Doctor Llamabean
*winks at Markus*
BLITZ (Boltius Beckman)
SCENE:
Lost on Bourbon
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1—2021, June 5th (Friday)—1:00 AM
LOCATION:
Somewhere outside of the city; Locked in a room...
PARTICIPANTS:
Boltius, Hector
LOST ON BOURBON
Bolt’s entire body was buzzing. Buzzing by the intoxicants diluting his senses and reflexes, and by the increasing rage twisting and writhing in his gut like a dying snake coils beneath the sun. The shackles around his ankles, chained to the floor, prevented him from charging the man. Those around his wrists prevented him from straightening to his fullest posture.
He stood hunched, scowling with teeth bared—the image of a wolf defending its territory—but the tall, slender doctor gave only an audible smirk, unseen beneath his wicked mask.
Even at the sound of Hector’s voice, who had been stirring to wakefulness, Boltius never tore his eyes from the doctor, but the doctor, contrarily, directed his attention toward the Ace instead, and the two began a back and forth. Meanwhile, Boltius took this chance to try melting his binds.
He focused and felt for the source of his power… Only… The orange-haired Phoenix looked all-of-the-sudden perplexed. There was nothing there, not a single filament of that energy from which he was so used to drawing. That sensation. That spark. That splash of vitality and effervescence.
It was… Unresponsive.
Boltius knew what he was looking for. Like knowing how to ride a bike. Only he couldn’t reach it. All of the know-how was still there, but the muscle memory was gone.
He’d felt this before as a kid.
No, you’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me… he thought impatiently, flexing his arms with sprawled fingers, causing his chains to rattle.
Still nothing.
“Bolt…”
Boltius looked at Hector, his expression pensive as he tried to think. It was like trying to remember the name of a song he’d heard but once. The harder he tried, the further away it got, every tiny sound impeding his concentration. The air flowing from the vent above, the ticking of a clock on the wall. It was all so distracting.
Just then.
“You.” The Doctor approached Boltius before he’d realized, and planted his foot into Bolt’s chest. “Vat are you going to do?” But Boltius didn’t flinch, nor did he answer the question. Rather, he stared, glaring up with his eyes at the tinted panes of the Doctor’s goggles.
Had it not been for his slightly hunched posture, he’d have likely lost his balance, as he was still drunk off his ass. Everything was spinning and in-and-out of focus, and he was pretty sure his body was working up to vomit.
”Das vat I sought.” The Doctor dropped his foot, but not without giving Boltius a shove. “Now. Ze two of you sit put, as I’ve ozer matters to attend. You vill catch me a fine price.”
When he was gone, and the door was shut, he could still be heard on the other side fiddling with several locks that lined the door’s length. Then when silence came, Boltius moved as close to Hector as he could, still unable to reach him.
“Yo, hey, you good?” he asked. “My shit’s actin’ up… Can you get us out of this?” He didn’t elaborate, then mumbled whilst wiping his chest, “Fucker stuck his nasty ass shoe on me.” WhiskeyMarten
He stood hunched, scowling with teeth bared—the image of a wolf defending its territory—but the tall, slender doctor gave only an audible smirk, unseen beneath his wicked mask.
Even at the sound of Hector’s voice, who had been stirring to wakefulness, Boltius never tore his eyes from the doctor, but the doctor, contrarily, directed his attention toward the Ace instead, and the two began a back and forth. Meanwhile, Boltius took this chance to try melting his binds.
He focused and felt for the source of his power… Only… The orange-haired Phoenix looked all-of-the-sudden perplexed. There was nothing there, not a single filament of that energy from which he was so used to drawing. That sensation. That spark. That splash of vitality and effervescence.
It was… Unresponsive.
Boltius knew what he was looking for. Like knowing how to ride a bike. Only he couldn’t reach it. All of the know-how was still there, but the muscle memory was gone.
He’d felt this before as a kid.
No, you’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me… he thought impatiently, flexing his arms with sprawled fingers, causing his chains to rattle.
Still nothing.
“Bolt…”
Boltius looked at Hector, his expression pensive as he tried to think. It was like trying to remember the name of a song he’d heard but once. The harder he tried, the further away it got, every tiny sound impeding his concentration. The air flowing from the vent above, the ticking of a clock on the wall. It was all so distracting.
Just then.
“You.” The Doctor approached Boltius before he’d realized, and planted his foot into Bolt’s chest. “Vat are you going to do?” But Boltius didn’t flinch, nor did he answer the question. Rather, he stared, glaring up with his eyes at the tinted panes of the Doctor’s goggles.
Had it not been for his slightly hunched posture, he’d have likely lost his balance, as he was still drunk off his ass. Everything was spinning and in-and-out of focus, and he was pretty sure his body was working up to vomit.
”Das vat I sought.” The Doctor dropped his foot, but not without giving Boltius a shove. “Now. Ze two of you sit put, as I’ve ozer matters to attend. You vill catch me a fine price.”
When he was gone, and the door was shut, he could still be heard on the other side fiddling with several locks that lined the door’s length. Then when silence came, Boltius moved as close to Hector as he could, still unable to reach him.
“Yo, hey, you good?” he asked. “My shit’s actin’ up… Can you get us out of this?” He didn’t elaborate, then mumbled whilst wiping his chest, “Fucker stuck his nasty ass shoe on me.” WhiskeyMarten
-
BOLTIUS NOTES
-
— —Boltius is currently shirtless and wearing his usual golden earrings, chains, and rings + some sweatpants and shoes
— —Tattoo Reference (X)
— —Physique Reference, since his face-claim art doesn't accurately depict it (X) (X)
— —SCENE DESCRIPTION: Boltius and Hector, after loading up onto a generous party bus outside of the A-Club in Central, drunk out of their wits, have found themselves in a sticky situation... They've essentially been kidnapped and robbed of their potentials. They are currently chained up in an empty room, no furniture but the clock on the wall.