savetheearth | [Closed] Between where I'm going and where I've been

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[Closed] Between where I'm going and where I've been

Who: D!Cesar, Nathan, Tony, potentially anyone else living at the school.

What: D!Cesar's going to kidnap Nathan for his plans to get at Tony!

When: Today or yesterday

Where: Locke!
Warnings: D!Cesar is yandere as all get out. There will probably be swearing, attempts at serious violence, and anything else that comes with a kidnapping.

The school outside the computer room is silent with the night's stillness, and computer fan whirring fills the small room. There aren't many lights, but the doppelganger realizes by now that this is normal. He's been here before. Everything is as he expects.

The door was already cracked open, and he pushes it all the way, letting computer-screen light spill into the hall. Whether or not the room's sole occupant turns at the shift in sound, Cesar removes the outermost paper from a pocket, shaking it out of its folds. It's loud and out of place in the silence. Permanent marker stares out from the dim lighting in bold.

DON'T TRY TO ALERT TONY. COME WITH ME.

I HAVE A GUN.

Heavy seconds tick pass. Cesar pulls back the edge of his jacket to show the brand new holster at his waist, dropping the cloth back down when the point has been made.

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Fast as he is it still takes time to arrive on foot, though stowing away on the back of a couple trucks definitely expedited the process. Tony hadn't left much room for anyone to argue or follow him, nor had he given them the address just yet.

Cesar had asked for him, specifically. This was between them. Time to settle the score.

Cautiously he approached the old church yard, expecting the very ground itself to reject him. However, when it failed to do that he continued forward, more confident. Perhaps not all holy relics could destroy him, only certain ones? Whatever. The first doors were entered quietly, Tony taking in his surroundings with care before moving forward. However, he does whistle a jaunty little tune, as if mocking Cesar's attempts to make him uncomfortable with such an eerie silence.

"Come out come out wherever you are~" He sings to the echoing building, one pistol drawn but held toward the ceiling in preparation. He wasn't going to play nice this time, Cesar had gone too far. Although he'd like to avoid making too much fuss around Nathan if at all possible.

That wasn't going to be possible.

Edited 2015-04-04 19:39 (UTC)

Tony gives them plenty of warning. Cesar had moved close to Nathan after sending him the address, and now he draws his gun, putting a hand on Nathan's shoulder.

It's time.

Cesar is as ready for the half demon as he's ever going to be. Nathan is between him and the door, there's a switch in his pocket to turn the sprinklers on, the heavy bucket with flimsy glass jars inside is on a table close by... It's about to be a roulette game of which one he uses first, and he has an unsettling feeling that this is the beginning of an end.

His fingertips are going numb. The grip on Nathan's shoulder relaxes deliberately, and he leans forward a little, catching Nathan's eye. He can't talk, but this kid can. Cesar mouths the word 'speak' and tilts his head at the door significantly.

Tony's attitude isn't helping Nathan, to be honest; it just makes everything even more insane. He's not so easily fooled as to believe that Tony is taking the situation lightly, but the cavalierness is unsettling.

He doesn't flinch at the hand on his shoulder, even though it dredges up unpleasant memories -- shoved up against walls, pressed into them, thrown onto the floor. Don't react, don't react and it will stop.

He glances over his shoulder when the grip relaxes, watches the double expressionlessly as he orders him to speak. There isn't any point in not complying with it. With or without him, it's about to start.

"We're here." Hollow, empty just like his expression. His voice is quiet, but it carries well in this environment. "... Mind the water."

For whatever reason, holy water must be able to harm Tony; otherwise, why would Cesar's double have rigged things this way? He is not going to worry about reprisal for giving a warning. It's painfully obvious to Nathan that he's being positioned as a shield; the double isn't going to compromise that by punishing him for such a thing.

Tony knows there's no way this isn't freaking Nathan out more as well. He has no idea what's going on after all, and Tony has no way of telling him. It's a show, a distraction, play the part of the jester and be as distracting as possible. It might make it harder for Cesar to act, or react as the case may be. He's gained some skill from his other, but skill without practice is still a novice.

This is his first hunt and it's very likely going to go bad.

Of course unsettling was exactly what he was going for, just not toward Nathan.

He pauses at the call, canting his head to the side. Ah, well, at least he isn't gagged? "How you doin' in there?" He calls back, grateful for the warning. Subtly he tugs the hood of the hideous yellow and polka dotted rain poncho over his head, doing his best to cover as much as he possibly can with the plastic. Sure, he looks a bit undignified and a lot like a condom, but if it spares his skin a little? "You hurt?" He creeps closer to the door, back against the wall.

"Thanks for the heads-up, here's yours." Without any further warning he turns, slamming a foot viciously through the door. Locked or no, the flimsy wood of the old church doors wasn't going to stand a chance against the force behind one of Tony's kicks.

But he didn't rush in, instead he jumped back, waiting for Cesar's trap to fall.

Edited 2015-04-04 22:27 (UTC)

The grip on Nathan's shoulder is painfully tight again, but there's nothing for it now. For whatever comfort it is, the warning was probably redundant anyway.

Tony's outside the door. Cesar can hear the rustling, and the voice, and he lets go of Nathan as though burned, reaching inside his pocket--he pushes it convulsively when the door slams off its hinges, and the ceiling opens up in a room-wide shower. Soon the air is heavy with moisture, both from the holy water and the droplets that've hung in the air.

... Shit. Cesar stares at the empty door with mounting horror and rapidly recalculates, eyes darting around the room. What happens if Tony waits outside until the tank is empty? It would be the longest, most agonizingly absurd few minutes of his life, and Cesar can't believe he jumped the gun like this.

Speaking of which, new plan: he places the barrel of the gun against Nathan's head, shaking him slightly.

Edited 2015-04-04 22:57 (UTC)

"I'm unhurt." That much gets out, but the next thing Tony will hear from him is a hiss of pain when Cesar's fingers dig into his shoulder again. Again, he doesn't flinch; his feelings are still turned off and he's used to this kind of treatment.

He stumbles a little when Cesar lets go of him, one hand instinctively going up to rub at his shoulder. The door slamming off its hinges does manage to startle him, and droplets of water mist over him when the sprinklers come on. Before he can manage to react to that properly, Cesar's hand is back on him and he feels the barrel of the gun against the back of his head.

He freezes. But more than that . . . his body stiffens briefly, and the hollow thrum of a Pulse goes through him.

An impressive setup, to say the least, but somewhat predictable. Tony had expected holy water and thus hadn't gone rampaging through the door. Rain coat or not, he'd like to avoid getting hit as much as he possibly can. Peering around the door frame he spots the water tank and the pipe leading up to it. He could wait it out, but he doesn't have patience for that.

Instead one pistol slips around the doorframe and a shot is fired deftly, the large round shattering part of the pipe feeding the sprinklers and killing the pressure.

"Nice try, what else you got for me?" Up until this point he hadn't noticed Cesar's move on Nathan, but he gets a good idea when he finally does move to step into the room. The air crackles and tingles, just being surrounded by this much holy water makes him itch and burn, but he can't show weakness here. Not now. Eye narrows, and Ivory is trained with deadly accuracy at Doppel!Cesar's head.

"...Using him as your shield. What a pathetic, cowardly move. Let him go, Cesar, your fight's with me. He's got no part in this."

*Water pours from the pipe like a wound, and Cesar stares at it. The words 'single point failure' echo around his head mockingly, and he jerks his gaze back to Tony, bringing Nathan up and crouching a little more.*

*No-go. He jerks his head back in a 'you come out here' gesture, unwilling to let go of Nathan or the gun.*

Nathan isn't watching any of this; his eyes are closed (though not tightly), in an attempt to shut some of this out. The new memory helps nothing, just gives him another thing to process. So many things to process. Later. If he's still alive.

He remains passive to the manhandling. Cesar is much too strong for him and even if he weren't, the gun at the back of his head keeps him still. If he tries to move, he might be finished. Instead, he stays silent and rigid as he can, his only movement being the rise and fall of his chest as he regulates his breathing.

"What do you think you're going to accomplish?"

Tony stalks forward, aim unwavering and expression cold and predatory. Cesar wanted a demon? Fine, but he's not just going to throw himself on a sword to make some douchebag with a hero complex feel better about himself. He's survived too long for something like that. He could shoot the gun, or just shoot Cesar, but both are a little too close to Nathan for comfort.

Although he has a feeling his aim is good enough to mitigate that, he'd rather not murder a man right next to the poor guy's head. He's having a bad enough day as it is.

"Let him go." He repeats, voice dropping to an icy cold octave. You want an open shot Cesar you've got it.

The gun finally moves, and it's to take aim at Tony over Nathan's shoulder: Tony may not want to kill around Nathan, but the doppelganger clearly has no such problem.

He fires three shots the instant his aim has fixed, and the sound is thunder in his ears. It's probably all the worse for Nathan, whose unprotected ear is all the closer to it. Did that work? Is Tony dead, and can Cesar be happy that he at least wiped the most immediate evil from the world with this deed?

Edited 2015-04-05 07:00 (UTC)

There's a fleeting sense of relief when he feels the gun move away from his head. But it doesn't last. The shots ring out and it's impossible not to flinch this time, not to cry out at the sudden noise. The sound goes right through him, and his ears are ringing in the aftermath, all other auditory input is muffled.

Nathan does not open his eyes. Very deep down, the part of him that can still feel right now is terrified of what he might see and trying to protect him. But he's shaking now, breathing hard. Stop. He wants this all to stop. And not in the way that he distantly fears it might have.

Tony knew it was coming, as soon as he'd stepped forward he'd known the gun would be trained on him instead. Anything to get it away from Nathan, besides Shou had given him a small boon before leaving. But armored or not, a coat can only protect a person from so much, and since the armor was mainly focused around his heart (a necessity he didn't yet realize he needed) it wouldn't protect from bullets aimed more toward his core. You didn't have to be precise if you were just going to load someone full of them.

Bullets ripped through him, two in places not particularly dire but one puncturing a lung. Already he could feel blood filling it, and he coughed as he staggered back from the force of the shots. Shock and searing pain temporarily paralyzing him, but still he didn't fall. He drooped, yes, wavered like he might but he knew that to lose his footing now would be the death of him. Blood hissed as it dripped into the puddles of holy water beneath his feet, and Tony let out a strained little laugh.

When he did look back up at Cesar it was with an eye turned pitch black, iris now glowing an ominous red, and while wearing a grin laced with pain and malice. With the gun pulled away from Nathan it was safe to act, and now Tony lunged forward with inhuman speed, aiming to bodily sweep Cesar away from his hostage and slam him back into his table. Gun or no, he didn't give a damn. Get Cesar away from Nathan, that was the only goal.

The next thing Cesar knows is that he's being slammed into a table to one side, and his ribs and back are a mess of pain. The stench of blood and steam and ozone fill is lungs, and all he can see is the face of death.

Pure, unadulterated panic floods his mind, and for a long few seconds he can't think. Primal, animalistic fear has turned every bone in him to jelly, he grasps blindly at the table behind him, not even aware of the completely ineffective reach for escape.

His hand bumps the bucket he'd set there, and he seizes it, twisting. His eyes are wild, but he drags the bucket onto its side, revealing a mass of strung elastic and flimsy glass containers, and a trigger-string that one of the containers falls against and sets off--

The bucket springs back as its contents launch forward, dashing across both man and demon. Glass shatters, and Cesar's mouth opens, eyes still wide from terror--his vision whites out.

All he knows is pain.

Edited 2015-04-05 20:46 (UTC)

It's all a blur in his mind. Tony's laugh -- how does someone laugh that off? -- the sudden impact, Cesar's double losing his grip, the momentum knocking Nathan to the floor.

He winces as he hits the ground, pain thrumming up and down his body. He hears the crash against the table and now his eyes fly open just in time to see the acid land on the both of them. Instinctively, he scrambles away, trying to avoid getting any of it on himself. And he isn't looking at that anymore. He can't, he just can't. He doesn't shut his eyes again, but he keeps them trained on the floor now, where he's crouched on his hands and knees in a puddle of holy water, trying to get his breath back.

Please, please, please let this be over. He wants this to be over.

There had been a chance that Tony would have just crunched his bones a little, pressed the point that the doppelganger was no longer welcome. That was until jars of acid were shattering against the both of them. Melting skin and plastic alike. Tony let out a roar, entirely inhuman and pained as he instinctively threw Cesar away from him with all his might, leaping away at the same time for all the good it would do. The acid was on him, and as tempting as it was to use the water to try to wash it off he knew full well that would only make things worse.

Cesar you gigantic piece of shit.

Thankfully his healing had kicked in full speed, peeling bubbling skin already starting to mend, though he still wheezed from the hole in his lung nothing was immediately fatal. He peeled off and threw the plastic rain coat aside, trying to get as much of the acid off as possible before it dissolved through his clothing.

"Nathan," A voice shaking in obvious pain. "Nathan get up. Call L, we're going." Tony was clutching the bleeding bullet wounds, puffing for labored breaths but alive. Shaking from pain and the exhaustion brought on from having to heal so much so quickly.

Still he strode toward wherever Cesar had fallen.

Cesar's condition isn't good.

He's rolled onto his back, and his injuries are horrific. Shaking, blistered hands are clutched in a claw-like rictus towards his chest, and three quarters of his face have begun to dissolve and bubble. His clothes protected him from the worst of the rest of it, but they're falling apart fast, and his mouth is open in the aftermath of a silent, drawn-out scream.

His one good eye is rolled up towards the top of his head, and it takes him several seconds to react to the shadow that falls across him. Even then, it's barely more than his eye swinging erratically his way, and a slight closing and opening of his mouth. One hand grasps at nothing--his gun is long gone.

Get up. He can do that, right? Yes, he can do that. He takes a moment, calms his breathing. Shut it off. Shut it off for just a little longer. That's something he can do.

The push to his feet is steady; he's not trembling. Part of him doesn't want to look up, but he should, shouldn't he? Tony doesn't sound like he's in good shape. He lifts his gaze, sees the bloody wounds, the acid burns . . . and just blinks. He nods silently, moves to lean against the front wall of the room.

He pulls his phone from his pocket; remarkably, it's managed to escape damage in all this hell. Just do as he's told. He can do that. Whatever else is happening . . . that is something he does not wish to deal with. He keeps his eyes on the phone as he accesses the contacts and puts in the call.

He knows you have it in you, Nathan, you can pull through. Tony's hands are shaking too much to manage a phone, half-blind from pain and the eye patch forever in the way which he rips off in irritation, flinging it to the side. Doesn't need it anymore, the ruse is up.

Cesar's a horrific sight, terrible as he was, no one deserves this. He expected to feel nothing but boiling hatred, but instead he found himself strangely hollow of that. Only pity. No one deserves to die like this. Once Nathan's out of earshot he speaks. "They beat me until my organs ruptured and I was slowly bleeding to death, you know. And then they poured acid in my eye," He raises his gun, pointing it square at Cesar's head. "But I won't make you die like that. Goodbye."

And he pulls the trigger.

His body jerks once with the gun's report. Blood flies, causing ripples in the puddle surrounding the body.

The body settles. Cesar's mouth sags open in as the last air that will ever move through its throat leaves its lungs, and the air hisses softly past his lips.

He is dead.

It seems at first as though this will be the end of it. Blood seeps, guided only by gravity. Water soaks his clothes.

The body's shifting is subtle and quiet, with no more ceremony than stone crumbling into dust. It starts in his chest, and spreads through the rest of him: feathers are coming apart, as though whatever had been holding them together had suddenly disappeared.

Soon there's nothing left of him but an effigy of feathers stuffed in Cesar's clothes.

The call to Lazarus is brief. Later, perhaps, Nathan may regret that he hadn't handled it more tactfully, but at the moment, he's too drained.

His steps are slow and heavy as he returns; he's so, so tired and his pants are soaked through with holy water. He regards the mass of feathers quizzically. What?

But that isn't what he should be focusing on, is it? He turns his attention back to Tony, as difficult as it is to see the toll that the rescue has taken upon the other young man. "They're coming. You need a compress on those wounds."

They can fix it. Whatever happens now, they can fix it. Well, they can't bring the doppelganger back to life but perhaps that's for the best. Perplexed at the display, Tony stoops to collect a couple feathers. That... was definitely not what he'd expected to happen.

He glances up when he hears Nathan approach, expression just as perplexed as he holds up a feather as if to say 'what is this even?'. Finally he glances down at himself, still bleeding out and breath still coming in short, pained wheezes. He gives a sort of vague nod, not really understanding what he was supposed to do about it so instead just turns to slump toward Nathan, and away from the room filled with holy water.

Even though it wasn't directly on his skin just being around it made everything feel like it was on fire. He just... needed to rest. Maybe this wall out here where it's more dry that will be acceptable...

And he just kind of falls against it, sliding to the floor.

"You did good," He murmurs finally. "You got guts. More than you give yourself credit for." He rubs at his face, then instantly regrets touching the still blistered skin. Nothing like Cesar's, mind you, but still a mess. Ugh.

It doesn't feel right to be standing when Tony isn't. He sits up against the wall himself -- not too close, mindful of the holy water that's on him. He does not want to cause any more damage.

"I would find you something to apply pressure with, but my hands have been in the water . . ."

He's unsure how to respond to Tony's words. Had that been bravery? Does it count as that when he'd shut off all feeling? He doesn't know this works.

"I was not special, I'm sure."

"Should be alright," He wheezes, curling in on himself and doing his best to try to hold himself together with just his arms. That doesn't really do a lot of good when there are exit wounds. He'll just sit here and make his own puddle. "When you're dry."

Well enough, he'd held it together, he'd survived. He'd even fought back, that was brave. He'd done it in a way that hadn't gotten himself killed, now that was the most important part.

"Sure you were," Tony offered a wan smile, trying despite his discomfort. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off the pain was really getting noticeable. "Sorry it went down that way. Was hoping he'd let you go sooner."

With little pushes, he'd been able to verify that the double had indeed not intended to hurt him. As long as he'd been allowed to push, he had done it. But the instant the game had changed, the instant that gun had been pressed to the back of his head, he'd stopped. There'd been no fighting then.

He reaches up to curl a finger into his hair. He may not be feeling anything right now, might not have any nerves to soothe, but it's a familiar habit. Those are always good.

"Not your fault."

Showtime

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