Twice | Jin "Ride or Die" Bubaigawara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ttwwiiccee) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2021-01-26 07:46 pm
ttwwiiccee) wrote in maskormenacelogs2021-01-26 07:46 pm
Entry tags:
CLOSED; we've got to hold on to what we've got
WHO: The League of Villains
WHERE: 1986
WHEN: 1986
WHAT: bunch of baddies go on a time travelling road trip
WARNINGS: probably nothing but will warn in subject lines if stuff comes up
Twice knew how to make money in the past, he'd already proved it. Easier to win at gambling when you already know the outcomes, after all. He didn't even need to steal a car - figured it would attract too much attention - just found someone with a price written on a window in lipstick and shoved cash at them.
The car smelled faintly of cigarettes. It was this world's 50s aesthetic equivalent to a DeLorean, a big old preppy teal muscle car with doors that slid upwards. 80s and 50s, all rolled into one. There were snacks and soda crammed into the middle back seat and Twice's comm blasting tunes in lieu of the radio.
Twice drove up to the meeting place near the door to the 80s they found, backing up into the alley. He leaned out the window.
"Didn't I find a good car? It's a piece of junk!"
WHERE: 1986
WHEN: 1986
WHAT: bunch of baddies go on a time travelling road trip
WARNINGS: probably nothing but will warn in subject lines if stuff comes up
Twice knew how to make money in the past, he'd already proved it. Easier to win at gambling when you already know the outcomes, after all. He didn't even need to steal a car - figured it would attract too much attention - just found someone with a price written on a window in lipstick and shoved cash at them.
The car smelled faintly of cigarettes. It was this world's 50s aesthetic equivalent to a DeLorean, a big old preppy teal muscle car with doors that slid upwards. 80s and 50s, all rolled into one. There were snacks and soda crammed into the middle back seat and Twice's comm blasting tunes in lieu of the radio.
Twice drove up to the meeting place near the door to the 80s they found, backing up into the alley. He leaned out the window.
"Didn't I find a good car? It's a piece of junk!"
no subject
He can say the effect is not entirely impressive. Turning back time by a few decades leaves them in a city that looks rather the same, though less technologically-advanced, and with a wholly different sense of taste. The broad strokes are the same, however: similar brick buildings, some steel or concrete constructions with 'modern art' twists, plenty of homes with manicured lawns. The cars offer something a little more unusual, to Dabi evoking a connection to old Western cinema, unlike the aesthetic of anything he's familiar with in this world or "home."
The curiosity doesn't show itself overtly at all. Without comment to Twice's opening remarks, Dabi pops open the trunk and dumps the least necessary of their bags into the meager space (it fits, barely). Since their lovely leader had agreed to being ferried around in the passenger seat, Dabi makes for the back seats, reaching for the door and pulling to the side, as he figures normal car doors work. This one only swings upward, the bottom edge flying out and clipping him in the shin with a thunk—painfully. For a moment, Dabi stands stock still before moving his smarting leg out of the way, sliding the door open the rest of the way with great restraint.
A great way to start this trip into ancient history.
He throws in the rest of their packs—with more force than necessary, as though the car is capable of feeling bad about its actions—then climbs in after, dragging the door down behind him. The interior smells like the previous owner had tried to air it of cigarette smoke, not altogether successfully, and the leather seat covers cracked and worn down soft. Obviously well-used, but Dabi doesn't care for shiny and new as long as this will serve them well. He settles, slouching in his spot, without so much a word.
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Not until Twice came into better view where it stood to reason that they were all going to die in some Frankenstein remake of a vehicle he was sure someone must have convinced the oldest of them in to. He really should've gone with him, or asked Dabi to. On the surface though, it was a cool car, he just wasn't sure of it being sea worthy. Oh well, there was a lot of things he wasn't sure about. One thing he was: That Twice wouldn't go out of his way to find a car that'd blow them up. "Both those things, Jin, both of those things." He could have that first name for free. It was an attempt to try it on for size since they were moving to first name basis between the two of them. That and the lack of Twice being easily recognized off the bat would be great.
Until Dabi lifted the door upward and the car decided it just so happened to clip him. Alright, upward doors and a moment or two to bit the inside of his lip about that won the car for him. "I take that back. It's the first one. Unless it kills us then I'll take it back again." Maybe. Because he had never been in a car that had upward opening doors.
The curiosity of Dabi being so quiet took him by little to no surprise, but taking that back seat without any back and forth on it did. None that, equally got shown but once the bags had been stuffed uncomfortably into wherever, he pulled the seat forward on its slide. That was the only thanks that Dabi would be getting and Shigaraki shuffled in, watching pretty interestedly as he closed the door and leaned against it. "Alright, go. We can discuss things on the way if we need to."
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He was grinning, though, under his mask. Tomura had called him Jin, which meant they were becoming better friends.
He leaned around his seat, looking at Dabi. "You okay back there?"
He shifted the car into gear without waiting for either an answer or to see if they put on their seatbelts and soon they were on their way. At least it should be said - Jin hadn't been lying, he could drive. He was a bit rusty, and he was still getting used to the car, but he felt that this was going to be fine.
As long as they weren't pulled over, that was. He definitely did not have a licence or registration.
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By the time he comes to terms with the fact that he didn't mishear, Twice has already pulled into the street and they're well on their way with a handful of accompanying traffic. Dabi doesn't quite discard the possibility of opening the door and seeing himself out anyway, but that winds up being only wishful thinking. Instead, after a reluctant pause, he shoves all of their bags to one side and lays himself down on the seat, using the small pile of their belongings as a backrest.
"Are you serious?" is his only comment, delivered flatly while he feigns interest in the scenery. Ever the one to play at being unruffled.
The reason for this unease is evident, isn't it? While it was true that they were no longer simply allies of convenience in this place—perhaps something more akin to a familiar touchstone—closeness and intimacy were still far from their purview. Crossing that line doesn't end well, and Dabi has the recollections to prove it, as distant as those lingering moments may currently be.
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"People were calling me Tomura, he wanted to call me Tomura. It is the other half of my name. There's no big deal, it's just a name." Except it was a big deal to them. That explained exactly nothing about why he would have called him Jin in return, but there was the line. The line he knew he crossed himself a while back, where he knew that the loss of one of the present members of the LoV would've been more than tactically devastating. "You can choose if you feel left out, or if you want to keep calling me Lord and Master." Boss, really, but you know. "Don't break anything back there, either."
He let his shoulder lean against the door after locking it, not for Dabi's sake but his own out of caution.
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"He's not mentioning that the 'people' calling him Tomura was Present Mic, and I'm not letting a hero get more familiar with Shigaraki before I do! That wouldn't be right! It would be fair."
Twice, for all his personality and talkativeness, was doing a good job of keeping his eyes on the road and navigating through streets that had changed a lot in the decades between then and the present.
"Hey, there should be a map in here somewhere - let me know if you want any pitstops."
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Dabi isn't one to argue with whatever convoluted logic Shigaraki is using to justify this; it's none of his business whatever bad decisions the others want to make. However, Twice's comments are less easily ignored, not in the least because he is far from the first to say so. Dabi recalls quite clearly the passing network response from a certain young hero about Shigaraki's peculiar relationship developments; he'd decided to do nothing with it unless it was an actual cause for concern. Now is this a cause for concern?
"A hero?" he repeats, eyes narrowing on a stare directed at Shigaraki's reflection in the rearview mirror.
Even if it ain't that deep, it sure is suspicious as hell to get on first-name basis with a hero. Imagine agreeing to such a degree of familiarity with those sorts.
Seems like the map will have to wait.
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It had been a whole five minutes into this trip. The map would have to wait.
At least it wasn't long before he met Dabi's gaze in the mirror, keeping and holding his own there. "What's it to you or anyone else what someone else calls me? I don't have to explain myself when you don't seem to remember why on your own. If you don't remember Canada or the farm, you won't get a single thing I tell you anyway. You're both making this out to be needlessly more than it has to be."