maskormenacelogs | i believe it's better to inflict than to attempt relief; [open]

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i believe it's better to inflict than to attempt relief; [open]

WHO: Armin Arlert and YOU (open)
WHERE: various locations in Heropa
WHEN: 2/24 - 2/26
WHAT: Armin's infected. He's likely to try to lure you somewhere and attack you, with either blades or a home made chlorine gas bomb. Fun, right? See OOC notes at the bottom of the page.
WARNINGS: Violence of the stabbing or poison gas kind! Yelling! Teenagers!

YOUR HORNET MIND-CLONE IS: Allen Hill, who has visceral reactions to imPorts, even the very mention of them. Has a thirst for vengeance, a bit on the bloodthirsty side, but does not think his actions through carefully.

A. TUESDAY MORNING, EARLY [open to the first reply]

[Armin might say later that it was the writing on the wall or something as cryptic as that. As he's booking it toward the Porter in full gear, hood up, he sees a flashing billboard: something innocuous, offering discounts for registered imPorts or something like that. He comes to a dead halt. He's angry, suddenly.

Angrier than he can ever remember being in his entire short life.

Usually, when things anger him, he thinks around it. Tries to understand the situation from every angle, assess, and plan action if appropriate. Now, he's too angry to even think clearly, and it's just from seeing the word imPorts. He has to turn around to make sure he won't have to see it for a moment.

He sees another imPort walking by and thinks, No. I have to do something about that.]

B. TUESDAY AFTERNOON, A HARDWARE OR GENERAL GOODS STORE - OPEN TO ALL!

[Armin's since ditched his gear and uniform. It's really not such an odd thing for a young man in Florida to be buying chlorine tablets to clean the pool. And why not a lot, because they're cheaper to buy in a big bucket? For the time being, he seems perfectly normal. The tub is heavy, so he has to carry it with both arms. Upper body strength has never much been his thing. He's fidgeting a little in line, humming along with the bland music on the radio.

ALTERNATIVELY, he's simply buying a basket almost comically full of rubbing alcohol at a different store.

But this mild moment could change, of course, depending on his company.]

C. TUESDAY AND WEDNESDAY EVENING - open to all!

[Armin sits perched on the roof of a building in one of Heropa's more bustling neighborhoods, the domain of a fine cocktail or a nice cup of coffee. For now he's just watching the crowd, but every now and then he spots someone he recognizes as an imPort and calls down:]

Hey! You're a Hero, right? Can you help me? I think there's a cat up here in the vents, I can here it crying but I can't reach it, I think it's hurt...!

[He's waiting. Those who might approach him on the roof without his knowledge might notice he's outfitted with his 3d gear and blades, and waiting to shove a chlorine tablet into a soda bottle full of rubbing alcohol and lob it at his unsuspecting victim.

If you're lured into his trap... you'll be lobbed with the 'bomb', which produces a small explosion and more alarmingly, a cloud of chlorine gas that may blind you, burn your lungs, or cause a myriad of other problems.]

D. WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON - open to residents of #016.

[Maybe it's just your imagination, but does it seem like Armin's in a Mood lately? He doesn't call out a friendly hello when he gets home, nor hang out in the common area. Apparently he's completely run out of his usually-plentiful smiles and small talk. He takes his meals in his room and is clearly avoiding speaking to anyone. Right now, he's making peanut butter sandwiches in a tidy row. By his expression, one would think he's sending off these dozen sandwiches to be executed.

It's kind of a lot of food. But, he is a growing boy.]

E. THURSDAY MORNING - closed to Jaime (khajidont)

[Armin texts Jaime the night before to ask him to go on a jog with him in the wee hours, stating he doesn't feel safe to go on his own lately but he "needs his routine". Jaime is a good person, Armin's sure he can handle getting up early for a friend's sake just this once.

He asked Jaime to meet him at a nearby park. Currently he's stretching, dressed in soft running clothes. He's a little more covered up than one might want to be in Florida, but he's always been on the slightly modest side.]

[OOC: Jaime will be the one to take down / stop Armin in the end. If your character attacks Armin in self-defense, be appraised that he may use his power of persuasive voice to distract yours or do whatever he needs to in order to escape! Please PM me or contact me on plurk (

alienchrist) for questions or details!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Armin barely gives Jaime time enough to finish his sentence before he springs up from crouching, pulling up his sword from its hiding spot in the grass and thrusting it forward, intent on skewering Jaime with the force of his body weight. He makes no sound, no announcement of intent, though his face is twisted with rage like some strange gargoyle.

Though he keeps the blade sharp, he's not strong enough to hack his head off or something like that. That's fine. A gut wound hurts worse.]

[If there's one thing Armin's right about, it's about gut wounds hurting. He lets out a strangled scream of pain once the blade hits home, but if there's anyone up at this early hour to hear, nobody's going to run towards the ruckus. It's a sharp, unfamiliar pain, unlike anything he's ever experienced before, and it doesn't take much for him to fall backwards, hands outstretched above him as if to ward Armin off.

If he wasn't so busy hurting, he'd be a little scared, seeing him like this.]

Armin, [he wheezes, but doesn't get much further than that. Part of that could be because he's too overwhelmed with the shock of it, and the pain, but it's mostly because all he can hear in his head in a loud, insistent roar in his head from Khaji: Kill him!

Jaime doesn't intend to do that, certainly, but he doesn't intend to bleed to death either. It's not visible, not yet, but there's already steam rising from his gut as his suit begins to rise from underneath his skin.]

Sorry. You really can't trust imPorts, you know?

[Armin thought it would be satisfying. The scream, the look of betrayal. He should've started out at this level, really, it feels so much more effective.

It's good but he thought it would satisfy him.

He's still angry. He doesn't feel any sense of accomplishment in this. He moves to kick Jaime away from him and pull out his sword - at this point in time keeping it in there's just slowing things down.]

[Could Jaime beat Armin in a fight without suiting up? Maybe. Armin's a soldier, but Jaime's been training too, and he's held his own pretty well in the past with nothing more than his mind and his fists. Can Jaime beat Armin in a fight without suiting up and a bloody stab wound in his gut?

The outcome of that is a little less clear, and he just rolls with Armin's kick, arms protectively wrapped around his mid-section as he tries to think through the fog in his head about what he has to do. He was probably going to tell Armin eventually, but he didn't want it to be like this.

What forces his hand in the end is that if they wind up going at it with their fists, Jaime won't only stand a very, very good chance at losing, but he'll likely wind up hurting Armin even if he does win. It's not worth it. It just isn't.]

Maybe not when they're possessed, [he rasps, and as he rises to his knees, he lets the suit rise from underneath his skin in a mass of steaming, viscous liquid. The moment his palms harden, he reaches out to grab onto Armin's blade, knowing that like this, he'll be able to crumple it underneath his fingers.]

[This is really something Armin should've calculated for. He knew Jaime had a Hero persona, he just didn't know who it was. In some silent corner of his mind, Armin is delighted, fascinated by the way his sword crumples in Jaime's hand. What a discovery! But over that is the sound of rage blazing through his veins like a fire. He needs to figure out how to bring Jaime down and make him stay down without his weapon. He lets go of the sword. He tries a leg sweep, hoping to make Jaime lose balance.]

[As it is, it's easy to make Jaime lose his balance, and he falls over without much ceremony. There's a fog in his head and a pain in his gut (and how does this feel worse than a hole in his spine?), and more than that, he doesn't want to fight Armin. He's sick and tired of his friends suffering from temporary brainwashing, and he's never, ever wanted to raise a finger against him.

So he loses his balance, but as it turns out, that's not that much of a setback, because he's back on his feet moments afterwards and reaching out to grab Armin's wrists.]

No. We're not doing this.

I don't believe I asked you what YOU WANT! [Armin isn't fast enough to avoid being caught. He's still more angry than afraid, though some part of his mind is surely telling him this is the end. His hand-to-hand is rudimentary at best, and in no way accounts for going without a weapon against someone in strange, completely covering body armor.

But being grabbed doesn't calm him down, he tries to get close enough to kick the backs of Jaime's knees, a typical weak spot in armor.]

Oh. No, that's -- that's not gonna work, buddy.

[It's like kicking a rock. Jaime stands there for a second, still stunned into inaction. He could easily drag Armin home kicking and screaming, but he's just going to attract too much attention like that. No, Jaime decides, that's not the way to go. He lifts one hand, and it shifts and morphs into a gun.]

You're not going to believe me now, but I'm really sorry about this.

[One bright blue blast later - crowd suppression, the Reach called it - Armin will be tidily knocked out. Once he comes to, it will be to the familiar sight of Jaime's room, configured the same as Armin's own. Jaime's tied him tightly to his chair (the product of many a google search) and is sitting on his bed sans his uniform, head bowed and hands absently running along the back of his neck as he tries to figure out where to go from here.]

[In that muddy place between unconscious and awake, Armin hisses in a sharp breath and goes cold with dread. A memory, breath against his ear and promises.]

Wh--

[But then his brain wakes up more and the rage has returned. Armin shifts his weight, carefully testing his bonds.]

You're going to regret not killing me! They always do! [Armin snarls.]

Oh. You're awake.

[It's a deadened response compared to Armin's considerably more energetic one, but Jaime can't really muster the energy to treat Armin the way he's actually acting. He knows this isn't him, and he's managed to put together the pieces of the puzzle available to him. This is the work of the Hornets, they've somehow managed to get imPorts to turn against each other using their weird lightning magic voodoo, and it sucks.

Armin's going to be really upset when he's back to normal, he thinks. The thought of it not being reversed hasn't crossed his mind just yet. He tugs his legs onto the bed and sits cross-legged, body language casual even throughout this decidedly odd situation.]

Who's they?

People who cross me.

[It's not actually an impressive amount of people, really, but Armin does have the luck to be perpetually underestimated. Sometimes he finds himself really thinking about how Annie, the kind of person with walls (ha) always up, followed him right into a trap.

Jaime's more trusting, but essentially he did the same.]

You've known me for awhile. You understand my resolve. You can do whatever you like to me and it won't make a difference. You might as well end it now.

Edited 2015-03-01 07:57 (UTC)

And you've known me long enough to know I'm not gonna do that.

[So he's still got some of Armin's memories, Jaime thinks. It's like how Bart thought he was an entirely different person, but somehow, still knew Wally, still knew him. It's a little twisted, letting these people remain the same with a little twist, a little something that's changed enough to make them act like this. He leans forward, back hunching, chin resting on the heels of his hands.]

Have you hurt anyone else? The way you tried to hurt me?

[It still hurts a little, but Jaime thinks that they're phantom pains, his body trying to remind him that he's supposed to be injured. As far as he's concerned, he's healed.]

How is that material to our current situation?! [In Armin's mind, he thought he could do this calmly. Goad Jaime into attacking him or something, and that might give him an opening. But he can't be rational. His heart is beating quickly. Looking at Jaime sets his teeth on edge.]

I tried to kill you! Just imagine what I'd have done to someone weaker. Kill me, or lock me up, or torture me if you want answers! I'm not cooperating with you, or any of your disgusting imPort friends! I don't care what you do! [Armin's getting louder, his words more forceful. Yet there's a quality to them that's frantic. His words bunch together like fabric not properly fed into a sewing machine.]

[God, he's completely out of control. Jaime's never seen Armin talk like that, not while he was still himself, and it's honestly a little scary to see. He's not scared of Armin, certainly, but even seeing him like this, so livid, is enough to put a knot in his stomach. Underneath any other circumstances, he'd be trying to calm him down, but that won't work now, will it?]

Well, you're already kind of locked up. I'm gonna ask you one more time: have you tried this on anyone else?

Of course I have! I can't even look at one of you without wanting to vomit!

[Tears spring to Armin's eyes - even like this, it seems that's his response to strong emotion. He's rocking the chair again, it hardly even matters if he falls or what happens, he simply must do something.]

[Okay. Okay, okay, he can work with this. Jaime stifles the temptation to offer him a tissue (his hands are tied anyway; it would be really awkward for Jaime to try and dab at Armin's eyes for him), and drops his hands into his lap. His hands curl into fists.

Time to try to milk this.]

You want me to get mad at you? Then tell me who. Tell me who, and tell me what. I'm not gonna get mad over who you might have hurt.

There was this one woman - she seemed nice. She had really nice clothes, not the kind of trash imPorts usually waltz around in.

I've been torturing her. [Armin's adept at this kind of lie. Yes, he hurt a woman like that, but the truth - that he threw a gas bomb at her and booked it - won't do what he really needs, which is either to get Jaime to lose his temper or leave.]

I made some chloroform - it's really pretty easy, fascinating stuff! - and dragged her to a special little spot in an old building where no one would find her. She's tied up somewhere. I've beaten her pretty thoroughly with a baseball bat. And torn out some of her nails, I needed to perfect my technique with that. Come to think of it, she hasn't had food or water in awhile...

[Sometimes, Jaime can be better at hiding his emotions than he thinks he is, a bland mask of good etiquette and friendliness covering up any misgivings he may have. Now is not one of those times. He knows that Armin may simply be trying to rile him up, certainly, but he doesn't know it for sure. The idea of him doing these things to one of them, the idea of someone using Armin's body to commit such atrocities...

It makes his blood boil. His breath catches in his throat, and his hands curl into fists on his lap, knuckles white. When he speaks, he speaks slowly, steadily, forcefully. Damage control. That's all he can do now.

He should have checked to see if his friends had been affected earlier. That was his mistake.]

You still haven't given me a name. How am I supposed to know if you've really hurt an imPort?

Oh, poor thing. Is she going to die because I never asked her what her name is? [A nasty laugh.] That kind of thing isn't priority to me, so long as imPorts suffer. Really, it's a surprise to me that I got along with any of you for as long as I did!

[This of course is more of a lie, if Armin didn't care about particular imports, then why include Jaime in his rampage? Sure, it was convenient to lure him out like that, but every encounter he's had with someone he knew already ended less than optimally. If only he could calm down enough to really plan something big... but he needed this violence, couldn't stop thinking of it, and here he is now.

He wishes Jaime would get close enough so he could headbutt him or something. It seems he's not in any pain from being stabbed earlier. Disappointing!]

[Sorry, Armin, Jaime's not getting anywhere near you -- not because he's afraid that Armin will lash out (he really isn't, all things considered), but because he honestly wants nothing to do with him right now. He really wants to punch whoever's in his head right now, but no way is he laying a finger on his friend.]

No. No, that's bull. If it wasn't your priority, then you wouldn't have called me out. I know you've got all the same memories, and I know you keep an eye on things. There's no way you don't know exactly who you've been messing with.

I really don't! It's true I planned to kill you, you really ruined my plans, but I also attacked a few people at random! I just couldn't stand them! I just see one of you and it's like... Nails on chalkboards, and the stink of corpses, and paper cuts! [Armin's getting worked up. His voice cracks, tears of rage escaping down his red cheeks. He throws his weight against the chair. This time it wiggles a bit.] Shit! Just as Suzuya or Kitty or Skye! You know, if you think that poor woman will make it without your help! I attacked them without warning!

[God, Armin's going to wind up hurting himself like this. Jaime's tempted to just prop up a communicator to act as his eyes and leave the room, let the guy get it out of his system so he doesn't have to deal with it, but he has to do the responsible thing here. He shuts his eyes.

He doesn't want to see this.]

Suzuya, Kitty and Skye. Okay. And you had to have known the other woman's name. I'm not stupid. You attack people at random assuming they're imPorts, and you'll end up attacking a native.

Sorry to disappoint you, but I really don't know her! I wanted to see if people would come if I asked for a Hero's help even in our current situation. All I had to do was ask for help, and catch her by surprise.

[Armin is trying to wiggle his chair over toward a wall. It's slow work.]

You really are profoundly stupid, though! Like I could ever be friends with someone like you?! And even though you know what I'm like, that I'm manipulative and I've used people's trust in me against them, you walked right into my trap! I'd feel sorry for you if your face didn't make me want to puke!

Shut up.

[Will he get any more information out of Armin? Probably not. Every time he thinks he's making any gains whatsoever, he just starts spewing out venom again, words as crude as the tears rolling down his cheeks. Jaime looks back down at his lap and says, quietly,]

Do a search on all the names mentioned, and a search for a missing persons report, imPort, 16 and up.

[Khaji will do the rest. Armin will know part of what he can do, certainly, but that doesn't exactly take a rocket scientist, not with the Blue Beetle's visibility over the network. He would have liked to keep his powers more of a secret than they turned out being, but collaborating with his fellow imPorts had seemed more important at the time.

He hadn't been counting on the imPorts turning on themselves en masse. Jaime looks back up at Armin, watching the way he's wiggling, and leaves it be, for now. He's not concerned.]

You're gonna have to get used to my face for a little while longer, buddy, 'cause you're not going anywhere. Tell me where you've taken this woman you keep talking about.

A house. Abandoned, of course.

[Armin quickly pictures his route to work, the little detours he takes sometimes, the time he's spent peacefully exploring. Yes, there used to be a time when it didn't bother him at all to be out in the city on his own, without more of a thought than simply making a mental map on his mind.

Before he was angry. Before he couldn't take two steps without seething.]

Well, I guess it's more like it's empty? It's not in good repair, but there's a sale sign up. Anyway, she's in the basement. But it's not like I care if she lives or dies... I guess you'd better start looking.

[Armin's inching close to the wall.]

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