revivalproject | [Open] Beat The Heat

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[Open] Beat The Heat

WHO: Tommy Shepherd, You
WHERE: Temba Fountain, Beach
WHAT: Tommy's Gone Nocturnal Creature
WHEN: Mid July
WARNINGS: None (Unless you count Tommy replicating a Super Soaker)

I. Don't Play In The Fountain | Temba Fountain
Midday. The hottest part of a stupidly hot summer. Sometimes it was just important to cool off. And given Tommy's been working hard all day in the greenhouse and diner, he needed a method to cool off so desperately.

Maybe there was somewhere else he could go, something else he could do. But damn, that fountain had been looking good each time he walked between the greenhouse and the diner. Until finally Tommy couldn't help it.

Which was why he was currently floating in the fountain, eyes closed, trying to keep his stupid body's accelerated metabolism and thus body temperature a bit lower in the hottest part of the day.

II. Stars Over Sands | The Beach
Night. The coolest time of the day, and probably the quietest. Which of course meant it was a time that Tommy absolutely got into his own damn head. There was problems that came from being a guy who only needed four hours of sleep on a world with a thirty hour day. So he had to take up some new hobby to handle the nights when he really wasn't able to sleep.

And there was something that was making going 'home' harder to do. So here he was, stretched out on a towel on the beach, just beyond the high tide line. His eyes were raised toward the stars, watching them. He doesn't even move when he hears the slide of sand that might mean someone approaching.

"Can't sleep?" he asks, his voice soft. Maybe he accidentally asks it of a lobster. But if he does, who could ever know?

III. Water Ambush! | Around Temba
Usually replicator rations should be used rationally in Tommy's opinion. Usually he used his own for getting food products for the diner. But for right now Tommy needed something for fun. Which was why people might come around corners and find themselves suddenly getting sprayed from an orange and green super soaker. And there was Tommy too, grinning and laughing.

The good news was that Tommy's speed meant that he could read things easily when someone came around a corner. In what would be a second or two for another person he had hours to experience, which meant he could come around a corner, make sure the person wasn't carrying something that would be ruined with the spray of cold water, and so his targets weren't going to have that to complain about.

Complain in general, though, that's possible. He even grins and winks after squirting someone.

"You're welcome for cooling you down."

IV. Frustration | Pink 10
The best way to deal with frustration, in Tommy's opinion, was toying with powers he doesn't trot out as often. Running was supposed to be freeing, comforting. But fuck it was too hot, especially at night, to be dealing with that too much. So instead, in the hotter parts of the day when he's got nothing better to do, he sits back under an umbrella he's rigged up from some massive cup leaves and toys with explosions. Given no one lived near this area or passed through as much, Tommy didn't see the danger.

So here he was, every now and then rushing into the mess of the ruins of this area, piling up bits of rocks and other things into structures, and then he would return to his shade. From there, well, he raised a hand lazily toward the construction, focused, and soon there was a loud noise as things blew apart in small scale explosions or crumbled apart, depending on the material.

Until, of course, he heard someone approaching.

"I can't really keep it down," he says without looking for whoever's arriving, "if that's what you're after. Explosions are noisy."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tommy shrugs as he moves to walk by Billy. He doesn't bother to fetch his shoes though. He's already got messy feet. He'll deal with them later.

"I mean, there aren't a lot of movies about super heroes because why would there be? I guess there's DC stuff but it's really niche stuff my brother reads. A lot of people want a hell of a lot less of us."

But he shrugs. He's used to that.

"There's an action figure of me, back home. I don't get any money from it. So BS."

Shoes are stupid on a beach. Coming down here, Billy didn't even bother with his. He hadn't expected to spend this much time here anyways. He doesn't acknowledge Tommy walking with him. Just shoves his hands into his pockets as the water rolls out over and over to greet them and pull away, the wind tossing at his curls.

"Yeah, people want more guys like you anyways." He thinks of Tommy in the same category as Eddie and Steve - people like them and praise them for heroics. He could feel the phantom sting on his cheek from where Steve punched him. "Heroes, or good guys, to stop people like me."

It shouldn't have been said so matter-of-factly, like it wasn't just Billy's opinion. But it was just the same thing as what went on in Calibrations - Neil said something enough that there was no way it couldn't be true at this point.

"I blew up my school."

It's out of left field. But it's true. Just... an accident.

"I spent time in juvie. People have died because of me. And honestly, got more than a few reasons to not be a hero. But I was given a choice after I made the greatest mistake of my life and when I almost made more."

He looks to Billy.

"When I say, Curls, that you have a choice? I say it because that same choice was offered to me. Other people can offer it to us, but only we can pick which path to walk when they set them before us."

That gets Billy to look at Tommy. That was out of left field. What the fuck.

And he listens, until it feels like he's being lectured. It has a 'I found God and turned my life around' feel to it, almost preachy and it makes Billy's skin crawl. All of what Tommy talks about going through sounds like something he should've gone through. Sure, he didn't blow up any schools, but he had a hand in what was sure to be the destruction of the mall, and definitely some murders.

No wonder Neil never showed to his funeral.

Billy looks out to the waves again. "Are you a superhero or a fucking preacher? I'm not converting to cults with the talk of turning into a good person."

Tommy laughs.

"Nah, Cults are more the magic side of the family. I'm saying maybe the people you're suggesting are so amazing kind of haven't always been like that?"

And that if they can't turn shit around maybe he can too. Hell, half of Tommy's family were recognized as terrorists for a while.

"I'm saying maybe give yourself a chance. That maybe a different environment might not be so fucking bad if you try and look forward. Geez."

The word 'freak' rest right on his tongue, so potent, he can taste the venom from it that would hurt Tommy. Talking about magic and shit like this like it's so easy. Like it doesn't make him a freak.

But he thinks about actually being better and it's something so small but Billy bites it off of his tongue and swallows it down before he can say it. The thoughts almost have him missing the rest of the conversation.

"I am looking forward. Forward to trying to change while I'm stuck here before I go home to fucking die." And it's only with that death that people back home even think for a moment that he wasn't as bad as was. That there was more than just the asshole shield he had put in place for protection.

He looks at Tommy. "Hard to give myself a chance if I don't have anyone in my corner giving me one either."

Yeah, hard to change with a sword hanging over your head. Tommy gets that. Nothing he can do about that at all. He kicks at the sand as he keeps walking. Well, he keeps walking until that last thing. Then he stops.

"There's definitely at least one person here in this corner, Billy."

The first time he's used that name meaning Hargrove since the highly tense moments at the end of the Calibrations memory. No nickname. Just his name. Just him.

At first, Billy doesn't notice that Tommy's stopped, since he looks away after the last thing he says so he can see where they're walking. It's only when he hears his name does he stop.

Not 'Hargrove'. Not 'Curls'. It's his actual name. Tommy said it, at least once while in his headspace.

It meant whatever Tommy was talking about, he was taking seriously. He turns halfway to the other, not moving to close or widen the distance. The wind whips at his hair and clothes.

"...Why? You barely fucking know me."

"You sure that doesn't make me better suited to it than most? Someone who can't and won't know the shit you've done to measure you against. Who can just say 'hey, you did good today'."

He looks down at his feet and kicks at the sand some more.

"And it's not like I don't get some of the baggage you've got. Been working through that shit for a while, and a particular sciency asshole sorta got it fresh in my mind too."

Was it so wrong to want to help someone out? Someone who might get some of his own scars?

It did make Tommy better to fill this role. He didn't have the weakness and fear that Eddie did of him, and the instinct to fight him like Steve did. It feels weird and it's almost enough to rock his entire world just at the thought of having someone actually on his side in this city.

And he remembers how Calibrations went, with what Tommy told him then, and what he told him now on this beach.

"I mean... I guess." It's his turn to kick at the sand, then he crosses his arms over his chest like he's defending himself. Defending himself from someone offering to help. "I don't understand that kind of mindset."

Yeah, Tommy knows that posture. He does it all the time when he's uncomfortable. For Billy's sake he turns his gaze away, because Billy might not want seen like that. His fingers card through his hair as he considers what to say.

"They have support groups in the 80s? Like, not saying it's that, asking if you've got the concept of them."

People with the same history or same trouble or same addiction, supporting each other. It's like that.

Billy doesn't even realize he's standing like that. His postures are always confident and defiant to a fault, like he's using his whole body to say fuck you to a world that gave him a shit hand for life.

"Yeah, like alcoholics anonymous and shit. Not for shit like this." Shit like what they went through. Not in his time from what he knows. Not that he's ever actively looked because why would he need to? His life was his life and there wasn't going to be anything to change that.

But he thinks about it. Really thinks about what it means to have a stranger on his side. And it's strange. Billy hasn't had anyone to stick up for him since his mom. Tommy's offering something that Billy hasn't had in a long time - a sort of safety and trust. Safety from those that don't want him to change and to stay the villain life keeps trying to make him be, and trust that he'd do the right thing in the face of all that.

But he doesn't have to be the villain, and he could be the young man his mom probably wanted him to grow into. Someone she could be proud of.

Billy's curls hang around his head as he looks down at the sand between them. "...Fuck Neil."

"I don't know if they do shit like that for people like us either, outside of juvie. But B's mom? She's a shrink, for young people. She... Suggested a few times maybe it would be easier to talk to people about this stuff. People who got it."

People who wouldn't judge them for it. Who might be able to better say 'yeah I get what you went through, it sucks', and who didn't just immediately react with pity.

He's not sure what Billy's going to say, what he's going to do. And then those two words. Yeah. He gets those.

"Fuck Frank and Mary," he offers right back, sounding a bit tired.

"I'm not going to a fucking shrink," and there's that defensive tone, with an angry scowl on its heels. It's like trying to skirt through a field of landmines and Tommy somehow came close to one. Maybe it's the time period he's from, but Billy is not going to go willingly to see any therapist, even if that wasn't even what Tommy was saying.

The snarl tapers off though, when Tommy echoes the blond's sentiment with his own cursing of his parents. "You should go back. Before you nod off and fall into the water. I'm not a hero, and I won't save your ass."

Except he probably would. Not even Billy Hargrove was that heartless.

"Not asking you to. If I refused one you really think I'm going to suggest one?" he asks. Damn the guy is touchy. Tommy sighs and just starts walking again. Away from the path back to the city.

"I only need four hours of sleep."

Try living with someone like Billy. He lets Tommy walk past him before following silently following him. At least he's not the only one that wouldn't be going to therapy. Did this city even have a therapist?

God he hopes not.

He keeps the distance between them, relaxing with each step they take. It's like being this close to the ocean snuffs out the fuse that accidentally gets lit.

"Must be nice to have more hours awake to get shit done."

Now there is a statement. Only two person still on this planet even knows the truth. How lonely he is in the long dark nights.

Which means he has a choice to make here. He's supposed to be in Billy's corner. Wants to be, to help the guy and maybe help himself too. But this is also a guy who seems to see vulnerability as weakness, who might turn it into a weapon.

So what to do?

It's an ongoing debate that takes what would be an hour for another person to resolve in their mind. For anyone watching Tommy Shepherd it's a nanosecond. Time really was a whole other beast to him.

"It's miserable."

Thankfully the only weapon Billy had were his fists, or anything he could really throw. He's never seen someone really thrown vulnerability around like one, so that'd be new territory for him. Better to not figure that out perhaps.

"Miserable?" he scoffs. The sounds of his footsteps pick up. "Time that's quiet while everyone else is asleep to be unbothered while you get other shit done? Like working out, or homework or other stuff?" Billy thinks of the parties he could stay out late for, or how long he could drive his car in a cross-country drive back to California.

"The fuck is—" and he bites off the end of the sentence before he could finish it. Tommy doesn't like being referred to as 'wrong' or 'different', so maybe asking 'the fuck is wrong with you' might be a bad idea.

"I work most of the time. Those late hours when everyone but Jon is sleeping," because of course Jon doesn't sleep. "Those hours are when I weed the greenhouse. Or I mop floors again. Or I work on canning things. Basically most of what I do is work."

He knows it's bad for him. Been even worse the last few months, even before Calibrations. Knew his brother was worried about him too.

"There's downsides, to the quiet. The stillness."

Gets caught in his mind. In his powers.

"Back home I have the whole fucking world to entertain me when it's late and I can't sleep. Whole other clubs, cities, the internet. Things to keep me rooted in the moment, and out of my head. Here there just isn't."

The first thing in Billy's head is that Tommy really need a hobby. But then he realizes that those are the hobbies. There's not much to do here in the city, not like some place back home. Even Hawkins had a fucking arcade.

They didn't have shit here.

And that's not even accounting for the quiet and stillness that Tommy mentions.

What gets to Billy is that he knows what Tommy is talking about. Going from a city like San Diego into a town no bigger than a wad of his spit by comparison, it's quiet and still. Unnerving. The only thing he doesn't have is powers like Tommy, but it seems like that's the only thing.

"Sounds like we gotta find you a hobby or something better. I get it. Felt the same when we moved from Cali to fucking Indiana of all places."

A hobby? Tommy sighs. He hasn't managed that so well yet. So he just keeps walking instead of engaging in that.

"Indiana is a run-through state. There's NOTHING to do there, even in the new millenium," he says. He's got opinions about some states like that. "But California? Fuck, that's a hell of a place. Go there a lot when I'm bored. There's just this, you know, energy."

The people are beautiful and the nights are lively and the boardwalks are KILLER good.

"Good to know it's still a shitty state no matter what era." It's said with a scoff because he really does hate Indiana. You could cut it out of the country and get rid of it and no one would notice.

Maybe that would make the Upside-Down bullshit thing go away too.

His upped footsteps put him closer to Tommy, walking more confidently instead of guarded now. It's so late out, but it beats laying in bed, lost in his own thoughts. There were too many nights since leaving that damn bunker that were filled with hours of that.

"Yeah, it's why I've been so pissy since moving to Indiana. I didn't even get a choice about that shit. They just threw what they could into the cars, into the van, and we took off."

Oh no man, alternate evil dimensions never disappear. You're stuck with those. Always.

"Okay, that's begging the question so here I am, begging for it. Why? Was it getting to expensive or something?"

Because he can't fathom moving to any of the Midwest.

Let him breathe easier thinking the Upside Down would be gone if you made Indiana disappear.

There's a tension that stiffens his walk at the question. Billy knows the answer. Even if it wasn't true, he knows he had a hand in their moving. Leaving California was his fault. Just like when his mother left him.

"It was me," finally comes the answer gritted out. "I broke a kid's arm and that was the final straw I guess. We moved so we could start fresh. Somewhere away from all the city that was a negative influence and shit on me." And there was other stuff, but Billy wasn't about to reveal other shit so personal about him.

A quiet sigh. "So he got a transfer with his job, got one for Susan, too. So we all got in cars and a shitty van and left the ocean." Left the beach, left his mother, left everything he had known, behind.

There's a wealth of questions to be asked. Why did he break the arm? Where was his mother in all of this? Why frame it as leaving the ocean? Was it really the city that was the negative influence or his father?

But he knows that tone of voice. Knows the posture of a body screaming 'don't ask'.

"That blows man. Sorry."

He keeps walking, dragging his feet a bit more. He knows the bit of the beach they're coming along now. The cabin. Abandoned again.

"You... can ask me questions too, if you want. Sorta unfair to have it only one way. But you also don't have to. Thought I'd put it out there."

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