Right Hand


huruma_icon.gif satoru_icon.gif

Scene Title Right Hand
Synopsis Nobody likes a flake. Adam Monroe included; he sends his right hand out to make a point.
Date May 25 2009

The Rookery

Sometime in the late evening, Satoru leaves Shooters, having spent an hour or so at the bar. While generally he's in rollerblades, today finds the boy in a pair of mismatched Converse high-tops, and his usual messenger bag is missing. It isn't usually a good idea to wander around Staten overburdened with things, after all. As he leaves, his gait is somewhat casual, as though he has no place in particular he's headed for; hands in pockets, he sort of ambles along lazily, looking around as he does, to get his bearings. Hard to tell if he's tipsy or if this is just his general attitude.

On Staten, you're always more likely to feel as if someone is following you; sometimes, however, that feeling proves true, and there actually is someone tailing your shadow. In Satoru's case, the one following him does not seem to be obvious at all until he wanders further away from Shooters, and any patrons that might just be hanging around the exits. At first the echoing click-click of heels on asphalt is a sound that has no real source, but it is soon apparent that the source is getting closer, though somehow not visible should the young man look back.

Then again, on Staten, odds are just as high that anyone who did notice something amiss wouldn't care, or at least wouldn't interfere. After all, most things of that nature are just as likely to get them in trouble as the person they're 'helping'. Not that any of this matters to Satoru, who actually does take a minute to notice those heel-clicks, and when he finally does, he turns around and —- there's nobody there. He's a bit shaken, for a moment, but ultimately shrugs it off and continues nonchalantly on his way.

They don't sound off in his hearing for a little while… but then, as soon as they finally seem to have disappeared, they are back. Click, click, click, click…

Which in turn leads again to the boy stopping and turning. Heartrate increasing a bit, Satoru's nervous now, but trying not to show it. That doesn't look very good, after all. Tense, he takes a few more steps, tentatively, but with his ears perked as he goes. Hands still in his pockets, he shivers his shoulders somewhat, but otherwise … tries to remain nonchalant.

Another pause. Click, Click. The creeping feeling of something wrong tickles at Satoru's mind. This time, if he chances to turn around- Huruma's silhouette is cut in the mouth of the alleyway, backlit by Staten Island's flickering lamplight seeping around buildings. Left arm akimbo, the other hanging at her side, the only real motion from the extraordinarily tall woman is the slight curling and uncurling of her fingers near her thigh.

Really, though, that feeling was just about already there anyway - not that Toru wanted to confront it. He's a badass, things don't bother him. In… a theory that only he subscribes to. When he turns this time, it's slightly more violent, hands coming out of his pockets to ball into fists at his sides. "Who the fuck is doing that?!" Shouted before he actually catches sight of Huruma — at which point he starts, slightly. A girl? Come on. "What the hell do you think you're doing, lady?"

As she takes a few small, lazy steps closer, Her backlight fades accordingly, and she comes into better visibility about ten feet away. A girl, if you want to go by childish terms. There is nothing girlish about her, to be sure. All the way from the V-cut bustier to the black pants that seem like simply another skin.

And of course, those vicious heels that make her at least a few inches higher.

Lifting her right hand, the top of her palm coasts idly over the sweep of her short hair, pinned to her head with nothing more than a substance that makes it shine. Somehow, she makes the movement snakelike- not reptilian, but calculating, smooth. "I've been looking for you." Huruma croons, her deep, female voice carrying those several feet quite easily, despite it being such a low volume.

And that little tidbit shifts the young(ish) boy's mood from angry tension to … one of slightly more carnal interest. "Oh, really?" Eyebrows raising for just a moment, he grins slightly and brushes at his hair in a hurried sort of way. Not that it'll smooth over with just that small gesture, as dissheveled as it is, but every little bit helps when it comes to preening for the ladies. Mentally, he's still a teenager in many ways. "Well all you had to do was say something, chica." One arm crosses over his chest, the other is bent upward at the elbow, gesturing idly with his fingers. "There, ah, somethin' I can help you with?"

White eyes briefly accented by a white smile, Huruma remains where she is. It's so darling, that he would automatically think someone looking for him was a good thing.

"I believe we'ave a mutual acquaintance…" Her words come with a slow seeping of nervousness, casually lapping at Satoru's mind much like a wave on a beach. A wave in an ocean that sees stormclouds on the horizon.

Well, you know, when it's a good-looking lady who could crush your head between her thighs … well, apparently some guys are into that. And so Toru keeps smiling a somewhat cheesy smile as the interaction proceeds. That sudden rush of nervousness, though, is … unnerving, appropriately. Mutual acquaintance … he can't particularly think of who that might be, and so, time to be a bit on the defense. Nonetheless, however, he presses on with the semi-sweet nothings. "Well, there's no need to worry about that, huh?" Tilt of the head. "I mean… you're here, I'm here," and here he spreads his arms. "What else matters?"

"What matters…" She begins, that nervousness flickering louder. "…is tha'you are a silly boy tha'seems t'think he can rebound on his word." Huruma's shoulders shift into a uniform roll, and she stretches her neck just enough to crack it out of an idle place.

"There are some of us left tha'stil'ave class." Her voice begins at a drawl, escalating quickly into a biting, scolding word.

Nervousness and… confusion, there. "My word… huh?" Toru frowns, glancing off to the side. "…you're talking about that white dude, aren't you?" And with that, he rolls his eyes and waves a hand, arms falling down to his sides. "Whatever, yo, I just ended up figuring I wasn't gonna help him rough up my peeps and it ain't like I went along and then pussied out, huh?" A shrug. "I have a job I didn't feel right about steppin' out on."

"Mister Monroe-" Saying that tickles her lips, and it takes a small measure not to laugh at herself. "-seems t'think otherwise, when it comes to… 'pussying out'." The nervousness is now enough to begin progressing into a level of fear and further uneasiness.

"You made a commitment, and you stepped out on that commitment." Huruma's lips curl slightly as she speaks, teeth baring in small flickers. Her feet pick up just far enough, and the tall woman steps closer. "Dear boy, you need t'learn'ow to honor your word." And now, that uneasiness on its first level jumps up to heart-in-throat fear.

Stepping backwards, Satoru looks around himself, to make sure both that he isn't about to back into something, and that he has some escape route, though at the moment he's a bit too scared to actually use it. And again is the sense of confusion there, since he isn't really sure why he's so terrified. But still, he continues defending himself. "He came to me 'cause I'm a crook, he shoulda known better than to trust someone he came to because they're untrustworthy!" Running a hand over his hair, he trembles a bit, and adds, "Why ain't he here himself if he's so down on pussyin' out of shit?!"

"He's a busy man." Huruma coos, looming overhead now, like a feline sort of vulture, eyes fixed on Satoru like burning little half moons. "Plus, I am th'one to'ave more fun doing it." And we all know about the need to keep her placated.

Satoru runs that hand over his hair again, shaking his head hurriedly. "Y—Yeah, well you done it, alright? Whatever, okay, I'm sorry if that's what you wanna hear, I won't go breakin' my word with him again. Alright?!" Of course, after this he doesn't plan on making promises with Adam again, but that's probably a given.

"Mmm." The noise is nondescript, and for a moment it seems as if she might just turn around and go. But that is surely not the case. Instead, she turns only partially, her hand sweeping behind her and coming back into the open with a black cylinder- the woman lifts it and cracks it down into the air, the telescoping baton making it out with a rather foreboding click.

"I know you won't."

And here, Toru forces himself to take in slow, deep breaths. Trying to calm down. Not succeeding terribly well, but still trying. "L.. look, lady. If your boss needed me so bad then he shoulda tried harder to get me to come along, or at least I coulda pointed him to someone.. someone else to take my place, right? I'm just some punk kid, he shoulda found someone better if I was so crucial to his plans or whatever!" He flails his arms a bit, there. "Tell your fuckin' boss that he needs to pick his people better! It's his own fault he's in this mess!"

"This isn't b'cause we needed you. Or missed you." She sneers. "This is simply t'make a point." That you really do not want to cross the wrong people. Huruma lifts the baton in a diagonal sweep, aiming to strike at Satoru's head. It is certainly not her most powerful swing- she might kill him that way, my goodness!

And with that there is a shriek from the young Asian lad, who lifts his hand to ward off the blow in time to get hit partially on the head and partially across his wrist. "Jesus CHRIST!" He screams, falling to a crouch and cradling his arm in his other hand. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! I don't care about your fucking moral lessons, I'm a crook, I already told you that!" He bites his lip, hissing quietly, and grumbles, "Fucking Jesus shit—" and a string of other colorful curses.

You don't have time to complain, Satoru! Because now there is a big boot aiming to kick him over, and another swing of the baton coming in at the side. Huruma appears to have made up her mind, frankly- and this is what she came to do. Nobody can say that she is not thorough in her work. "Nothing personal, boy." Is what he'll hear in the background.

Nonetheless, Toru's whining comes in between blows. He does, at least, kick at Huruma's feet to try to knock her over - and if that doesn't work, grabbyhands are made at the baton, however painful those grabs may end up being. "Just fucking stop it, already!" He's terrified, yeah, but he's also pissed off at both the situation and his relative inability to do anything about it beyond whinging. "Get off me!"

Perhaps on purpose, one of Satoru's hands grabs onto the middle of the baton, and Huruma takes that moment to lean in further, hissing. "Maneno makali hayavunji mfupa." And during those few words- one, two, three, four- continuous, brain-rattling shots of terror, panic, fear.

To follow is another swift kick, aiming to roughly punt the young man into the bricks of the closer building.
Satoru aims to yank on the rod once he gets a grip on it, but those sudden shots of terror nearly cripple him - he's almost in tears when Huruma kicks him to the wall, but once that is done he starts shrieking. Almost screaming, really - but altogether indicating more pain than just a kick, however hard, should have caused. He holds his hands to his side where the boot hit, and wails, "What the hell did you do to me?!" Panting roughly, he tears at his shirt - not removing it, but pulling it up enough so that he can look at his side, and where there should be a painful mark where the boot struck, there is instead a light, brownish patch of what looks like.. bone.

Huruma, by now, is standing straight where she had kicked at him from. Cocking one hip, she brings the baton up with a swivel of her wrist, and the retraction of the slim black weapon sounds off with a pop-click. Her eyes examine him, just before that panic in his brain is replaced oddly enough- by longing. This and horror all at once, and after a snarl from Huruma, it assails him- it makes for a tremendous emotion- it is wrong, and his brain knows it, but he feels that terror anyway. And wants more. So she does. If he was not crippled into a corner before- he likely will be now.

Once it's clear that the bone plan isn't going to work, Satoru abandons the idea to go with that - although by now his mind isn't really clear enough to come up with more schemes anyway. He's pretty well blinded by pain by now, curling up on himself and sobbing from the pain and — wanting it, but not understanding why. Physical pain as well as a sudden personal crisis pushes him beyond the limits of caring how this is making him look; he can barely even get out another verbal protest, which does come in the form of a weak, "Please.."

"Chokoratwisha." Is her last word. Goodnight, street boy. She leaves him now, sauntering away into The Rookery, allowing him to lie there feeling as if the world could never be safe again. Such a thing certainly won't help any of his paranoia.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License