maskormenacelogs | While the lines on the wall start to fray

When Daryl showed up that the house Tetsuo was staying in, he had not expected to find a bike. It was a pleasant surprise. More so that it was so well kept and clearly had a lot of custom work done. And not just the paint job. Though that was the most obvious. He'd never kept up with Kawasaki's much, but the Zephyr series was well known enough. At least in his world. Seemed it was here, too. The seat sat a little low for his personal taste and the windshield was a bit of a waste of time unless you road real low to the gas tank, but hell if it wasn't pretty.

He got a bit distracted as he started to check it out, forgetting for the moment that he'd been intending to go knock on the door and see if the kid was home.

The door slams open of its own accord, the typically moody teenager thumping his way down the front steps with more force than his 5'4" frame should allow. He keeps his eyes down, not really paying much attention, slinging a bag over his shoulder as he wanders down.

There are no garages in Nonah houses. While the shed in the backyard provided just barely enough room for him to shove his bike in there, it was annoying at best to work around. So, if he's just going to be in and out, he just doesn't bother. The bike can stay out by the road in that case; he's branded it to where no one's going to take it.

As his foot hits the bottom step, he looks up... and pauses. There's some guy by his bike, clearly taking way more interest in it than he likes. He can tell there is something familiar about him. Where does he know him from? But that's far from his first question.

"The hell are you doing?"

The MOST important thing is, this guy better not even think about messing with his bike!

Daryl's back was to the kid when he came out. The wings on his vest (dirty and almost as black as the leather at this point) probably the most memorable thing about him, assuming they were remembered at all. He stood up from where he'd been crouching to get a better look at the engine where the front guards folded over to protect from splashing mud and water, and turned around. His hands slide over the back of his pants in a manner similar to how Rick would rub at his pockets before his hands settled on his gun. But Daryl's hands just fell back down to his side and tilted his head toward the bike, curiosity and surprise on his face.

"This yours?"

Some might not remember emblems, but Tetsuo wasn't among them. Where he grew up, it was vital to know who held what signs, individually or collectively. One's emblem was one's identifier, and anyone who wore them was automatically included in his mind as someone to keep an eye out for. You didn't just wear a mark for no reason.

Those wings... where had he seen that before? He picks up the pace some, stalking towards his bike and the guy.

"Yeah, that's right - that's mine!"

And then it hits him. All it takes are a few linked memories. Wings sprouting to block, a quick escape... his own voice going oh, yeah, the wings guy. He pulls up short, staring harder at the guy's face. Wait a minute. He might know this guy.

Shit.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Came to see you," he said simply and took a step away from the bike. Turned to look at it again as he did so, one hand coming up to scratch at the scruff on his chin.

He wanted to ask if the kid maintained it, but he had something else to do first. The hand at his chin dropped to his side once more and this time dug into his front pocket. He pulled out a key and held it out, "It's for the house I'm assigned to. In case you need a place to lay low or whatever."

He'd been expecting another speech. Something about family, reminders of who decided to up and leave him all over again. Already, Tetsuo's gearing up the argument in his mind, his eyes narrowing to watch every movement Daryl makes. While he's a telepath, he isn't always reading people - and that's never more clear than now.

His face blanks in confusion. He's not supposed to get out a key. What the hell's he think he's going to do, go after his bike?

But before Tetsuo can say anything, Daryl explains. The last of his totally prepared and well reasoned arguments vanish from his mind, leaving him at a complete loss for words.

"... what?"

Daryl's gaze dropped and his head did one of those awkward twitches like he suddenly felt under intense scrutiny. But he left his hand out and, with it, the key.

"I don't know how often you get to De Chima, but the government put me in number eight," he went on, figuring that was what Tetsuo was confused about. "I got roommates so if you do need to use it, try and be respectful of their shit. It's the best I can do until we get enough money to get a place for everyone. You'll get a new key then."

Edited 2016-08-16 01:53 (UTC)

De Chima. Tetsuo isn't one prone to wandering, especially with his particular antigovernment ideas and status. In truth, Tetsuo's only been there once, so there's no knowledge of the city and only one memory. That was where the Swear-In was. The one that provided the final hammerblow to break his head, and everything else. That's where Ken almost killed him, and Kaneda tried to finish him off.

If there's a hell in America, it isn't Marutia Falls. Not to him.

And it's August...

His eyes widen a little more as a small chill runs through his veins despite the summer heat. Then he lowers his head, listening. Tetsuo half hears what Daryl's saying, but every sentence is paired with ...

"... I don't go to De Chima."

The bluster and challenge is gone from his voice for the moment, leaving a quiet mumble behind.

Daryl looked up, blinked a couple times in confusion. The way the kid said that made it clear something terrible had happened to him there. And as much as Daryl wanted to pry, he wasn't sure he should. Not yet. Except that all the properties he'd been looking into were on the outskirts of the city and travel from there to the porter cities meant going through town.

His hand dropped to his side finally, the key going with it. If the kid didn't go to De Chima, then the safehouse there wasn't exactly a decent option.

But he couldn't just let it sit like that, either. Not when most of the current plans that people knew were for the group eventually having a safer place to live out there.

"What happened?"

Crouching on the glass floor between the roof and the floor below, watching. Gas fills the room below. Screams follow. Then it all shatters...

Tetsuo looks back up, but he doesn't answer. This guy's like Rick, right? He wants to know, maybe he'll leave it be with a non-answer.

He shrugs half of Kaneda's jacket off of him, pulling the long sleeve from his right side to leave his arm exposed. The lower arm's a twisted mess of scar tissue, similar but somehow more torn than spray from a shotgun would give, with strange markings surrounding it. It's not centered; the damage is less on the outside of his arm.

He pulls his shirt up to reveal where the rest of that shot went.

It really wasn't a shotgun blast. It was a bunch of scrap metal and bits pulled free from architecture - nails, shreds of steel and iron, screws, bolts - collected together and fired at him by someone's power. There's odd scar patterns - small fractal patterns, like frost - collected around it, spidering out a little further across his midsection and wrapping around his arm. Electricity scars, focused around the area. Whatever happened, it was severe, bizarre, but he also managed to survive it.

After a pointed stare, he drops his shirt, moving his arm back to find the armhole of that jacket again.

Daryl's chin lifted and his shoulders dropped. Back stiffening at the sight. He blinked hard, he blinked often. And he blinked so much he had to look away because all the blinking was to try and fight the sudden surge of emotion. He had his own scars, but nothing like that. Nothing that...

He pressed his lips together and nodded. Breathed in deep. Gulpped. Breathed in again.

"Okay."

So as much as Daryl liked De Chima, how it reminded him of home. It was out. At least anything real close. Nonah wasn't too far a drive. Virginia and North Carolina were neighbors, shared a border. If he could find a property in the middle ground between them, then people would have the choice of driving north to De Chima or south to Nonah for whichever porter they preferred to use. It'd be a little further out than planned, but they could make it work. And being further from the center of a major city was not a bad idea if things started to go belly up and they all needed to hunker down for a while.

Finding the right kind of property might be harder. He could do it, though.

"Okay," he said again. And at that point he put the spare key back into his pocket. Pulled out his other key ring instead and took a different one off. Held that out, "This one's for Carl's dorm at the Xavier School. It's in Heropa."

And it was obviously Daryl's personal - and only - key.

Tetsuo had almost assumed that was it. He'd be out, he'd be right, and he'd be left alone all over again. He knew who his family was.

Family only left, anyway.

But that's not what the man does. He instead seems to have a reaction that Tetsuo again hadn't been expecting. Derision, or incredulity, or fascination with it, sure. He could shoot that down easily and throw it back in his face. But... why did he..? Tetsuo's watching him closely, but he can't understand. This isn't the mutual survival on the streets pact he had with Rick to start with. This isn't an agreement. Almost no one, ever, reacted that way.

Then again, he also showed that to pretty much no one. So he really has no room to compare.

Okay. That's it. Just... okay? He mouths the word, though it's not the same one Daryl would be using.

This isn't working at all, but now Tetsuo's even more lost than before. It's starting to really sink in that Daryl means it. He can feel that much; it's the same kind of sincerity that he could always feel off Rick. The kind that scared him as much as it drew him in like a moth to a flame.

There shouldn't be sincerity. They met as enemies first. Daryl has no one to impress now; Rick's gone. That idiot can't really.. mean this...

But he does.

Not only that. He volunteers Carl's room without even asking or hesitating, in a move that Tetsuo would never be able to anticipate or comprehend. Carl had said something similar to him before. The key dangles in front of him for a moment as he stares at it, then back to Daryl. Daryl doesn't seem to take the offer back. He can't imagine ever using this. He can't imagine ever needing this, either. He's fine without them. He doesn't trust them, anyway. Or like them.

...

That's clearly why he ends up finding himself warily holding out his left hand after a pause.

Daryl set the key into Tetsuo's palm and let his hand drop away. Cleared his throat and folded his arms up over his chest so his fingers could curl into the armholes of his vest.

"Like I was saying, you'll get a new one once we find a place big enough for the whole group," he continued, clearing his throat (again) just to finish that bit of business. "Ain't sure when that will be. Still trying to find a decent property. Let ya know when we do."

Then he twisted his torso and lifted his head toward the Zephyr, "You the one that takes care of this or you got a garage you go to?"

Once the key hits his palm, Tetsuo's whole attention is on it. If he was feeling up to it, just a twist of his mind and a cruel idea, and the key would be gone forever. It'd be so easy to thoroughly reject it. He would barely have to twitch.

Maybe that's why he doesn't. He could do it at any time, he doesn't need to do it right now.

At least, that'll be his reasoning.

Tetsuo continues staring at the key when Daryl starts talking again. He only looks up at the topic change.

"Yes." He tries to let that sit, but can't resist clarifying to brag, "I got my own garage."

He looked back, brows raised, clearly impressed, before letting his gaze settle back on the bike, "You buy her like this or do it all yourself?"

Daryl was genuinely interested. Not a lot people knew how to care for bikes in his world. Not people he trusted, anyway. He was still the only one in his group who rode or maintained one. The others in the family knew how to ride, of course. Well, those of them that had made it through from the prison. He'd made sure of that in case they could get to it and he couldn't if things went bad like they had at the farm. Though that really hadn't helped with the governor...

He shook those thoughts away and focused back on the bike in front of him. The chrome kept shiny and the paint clean. No scratches. Kid loved this thing.

"I did it."

Tetsuo still sounds sullen, but increasingly willing to engage. Bikes weren't just something that he loved, they were part of his identity. Bosozoku need bikes, but they also extend themselves into them. He's seen gangs here who care far less than the ones back home.

Then again, he hasn't seen wars fought on bikes either. There's no street chases with weapons, no random destruction and mayhem along the way. There's too much order here for that kind of freedom, and the price alongside it are bikes no one cares about. Hover ones lacking the connection of wheels to the road.

His fingers close over the key, hands moving to his pockets. For now, his decision is made; he'll keep it.

With more pride, he adds, "Wouldn't be mine if I didn't."

Daryl didn't know about that. Most of the maintenance work on Merle's bike had been Daryl - due to the frequency of Merle's jail visits prior to the virus - but the bike was still his brother's. He chalked it up to different cultures in his head and left it alone. No reason to challenge it.

"How fast can she go? What kind of mileage you get out of her?" He went to circle it and take in the other side, studying the little red-eyed racer, "You use parts from anything else or they all Kawazaki?"

Edited 2016-08-17 18:17 (UTC)

"Nah, I couldn't get all Kawasaki stuff here. Stupid country doesn't like it."

He meanders over to join Daryl in wandering around his bike, then crouches down by the engine, one gloved hand resting against the frame.

"Engine is, I found a better one. Gets 9500 RPM, does about 200 km/hr... Took a few junkyard hunts to put together better brakes, so they've got bits from everywhere."

Daryl crouched down, too, taking Tetsuo's actions as an invitation to do so. The speed was top quality. The bike he'd put together back home could match that, and tank looked about the same size, too. He felt he had a decent idea of what it was capable of off that.

He turned his attention to the shocks and reached out to lay a couple fingers on the one in the rear, feeling the metal and doing it more to get that sensation of grounding than for any real study through touch. He wondered if they were original or something the kid managed to scrounge. His bike was doing okay, and he could deal with the rough ride, but he shocks needed replacing. His was from before the makers really knew what they were doing.

"You got any more of these at that garage of yours?" he asked, specifically meaning the shocks.

Once it's clear Daryl's not intending anything bad, Tetsuo's more than happy to let him admire it. It's possibly the best thing Daryl could have done. Few things manage to improve Tetsuo's mood, but bikes are one of them. His especially.

He looks over his handiwork, much of it managed before Neo Tokyo was open. He didn't let Kaneda order for it, and his money had gone right into halfway funding the garage. But now that he's got work, he can start spending real money on his bike.

He could tear it apart. Do it all over. Maybe even play with converting it over to electric, like Kaneda's was - make it a true original bike instead of cobbled from a manufacturer. He'd need to work that out, anyway. Tetsuo always did learn best when it was hands-on.

Lost in his own thoughts, he doesn't first catch what Daryl's indicating. His gaze follows the man, to where his hands are... aha.

"Yeah...?"

It's still a weird feeling. Supplies were usually something he'd have to forage for. Even knowing he can get more without any trouble now, and it's his job to act as a supplier, well-honed instinct to guard what he has doesn't go away overnight.

"You looking for some?"

"Yeah," Daryl nodded, brought his hand back to rub at his chin. "Picked up a '57 Norton M50. Shocks on it are about as good as having bricks tied to the frame."

The engine, exhaust, and crossbow mount had been the priorities for the immediate fix up. The rest was all a work in progress. He wasn't looking to get it as prettied up as the one Tetsuo had pride and joy in, but it needed to be just as usable.

"She's got city tires right now, but I'm looking to put better ones for off-roading on her. Gonna need shocks that can take the kinda wear and tear that comes without proper pavement."

Edited 2016-08-18 00:43 (UTC)

[ He knew his words incensed Tetsuo. The look of rage inside the boy's eyes was enough confirmation of it. Pan had his own thing to prove here and he would have it for later. He would utterly ruin another and their beliefs and instil that his are the only correct ones.

But, for now he knew Tetsuo was following him. Knew the boy would continue for days in a game of cat and mouse to catch Pan. He's left things behind, campsites, things distinctly Tetsuo could recognize as Pan's to follow. He wants to make it look like he's running scared to give Tetsuo that false sense of confidence and bravado and once Tetsuo arrives at the final campsite?

Tetsuo will be the rat in the lion's den. Pan will just be sitting by a fire, a large cauldron sitting over it filled to the brim with stew. He wants the campsite to smell as pleasant as possible for his guest.]

Edited 2016-08-18 03:07 (UTC)

[No. Tetsuo will be the monster hunting its prey.

After that fight, he threw his comm, left Kaneda's jacket, and stalked out of the garage, furious. Who the hell does he think he is?!

Days pass. Tetsuo relies on by now familiar tactics; leap often, listen hard for whispers in his mind, steer for ones he hates. He has to make the trip to Heropa first. It takes time and energy to simply fly there, but he's unregistered and his bike is too slow. From there, it's been a long list of frustrations.

Pan's voice is hard to pinpoint. As he hangs off a skyscraper, casting his mind out, he can find all sorts of voices and thoughts. The whole city spreads out before him.. but Pan doesn't feel part of it. He listens further, trying to avoid the forests for as long as possible, but something in his mind rejects listening for him.

Then he takes to the forests,ready to dart ahead quickly, all senses on high alert. Fear keeps him grounded, but anger keeps him from listening to it, driving him forward. He will find that bastard.

One camp? Abandoned. A strange rope in a tree? Hastily torn down.

Footprints at one point, in mud.

He brought no supplies. Now and then, he breaks off the search, taking to the treetops and streaking back to civilization, burning energy he doesn't have to get food. This hunt is starting to wear on him already, but he doesn't back off.

Instead, Tetsuo surges onwards, his fury only growing as frustration gnaws away at his mind. Pan seems to be running. Well, run along, go on! He'll find him eventually! And true to form, by the time he smells something that isn't extinguished coals , Tetsuo believes his own hype. He's not afraid of this asshole! He's Tetsuo, the best damn psychic ever, and he will win.

No words as he stalks closer. Murder in his eyes. He's not here to waste time talking, not this time.]

[ And Pan feels the shudder come over him as Tetsuo foolishly steps inside the camp. He's already alerted to their presence. But, he makes no real move, he just sits at the fire as he feels Tetsuo come closer.

Once the boy is close enough to see Pan, they'll find he's wearing a very familiar red Jacket, lined with fur. He's already standing and he just turns ominously towards Tetsuo. The smile not even faltering. ]

If it isn't my good friend, Tetsuo. I was hoping you would arrive soon, I didn't want you missing supper. [ He doesn't even look afraid. Not one bit. ]

While the lines on the wall start to fray

CATCH-ALL

Around the 20th

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