MidwayLives
"What's your favorite scary movie...?"
Fandom - Distorted Mirror <-Hey! So I have had a bit of free time and was recently inspired by a good friend of mine's RP. Had an idea for a character that I never actually got around to using, since at the point I'd come up with just the idea of him, the story was already well on it's way. It'd be like trying to fit an elephant into a mouse hole. Just couldn't be done. So I thought it over and figured I'd go ahead and try to satiate my creative bug and write something about that character but set in the alternate universe of this RP. Though, I'd like to greatly stress, that anything I may write here is not at all canon or has any weight or bearing on story events either past or present. This is just me dabbling and having a fun with a two-bit character that I just greatly enjoyed the general vibe of even if I never got around to giving him any kind of concrete backstory...until now anyway! Of course, nothing's set in stone and with this, again, being just a fishing expedition more than anything else, I dunno if this particular character might ever show up anywhere beyond this. Who knows!
Anyway, if any lurkers see this/even if you have absolutely zero context, feel free to read it! I'll certainly do my best to answer any questions to the best of my ability : ) (in regards to this particular thing and the characters involved mind you, anything else is not my department nor do I wanna claim it is)
~~~
<- to help set the mood.
"Is this guy seriously worth trekkin through the fuckin woods over, Gains?"
"Yeah, Gains. I gotta side with Maroon here. We've been out here for what, an hour? All this stompin around and shit, it's getting to be a real drag. Why the hell does this bozo or whatever live all the way out here in the middle of nowhere? It's Mistral for cryin out loud! There's land as far as the eye can read! There's nothing if NOT tons and TONS of land in Mistral and this guy had to go choose the part that's gonna leave me with calluses on my feet after we're done. Man are my feet killing me! Can't we take a break or something???" The two men, dressed to the nines with jet black jackets resting over professionally buttoned up white shirt and crimson shaded dress pants, complained and bellyached. They looked more dressed for a luxurious night out on the town, not stepping through wetlands an hour or so away from the town of entertainment and vices that they were much more accustomed to. The one who'd been referred to as Maroon looked to be the younger of the two, rocking a serious babyface that plagued him when he was tasked with collection duty by his superiors. He pulled out his scroll and turned on the device's camera mode, using his right hand to steady it and the left to glide his fingers across his head, whooshing over his slicked back brown hair. "Wouldn't be surprised if all the humidity out here doesn't cause my acne to pop back up. You know how much lien I had to spend on this conditioner? A lot of lien, Gains! LOTS! Nobody's gonna be looking at how good my hair is if I'm rocking a pizza face at thirty four, Gainsboro! Even Carmine's got my back on this!"
Carmine, well, he'd never been the brightest bulb in the business that Maroon, Gainsboro, and himself had pledged themselves to. Hadn't even finished school as a kid before running off from his folks to pursue a life of having just whatever he wanted. Regardless of what life would ask of him in return for these opportunities. Being tall and as sturdy as a brick shithouse tended to do wonders, even if you didn't have your semblance unlocked. Intimidation tended to just be enough when it came to hassling average joes and schmucks who'd never actually fought a day in their life. He'd picked out the same style of jacket as Maroon given that they were partners. It only made sense that they matched right? Difference was however that while the outfit seemed more snug and comfortable on Maroon given his smaller but average stature of around 5'7, give or take. The same simply couldn't be said for the stout Carmine, his rippling physique bulging behind the shirt, the jacket a touch or two too small for his 6'4 frame. Instead of a lady's man slicked back style, the sides of his head were both shaved, leaving a styled to hell and back brown curly pompadour on top. "I wouldn't mind a break. I think I gotta go and lake some swamp muck out of my shoes."
Standing in the center with Maroon and Carmine standing at either wing, was a rather portly looking man. His jacket was grey and peppered with black spots here and there, the seams visible here and there indicating the wear and tear of the fabric. If one had to guess, the jacket had probably never been replaced. Just patched up time and time again over the decades. Unlike both of his younger compatriots, there wasn't much activity on the hair front for the older man. Grey hair ran on the sides of his scalp with a distinct lack of any covering in the center. Though it was plainly obvious for everyone but a blind man to see, the man would never, ever admit that he'd jumped straight from balding to the end zone. It's one thing to try and do something about it. Another to acknowledge it altogether. May as well have just given up your manhood right then and there. His suit was a light yellow and his pants were a pair of beige slacks, ending off in brown shoes that carried the almost comforting presence of shoes you'd might have seen a grandfather or other elderly man wearing. Reaching into one of the interior pockets on his jacket, the man pulled out a box of cigarettes and lighter. "You boys would never have lasted back in my day. Neeeeeve *cough cough* ...er.." Terrible coughs interspaced Gainsboro's words as he patted his chest as if to try and comfort his lungs. "Only reason the Boss *cough cough* lets bunk like you complain and grind is because *cough cough* somehow...You're good at earnin. But with your semblances locked up, you're not worth jack in a fight. Jackshit. *cough*"
"Aw, not again with the whole 'my day' stuff, Gains! The family's old, but it's not THAT old!" Maroon groaned, feeling a wave of consternation run up his back at just the potential scenario of Gainsboro forcing them down another trip to memory lane. Especially when Maroon figured that Gainsboro was probably already a relic by the time he came around to joining this thing of theirs. "Besides, bringing up the whole semblance thing is a low blow! We're friggin members of the Narcotics Team! The hell do we have be ready for a brawl for??"
"In our particular line of work, it comes with certain...Occupational hazards, Maroon." Gainsboro replied, cryptically to an outsider but both Maroon and Carmine knew right from the getgo just what he was referring to. "It also doesn't have to just BE about fightin, ya schmuck. *cough cough* You think a huntsman sits and gripes about how many boo-boos he's gonna have on his feet from walkin around all day? *cough* I....I don't think so." Neither young man had a reply to that beyond mild grumbling and attempting some rather offensive hand gestures only to stop at the last second. Regardless of how much he babbled, Gainsboro was still the guy they reported to for the time being. "The family trusts this guy, alright fellas?"
"Yeah, and they also trust those assholes in the Hitman Team."
"Eh, they're not all bad Carmine! One of em's got a great pair of y'know y'know..." Maroon joked, moving his hands up to his chest as both him and Carmine shared a laugh. "What a BITCH she is though!"
"Not convincin enough for ya, huh? Well, he's *cough cough* the only one besides Aurora who's met the Boss. If you believe the rumors anyway..." That got the laughter to disappear like a candleflame being snuffed out by a cool breeze. "No way..." Maroon started. "You're yanking our chain, Gains."
"Believe what you want." Gains pushed past some particularly thorny underbrush. All while never dropping his cigarette from his lips, like a true professional. "Careful. Foilage is a bit *cough cough* touchy." Gainsboro had his aura to protect him and it'd made this trip much easier for him than it may have for a less experienced man of the same age, weight, health. Carmine and Maroon yelped in pain as they tried to follow behind while doing their darndest to retain the same kind of swagger their peer had in his stride. "There it is boys. Our guy's humble abode." Taking out the cigarette to cough for a good minute or two, Gainsboro wiped at his lips to clear them of phlegm and saliva. "Owowow! With all the foilage I've had to rub up against on the way over here, I wouldn't be surprised if I wake up with some kinda rash tomorrow." "You're not kiddin, I feel like I'm already itchin all over-"
Both men paused in their mutual complaining of nature's conditions. The stranger that they'd been ordered to accompany Gainsboro to retrieve. Lived out in the woods like some kind of weirdo and had apparently met the Boss-the shadowy figure that nobody, not even a big mouth like Gainsboro knew anything about-and his house was some kind of ramshackle cabin. Looked like it'd been built together by whatever the guy had pulled from various refuse piles. Still, it was at least standing and had a seemingly functional roof and front door. The one window looked so muddied and bug infested that assuming the place was abandoned wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility. "...You've gotta be kidding me, Gains. This is the place that a guy who somehow, despite how private the Boss is, managed to meet the guy and he lives in a place like that?? You're messin with us!" Carmine stroked his chin in contemplation. "...Yeah, I dunno Gains. It looks like a strong wind would blow it over in a hurry. Chalk it up to the guy that it's still standing I guess. But I mean look at the window. You sure he's still, I dunno, around here? Alive...?"
"Yeah. I'm sure." Gainsboro covered his mouth with his sleeve as he hacked and wheezed. Walking over to a nearby pond, Gainsboro stopped near some kind of pulley system with a golden bell attached to it. "He's probably just taking a dip. Pain *cough* in the *cough* goddamn ass. All this could have been avoided if he got himself a scroll." Wrapping his hand around one end of the rope attached to the bell, Gainsboro yanked it. The rope dragged against the bell, dinging it and across the pond's surface, ripples began to form as another rope connected to the side of the pulley went taut. "....The guy doesn't have a scroll?" "We're still sure that we're talkin about a person here, right? One of us, not one of *cough* y'know...An animal?" Like one of those Shadow Fang, Shadow Claw, whatever the hell they were callin themselves.
"Shaddup."
Gainsboro continued to pull the rope while past the upper layer of the pond, something stirred. While the forest itself had animals aplenty, this pond in particular seemed to give off an empty feeling. As though it were exuding some kind of unpleasant atmosphere. One that carried the same signal as a 'BEWARE! DO NOT ENTER' sign. Below the water's surface, the secondary rope banged against another bell underwater. The vibrations of the bell caused bubbles to sprout up near it and float up to the surface. Floating next to the bell was a young looking induvial. Couldn't have been any older than late teens, early twenties at best. His hair was an unkempt mess, the mop top swaying and jostling as he moved his head from side to side. His arms were folded across a bare chest that seemed more made up of scar tissue than actual unmarred flesh, old gouges and crevices dug across his pectoral muscles and over his sternum. His feet dangled inches above the bed of the pond, toes swaying here and there. Just gazing upon him in this state might have given nearly anybody the impression of a man who was entirely within his element. But while a human, no matter how skilled or adapt in the water they may have been, they would have had to come up for air eventually. If one dragged their eyes upwards, more and more, this fellow's body only to stop upon reaching his neckline they'd see gills on either side. A part of who he was. His birthright. It was what had allowed him to have been in the pond's depths for well over an hour, perhaps longer.
He wasn't just any regular joe. He wasn't even a person in the eyes of men like Carmine and Maroon, he was no better than an attack dog or even a Grimm. Just a filthy animal.
He was a faunus.
Swimming up to the surface, the top half of his head eventually bobbed out of the water. His eyes, as black as coal, leering across the waterline at the men standing at the shore. "...Why's he just starin at us? "He was down there the whole time? I mean, ugh, I don't care how much you pay me. I ain't swimmin in anything that hasn't been cleaned. Mother Nature or not, whatever." Maroon complained to which Carmine nodded eagerly in agreement. Gainsboro released his hold on the rope and smiled. Clasping his hands together, he stepped forward to herald the arrival of the man they'd come to seek out. "It's such a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance..."
The stranger swam over to the pond's edge to step out, his lower half covered by a pair of black spandex shorts. Nothing too revealing of course. The lack of anything on top meant that both of Gainsboro's pals saw the gruesomeness spread across the stranger's chest. "Sheesh..." "Looks like a hit warmed over..."
"Shaddup. Both of you. Shark. It's been a long time hasn't it?" Gainsboro asked, his smile not fading or diminishing in even the slightest regard. Scars or no scars, Gainsboro had seen a lot worse in his time of service to the family and to the Boss for that matter. "Wait, a second his name's Shark...?"
"Then doesn't that mean he's a..."
The gills were a dead giveaway. Sure, if they really stretched their imagination both of them could have written it off as just a disgusting birth defect. There was absolutely no mistaking or explaining away the sets of razor sharp teeth resting in the man's mouth as he glared at them all.
"HE'S A GODDAMN FAUNUS!"
~~~
And that's the end for now! I've got both Sunday/Monday off so maybe I'll add more! Or maybe this'll be it for a while! We'll see!
Glad to have written this. Made my night a lot better. : )
for future reference btw, here's a comission I had done of 'Shark' if it helps envision him better!
Anyway, if any lurkers see this/even if you have absolutely zero context, feel free to read it! I'll certainly do my best to answer any questions to the best of my ability : ) (in regards to this particular thing and the characters involved mind you, anything else is not my department nor do I wanna claim it is)
~~~
<- to help set the mood.
"Is this guy seriously worth trekkin through the fuckin woods over, Gains?"
"Yeah, Gains. I gotta side with Maroon here. We've been out here for what, an hour? All this stompin around and shit, it's getting to be a real drag. Why the hell does this bozo or whatever live all the way out here in the middle of nowhere? It's Mistral for cryin out loud! There's land as far as the eye can read! There's nothing if NOT tons and TONS of land in Mistral and this guy had to go choose the part that's gonna leave me with calluses on my feet after we're done. Man are my feet killing me! Can't we take a break or something???" The two men, dressed to the nines with jet black jackets resting over professionally buttoned up white shirt and crimson shaded dress pants, complained and bellyached. They looked more dressed for a luxurious night out on the town, not stepping through wetlands an hour or so away from the town of entertainment and vices that they were much more accustomed to. The one who'd been referred to as Maroon looked to be the younger of the two, rocking a serious babyface that plagued him when he was tasked with collection duty by his superiors. He pulled out his scroll and turned on the device's camera mode, using his right hand to steady it and the left to glide his fingers across his head, whooshing over his slicked back brown hair. "Wouldn't be surprised if all the humidity out here doesn't cause my acne to pop back up. You know how much lien I had to spend on this conditioner? A lot of lien, Gains! LOTS! Nobody's gonna be looking at how good my hair is if I'm rocking a pizza face at thirty four, Gainsboro! Even Carmine's got my back on this!"
Carmine, well, he'd never been the brightest bulb in the business that Maroon, Gainsboro, and himself had pledged themselves to. Hadn't even finished school as a kid before running off from his folks to pursue a life of having just whatever he wanted. Regardless of what life would ask of him in return for these opportunities. Being tall and as sturdy as a brick shithouse tended to do wonders, even if you didn't have your semblance unlocked. Intimidation tended to just be enough when it came to hassling average joes and schmucks who'd never actually fought a day in their life. He'd picked out the same style of jacket as Maroon given that they were partners. It only made sense that they matched right? Difference was however that while the outfit seemed more snug and comfortable on Maroon given his smaller but average stature of around 5'7, give or take. The same simply couldn't be said for the stout Carmine, his rippling physique bulging behind the shirt, the jacket a touch or two too small for his 6'4 frame. Instead of a lady's man slicked back style, the sides of his head were both shaved, leaving a styled to hell and back brown curly pompadour on top. "I wouldn't mind a break. I think I gotta go and lake some swamp muck out of my shoes."
Standing in the center with Maroon and Carmine standing at either wing, was a rather portly looking man. His jacket was grey and peppered with black spots here and there, the seams visible here and there indicating the wear and tear of the fabric. If one had to guess, the jacket had probably never been replaced. Just patched up time and time again over the decades. Unlike both of his younger compatriots, there wasn't much activity on the hair front for the older man. Grey hair ran on the sides of his scalp with a distinct lack of any covering in the center. Though it was plainly obvious for everyone but a blind man to see, the man would never, ever admit that he'd jumped straight from balding to the end zone. It's one thing to try and do something about it. Another to acknowledge it altogether. May as well have just given up your manhood right then and there. His suit was a light yellow and his pants were a pair of beige slacks, ending off in brown shoes that carried the almost comforting presence of shoes you'd might have seen a grandfather or other elderly man wearing. Reaching into one of the interior pockets on his jacket, the man pulled out a box of cigarettes and lighter. "You boys would never have lasted back in my day. Neeeeeve *cough cough* ...er.." Terrible coughs interspaced Gainsboro's words as he patted his chest as if to try and comfort his lungs. "Only reason the Boss *cough cough* lets bunk like you complain and grind is because *cough cough* somehow...You're good at earnin. But with your semblances locked up, you're not worth jack in a fight. Jackshit. *cough*"
"Aw, not again with the whole 'my day' stuff, Gains! The family's old, but it's not THAT old!" Maroon groaned, feeling a wave of consternation run up his back at just the potential scenario of Gainsboro forcing them down another trip to memory lane. Especially when Maroon figured that Gainsboro was probably already a relic by the time he came around to joining this thing of theirs. "Besides, bringing up the whole semblance thing is a low blow! We're friggin members of the Narcotics Team! The hell do we have be ready for a brawl for??"
"In our particular line of work, it comes with certain...Occupational hazards, Maroon." Gainsboro replied, cryptically to an outsider but both Maroon and Carmine knew right from the getgo just what he was referring to. "It also doesn't have to just BE about fightin, ya schmuck. *cough cough* You think a huntsman sits and gripes about how many boo-boos he's gonna have on his feet from walkin around all day? *cough* I....I don't think so." Neither young man had a reply to that beyond mild grumbling and attempting some rather offensive hand gestures only to stop at the last second. Regardless of how much he babbled, Gainsboro was still the guy they reported to for the time being. "The family trusts this guy, alright fellas?"
"Yeah, and they also trust those assholes in the Hitman Team."
"Eh, they're not all bad Carmine! One of em's got a great pair of y'know y'know..." Maroon joked, moving his hands up to his chest as both him and Carmine shared a laugh. "What a BITCH she is though!"
"Not convincin enough for ya, huh? Well, he's *cough cough* the only one besides Aurora who's met the Boss. If you believe the rumors anyway..." That got the laughter to disappear like a candleflame being snuffed out by a cool breeze. "No way..." Maroon started. "You're yanking our chain, Gains."
"Believe what you want." Gains pushed past some particularly thorny underbrush. All while never dropping his cigarette from his lips, like a true professional. "Careful. Foilage is a bit *cough cough* touchy." Gainsboro had his aura to protect him and it'd made this trip much easier for him than it may have for a less experienced man of the same age, weight, health. Carmine and Maroon yelped in pain as they tried to follow behind while doing their darndest to retain the same kind of swagger their peer had in his stride. "There it is boys. Our guy's humble abode." Taking out the cigarette to cough for a good minute or two, Gainsboro wiped at his lips to clear them of phlegm and saliva. "Owowow! With all the foilage I've had to rub up against on the way over here, I wouldn't be surprised if I wake up with some kinda rash tomorrow." "You're not kiddin, I feel like I'm already itchin all over-"
Both men paused in their mutual complaining of nature's conditions. The stranger that they'd been ordered to accompany Gainsboro to retrieve. Lived out in the woods like some kind of weirdo and had apparently met the Boss-the shadowy figure that nobody, not even a big mouth like Gainsboro knew anything about-and his house was some kind of ramshackle cabin. Looked like it'd been built together by whatever the guy had pulled from various refuse piles. Still, it was at least standing and had a seemingly functional roof and front door. The one window looked so muddied and bug infested that assuming the place was abandoned wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility. "...You've gotta be kidding me, Gains. This is the place that a guy who somehow, despite how private the Boss is, managed to meet the guy and he lives in a place like that?? You're messin with us!" Carmine stroked his chin in contemplation. "...Yeah, I dunno Gains. It looks like a strong wind would blow it over in a hurry. Chalk it up to the guy that it's still standing I guess. But I mean look at the window. You sure he's still, I dunno, around here? Alive...?"
"Yeah. I'm sure." Gainsboro covered his mouth with his sleeve as he hacked and wheezed. Walking over to a nearby pond, Gainsboro stopped near some kind of pulley system with a golden bell attached to it. "He's probably just taking a dip. Pain *cough* in the *cough* goddamn ass. All this could have been avoided if he got himself a scroll." Wrapping his hand around one end of the rope attached to the bell, Gainsboro yanked it. The rope dragged against the bell, dinging it and across the pond's surface, ripples began to form as another rope connected to the side of the pulley went taut. "....The guy doesn't have a scroll?" "We're still sure that we're talkin about a person here, right? One of us, not one of *cough* y'know...An animal?" Like one of those Shadow Fang, Shadow Claw, whatever the hell they were callin themselves.
"Shaddup."
Gainsboro continued to pull the rope while past the upper layer of the pond, something stirred. While the forest itself had animals aplenty, this pond in particular seemed to give off an empty feeling. As though it were exuding some kind of unpleasant atmosphere. One that carried the same signal as a 'BEWARE! DO NOT ENTER' sign. Below the water's surface, the secondary rope banged against another bell underwater. The vibrations of the bell caused bubbles to sprout up near it and float up to the surface. Floating next to the bell was a young looking induvial. Couldn't have been any older than late teens, early twenties at best. His hair was an unkempt mess, the mop top swaying and jostling as he moved his head from side to side. His arms were folded across a bare chest that seemed more made up of scar tissue than actual unmarred flesh, old gouges and crevices dug across his pectoral muscles and over his sternum. His feet dangled inches above the bed of the pond, toes swaying here and there. Just gazing upon him in this state might have given nearly anybody the impression of a man who was entirely within his element. But while a human, no matter how skilled or adapt in the water they may have been, they would have had to come up for air eventually. If one dragged their eyes upwards, more and more, this fellow's body only to stop upon reaching his neckline they'd see gills on either side. A part of who he was. His birthright. It was what had allowed him to have been in the pond's depths for well over an hour, perhaps longer.
He wasn't just any regular joe. He wasn't even a person in the eyes of men like Carmine and Maroon, he was no better than an attack dog or even a Grimm. Just a filthy animal.
He was a faunus.
Swimming up to the surface, the top half of his head eventually bobbed out of the water. His eyes, as black as coal, leering across the waterline at the men standing at the shore. "...Why's he just starin at us? "He was down there the whole time? I mean, ugh, I don't care how much you pay me. I ain't swimmin in anything that hasn't been cleaned. Mother Nature or not, whatever." Maroon complained to which Carmine nodded eagerly in agreement. Gainsboro released his hold on the rope and smiled. Clasping his hands together, he stepped forward to herald the arrival of the man they'd come to seek out. "It's such a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance..."
The stranger swam over to the pond's edge to step out, his lower half covered by a pair of black spandex shorts. Nothing too revealing of course. The lack of anything on top meant that both of Gainsboro's pals saw the gruesomeness spread across the stranger's chest. "Sheesh..." "Looks like a hit warmed over..."
"Shaddup. Both of you. Shark. It's been a long time hasn't it?" Gainsboro asked, his smile not fading or diminishing in even the slightest regard. Scars or no scars, Gainsboro had seen a lot worse in his time of service to the family and to the Boss for that matter. "Wait, a second his name's Shark...?"
"Then doesn't that mean he's a..."
The gills were a dead giveaway. Sure, if they really stretched their imagination both of them could have written it off as just a disgusting birth defect. There was absolutely no mistaking or explaining away the sets of razor sharp teeth resting in the man's mouth as he glared at them all.
"HE'S A GODDAMN FAUNUS!"
~~~
And that's the end for now! I've got both Sunday/Monday off so maybe I'll add more! Or maybe this'll be it for a while! We'll see!
Glad to have written this. Made my night a lot better. : )
for future reference btw, here's a comission I had done of 'Shark' if it helps envision him better!
