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Tweak says, "Synesthesia"

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

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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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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