InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Say no to hydra!Cap"

Peace Out (weirdowriter) wrote in somerealityrpg,
@ 2019-06-15 12:06:00

Entry tags:

inactive: jughead jones

Who: Klaus Hargreeves and Jughead Jones
What: Klaus finding Jughead
Where: Some dark alley
When: After arrival
Warnings: Klaus is a warning. And Jughead is in a bad way in the aftermath of a pretty thorough beating.
Status: Closed, Incomplete

Jughead wasn't a seasoned fighter, not by a long shot, but he'd taken a fair number of punches over the years. He knew he wouldn't be able to withstand the sheer numbers he was facing, but he was damn sure going to give it his best shot. He was determined to stay on his feet as long as he could, because he knew once he went down he wasn't going to get back up.

He just hoped it was enough to sate the Ghoulie's hunger, and Peabody's need for revenge. If he spared his people, his gang, from attack, it was worth it. His mind went blank, his vision black, within the first few blows. And then his dad was there, pulling him out and carrying him away from the skirmish. He felt weightless and bodiless, like he had somehow divorced his consciousness from his body.

And then he was lying on the pavement, the stench of stale piss and old trash all around him. He tried to push himself up, spit blood on the ground. He groaned, his arms giving out so that his head fell to the cold, hard pavement. So this was it. This was how he was going to die.

(Post a new comment)

quattuor
2019-06-15 07:44 pm UTC (link)

"Look at der mist," he called out, his voice indignant, his body language nonthreatening, calling out to anyone willing to stop and listen for a bit. But this was New York; people generally didn't care about some junkie’s leather pants slowly getting soaked in the rain, and honestly, neither would his family. "My pants [...]" Leather and rain didn't mix, and peeling it off his skin was going to be akin to waxing his ass with chocolate pudding. Neither were fun. "Are ruined." Pity; he loved them. But he loved leather anything, and there was real money to be made from that [...] in the right circles, but seeing the proof would probably give his siblings an aneurysm. Still, that was neither here and now, and he was prepared to let everyone's aloofness go, when a letter smacked him right in the face. Rude. Granted, the letter had floated right up to him, but Klaus was Klaus, and Klaus had seen a lot of weird shit, and a floating letter? Was really, really low on his personal bar of weird. Hence, the letter had decided on a slightly more drastic course of action. But it was still rude, as far as Klaus was concerned.

But then his stomach lurched, and settled into a low, rumbling whine. Food - he needed food. Diet, wasn’t that like, important for a recovering drug addict? Ben would know for sure, because he paid attention to all those things, and lorded them over his head, but yeah! He was pretty sure of that. Even if a burrito wasn’t on the list, he’d still chance it. After spotting a food truck in the distance, he crumpled up the letter, shoved it into his pants - for safe-keeping, of course - and pouted when it turned out to be selling hot-dogs. “I don’t want a hot-dog. It’s too late for hot-dogs.”

Maybe the next block? He gave the vendor an apologetic smile and a wave before letting his feet take him further. And further, when that block didn’t pan out, and the one after that. What the fuck did he have to do to find a burrito in this place, anyway? But then there was the smell of iron in the rain, and panic gripped at this throat. Neither were new to him. Ten months ago, he’d just have walked on past. Dark alleys and the rougher sides of town, they were just as much a part of him as the Umbrella Academy tattoo on his wrist. Mean streets were for skipping through them happily, preferably with his next fix in his hands, not for running. But he was running now, ignoring the echoes of rotor blades whirling in the sky, and finally, kneeling down next to a [...] kid? Shit. “Med[...]”, but he swallowed the rest of that word.

There were no medics here. No medics anywhere. “I’m Klaus.” His eyes strained against the darkness, and his hands found the worst of it - on the kid’s right arm. He had to stanch the blood flow - it was just battle 101. Get him to a clinic. “Okay, we’re gonna go up. I got you.”

(Reply to this) (Thread)

weirdowriter
2019-06-15 09:13 pm UTC (link)

Jughead would have been displeased to be seen as a kid. He had been on his own for a long time, years even. His parents were never going to contenders for Mom and Dad of the Year, and he'd practically raised himself from a Very Young age. But the truth was, he was sixteen, close to seventeen sure but not there yet. He was a kid, whether he felt like one or not.

He didn't. At the moment he felt like road kill. His arm where Penny had cut his Serpent tattoo off him with a knife burned like fire. His head throbbed like an African tribal drum, and every bone, muscle, and nerve in him ached like a toothache. He wasn't getting up on his own, that was for sure.

And where the hell was his dad? This guy, Klaus, he looked like an animated scarecrow. There wasn't much to him. But he was hauling Jughead up with some kind of supernatural strength, or at least it seemed that way to Jughead, and Jughead wanted to cooperate. He really did, but his body was not listening to his brain. His arms and legs were about as coordinated as wet noddles, and the throbbing of his head didn't help.

He groaned, and felt like the ground was pulling him back down like a really huge, and strong, magnet. His head lolled and he saw the envelope, his name scrawled across the front of it. It seemed clean and dry despite the rain. Jughead blinked, certain he was seeing shit now, and maybe this whole thing, the guy trying to help him, was a grand hallucination.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

quattuor
2019-06-16 06:52 pm UTC (link)

“I got it.” He noticed the letter at about the same time the kid did, blinked, and snatched it up anyway. “I’m just gonna [...] put it there.” And he stuffed it in a pocket inside the kid’s jacket. “For safe-keeping, since we’re all out of unicorns.” That statement would probably only make sense to Klaus, but he knew that was part of his charm. Finally, he effortlessly lifted the kid into an easier, standing position, and held him tight. After months of running around in the jungle with rucksacks that easily weighed a hundred pounds easy; add a lightweight kid, and it was laughably easy.

“Just got here? Because I did, and a letter like that practically smacked me in the face, which was rude [...]” Klaus was just talking for the sake of filling a rather one-sided silence at this point, but it made him feel better, so what was the harm. “Rude, huh?” Putting one foot in front of the other, they stepped outside of the alley, and Klaus squinted at the street in front of him. “I saw a clinic over that way. Thank God I was chasing a burrito. You up for it?”

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

weirdowriter
2019-06-17 05:42 pm UTC (link)

Jughead drew in a breath. He was hungry. But he had no appetite. He was in too much pain to think about food. Everything, literally everything, hurt. He couldn't pinpoint any area of his body that didn't ache or throb or sting.

His arm was the worst. He closed his eyes and saw Penny coming at him with the knife. He groaned, feeling the blade slice into his skin, cutting his Serpent tattoo clean off. He knew it wasn't happening now, but he felt the pain as if it was.

He forced his eyes open, forced himself to focus on the ground as he was being carried. "Fuck," he muttered. He had no idea who this guy was, he only knew it wasn't his dad carrying him. His head was spinning, trying to keep up with his thoughts, but nothing made sense.

"Where's...my dad?" he forced the words out, his voice rough like gravel.

(Reply to this) (Parent)