwards. “They’re from my personal collection, Humie.” The meaning of the word ‘carnival’ was lost on him, but he knew full well what a game meant. Rocket’s lip curled, baring his canine teeth as he raised both guns a fraction lower, their barrels now pointing at the man’s eyes.

“You’re no prize yourself. Why are you here— what fucking business do you have in this place?”

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