ONS: Josh Jackson
3/29/2006
06:55 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waxing New Moon phase (2% full).
It is currently 18:45 Pacific Time on Wed Mar 29 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 48 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.89 and rising, and the relative humidity is 87 percent. The dewpoint is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)
Campustown: Main Street
Stretching only two or three blocks between the interstate and St. Claire City University is the ubiquitous area dubbed 'Campustown' by the students. The main thoroughfare linking I-90 to campus is lined with the many businesses which thrive on the proximity to a college: fast-food restaurants, several small bars and dance clubs, Kinko's and their ilk, and bookstores catering to the college crowd. To the west of the main street, behind the businesses, is the neighborhoods of small homes which house a small number of off-campus students and the lower paid employees of the university and the lamprey-like businesses.
The buildings of SCCU are easily seen on the northern end of campustown, while the buildings of St. Claire are visible a few miles in the distance to the east, down I-90. A bright blue 'flyer' is tacked up to a telephone pole, and advertisement for a band playing at one of the bars Friday night.
Contents:
Dillen
Obvious exits:
SCCU I-90 East
The sun has just set, and the campustown area looks to have its fair share of people moving to and fro in the area. One of the local coffeeshops, Cup-O-Joes, is alive with customers of all sorts. Down the opposite side of the street, a group of jocks stride their way down the sidewalk, members from SCCU's hockey team it seems. They're laughing it up, talking about whatever comes across as funny at the time, or cool. A couple people on the street have to move further out of the way to avoid the sticks they wave around. One particularly boisterous fellow, a certain Josh Jackson, is loud enough to be heard. "Put 'im face first into the ice, yo! When you play hard enough, something's gonna give, and that'll be his skull. HA!"
Dillen makes his way through the campus, taking a break from the hunt for Kenneth. His hands are shoved down into his pockets as he makes his way through the campus area. The loud tones of the guys attract his attention and he makes his way over. He looks over the jock and raises his eyebrow... A little familiar this one seems. Yoda would be proud.
Josh slams a fist into his palm with a meaty smack, giving the others a broad and confident smirking smile before he turns around. The stick run through behind him nearly clips a couple people, but they're wise enough to have moved out of its range. "Fuck yeah. I'm feelin' pumped! WOO!" Josh Jackson is familiar indeed. His face appears on local TV a lot with the hockey season, not to mention being particularly aggressive in play and fights in his university hockey career. One particularly noted incident involved him tossing some other team's member pretty damn far on the ice, equipment and all.
Dillen pushes his way, or has people step out of the way as he makes his way through to see what is going down. For now, he remains quiet. His eyes scan the boys that are about, taking in faces. The bit of Mister Fister comes up in his head, faces and things that have happened.
The others in the group, all of them similar in build and look, four not counting Josh, continue to joke around. Josh and the group just pass on by, taking up much of the sidewalk, forcing others to move too. They get closer and closer to Get, and some of them notice Dillen but make no notice of him. Josh catches eyes with Get's, locking on in a definite examining aggressive manner, but just keeps on walking after. The galliard might as well be simply a rock in a river rapid.
Dillen returns the look, with just as much aggression. He gives a sniff of the air, like it means nothing and shoves his hands back into his pockets. "Hey Jackson. What are the odds on the next game?"
"What?" Jackson pauses and turns, regarding the Get. "Who're you?" The others stop as well, some of them behind Josh, some just around the Fenrir.
Dillen looks around and behind and then back to Josh. "Nobody in particular. Was just wondering the odds on the next game..." He shrugs and shakes his head, "Hear it's gonna be a tough game. Just wanted to hear your thoughts." He pulls his arms out to fold them across his chest. "Unless you think that they aren't in your favor..."
Jackson eyes Dillen some more, getting up in his face. "What'd you say? Think we're not gonna win?" Tiny beads of sweat actually can be seen on the young man's face. Eventually though, he grins fiercely. "Tell you what. I'll punch someone's face in on the other team, just for you. What's your name, man?"
Dillen chuckles and nods his head, "Chris. Chris Martin." He unfolds his arms. "Do that. Just shittin you anyway. You guys rock." He grins fiercely. "Hey. Question. Know where I can get some decent brew around here?"
One of the other guys laughs low. "Martin, he's got your name written on him." The presumed 'Martin' scowls at the other guy, but their exchange is limited. "Alright, 'Chris'," Josh replies with a little more of an eye to the galliard's face, like he's memorizing any characteristics, "You just make sure to watch ESPN tomorrow." The jock jerks his chin up proudly, and turns for continuing down the street. "And for a good brew? Try the Fister. Tastes like shit, but hits y'hard. Best beer around."
"No shit. Where do I get some of that?" Dillen says after. "Freakin 17, man."
That gets some brows lifted. "You're Seventeen?! Shit, have your balls dropped yet?" Josh blurts out, laughing right at the Get's face. It induces many of the incredulous and ludicrous faces and expressions on the others as well, as they crowd around the galliard more. "Shit man! Get some pubes first 'fore you go hang out with the big boys, huh?" Josh shakes his head, still laughing, and waves the others on.
Dillen laughs loud and grabs his crotch, showing off. "Got bigger ones that you. Tell you what. You punch me, hard as you want. If I flinch, you win. If I don't... You treat me to some of this Fister... 12 pack. Or if you think that some bullshit kid is gonna beat you, I'll understand." His face is all confidence.
Josh pauses once again, looking back at the galliard. Perhaps it was the comment about the size of the family jewels that irked him, but the smile has waned from the jock's features. Still, there isn't much to stop him from taking up the galliard's offer. Jackson shoves his gear into another guy's arms with a grunted, "Hold this," and chortles deep inside. "Alright, you asked for it." Josh balls up his fist, pulling back and readying.
Dillen nods and stands still, tightening his gut if that happens to be where the guy goes for it. It's for show. He relies on his gift to block it all out and let him take the shot.
The gut, no. It's Dillen's preciously pretty face that receives the whole, unguarded no-holds-barred strength of the blow. It's hard enough that the faint feeling of bones being cracked and shattered can be felt. Blood vessels burst as the galliard is knocked flat off his feet, and back a couple as well, hitting the pavement hard and causing Many an onlooker to stop and stare. If it weren't for the gift to resist pain, he would probably be screaming in it, but as it is, the feeling is reduced to a dull throb - but more importantly, that hit was hard enough to have stunned him for quite some time, putting the Get just on the verge of passing out. Josh's laughing voice can be heard through the underwater feeling swimming about in the galliard's brain.
Dillen lays there on the ground. He summons just enough power to lift a fist in the air with a thumbs up. He's grinning, even through the busted jaw and nose. He works to push himself to his feet, wiping the blood away and walking away.
It'll be quite a few minutes before the Get can summon the will to get up. By that time, Josh and his group have moved on, not even dealing with the so-called deal that had happened between them. A few bystanders even come close, asking after the young Get. "Hey man, you alright? Holy shit, that's a lotta blood..." comments a young collegiate, adjusting his glasses as he offers a small tissue pack that is hardly enough to stem the red tide.
Dillen nods his head. "Yeth." He says, taking the tissue pack and slapping it to his jaw. At least it will cover the wound... Some. Until he can get into private and shift.
Most of the bystanders have formed a decent ring around the Get, to which he has a few feet of space. "Yeah, ok man... but you should get that checked out. I think your nose is broken." The young man stands, sacrificing the tissue pack.
Dillen just shakes his head and heads off towards the infirmary. He waves off the people, making his way towards it to at least give the illusion. What he is looking for is a private area.
The crowd parts quickly once Dillen's up on his feet and moving off and stuff. The tissue guy bids a farewell, not being able to do much after that good deed. The closest quiet spot is a few blocks off, the local health center a little further beyond. The Get gets quick, furtive looks and also many disgusted or grossed out looks as it seems he must look worse than it feels, at the moment. Luckily, at night, the parking lot of the health center is pretty dark in some spots, pretty lit up with spots of streetlights.
Dillen finds the darkest corner and hunkers down, shifting into glabro with his back to the wall. He's making sure that if anybody sees him, he's at least in the dark and still looks human. Should be a quick heal as he resets his jaw and nose. At least this way if someone comes near, he can shift back.
The jaw doesn't take long, with a bit of wiggling to make sure the bones set right. It's the nose that takes a lot longer. Five, ten minutes pass by even as the small fragments of bone push into place and bind together once again. And even after the injuries have fully healed at least on outside appearance, there is a feeling of tenderness around them, and slight resistance from the jaw muscles the way a healed bruise would feel. No one comes by the parking lot, not at this hour, although there are cars aplenty still and lights on inside the center.
Dillen takes a few more minutes and then moves back into his human form. He rises up and comes out into the light, touching his face some to check it. "Well, that was fun." He says to himself and heads back to the Brownstone.
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