interstellar5555 | I'll tell you all how the story ends

Entry tags:

I'll tell you all how the story ends

Who: Ghost Quest kids and all those who want to see them.
What: So as it turns out, going against the label might've been a bad move. Who knew, right?
When: Feb 3rd and after
Where: Pride HQ
Warnings: Talk of torture, aftermath of violence, aftermath of brainwashing, dudes there's some dark stuff.

For the past three days, the troublemakers and ghost helpers of Pride Records were kept locked away from their friends and their bands.

As far as everyone else knew, they were just gone. And then they were back.

They are all worse for wear, some far more than others and some much more mentally than physically, but they are all returned to their penthouses, finally, at the end of their ordeals.

But, at least they're back. Somewhat in one piece. For the most part.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Drinking is the best coping mechanism. Luci is gone. Yuffie is gone. It's like the floors had been ripped out from under him. A part of him remembers that he had other people once. People who made him feel that stable, even if he did give them a lot of shit. But he couldn't see their faces. He couldn't grasp hold of their names. He just keeps thinking about the Seven Deadly Sins.

Not having them, he's backsliding hard into bad habits from when he was in metal. This means being constantly drunk or high or both. And while he can't stand the white haired asshole at the bar, he's run out of booze in his penthouse.

Yeah. Xanxus managed to drink all the booze in Crez Carnie and lived to tell about it. Or at least stumble his way to the stool next to the asshole and reach for the bottle the other man is using. He doesn't even care anymore what it is. It could be rubbing alcohol at this point.

How nice. Maybe you were the king of Hell or some shit. Squalo doesn't remember anyone like that; only the cold, dreadful sensation of loss and ice, and evidently, eventual death. He genuinely prefers this life. Except looks like loss has made its way over here as well, and he just wants to scream.

He doesn't. Yet. There's still enough booze to maybe get a liver failure and be done with this.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone sliding up to him and reaching for his bottle, and without bothering to take a proper look, he snarls and grips the person's forearm to stop them from reaching it. With his mechanical hand, too - just a reflex, as it was his dominant hand. Used to be, whatever. It should be painful enough this time, at least.

It's a sudden strength in that hand that shocks Xanxus. He doesn't remember Squalo having such a strong grip before. It's actually painful. It actually really hurts. He isn't drunk enough or high enough to ignore it.

He stops, halfway to the bottle. "Oi! Let go!" The demand was pretty much slurred to the point where it's hard to tell what he's saying at all. "And give up the booze. I need it more than you."

Does it feel appropriate this time? Remember during their first fight, when you thought his fingers were too soft?..

He bares his teeth, the grimace curling upwards into a sadistic grin when he realizes he'd actually manage to cause the other pain. Isn't that news. He's not interested in a full-fledged fight this time, though. Not yet.

"Fuck off." He definitely doesn't sound sober either, but at least it's still comprehensible. "I need it more. Half my band's gone."

It feels...right, okay. More right than it should be. But it also feels super wrong. Like he should pick up the nearest thing and hit Squalo with it, because how dare you touch me without permission, scum. But right now, he's really not in the mood to do that. He just wants to drink, damn it. He wants to drink and forget that he's slowly going insane.

"The hell you do. The got rid of Fetch. Yuffie is gone. Luci vanished to fuck knows where. It's just me. Me and Poe. And I'm hearing goddamn voices and lighting shit on fire. I fucking win. So give it." he didn't know where that all came from either. The idea that he could tell this bastard what was wrong with him. He wasn't really the sharing type, but it's like he's supposed to tell Squalo. Like the dude is his right hand and should know that shit, or something.

Right. Like he's not supposed to hurt him back. To hell with it. Still, a moment later he lets go, but not before he's snatched the bottle with his other hand.

"Hell no, we're fucking even at best." You can light shit on fire and I have a metal arm, he wants to say, but that had to be fucking obvious anyway just now, right? "I fucking knew it. You've got fire. You are fire. And I'm the rain." He's got no idea where that came from. Wasn't there a song like this? But it felt... very real for a moment. "And if you don't want to hear goddamn voices, fucking stop shooting up like a moron." Nope, still not sharing the booze.

There is a song like that. Some really lame pop song. They'd probably do it a lot better. Since really, singing together is the only thing good and decent in this world that they do together.

And for a moment, he wants to sing it. Even more, he wants to show this shit. He wants to show him exactly what he's talking about. He wants to show him that fire of his. But he also knows that fuck knows who's watching and he just can't light shit on fire out here where god and everyone can see it.

"Fuck you, asshole. Shooting up makes the voices stop. It makes it all stop." Mostly because it is a forced calm. With the heroin, he puts himself into a state that's rather like getting hit with heavy rain. Keeps him calm. Keeps him from doing stupid shit. "Besides, not like you care if I shoot up or not. You snort coke." He makes a give it gesture to the bottle.

Set fire to the rain, etc etc. Yeah. Of course they could do it better. They could do everything better. It doesn't make any sense for them to be able to work as a team at all, but that impromptu gig at the mall had been something.

"I can stop any time," Squalo says superiorly with the conviction of a true crackhead and holds the bottle away. "Newsflash, 'voices' is the latest in thing. Everyone's hearing it so you might as well accept it. Also, my fucking kitchen is haunted, so either we're all crazy or something's going on."

Yeah. Something like that. But of course they could do better. They're Quality. There's some sort of quality stamp or something they should be using. But that doesn't matter because he doesn't want to hear that little newsflash.

"Well, it's a fucked up new trend and I don't want to follow it. I'm not accepting this shit. I'm not. I'm not accepting haunted kitchens or voices or spontaneous combustion. Now, either hand it over or at least poor me a fucking drink for the love of Christ."

Exactly. Best of the best, or something.

"And why the fuck not? Wanna be the odd kid out?" He bares his teeth, but that request is not unreasonable, so it easily shifts into a grin as he leans over the bar for another glass. "Since you ask so nicely --"

There, he's pouring you a full glass.

"Because I really really don't want to be fucking crazy." It's probably the one thing he's actually scared of. More than the ice. More than death. More than anything. Being a raving lunatic in some institution freaks him the fuck out. He'd rather be a lunatic surrounded by other crazies and free to do whatever they want. "It's not something you'd possibly understand."

He reaches out for the glass once it's for him. And for once he doesn't just chug it. Instead, he's going to nurse the fuck out of this. "But your kitchen's fucked...that sucks. Means I can't mooch steak off you." Since no way he's cooking since Yuffie and Luci aren't there to cook for.

"Probably not." More teeth flashing. "I do what the fuck I want, and if that means being crazy, I'm great with that."

"Try next week. I think I smoked that thing out, but it's better to be safe." And it took his friends, but that's a different matter. He's not above stress-cooking, really, and there's still Jecht and Ryuko to consider.

Actually, speaking of mooching -- "Haven't seen you around much. Was the beating last month that good?"

He's got Poe, but that guy's new, so he doesn't care that much about him. So that guy can have instant ramen or whatever for all he gives a damn. Besides, he just wants to get drunk and high and not deal with the fact that the only people that matter to him are gone.

"Next week..." He mutters and then there's a glare. He's trying to not remember that this asshole and his bandmate buttbuddy went and teamed up on him for a beatdown. "It was pretty boring. I went and found my jollies somewhere else. Besides, not like either of us want to be around. You're only redeeming quality is your damn cooking and your stupid music."

There's more to it, but it's just on the tip of his memory.

Well, that's reasonable. And hey, feel free to remember every detail. Squalo still believes it was entirely justified. Not to mention, who the fuck are you calling a buttbudy, you filthy asswipe?

"Just 'cause your head's too far up your own ass to see more," he states matter-of-factly and downs half his drink. "At least I have redeeming qualities."

That's not entirely true. He's heard Xanxus. Had sang with him. The man definitely has talent, but he's not gonna let facts get in the way of a good comeback.

"Like what? I don't see anything at all that special about you." And yet he can't seem to leave this asshole alone. He keeps ending up around the guy anyway. Each time, he leaves with his head hurting and that nostalgic feeling annoying him.

At least this time he has alcohol to keep that at bay. It looks like it's just insults and drinking. He's more than okay with that.

"I'm brilliant," he grins at him. "Fun. Reliable. I give great head. Also, Luci says I'm a good guy." His expression falls at her name slightly, he scowls and empties his glass in one fell swoop. "Shit. Everyone's gone."

"I doubt that. And I won't believe you give good head until I get some myself. Then I'll decide if you're good or not. But I trust Luci. I trust her judgement. I wouldn't make stupid promises to just anyone." He downs his drink and slams it next to Squalo's, echoing his words softly.

"They are gone... And all we can do it fucking wait. I hate waiting, not knowing if they'll ever come back. Shit..." He can't believe he's grown so dependent of his fellow Carnies.

"That's your problem, not mine," he says merrily. Another sticking of tongue. He really likes doing that doesn't he. "Guess you'll have to stop pissing me off for that, huh? And buy me dinner. Actually, I'll take a motherfucking car, since I'd bet your dick's as full of shit as you are."

He grits his teeth a little. Yeah, waiting. He hates it too. "Same." A small pause. "Sometimes I feel like I wanna go up there and fuck shit up, you know? But I can't. I'm just a motherfucking musician and they're the hot shit." How annoying. Why does it feel like he's supposed to be something more sometimes?

"I can make it your fucking problem if you keep sticking your goddamn tongue out at me." Yet, he's not making any move to make that happen. He's just going to drink his booze and bitch at Squalo. Like this is normal. Like this asshole is someone he regularly calls when he needs to vent; usually physically.

"They are hot shit. And there's that bullshit that Predator can do. I don't think anyone can do anything without a good plan." And that's where he really fucked up. Even if he did have a plan, there's no way he can make it happen how. "And even then, there's no guarantee we'd live. Not if that murderparty was any indication." He little dark sigh and another drink. "So we suck it up and wait for our people."

"You can fucking try." Indeed. Considering how much hatred there seemed to be last time they've met... they're being surprisingly chill. Comfortable, even. Where did that come from?

"Oh, I'm sure there'll be retribution for the murderparty," he mutters darkly and pours himself another glass. "Guess who'll get to be the toy soldiers while those two cunts play footsie? And we can't do anything but wait. I fucking hate waiting. It's worse than fucking paperwork."

Who knows. Maybe it's the shitton of alcohol and lord knows what else in his system. Or it could be because without the Carnies, he defaults unconsciously to his next Family member. Something like that. It's no like he actually likes Squalo or anything. He's just super possessively jealous of him for no determinable reason.

"I get three guesses and the first two don't count, right? But I guess it just means we know it's coming eventually and we can maybe start to prepare for it. And don't I know it! If I could, I'd get someone else to sign all that shit for me."

You know, like a loud ass secretary that makes sure the pointless stuff never sees his desk. God bless his shark-loving spam filter.

Yet. But the jealous possessiveness sounds about right anyway.

"Mm." There's a momentary flash of teeth. "Dunno, if it's anything like last time, it could be fun." Well, assuming he'd be the one knifing someone this time. Ah, not sure where that came from.

"Sure about that? It's a lot of fuckin power. What if that person forges your signature on a bunch of things you wouldn't want?"

The solution to this is obviously getting someone one can trust. Like him, apparently. Wait what.

He doesn't know if it would be fun or not. Probably fun as long as he's not the one getting locked into a freezer again. Yeah. Never doing that again. No more getting trapped and half frozen (little does he know what his future holds).

"Yeah. I'm sure about that. Whoever did would know I would kill them if they did shit like that." He finishes his drink and shrugs a little, like suggesting that him up and killing minions is a normal part of life.

How about trapping the kids that did this to him in the freezer, though. Sweet sweet payback. Then they can have a picnic outside the door, drink good booze and listen to their dying cries. Doesn't that sound great?

"Killjoy," Squalo notes and pours him a new one.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'll tell you all how the story ends

A

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject