Mick Hotrod with the Dad Bod Rory (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pyrogue) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2017-04-11 07:06 pm
pyrogue) wrote in maskormenacelogs2017-04-11 07:06 pm
I've gone off the razor's edge, thought it would be different
WHO: Mick Rory & the Rogues & i guess whoever else in the neighbourhood who wants to show up and be like "wtf mate"
WHERE: Heropa #20
WHEN: April 13th
WHAT: Mick sets the Roguehaus on fire
WARNINGS: pyromania, but rest assured no animals were harmed in the making of this log
[ It's late at night when the first alarm goes off. Then shortly, every alarm in the entirety of Heropa #20 goes off, causing every single door in the place to open, including all the doors to the outside. Mick had rigged it specifically; he knew what he was, what might happen.
For a while Mick stands in his room watching the flames flicker up the walls before the walls creak enough to let him know he should be watching from outside; his suit might protect him from flames but it won't protect him from a collapsing ceiling.
A couple of minutes later he's out on the front lawn, watching the fires flick up the side of the house,
almost hypnotically, barely tuning in the sounds of his dog barking at his side (she'd escaped a while before) and the sound of sirens getting closer. ]
Beautiful.
WHERE: Heropa #20
WHEN: April 13th
WHAT: Mick sets the Roguehaus on fire
WARNINGS: pyromania, but rest assured no animals were harmed in the making of this log
[ It's late at night when the first alarm goes off. Then shortly, every alarm in the entirety of Heropa #20 goes off, causing every single door in the place to open, including all the doors to the outside. Mick had rigged it specifically; he knew what he was, what might happen.
For a while Mick stands in his room watching the flames flicker up the walls before the walls creak enough to let him know he should be watching from outside; his suit might protect him from flames but it won't protect him from a collapsing ceiling.
A couple of minutes later he's out on the front lawn, watching the fires flick up the side of the house,
almost hypnotically, barely tuning in the sounds of his dog barking at his side (she'd escaped a while before) and the sound of sirens getting closer. ]
Beautiful.
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He's entirely unsurprised to see Mick standing in the front yard. ]
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After a bit too long, he finally raises his voice above the crackle of flames. ]
Everyone get out okay?
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[ There's no judgement in his voice, just quiet resignation. He sets the cage and his bag down at his feet, keeping the chinchilla ball in his arms as he stands beside Mick, watching the house burn with none of Mick's appreciation for it. He reaches down to scratch Matches behind her ears, and doesn't ask if Mick's okay. ]
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[ He knows he should feel guilty, that he should apologize, but right now all he feels is calm for the first time in weeks. ]
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[ He doesn't agree or disagree any more than that. It was inevitable, obviously, and Piper doesn't feel the need to argue the point. ]
Do you need anything? Before the cops show up.
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[ Mick brings up his heat gun, levelling it for a moment, old habits kicking in for a moment before he realizes what he's doing.
Fight the cops and go on the run? Or turn himself in and accept consequences for his actions?
The former was more tempting than he'd ever care to admit, but after a moment he pictures Saint Walker's face. What would Walker do?
He flips his heat gun so it's handle-first and holds it out to Piper. ]
Take it before I change my mind.
[ A pause. ]
And Matches too, just 'till I know what's gonna happen to me.
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[ He takes the heat gun, making sure the safety is on before crouching to put it away in his backpack. He closes the whole thing up again, moving a few steps back as a support buckles and part of the second floor collapses in on itself.]
I have cash for bail, too, if it comes to that. I've got your back, whatever you need.
[ He very kindly doesn't point out how fucked the timing of this is, Mick burning their house down the day after Piper quits his job. ]
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You're a good man, Piper.
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[ He offers a small, wry smile. ]
Current circumstances notwithstanding.
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[ Now he's trying very hard to keep his eyes from drifting back to the house. ]
I fucked up big this time.
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[ Piper keeps glancing back at the fire, but for completely different reasons. He's wary as he watches it come down, not entranced like Mick was. ]
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[ He looks very significantly at the flames, though once he does he trails off and keeps watching them, his now-empty hands loosely at his sides. ]
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[ Piper only knew Dorian by reputation, but hearing about Len dying is alarming. ]
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[ Mick's not a mind reader, he's covering his bases. ]
And Len... Back where he's from he sacrificed himself to save me, well, the other me. S'long as he was here he was good but... I think he's been ported out. It's been over a week.
[ And, therefore, he's dead right now. ]
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[ Piper's terrible at checking the network anyway. This was not a man who was built for social media. He stares, though, as Mick explains Len being dead. He couldn't picture any Leonard Snart, not even this strange and different version, sacrificing himself for anyone. Even Lisa would be a stretch, and she was the only person he'd ever thought Captain Cold capable of caring about before Mick and Len got together here. Piper's genuinely speechless for a moment. ]
I had no idea.
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[ He's not surprised Piper didn't know; even for Mick it was something he wouldn't really bring up in casual conversation. "By the way, if my boyfriend ever goes home he'll be dead there fyi" isn't something easily said. ]
He ain't around to argue if he wouldn't want me to mention it.
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[ He realizes, as he says it, that the sentiment doesn't only apply to him being Ported back in. Their worlds are similar enough, after all, that it wouldn't be too far-fetched for him to be brought back to life somehow. He won't voice the full realization out loud, though. "Not far-fetched" doesn't mean likely. He figured if all Leonard Snarts across all universes were that similar, there was a snowball's chance in hell, so to speak, that that particular chance would be given to more than one of them. ]
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[ Mick's mind doesn't immediately skip to coming back from the dead, despite him having died once before, let alone the casually indecisive characterization of death in their universe.
Mick can be a little slow. ]
Won't know 'till he does.
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[ He doesn't exactly keep tabs on Cold here, but he assumes "long enough to drive Mick to burn their house down with everyone in it" is longer than a couple of days. ]
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[ He doesn't really know what the average is, beyond that often people come back the next day, but others a month or two if at all. Maybe if Dorian hadn't died too or if Walker had still been around he wouldn't be like this. ]
Piper, why're we here?
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[ He gives a halfhearted, humorless grin. It fades quickly, though, and he looks up at the night sky where smoke from their burning house is clouding over what little of the stars can be seen this deep into a city as densely populated as Heropa. ]
I don't know.
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[ Now he feels bad, Piper. Thanks. ]
What happened?
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Don't worry about it. I hated that place.
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[ Hopefully, if he doens't wind up in jail.
He doesn't really spend a lot of money and he's got a bunch saved from being a minor tv star, even though he's not really sure what will happen with that. ]
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[ Now isn't the time to go into that rant, Piper, can it. ]
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Alright.
[ The sirens get closer and closer until a firetruck pulls up. Mick frowns. They're going to put out his fire. But Piper has his gun for a reason.
Piper's a good friend. ]
Sorry about all this.
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[ Piper hikes his backpack onto his shoulder again and gathers up his various animals—some of the rats have returned to investigate, staying clear of anything resembling danger—before resting a hand on Mick's arm and steering him back away from the house. ]
Come on. Let's clear out of the way so they can work.
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It takes a little bit longer than that for his brain to catch up with his reflexes, as he floats around in midair with a scowl on his face that says more annoyed about being woken up than actually concerned. Well. That's not entirely accurate. He's concerned, just not about the house.
Eventually, with a weary sigh, he floats down to Mick. ]
Rough night?
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[ |Mick had noticed James floating around in the corner of his eyes, but he doesn't look away from the flickering flames to acknowledge him. He's not looking forward to this conversation. ]
You okay?
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[ Half a dozen possible things to say wind in and out of James' head. He wonders, darkly, if this is a sign that things are inevitably going to go the way they did back home, again, always, no matter what. Maybe, maybe not, but the patterns here are uncomfortably apparent.
Then again, Mick's always been too close to an edge, as long as James has known him. Sometimes closer, sometimes further away, but there was always that knowledge that he'd never really be free from the pyromania. Usually it's Len, though, that pulls him back toward... oh, crap. ]
What happened this time, man?
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He's also not sure what to say, how to explain himself. He's not really sure if he can. ]
You've been here a while, Tricks. How many people didja meet only for them to... die or disappear?
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Plenty of the second. More than a few of the first.
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[ He pauses. ]
Len's gone. And this was his second chance.
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[ He might not, though. And what Mick is saying — well, it's true, and it hits home, and it makes him shiver. Guys like them don't get second chances all that often. Who knows what Cold had waiting for him back home? The guy might be dead as a doornail for all James knows, and boy if that isn't unexpectedly depressing to have smack him in the face. But Mick's the one who has to deal with it. James isn't sure if that's worse, but it's more immediate. ]
Doesn't make it any easier, though. I know.
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[ He knows, though, that Len might come back. He knows James is right. But more people seem to not. And maybe it'd be easier to handle if he was in a better place, instead of it being one more nail in the coffin. ]
I know it doesn't help, but it feels like it helps. Watching it burn.