#claenr

[darkestaken-archived]

unprompted.   >   @claenr​

"Wow you're light." bruto may or may not have picked her up by the scruff of her jacket.

She looks him up and down, quick to melt into the jacket. She raises her arms up with simplicity -- sliding out of her vest and dropping on the ground without a word.

Yeah, she’s light. She’s not stupid, either.

“ My jacket, please. ”

[kahosin]

unprompted.   >   anonymous

u sure haven't seen Malva in a while, have you Lysandre? 

it’s been too long since her last report. now, lysandre did get used to her silences. malva was, as she put it, a BUSY WOMAN. between her work at the league, the one as a news reporter, and her FLARE business, malva had a lot on her plate.

that, and she simply did as she wished; lysandre could give a command and she’d do it, but how she would perform and when she would send her report was absolutely up to her.

but this time ... THIS TIME, something about her lack of answers made his blood boil. with anger, of course, but more than that ...

“ LOCATE her. ”

[kalosinflames]

“I give it maybe thirty minutes until that man is Pyroar food.”

[crueliste]

"WHO BROKE IT--"

seems bruto found the minifridge unlocked and pilfered--

        SHIT– HE ALREADY CLIMBED OUT OF THE BEDROOM WINDOW NOT ABOUT TO DEAL WITH THIS NOT TODAY HE SUDDENLY HAS A NIGHT SHIFT 

@claenr

[pyroaress]

* ♕         ›         Okay but who told Lysandre -- 

[haerith]

     “May be good at his job, but he’s a colossal dick.”

[missingstarter]

@claenr​:

(this hurts me so bad)

"Arrite. Here's how this's gonna go, yeah?"

The chair was hard wood, the restraints tight; probably tighter than what was safe for proper blood flow, but Bruto didn't care. He'd had people slip out before, and it wasn't going to happen again. Not this time. He wasn't gonna fuck it up again.

Back to them, facing a table as he set out his tools, he continued talking.

"I'm gonna ask you a question, and you're gonna answer. If you don't answer, or you gimme one I don't like, I'm gonna give ya a cool new scar. Ya dig?"

Accompanying his little speech was the quick rev of a drill, then a clatter as he set it down, spun, and approached the chair.

Taking ahold of the duct tape, harshly ripping it from their lips. Dropping it to the floor, settling into his own chair facing backwards as he got closer.

"What's yer name and what were you doin'?"

Okay, this... could’ve gone better. Sneaking in a Rocket base was always a big risk. Especially if he did it all by himself, without telling anyone -- and, this time, things went much worse than he thought.

He thought that he got rid of all the cameras. He thought he could’ve brought out Alakazam and teleport out of there in time. But no. Of course things never go as planned.

With a terrible headache that followed the hit that KO’d him, Silver tried to escape from the second he regained his senses -- or, simply focused on breathing calmly, ignoring the pain, the fear, the realization that he managed to get captured again by those bastards. He didn’t even recognize the Rocket that got in the room, Arceus knows after how many hours spent in there all by himself.

This... is awful.

“...”

Taking another deep breath - in and out, slowly, taking his sweet time to keep his cool -, he at least tried to seem calmer than he actually was. Resting his back on the chair, sitting properly, yet keeping a frown as he glared back at the other. He should try to avoid getting overly aggressive right away.

The idea of getting more scars wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“I thought it was obvious.”

... ...overly aggressive. That was just an average aggressiveness, for him.

“...Silver. My name is Silver.”

He didn’t want to use his name to get out of this. If anything, he wanted to make sure everyone in there knew he was the one who just sneaked in to try and mess with them. The one who took down so many grunts on his way inside their precious ‘secret’ base.

[haematophiliac]

@claenr​ //

"Ey. You mentioned you wanted to talk?"

(he may still have blood on his hands and face from earlier)

     He isn’t quick to spin around in his chair, taking his sweet time while staring at the computer screen to eventually acknowledge that Bruto had entered the office. But when he finally does shift it around, he’s smiling all too nicely.

     “Of course, my friend!” He starts, leaning back in the plush chair so it tilts backwards on the frame, perfectly balanced by the mechanisms allowing him to lean without falling. “Please, do make yourself at home. Get comfortable.” A hand gestures to the room in general; cabinets, drawers, a metal table, another door, the desk and his chair... There isn’t anywhere to sit other than a simple wooden seat to the side lest Bruto perch on the stone cold table. 

     Of course, he notices the blood, but doesn’t make any comment on it, instead running his tongue along his lower lip in thought and a sense of desire. It’s been a little while since he saw the blood of a human. Or, which he presumes is from one of the other man’s victims. Either way it’s a delight to look upon. It makes the guy that bit more attractive.

     “I was hoping that you would indeed come to see me when requested. I have a proposition.”

[rrocketgrunt-archive]

"Aight, I'm here. You ready?"

/@claenr

While his confinement to a single floor in HQ had certainly been far better treatment than what typically befell similar offenders, it still held an air of humiliation in forcing him to beg for even basic liberties. Responses ranged from sympathetic to cruel with the common median being people who simply didn't want to sully their reputations by associating with him.

His probation wasn't much better. He was allowed access to more of the HQ, but still had to navigate plentiful restrictions. Like not being allowed outside without supervision... At least Bruto was willing to accommodate when he wasn't busy and didn't bully him over his need for a babysitter. He needed a bit of sun to ward off cabin fever.

"God, yes..." He was all the more eager for having to suffer some moron shilling for a promotion by loudly exalting praise of Giovanni and the Executives to anyone within earshot.

"There's less dick licking in a porn studio..."

@claenr

[darkestaken-archived]

faaather when are you going to let your guy let me leave to be on my oooooown ✨✨✨

[fairymiint]

(for whoever)

"Arrite. Here's how this's gonna go, yeah?"

The chair was hard wood, the restraints tight; probably tighter than what was safe for proper blood flow, but Bruto didn't care. He'd had people slip out before, and it wasn't going to happen again. Not this time. He wasn't gonna fuck it up again.

Back to them, facing a table as he set out his tools, he continued talking.

"I'm gonna ask you a question, and you're gonna answer. If you don't answer, or you gimme one I don't like, I'm gonna give ya a cool new scar. Ya dig?"

Accompanying his little speech was the quick rev of a drill, then a clatter as he set it down, spun, and approached the chair.

Taking ahold of the duct tape, harshly ripping it from their lips. Dropping it to the floor, settling into his own chair facing backwards as he got closer.

"What's yer name and what were you doin'?"

/@claenr

🌈~ There was a mild grimace at the sound of the drill; Felix's hearing was sensitive, and his jaw had quivered in annoyance. Next came the rip as tape peeled at him, pulling a hair or two from his upper lip. It pursed in mild pain; more annoying than anything at his level of tolerance, but he still bit back a swear. "ff--_" Who knows why he spared this man the courtesy. Perhaps to sound less aggressive and threatening.

"Felix. I was just passing by." Investigating the area, no doubt, but that was just what he does. Usually, there wasn't much in the way of stopping him. The trainer can't help a quiet, perturbed groan, half sighing in it. Doubt that a man speaking like this was going to 'like' anything he said, tense at the situation and threat- This body wasn't exactly one that scarred, anymore, just twisted itself sickly back into shape after a time. The thought of this man finding that out wasn't exactly pleasant. His troubled thoughts turned to planning of tone, perhaps playing more 'innocent' would help in this situation. It keeps him from grumbling a warning beg, Please Don't. Letting the man think that he was more in control was definitely under consideration, depending on just how he was going to play it. Maybe he should just be bracing for it, anyway...

[kalosinflames]

Soon.

[crueliste]

"Hey quick question: does it matter how the slowpoke tails are made or can you handle spice?" /@claenr

          the first instinct is to loudly exclaim how he prefers them raw. he loves that little tingle of psychic energy that bristles in it when it’s freshly cut off. then again, bruto had changed his mind on many other foods.  “  nah, you can decide,  ”  proton always lingers close to the man when he’s preparing the food, at least until he’s shoo’d off. peeking over his shoulder, paying close attention to his knife skills, being a general nuisance– it’s what he did best.  “  just cram it full of spice. you know, like, blow-your-head-off level.  ”

@claenr

[pyroaress]

"Arrite. Here's how this's gonna go, yeah?" The chair was hard wood, the restraints tight; probably tighter than what was safe for proper blood flow, but Bruto didn't care. He'd had people slip out before, and it wasn't going to happen again. Not this time. He wasn't gonna fuck it up again. Back to them, facing a table as he set out his tools, he continued talking. "I'm gonna ask you a question, and you're gonna answer. If you don't answer, or you gimme one I don't like, I'm gonna give ya a cool new scar. Ya dig?" Accompanying his little speech was the quick rev of a drill, then a clatter as he set it down, spun, and approached the chair. Taking ahold of the duct tape, harshly ripping it from their lips. Dropping it to the floor, settling into his own chair facing backwards as he got closer. "What's yer name and what were you doin'?" @claenr​

* ♕         ›         Incredibly the worse part of all this was the use of incredibly coarse restraints rubbing against her sensitive garments. This better not leave a crease or tear anywhere. Tailoring and dry cleaning was expensive.

She gives a hiss when the duct tape was removed, tasting the plastic at the first gasp of air. Malva was absolutely seething in her seat. Who does he think he is?

“  Vous pouvez crever en enfer. ” He got close enough that she spat in his face. How indignant, but one repulsive act deserves another. “ And that was an expensive coat of lipstick you ruined for this shoddy work. ”

Content finally she sat back on her seat with a leg crossed neatly over the other. He has no idea who’s right across from him. It’d be safer seating with the devil.

“ Malva Bellerose. I was simply stepping from Lumiose before I was so barbarously ambushed. Have you no shame? Too afraid of a woman to step forward instead I see. ” Her heel bounces on her leg. At least she’ll entertain this for a moment. “ Good choice but piss poor style. ”  

[murmursdraconic]

(for whoever)

"Arrite. Here's how this's gonna go, yeah?"

The chair was hard wood, the restraints tight; probably tighter than what was safe for proper blood flow, but Bruto didn't care. He'd had people slip out before, and it wasn't going to happen again. Not this time. He wasn't gonna fuck it up again.

Back to them, facing a table as he set out his tools, he continued talking.

"I'm gonna ask you a question, and you're gonna answer. If you don't answer, or you gimme one I don't like, I'm gonna give ya a cool new scar. Ya dig?"

Accompanying his little speech was the quick rev of a drill, then a clatter as he set it down, spun, and approached the chair.

Taking ahold of the duct tape, harshly ripping it from their lips. Dropping it to the floor, settling into his own chair facing backwards as he got closer.

"What's yer name and what were you doin'?"

/@claenr

She stared. She didn't move.

Shay didn't know where she was, or who this Ursaring of a man was. If looks could kill, this man would have been a pile of ashes on the floor. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to get her anywhere. Her fingers flexed on the end of the chair, testing how tight the duct tape was. She could only flex her wrists around a bit.

She did not let this man out of her sight. The tools were the sign of a professional, or someone with too much time on their hands. She wasn't going to test which one of those theories was correct. Dealing with dangerous entities that could manipulate the very matter of reality was one thing. Dealing with human monsters was another.

Cool new scar? He's either terrible at being threatening or phrasing it like that on purpose.

Shay wasn't sure what she was more enraged at; being caught in this situation, or having to play nice with someone who was going to get teeth around their throat if a certain someone of hers found out. Either way, she was stuck.

Breaths were even and slow, one to help keep her from saying something that would no doubt get her a 'cool new scar', and also to take in the smells. Musty, rusty, dark and dank. Industrial adhesive... old wood... Remember everything she could... take in all the details. Stare long, blink fast, and remember.

Get the oxygen to your head and think smarter, Shay.

Her neck stiffened, hardly moving when her muzzle was removed. Her lip stung, skin breaking in the corner from some dryness she had yet to address. She let the blood be.

Most people would be terrified. Most people should, but Shay had a specific fear response when it came to humans: pure anger. It wasn't her finest quality, but she wasn't about to go get herself killed because some of her brain cells were beating the primal pots and pans together.

It also helped that Shay had a metaphorical ticking time bomb in a ball if things went south, wherever she was. Benefits of training exceptionally dangerous Pokemon with a Mama Bear complex.

Begrudging cooperation and biting her tongue back, Shay looked at whoever her assumed captor was for a long moment, her cold expression refusing to budge.

This guy could have found my ID, so there issn't time to gamble on a fake name. Keeping it short, and to the point, and not asking questions... just keep it to the base truths. Don't over complicate your answers.

"Shay." An answer, short and curt. "Bushcraft survival drills."

Chalk this up to the worst camping trip ever.

@claenr

[miirci]

@claenr​ asked: (for whoever your vibin with)

"Arrite. Here's how this's gonna go, yeah?"

The chair was hard wood, the restraints tight; probably tighter than what was safe for proper blood flow, but Bruto didn't care. He'd had people slip out before, and it wasn't going to happen again. Not this time. He wasn't gonna fuck it up again.

Back to them, facing a table as he set out his tools, he continued talking.

"I'm gonna ask you a question, and you're gonna answer. If you don't answer, or you gimme one I don't like, I'm gonna give ya a cool new scar. Ya dig?"

Accompanying his little speech was the quick rev of a drill, then a clatter as he set it down, spun, and approached the chair.

Taking ahold of the duct tape, harshly ripping it from their lips. Dropping it to the floor, settling into his own chair facing backwards as he got closer.

"What's yer name and what were you doin'?"

Mai doesn’t get scared easily. Is it an an older sibling thing? Or perhaps the fact that she has a habit of adapting to situations incredibly fast as a way to cope? She has always been a little curious about ghost pokémon too. . .

But right now? The woman is frightened.

It’s easy for her to tell that there’s nowhere for her to run and whatever it is that is restraining her really hurts. Where even is she? Definitely nowhere near the subway. Hold on, where was she before she woke up here? Mai vaguely remembers getting lost and looking for shelter away from the rain. . . Or was she running away. . . ? What the heck was she up to?

Thoughts are interrupted by a terribly harsh and loud sound from a machine she doesn’t recognize. Yep, she’s definitely in danger. A lot of danger.

Eyes look at the man approaching her, a yelp escaping from her lips when the tape is ripped off. He’s a giant-- and she thought she was tall! She may be decently strong, capable of carrying and throwing most people with ease, but it’s easy to see she can’t fight this guy on her own if she’s even capable of escaping from the restraints.

Looks like she’ll have to play this smart and careful.

“My name is Mai,” she answers with complete honesty, “I can’t remember much but I believe I got lost and was looking for a place to hide. Where am I, exactly?”