BeepBeepRichie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mrsklover) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2024-08-08 08:37 pm
mrsklover) wrote in revivalproject2024-08-08 08:37 pm
Horror Movies Suck. Yeah, You HEARD ME, SLOPPY BITCH!
WHO: Richie Tozier and YOU! Unless you're the asshole trying to kill him. GTFO then.
WHERE: The floor of the dance studio or his room. Also a video message.
WHAT: Richie got hurt, fam
WHEN: Time is an illusion. But now probs. He's got a concussion, who can say?
WARNINGS: A smartass got his shit rocked. This is pretty much an attempted murder so there will be blood, violence, and broken bones. Enter at your own risk.
THE CRIME
Richie didn't recognize the ID of the person messaging him. 'UNKNOWN' it had said which was concerning, honestly. Even newbies had their name on this shit. How could someone be 'Unknown' if they were dropped off by the Gooey Pink Godmothers? So that alone was enough to raise his suspicions. But when Richie answered it and got a weird, distorted voice on the other line? Yeah. Now he was alarmed. And at that point, the voice hadn't said anything other 'Do you like scary movies?'
It got worse from there.
The voice on the line, whoever they were, knew just how to get to him. Afterward, Richie would wonder how that had happened. How had this guy known about Eddie Kaspbrak? How had he known about their past and his death? Because that information had convinced him when the man said he had Eddie hostage. Improbable as it seemed, Richie had heard 'I have your Eddie' combined with a litany of facts as proof, and his heart stopped beating in his chest. He didn't dare hope that his friend would come back, again. He had given up that dream long, long ago. He had a new partner now and had moved on from the pain of losing his Eddie three times. But even so, the voice told him things that only Richie's closest friends would have known. Well, his closest friends and Eddie. So when he was goaded and asked if he was really going to let Eddie die again, there was only one answer.
Never. Never again.
The thing was, though, that despite how he played it off, Richie wasn't stupid. Even with the guy on the line apparently having his history on notecards to spit out, Richie knew there was a chance this was a lie. He couldn't risk it, of course--if there was even a chance Eddie was there and in danger, Richie owed it to him to rescue him. But he knew this could be some sort of trap. Unfortunately, he was in his room when the message came through, and the most dangerous item he housed there was a spray cleaner.
Richie set off for the designated location--the dance studio--with cleaner in tow. Along the way he found a stick that looked menacing enough and held onto it while keeping the voice on the line talking. If he was talking, he wasn't murdering, right? That was the logic, anyways. But lucky for Richie, the guy seemed interested in talking, too. But about...trivia? Scary movie shit that Richie luckily could answer but not without being a smartass about it.
"You know horror flicks never win Oscars, right? Because on the whole they're shit." Richie's self-preservation went out the window when someone he cared about was in danger. "I mean, they're fun to watch and get all spooked by. But I could crap out a script for a horror movie in like five seconds. There's nothing to them."
He was hung up on. There was a long, terrifying pause where Richie had no idea if he'd just killed Eddie or not. And when he got the call back warning him to stop running his mouth because Eddie didn't have a lot of time left? Yeah. Okay. He was a good game show contestant for the rest of the race to the dance studio.
When he got inside, there was no Eddie. The guy talking on the line didn't even seem to be the one in front of him because he didn't have a communicator on him. Or maybe he couldn't see it? Because the guy was covered in a black, hooded cloak. He stood there, some sort of strange white mask on that looked like it was screaming, maybe? Alarming. But not as alarming as the knife in his hand.
Okay. So this was a trap, after all.
"Warm in here? Your mask is melting a little. Right around....here-ish," he pointed to his own mouth. More confident that the Eddie thing was a ploy (and yeah, that's a fucking stab in the heart. Hopefully not a real one, given the knife), he's back to being mouthy. No response, though. Tough crowd. "I mean, I would start with taking the robe off? It's the summer, man. No creepy, ripped up bathing suit shorts for sale?"
Apparently, everyone is a critic. And this guy made his opinions known in fucking blood. The guy charged at Richie, full sprint, and Richie had maybe a second to think 'Fuck' before he turned and ran himself. He managed to get maybe halfway out the door before his arm was grabbed. Luckily, no the one holding the spray cleaner. Richie squirted it into the hollow eyes of the mask and got some grunts of pain that didn't sound like the voice on the phone. But that was about all he managed to do before a knife was swinging into his side. Richie yelled at the momentary feeling of sharp pain before it disappeared and was replaced with a fucking kidney punch.
The Agrii, fucking late, it should be mentioned, disposed of the knife as soon as it stabbed him. Cool. Thanks, a little, he guessed. But then the tall figure got the stick out of Richie's hand and the aliens seemed to care a whole fucking less about that as it was cracked over his head.
After that, things got blurry.
Richie had no idea how much time passed. A lot, probably. Or maybe that was optimistic and this guy could just do a lot of damage in a short span. Either way, eventually, it was over. Richie was still, glasses broken along with some bones, watching the man as he stood and walked away. His vision went black for a time and came to just in time to see the fuzzy outline of a guy in a jean vest, splatches of color on it. That was it before he finally let himself pass out for a bit.
Moral of the story, he supposed: don't shit talk horror films.
Noted.
THE AFTERMATH
Richie's face is a mess of blood and swelling. Bruises are forming around a nose that he's sure is broken. His glasses are...somewhere. Probably a few somewheres given that he's sure they're broken. He might actually have some glass embedded somewhere. That will be fun for later.
Once he wakes up, he barely manages to see his communicator enough to open up a video message to send out to the city. He can only hope the person who sees it first isn't the one who beat the shit out of him.
"Uh..." he waves a hand vaguely where he thinks the comm's camera is. "Three things: One, I got beat up by a melting ghost. Can someone who isn't said melting ghost come pick me up? I might be unconscious when you get here, just a warning. TWO! I got beat up by a melting ghost! I think...I think they were a person, but I don't know. Just be careful. Don't trust unknown callers. And THREE! Uh. I forget. It was important, too. Fuck. Shit... Whatever. Stay in school. Richie out."
THE RECOVERY
Once Richie is back in his room and feeling a little bit better, he's ready to talk about what happened. All of it. Someone has to find who did this and make sure no one else gets hurt. Richie managed to live but he has a broken nose, rib, and shoulder. He was stabbed. If the Agrii hadn't taken the knife, who knew what would have happened. And, really, WHO THE FUCK WAS GONNA TELL THOSE FUCKERS THAT STICKS ARE DANGEROUS TOO?!
"Look. Just... Just ask whatever you want, okay? It hurts to breathe so I would love to be unconscious as fast as possible. Especially because my stupid fucking addiction means I can't take more than hopes and prayers for my pain. You have maybe an hour. Go."
WHERE: The floor of the dance studio or his room. Also a video message.
WHAT: Richie got hurt, fam
WHEN: Time is an illusion. But now probs. He's got a concussion, who can say?
WARNINGS: A smartass got his shit rocked. This is pretty much an attempted murder so there will be blood, violence, and broken bones. Enter at your own risk.
THE CRIME
Richie didn't recognize the ID of the person messaging him. 'UNKNOWN' it had said which was concerning, honestly. Even newbies had their name on this shit. How could someone be 'Unknown' if they were dropped off by the Gooey Pink Godmothers? So that alone was enough to raise his suspicions. But when Richie answered it and got a weird, distorted voice on the other line? Yeah. Now he was alarmed. And at that point, the voice hadn't said anything other 'Do you like scary movies?'
It got worse from there.
The voice on the line, whoever they were, knew just how to get to him. Afterward, Richie would wonder how that had happened. How had this guy known about Eddie Kaspbrak? How had he known about their past and his death? Because that information had convinced him when the man said he had Eddie hostage. Improbable as it seemed, Richie had heard 'I have your Eddie' combined with a litany of facts as proof, and his heart stopped beating in his chest. He didn't dare hope that his friend would come back, again. He had given up that dream long, long ago. He had a new partner now and had moved on from the pain of losing his Eddie three times. But even so, the voice told him things that only Richie's closest friends would have known. Well, his closest friends and Eddie. So when he was goaded and asked if he was really going to let Eddie die again, there was only one answer.
Never. Never again.
The thing was, though, that despite how he played it off, Richie wasn't stupid. Even with the guy on the line apparently having his history on notecards to spit out, Richie knew there was a chance this was a lie. He couldn't risk it, of course--if there was even a chance Eddie was there and in danger, Richie owed it to him to rescue him. But he knew this could be some sort of trap. Unfortunately, he was in his room when the message came through, and the most dangerous item he housed there was a spray cleaner.
Richie set off for the designated location--the dance studio--with cleaner in tow. Along the way he found a stick that looked menacing enough and held onto it while keeping the voice on the line talking. If he was talking, he wasn't murdering, right? That was the logic, anyways. But lucky for Richie, the guy seemed interested in talking, too. But about...trivia? Scary movie shit that Richie luckily could answer but not without being a smartass about it.
"You know horror flicks never win Oscars, right? Because on the whole they're shit." Richie's self-preservation went out the window when someone he cared about was in danger. "I mean, they're fun to watch and get all spooked by. But I could crap out a script for a horror movie in like five seconds. There's nothing to them."
He was hung up on. There was a long, terrifying pause where Richie had no idea if he'd just killed Eddie or not. And when he got the call back warning him to stop running his mouth because Eddie didn't have a lot of time left? Yeah. Okay. He was a good game show contestant for the rest of the race to the dance studio.
When he got inside, there was no Eddie. The guy talking on the line didn't even seem to be the one in front of him because he didn't have a communicator on him. Or maybe he couldn't see it? Because the guy was covered in a black, hooded cloak. He stood there, some sort of strange white mask on that looked like it was screaming, maybe? Alarming. But not as alarming as the knife in his hand.
Okay. So this was a trap, after all.
"Warm in here? Your mask is melting a little. Right around....here-ish," he pointed to his own mouth. More confident that the Eddie thing was a ploy (and yeah, that's a fucking stab in the heart. Hopefully not a real one, given the knife), he's back to being mouthy. No response, though. Tough crowd. "I mean, I would start with taking the robe off? It's the summer, man. No creepy, ripped up bathing suit shorts for sale?"
Apparently, everyone is a critic. And this guy made his opinions known in fucking blood. The guy charged at Richie, full sprint, and Richie had maybe a second to think 'Fuck' before he turned and ran himself. He managed to get maybe halfway out the door before his arm was grabbed. Luckily, no the one holding the spray cleaner. Richie squirted it into the hollow eyes of the mask and got some grunts of pain that didn't sound like the voice on the phone. But that was about all he managed to do before a knife was swinging into his side. Richie yelled at the momentary feeling of sharp pain before it disappeared and was replaced with a fucking kidney punch.
The Agrii, fucking late, it should be mentioned, disposed of the knife as soon as it stabbed him. Cool. Thanks, a little, he guessed. But then the tall figure got the stick out of Richie's hand and the aliens seemed to care a whole fucking less about that as it was cracked over his head.
After that, things got blurry.
Richie had no idea how much time passed. A lot, probably. Or maybe that was optimistic and this guy could just do a lot of damage in a short span. Either way, eventually, it was over. Richie was still, glasses broken along with some bones, watching the man as he stood and walked away. His vision went black for a time and came to just in time to see the fuzzy outline of a guy in a jean vest, splatches of color on it. That was it before he finally let himself pass out for a bit.
Moral of the story, he supposed: don't shit talk horror films.
Noted.
THE AFTERMATH
Richie's face is a mess of blood and swelling. Bruises are forming around a nose that he's sure is broken. His glasses are...somewhere. Probably a few somewheres given that he's sure they're broken. He might actually have some glass embedded somewhere. That will be fun for later.
Once he wakes up, he barely manages to see his communicator enough to open up a video message to send out to the city. He can only hope the person who sees it first isn't the one who beat the shit out of him.
"Uh..." he waves a hand vaguely where he thinks the comm's camera is. "Three things: One, I got beat up by a melting ghost. Can someone who isn't said melting ghost come pick me up? I might be unconscious when you get here, just a warning. TWO! I got beat up by a melting ghost! I think...I think they were a person, but I don't know. Just be careful. Don't trust unknown callers. And THREE! Uh. I forget. It was important, too. Fuck. Shit... Whatever. Stay in school. Richie out."
THE RECOVERY
Once Richie is back in his room and feeling a little bit better, he's ready to talk about what happened. All of it. Someone has to find who did this and make sure no one else gets hurt. Richie managed to live but he has a broken nose, rib, and shoulder. He was stabbed. If the Agrii hadn't taken the knife, who knew what would have happened. And, really, WHO THE FUCK WAS GONNA TELL THOSE FUCKERS THAT STICKS ARE DANGEROUS TOO?!
"Look. Just... Just ask whatever you want, okay? It hurts to breathe so I would love to be unconscious as fast as possible. Especially because my stupid fucking addiction means I can't take more than hopes and prayers for my pain. You have maybe an hour. Go."
no subject
[ There's a moment as he thinks about it. ]
Yeah? But I don't remember what the verdict was. I guess that means 'yes', huh?
no subject
no subject
Well. Not for York.