Let's have a talk |
| A tooth took exit like a loogie. Rolled across the table and stopped near a coffee mug. Teetering to and fro until its blood encased enamel found a home in a mini pool. He trained his eye on it. Focused to tune out the voices surrounding not only the room but his sensitive ears. All he wanted to hear was nothing at all. The Pacific Ocean was waiting for him soon and now it seemed as though there wouldn't be a vacation on the horizon. What rest before him were allegations and two alecs without smarts about his identity. He barely grinned and when he did, a spat of blood landed on the floor too. Realizing the healing that was on its way. Gearing the cheap shot to nothing as if he wasn't hammered in the mouth by luck. Luck was on one man's side that night without succumbing to the many ways of death and while looking down the face of the reaper, he had other problems to fumble with. His damn wife. "Is this going to be long? I got a kid I missed kissing goodnight and a wife to ream me a new one for missing pillow talk. How much do you dickwads get paid doing this anyway?" Slade was who he was but had the privilege of playing dumb. Noting the other half of him was a man who may have seen a few rooms to be interrogated in and by that he acted accordingly. Playing the hand of not knowing what he was brought in for when they both had an inkling. A sneaking suspicion because of his misfit nature finding its way across the social box of the world wide web. He looked the part. Rugged in torn clothes that barely covered the snug hybrid armor tech not seen by likes of any acting intelligence agency. But a man's ego and the delicate nature of it all was tampered with. Tugged upon and often questioned. Pride was part of it and as was the ill intention of meddling investigators sticking a nose where it didn't belong. The Cape crusader didn't think the shit through, pairing that off with having a lousy start in the assembled pastime of patrolling, was a recipe for disaster. He should've seen it coming. The words that dared to leave Dec's trap. Or Bruce if he was putting the true blame on instigation. If you and Ward cooperate, this will be short. His hands held behind the knot at the back of his head, signaled where he was going. The thinking ticking in an accelerated metronome style kept his sights on the bloody tooth. Passing through reels of memory film of just an hour or so ago. Cunning instincts and a sharp nose was more than enough motivations to see through the veil of night. Faces of the unseen and those unrecognizable moving in hoards to cause ruckus, stuck by while taking up the first post as his back was watched. Rotating the position. Making watchful thoughts and exchanging words that were innocent until nerves were poked at in the worst way. Finding the pinpoint, a needle's tip to how it all begun. The story the two agents wanted was merely fantasy. Myth if how it were to be explained in 140 characters or less. A threaded story woven by the witnesses and those who build a tale so meta that he laughed through the entire recollection. A solid grip of table met his fist. Double knocking out of habit. To keep his hands busy. To do anything but find a way out before being escorted elsewhere. There weren't many exit routes and the double mirror could've led to another dead end if a table found its way through it. His perception moved forward, clocking their movements before it happened. Nothing to be on edge over but he played it cooler than trying to kill the man, who was also trapped in a similar room. Didn't take him for the squawking type or leading with a possible crumb to feed these agents answers unneeded but his figure spoke loudly before. The eyes had been on him prior to that night. He figured it out long before the day of the rage. He went into sleuth mode. Watching for what added up least and where things smaller than what could be seen, stood out like a sore thumb. If it wasn't the entity that put a big group of people in the same city, then there had to be another factor working with this coincidental new life. His eye looked right up at the small dark camera resting above. He winked, shooting the gun hand signal before addressing the two elephants in the room. "I've been nothing but honest with you guys. More than honest actually and me sitting here isn't going to get what you want. Whoever it is that you want," Slade abruptly blurted out before words, empty threats of the law, filled the hollow room to cut him off. A stack of folders about a few inches thick fell right in front of him. So much that it was almost thrown right before him and he looked back to the salt and peppered male who's breath's odor permeated right in the cavity of Slade's nostrils. Touching the hairs and pushing them to react down to the follicle. He almost brought up its stench and the foul nature but it disrupt his thought process poorly along with misfiring the rest of his senses. Continue fucking with us and we'll have your ass, Wilson. It is only a matter of time that we get what we want from your friend, who's teetering on singing like a bird. There was only one bird that could save him from creating another oppsie situation and he thought about her. Then all over again, the red seen in the not so distant past, rolled past his eyes after closing them to take a deep breath. He breathed steadily. Coordinating with the stillness of his heartbeat. A contrast in how it pumped fiercely during the melee battle amongst friends and in the same breath foes. He grieved internally to what a damn near mobile filmed fisticuffs would do to Nate and Dec's friendship but being of two minds was the cradle that was soon to be rocked. He felt it in his bones. The same ones aching as he sat there tuning out the icy and nasally voices of the agents he clocked since being escorted inside. The mending of certain tendons and other muscles, were less pain than the one he felt directly to his pride. He was prideful, they both were and their moral alignment, as briefly as it had been set to the side, was clashing harder and faster than calculated. The problem with expectations was how easily disappointed people were going to be in the end when they weren't met. Much like his children from the other world, he held his foes in similar ways. Then the night spiraled out in a way where he was gunning for the man's neck. Limiting any sensibilities to Nate's only route to normalcy, almost if not already, tampering with years of friendship. So be it and so be the powers of law, shadowed by bureaucracy and other limitations trying to clip him on the spot. His eyes slowly opened when he was near to open his mouth to request a cigarette, only to meet the disappointment across all of their faces once that door was pushed open for an easier exit than breaking out. For now, at least. |