vatheon | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Bro Strider and AAANYONE | later Bro and Ron DeLite.
When: Saturday afternoon.
Where: The general shopping area in the plaza.
Style: Action
Status: First half is open | second half is closed!

[It's been about two weeks since Bro arrived in Vatheon and he's settling in quite nicely. However, he found there's one thing his apartment is lacking severely. Surely Davesprite won't mind a few Smuppets lying around. And maybe one or two normal puppets, if Bro can find the time, energy and resources to provide them, but Smuppets are so much easier to make and so much more hilarious.

Of course, he still tends to get distracted by all the free shit in the stores and what started out as a quick run for some sewing supplies ended up as a small shopping spree. He's browsing every single store that doesn't require tokens to score things he deems 'useful'. Baseball caps, junkfood, small electrical appliances that can be recycled... A cookbook to leave around the kitchen ironically, because he and Davesprite both know he'll never ever use the kitchen for cooking... And of course, boatloads of fabric, felt and plush stuffing. It's all going straight into the huge pink backpack he's holding. Yes, it's pink. He's waiting to see if anyone will comment on it.

Lil Cal is hanging from his shoulders again because, let's face it. If you're going to do ironic shopping for puppet supplies, you need to bring your prized puppet. That's just common sense. For the final touch, he's whistling the Mahna Mahna as he goes.]

---

[Once he's dumped all his new stuff and Lil Cal in a corner of the apartment, he sets out to corner Ron DeLite. He figured today's as good a day as any to scare the everliving shit out of this guy and begin the epic vigilante training. As much as he trolled Ron about this hero facade, he's dead serious about toughening him up.

Finding out where Ron lives was so easy it's almost depressing. Of course, being depressed about that sort of thing is what makes it ironic and that, in turn, makes it okay again. The philosophy behind living an ironic lifestyle is nothing to scoff at. Double the ironic depression for the fact that Ron left his window open. If you're going to be a vigilante with a secret identity, you do not leave your window open ever.

So he peers inside from a stategic location atop another building across the street, to make sure he barges in at just the right time. Ron doesn't seem to be doing anything of interest, so the coast is clear. Set phasers to troll! It's only the third floor, he can make it in there with ease. Flashstep, lunge, through the window and touchdown! He's so smooth, he doesn't even make a sound when his feet touch the ground. Of course, he'll make his presence know immediately by knocking on the windowsill behind him.

Sup Ron, Shades¤DeShade is in your home.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Hm. Hm... He can already tell turning Ron into a real man is going to take a lot of goddamn hard work. The guy's got a good sense of justice and his heart's in the right place, but that alone doesn't make a strong hero, let alone a strong fighter. There needs to be a solid driving force and an ability to get up after a setback without wasting time moping. It wouldn't hurt to be more physically fit, either.

Still, Ron gets brownie points for the pen thing, which Bro almost cracks a smile at. Almost. Can't drop the charade just yet. When he's done reading, he lowers the paper to fix Ron with a piercing gaze. Or, well, it would be piercing it if weren't for the shades.]

Drop and gimme twenty pushups.

[Ron is nervously attentive at the stare, looking back with an uncertain smile; and when he gets the order, he chirps,] Yessir, Mr. DeShade!

[He nearly jumps out of his chair, drops into the nearest open space, and starts doing pushups, murmuring the count under his breath.

He's more in shape then he looks! He's breathing a little heavily by twenty, but considering he doesn't look like he could lift so much as a heavy cat without straining something, doing twenty pushups without any trouble is pretty impressive.

When he's done, he sits back on his heels, smiling up at Mr. DeShade and waiting for his next instructions.]

[Well well. He was half expecting Ron to be unable to do even one push-up. Looks like he underestimated the guy. He gives an idle wave of the hand.]

Ten more.

[Another chirped yessir, and Ron's doing another ten, fairly cheerfully; at the end, he looks up at Mr. DeShade, and asks, voice just a bit breathy,] Do you want me to do any more, sir?

[He could do this all... well, maybe for the next twenty minutes or so. He's in pretty good shape, but his endurance won't last forever.]

[Interesting. Very interesting. It's a good chance for Bro to test more than just physical endurance. He wants to see if Ron will let himself be pushed around, or if he'll crack and stand up for himself.]

You know what? Just keep going 'till I tell you to stop. [He gets up from his chair to wander into the kitchen.]

[Ahahaha.

Bro.

Bro.

Ron is going to be doing pushups forever.]

[With a very quick salute, balancing on one arm for a moment, Ron gets back to pushups, taking a few deep breaths and a short break every fifteen or so. He can't go forever, but he'll go as long as he can!]

[Oh Ron. Ron you are failing this test so hard. Bro will try providing a little more incentive by raiding your fridge. Hmm... Fruit, milk, ingredients for cooking... It's a good thing there's a box of cookies in one of the cupboards.

When he returns to the living room area, he barely acknowledges Ron. He just sits down, puts his feet up on the table and starts eating the cookies. Loudly.]

[Ron hesitates, looking up at Mr. DeShade, then mentions...]

If you'd like to have some milk with those, there's glasses in the cupboard above the sink. They're a little dry without!

[oh ron honey no]

[And back to pushups he goes!]

[............ Wow. This guy must be the nicest vigilante thief who got accused for murder in the history of ever. Bro's not even going to dignify the remark with a response. He just takes a cookie, reduces it to crumbs in his fist and then opens his hand again, allowing the mess to fall to the floor.

What now, Ron.]

[That is entirely possible.]

[Ron pauses again at the... intentionally aggravating action? and looks up at Mr. DeShade, uncertain of how he's supposed to respond because he's pretty sure people aren't supposed to do that.

... On the other hand, it's rude to criticize guests...

After a moment of thought, Ron bites his lip, shakes his head, and goes straight back to pushups Ronnie come the fuck on.]

[Oooh. That looked like a tiny bit of progress, right there. A mean smirk appears on Bro's face, but it's gone so fast Ron probably won't have time to see it. Then he disappears from the chair, dashing into the kitchen for just a second to get some milk. An entire carton of it. He flashsteps back into the living room, appearing right by Ron's side.

A twist of the cap, then the carton is held upside down right over Ron's head. Bottoms up, protégé!]

[Ron shrieks, startled, at the sudden icy-cold waterfall-- milkfall?-- over his head, collapsing to the ground and clapping his hands over his hair. Oh, no, that was just mean!]

[Breathing hard, he wails in distress,] That was mean, Mr. DeShade! [and gives Bro a hurt look--

But surely he wouldn't do it without reason, right? It was certainly startling, and Ron clutches his now-drenched shirt, trying to calm his racing heart.

... If this is a test of obedience, or something... a sidekick does have to be dependable, right? And a protégé should follow his master's instructions...

Ron's still upset, face drawn in a tight unhappy frown, but Mr. DeShade hasn't told him to stop doing pushups, so he plants his hands back in the soggy carpet and gets back to it. He'll... clean up later, he guesses.]

[Aw maaan, he was so close. A harsh sigh escapes him and he slams the empty carton down on the table. It's good that Ron's gritting his teeth and continuing the push-ups, but it's still not the reaction he's searching for.

He'll just crouch down and place a hand on the back of Ron's neck to shove his face down into the soggy carpet.]

What now, wise guy?

[Well, it's not like he can really get any more soaked...

He squeezes his eyes shut against the carpet's rough wetness, and asks, muffled,] What do you want me to do, Mr. DeShade? I'm trying to follow your instructions!

[His grip's not relenting in the least. Nope.]

I just emptied a fucking carton of milk over your head and that's what's on your mind? Focus! What do you think I'm expecting you to do?

[Ron has to think about that.

Like, seriously think about that.

If his face wasn't smushed into the floor, Mr. DeShade would be getting a nice, long look at Ron's thinky face; and even after thinking about it, it's with an uncertain kind of voice that Ron ask-answers,]

... Get angry?

[Oh for fuck's sake.]

What was that? I didn't quite catch it.

[I know, right?]

[A little louder, he tries again,] Get angry at you?

[He leans forward, pushing Ron's face a little further into the carpet.]

Louder! Say it like you mean it!

[Well-- well, fine! Ron will!

Ron curls his hands into fists and takes a deep soggy breath and yells, as loud and shrilly as he can,]

GET MAD AT YOU!

[Then he tries to jerk away from under Mr. DeShade's hand and sit up-- and, despite his gangly looks, it's a pretty strong effort.]

[Regardless of how strong the effort is, Bro releases him of his own volition. He got what he wanted. It's still not entirely the attitude he's looking for and it took a ridiculous amount of coercing, but this is the best he'll get for now.]

Yes! That's the one. [He sits back, making sure to avoid the small ocean of milk as he does so.] Now sit up, I'm gonna level with you.

[He sits up, shifting away from the wet patch and looking... more frustrated than mad, honestly, as he tries to wipe his wet face on his equally wet sleeve.

At least he's not chirping yessirs anymore, right?]

[And he finally stopped doing push-ups too. Wonderful.]

If you wanna put a stop to injustice, you've gotta stand up for yourself. You can't take shit from anyone. Not thieves, not murders and not me. You're doing this because you want to do it, not because I'm telling you. Am I making myself clear?

[... oh.

That... That's actually a really good lesson, and the irritation fades from Ron's face as he considers it, head bowed a little.

He is kind of bad at standing up for himself, sometimes, but...]

Injustice isn't excused for any reason? [he asks, with a little considering head tilt.]

[That sure earns Ron a frown. Suddenly he feels like he's teaching a kindergarten class.]

What the hell kinda question is that? [He pauses, rubbing a hand past the back of his head as he mulls it over.] It depends on your definition of justice. It ain't the same thing as obeying laws, you know.