maskormenacelogs | (open) ▶ we got new players in town

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(open) ▶ we got new players in town

WHO: Hank Schrader, Jesse Pinkman, Rustin Cohle, and YOU.
WHERE: Around Cape Canaveral, then Heropa's police precinct, apartments, restaurants, and bars. Run into him anywhere, I'm flexible!
WHEN: November 16-22
WHAT: Maiming meth heads and making cliché X-Men jokes. In other words: he's settling in, okay?
WARNINGS: Mention of drug use, violence, and lots of F-bombs.

cape canaveral;

[ He's only just recently arrived, and it doesn't matter that he's been given a clean suit. Doesn't matter that it's a beautiful day. Doesn't matter that he's got an iced coffee just sitting there melting, or that he's probably getting a sunburn on his head that'll make him sorry. Doesn't matter what's good, or what's bad, because none of it is home. That puts it on a level with words he doesn't know. Florida doesn't even sum it up, and that's pretty bad on it's own.

Despite sitting out in the sun in his wheelchair, he's not lounging. He's not sitting like a guy would on a park bench, but instead like anyone might at an office desk. He isn't looking around with a casual front, although there is a newspaper. It's just a crumpled mess on the sidewalk beside him, the bullshit inside only further proof that none of this can be real. But even if it might feel like a dream, he isn't treating it like one. He's looking at everyone like they're a potential enemy (they are), and coming to terms with the realization he may not see his wife for a long time. That's the entire reason he had to leave the building in the first place: making too big of a scene over Marie's whereabouts. The jags thought he'd just cooperate because he can't walk on his own? He can still fire a gun.

Sucking air in through his teeth, he scratches angrily at the spot on his wrist they chose to violate, even if the tattoo isn't visible right now. He doesn't even want to think about what other Frankenstein crap they tried on him. His file wasn't reassuring. Working for the government doesn't entail this level of BS, that much he knows, no matter what Hollywood likes to dazzle laymen with. It's left him completely stuck on how to proceed.

Just when he'd finally had his motivation jump-started again, with Marie's tentative smile still alive in his memory and the Los Pollos logo sitting right in front of him, he's suddenly in the land of nod and unicorns, except these unicorns are just people with super powers. Supposedly. His inner child can't even get any enjoyment out of the prospects, not with everything he is invested in the life he had.

Fuck 'em. This isn't his government. Is it? Fuck. What he wouldn't give for a cigar and his wife's nagging opinions. ]

heropa;

[ So this is a world where the Jetsons didn't quite lie. It's not quite sci-fi, but it borders close enough to almost distract Hank from the gravity of this fuckfest. Almost. Hovering cars don't make him any more pleased to be shipped here, like some recruit in the 60's. Except he's supposed to believe this is still America. Well, fuck, okay then.

The only proper way to cope with that realization is collect as many books as he can on the subject...and drink. Drink a lot. While most of it will no doubt be at the apartment with a pile of texts, he'll still be frequenting bars and cheap diners a couple nights this week. He needs to see the kind of people that live here, anyway, and feel out new connections. It may be difficult when he practically radiates indignation, lurking by a corner table in his wheelchair, but it's hard to be friendly when so far you've only had possible enemies to meet.

He will be checking out the local precinct in the day, even if he's not ready to sign on for any work. As a fed, he isn't thrilled at the idea of working alongside city cops, especially as a Goddamn dispatch. He doesn't even get a proper badge. In reality (ACTUAL reality), he shouldn't give a single fuck about that, if he's to continue along the mindset that none of this is his, anyway; But it's hard to shake stereotypes and expectations, and somehow this seems even worse than a suspension. There's a mutual respect he'll offer street cops, with his history, but that doesn't make him want his old job back any less. Being a desk jockey and listening to panicked people all day? Thanks, no. He'll do nearly anything to change it.

Enough that his mind occasionally drifts back to that fairy godmother move Pinkman pulled on him. It had offered something like...hope. But hope from the enemy? He'd sooner deal with a physical therapist again than owe Pinkman his entire livelihood. He's no fucking Cinderella.

Tiana all the way. ]

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[This is possibly the first time Jesse's ever heard Joel use that tone, and he's giving such a side-eye right now. Is this going to work? This probably isn't going to work. Okay, he needs to focus on healing his voice, like... pronto.]

[ Now if anyone should be worried about retaliation here, it's Hank, and Jesse probably knows that assuming his brain isn't complete pudding by now. Joel's immediate turn-heel is old news to Hank; a story that's been preached to him a million times over. In truth, he doesn't even have a badge to flash anymore, but he doesn't care enough to correct that misunderstanding.

Fuck all if Jesse presses charges here, Hank's first week in. But really, it's not just self-preservation that has Hank calming down and seeking out help for the brat, but genuine guilt that's rattled his bones and paled him considerably. He has no idea what Jesse's powers entail, and the possibility that he could still die from internal bleeding is very much on Hank's mind.

He might still get suspended, or fired, but it sure isn't going to be because he rolled on away from an assault he initiated. Taking Pinkman down is something that should be done by the book so that he can be as smug as possible. Hurting him like this or killing him is definitely not how Hank envisioned...any of this.

Not again. ]

It was a mistake.

[ Doesn't need a damned lawyer to be able to say that. He'd admit that no matter who asked. ]

And you shouldn't even be moving him. I'm sure you wanna help but he needs emergency professional personnel, so unless you're a doc, you need to hand back my phone. Nice and easy.

Well, it was a mistake on my part, too.

[ Hopefully a mutual admission of mistakes will appease the guy, even if just a little. And Joel is real hesitant about handing the communicator back but he complies, does his best to make it seem like it's no big deal: he holds out the communicator the guy without argument. ]

Look, think it's best you let me handle this, let me get him to the hospital myself. The, uh, the superheroes in this place, [ god, after all these months, Joel still feels like an idiot talking about superheroes ] like me and you and this kid down here, get a lotta media exposure. We call in paramedics, there's probably gonna be cameras and a whole bunch of attention we don't need. Ain't gonna look real good for you if they start spinnin' stories 'bout a police officer attacking and almost killin' a kid on the streets.

[ It's true, and Hank knows it. Not like he even has a reputation here yet to trash, but boy would that be a shitty way to start one. Even worse than the pit he'd got himself stuck in back home. The thought of that's gut-wrenching, but so is this whole situation.

He keeps himself steady as he takes back the communicator. A job's a job's a job even if he hates it. ]

Ain't gonna look any better if I just let some no-name walk off with him without question, either. Imagine those stories if he doesn't make it. Y'think I'm an idiot? Someone probably already got this on their phone.

[ Fuck the 21st century. Fuck this one even more, because if it has hovering cars it must have some kind of mega Internet. He'll be dialing again, anyway. ]

It's my responsibility to make sure he survives. We don't have time to debate, pal, it is what it is.

[Okay... Okay, he's got some of the swelling down. Jesse props himself up on one elbow, and his voice is hoarse but at least he can say something for himself:]

Listen to him, Schrader. The game's changed. We're all high-profile now.

[ Did you just fucking talk, Pinkman. How is your jaw not still on the ground.

Beep. Hanging up.

He's listening. ]

[ Alright, well, good. Looks like the guy isn't going to call the paramedics. That's a start. Joel throws a quick glance down at Jesse, though. The way the kid just addressed Schrader made it sound like he knows this guy or something. Joel will sure be grilling Jesse about that when they're somewhere more private.

Attention back on Schrader. ]

Believe me - none of us are no-names here. Not me, not the kid, not you. [ A fact Joel hates, which is why he keeps as low a profile as he can. ] It'll be a helluva lot worse if you go ringin' them paramedics instead of lettin' me deal with this.

Besides... I ain't gonna die.

[He sounds so sure of that for a guy who had blood pouring from his mouth a minute ago and who still doesn't seem capable of sitting up.]

[ And that, of course, is where Hank is in the dark. How differently the media and events like this are handled. The fact that he was able to do that at all still barely resonates with him, leaving him with a shock that he has to ignore in order to pick up the pieces this time.

Even with what they're saying, the fact of the matter is someone saw this, and he doesn't trust that this won't get out somehow. Of course, that'll happen anyway, but wouldn't it be better for him to get ahead of it?

There's the chance Jesse won't press charges, but somehow that's just not occurring to him as a possibility. He feels as backed into a corner as they do. The fact that Jesse is talking at all is the only thing making Hank hesitate. ]

Christ, Pinkman, stop talking. You wouldn't be so sure of that if you looked in a mirror right now. You got creamed by the sidewalk and you look it, okay?

[ And Hank is more shocked and alarmed than anyone. Gee, guys, maybe these super powers AREN'T such a fantastic idea. ]

[ Yeah, well, Joel knows Jesse sure ain't gonna die, and he sure doesn't want to stand around in the street discussing this. Doesn't want to give this Schrader guy a chance to change his mind and call the paramedics. Time to get Jesse to his feet. Or flung over his shoulder, at least. ]

Look, I got this. [ He gives the guy a final pointed look. Then he turns his attention to Jesse. ] Shut it, kid. We'll get you to the hospital, alright?

[ Subtly but promptingly looking at Jesse as much to say, play along with me here. Too bad if this ends up being humiliating as hell for Jesse. Better to be humiliated than get the cops involved. Gripping Jesse's arm, Joel rolls him slowly and carefully over onto his back - the slow and careful part is for the sake of appeasing Schrader more than anything - and then slips one arm under Jesse's neck and anchors his other under the kid's knees.

Christ, this is like deja fucking vu. ]

[Eh... Normally he wouldn't be thrilled about looking this pathetic, but considering Schrader did this to him, he'll rub the guy's nose in it a little. He shuts his mouth and allows Joel to maneuver him however he needs to. Look at this kid, Schrader. Look how small and broken he is. You're a very mean man.

- Ow. Fuck, that hurts.]

[ A+ Emmy material, fellas. It's got Hank sitting there with nothing to do but stew in his own fury at this piss-ant and the inconvenient guilt that mucks his mood up even further. Jesse Pinkman probably deserved it, but that isn't the point. Pinkman's innocent until proven guilty, at least in the court of law, and Hank would never want to dirty his own reputation by contesting that. Not to mention, no matter what kind of bravado he carries or superiority he may have over Pinkman, Hank never wants to be That Guy. The bully. The fuck up. The hypocrite. The dirty cop.

He can choke down a lot of things before that, and so for now he smothers his pride and his concern for his career. Because really, this choice here is a mix of his own morals and a slightly newer devil-may-care attitude towards his sudden position. He's breaking no laws by letting them go, and Jesse seems to want to avoid the hospital. It's no surprise to Hank why -- most criminals will do anything to avoid police reports, but he still is in a position to put Hank over a barrel and he knows it. And the only way to accept that is to try and give no flying fucks about what happens if he gets fired. He doesn't know a single fucking soul here. He's not even sure how seriously he can take the law enforcement and government control in a world where sidewalks go flying and junkies are school nurses.

This will get out one way or another, and he's going to pay for it, and he's going to have to decide that he doesn't care. ]

Hey. Name of the hospital you're taking him to, and your name while you're at it. Then get going, before he does something else stupid.

[ It's the most he's willing to concede on this matter. You better believe he'll be following up. Out of a sense of duty as well as covering his own, hopelessly misplaced ass. ]

Edited 2014-11-18 12:24 (UTC)

[ Joel grunts as he hefts Jesse into his arms, his teeth gritted under the kid's weight. As he stands tall, he shifts Jesse in his arms to make sure he's got a good grip on him.

This really wasn't what Joel signed up for when he first agreed to be Jesse's drug mule. Last thing he ever expected was to find himself having to carry Jesse in his arms not once but twice, with the kid bleeding everywhere. Probably about time he demanded a goddamn pay rise.

And Christ. Last thing he wants to do is tell this Schrader guy his name - but like Joel had said, nobody is a no-name in this place. It wouldn't take Schrader too much effort to find out who he is. ]

Joel. And one of the hospitals in-- [ a grunt as he shifts Jesse's weight in his arms again ] De Chima.

[ Joel doesn't know what any of those hospitals are called. Just knows there's a bunch of them there. And as much as Joel would really love to stand chatting with Schrader (i.e., no, he doesn't), he gladly takes the dismissal as an opportunity to get going.

Off he goes, hurrying pretty quickly down the street. Gotta get off the streets before they really do start attracting unwanted attention. He cuts off to the right and heads into a small alley that leads between buildings and past dumpsters, and it's when he's certain he's out of sight of Schrader that Joel growls a little breathlessly between clenched teeth: ]

Jesus, I swear to God, kid--

[It doesn't hurt as bad as the time Ward basically crushed every bone in his torso, but it still hurts pretty bad. The parts that he can feel, anyway; his lower body's got a numbness to it that's telling him his spine is definitely fucked in some way. The worst thing is the headache, though, and that only hurts more and more as Joel picks up speed and starts jostling him around.

He's grateful when they reach that alley. Maybe that means they can stop for a second.]

I didn't think he'd throw the whole damn sidewalk at me, okay.

[ Joel is approaching the end of the alleyway - his place is only a couple of blocks away from here now - and he slows to a stop by a small, dingy alcove that smells of old trash and has graffiti tags scrawled over the drab brick wall. He needs a small break, needs to rest his arms and his shoulders; he awkwardly sets Jesse down, realising with irritation that he's gonna have to hold Jesse up against the wall because the kid can't seem to use his legs.

And so, he's got Jesse pressed up against the wall, his hands gripping onto Jesse's shirt in tight fists, while he catches his breath and gives his arms a rest, and Joel has a mighty annoyed look on his face as he peers at Jesse. ]

You gonna tell me who that asshole is?

[ Because from the way Jesse was talking to him, it sure sounded to Joel like Jesse knows him. ]

[Fuuuuuck, that hurts even worse. Is this Joel's idea of torturing him for information or something? Jesse needs a moment to adjust to that new position. He's looking mighty pale and his face is coated in sweat, but at least he's not vomiting this time.]

He's... this fed. From back home. Don't - Don't freak out or anything, okay? He doesn't really know anything. He's just been chasing me forever.

Edited 2014-11-18 14:51 (UTC)

[ The look that darkens over Joel's face says it all. He turns his head away for a moment, muttering a tersely exclaimed, "Jesus." Jesus, that's all they fucking need: a cop that's been chasing Jesse for ages now chasing him here in Heropa. ]

So, you're tellin' me we're gonna have that guy chasin' our asses here 'cause of you?

[What's with that accusation? As if he personally invited Schrader here.]

If you want out, man, just say it. You got money now. And I don't need you.

[...He says as he is not even physically capable of standing on his own two feet.]

[ Stupid goddamn kid. Joel grits his teeth, jaw clenched, and yanks him away from the wall again. He's in far too fucking deep to just quit now and he knows it.

He's a lot less gentler this time, if he was even 'gentle' to begin with: he picks Jesse up like a rag doll and tosses him over his right shoulder, and starts charging as fast as he can down the alleyway. He's almost at his place.

The fact that he's done this instead of answering Jesse speaks volumes of what his answer is: he doesn't want out, and he knows Jesse needs him. ]

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