OPEN - feel out your voice

[killsign]

Who: Nic and YOU
Where: in the Matrix
When: shortly after entering the Matrix, maybe a day or two
What: as a mercenary, Nic's mission is to keep tabs on the agents and their relationships to carnival workers, resistance members, etc. And he's starting with that agent behind you, right now.
Warnings: this could go one of two ways: funny or violent. Up to you, really.

It's a too-bright day with too-happy birdsong, but no matter how hard you look, you can't find any of those damn birds. Like they aren't actually there, and it's just a recording. That one angry cabby has probably passed you three times by now, but now, over-saturated happiness is all over the place. Everything is okay! Really! It's like a Sunday morning sitcom from the thirties.

Except everything is obviously not okay, because someone has been following a circus worker for some time. A kid dressed like a vagabond not used to wearing clothes that actually fit him, his eyes dark and dead, staring right through you. He doesn't look all that dangerous -- I mean, he's obviously twelve and homeless and tiny. He's just a little . . . unsettling.

Wait. Now he's not staring at that circus worker anymore -- whether that worker is you or someone else -- No, now he's staring directly at someone behind that worker . . .

And that someone is a pair of douche shades wearing a suit. The agent zeroes in on the worker, then the kid, Nic. Nic's eyes go wide. This might be bad.

Comments

[pipers_son]

Aaaaaah, he'd really been hoping for a nice quiet day for once.

The kid had been fine. Joker is used to kids, and quite likes them, even. It'd been a little odd, being stared at so intensely, but some kids are like that. He remembers his own brother, Jumbo, often had people get on his case for things like that although admittedly his own looks didn't really help with that. Regardless. His point stands.

Yet at one point, hs glances back at him just to see how he's doing, and follows where his gaze had refocused on and.... Oh. Hm. Joker doesn't respond, not visibly, but he curses in his head.

Always an exciting time in the circus, he guesses.

Acting still oblivious, Joker pauses at the window of a shop, pretending to look over the things on display there while he waits to see where the kid will go or if he'll catch up to him in some way. That's his first priority.

[killsign]

Priorities. Nic doesn't know what his are yet. He survives by taking orders, and so far, all he has are three rules and a recon mission. He stands there a moment, stock-still, as he debates his options. Subtlety is not his greatest point, which is probably how he gained the agent's notice in the first place.

Run or fight. Hide or protect. Are fellow workers even people he should be protecting? In the end, his jaw sets, decided. The Ringmaster said to follow, and as he belongs to her now, he would obey. He only has to catch up to his target while evading the enemy. Easy.

The same old lady passes Nic for the second time, a glitch in the system he's noticing more and more. Hoping the oddity is enough of a distraction, he slips into the darkness between two shops, and suddenly, his heavy boots are completely silent. Running through the twists and turns of too-small alleyways, Nic opens the first back door he sees and finds his way back to the street. In fact, he emerges from the front door of the very storefront that Joker had been perusing. The little bell above the door even announces his arrival.

Nic stares up at the man and blinks vapidly, surprised. Maybe he really is only good at killing . . . because that did not turn out as planned.

[pipers_son]

Well, he guesses he can work with this too.

Joker blinks down at the boy as well, expression loose in surprise, before he quickly schools it into a wide grin. “Jims! Fancy runnin’ inta ya here!” Hoping that’s enough warning, he slings his arm around the boy’s shoulder- his left arm, the one he’s gotten used to all these years without his prosthetic- and tries to guide him along. “We should catch up! How’s yer older sister doin’?”

[killsign]

Wait. What is happening. Nic hesitates, stumbling for words, as he's easily whisked away. "Fine," he grunts lowly, a rough, broken excuse for a voice. He's surprised to be touched so easily, and it's apparent on his face. "Still a . . . pain."

Wallace, he's thinking of you.

[pipers_son]

“Ha! Well, that’s how it alway is with family, isn’t it? I should give ya a break, then, and treat ya ta somethin’ nice.” He’s still chattering on, and only seems to catch on when an elderly man casts him a disapproving glare. “Actually, there’s this place a mate of mine took me ta the other day…” He leans in, as if to continue the conversation while actually being mindful of his volume…

And murmurs carefully, “It’s the guy in the suit, right?”

[killsign]

This guy is good. Nic nods once. He can't be mindful of his own volume, so he signs the word for "kill" close to his chest: a finger gun going through the thumb. Anyone watching from the side might think he's just giving two thumbs up.

"You any good?" he says with some effort. He means fighting, of course, in this whack-o system.

[pipers_son]

While the meaning behind the sign goes over his head, Joker still has a fair idea of what it is. Can’t be some sort of magical gesture, since nothing has happened so far as he can tell, so that has to be sign language. (In the carnival, it could be either or.) One of these days, he should really look into that… Well, that’s something to think about later, as for now he just grins wryly. “Always preferred ta run when I could, honestly,” he mutters, not ashamed to label himself a coward. Besides, in this kind of weird place he’d rather not take any chances. “I’d rather get home before anythin’ crops up. What about yerself?”

[killsign]

"I fight," Nic grunts. Still, he takes a moment to review their choices and consequences. Without really knowing what these new, strange enemies are capable of, he can't know if he can take one alone. Especially if he has to deal with protecting an ally. In the end, he nods.

"Run," he says. He doesn't consider it cowardice; sometimes, dodging a grenade is smarter than catching it and lobbing it back. You lose less hands that way.

[pipers_son]

Thatta boy. “Then I think the way back home for me is this way,” Joker says, leading him along a turn. For all that he says ‘think’, he’s actually pretty damn sure. If there’s one lesson he’s learned since first signing on with the Carnival, it’s to always know the way back home. You never know when things will go south, or when you’ll need to find allies. The worlds they travel to are amazing, exciting, breathtaking… and usually, in one way or another, dangerous. That’s the carnival life for you.

Actually, speaking of which, he should probably check on something first. “Ya with the Ringmaster?” he asks, glancing down at him.

[kingsroads]

Let's be real, if anyone's going to get followed, it's Jonathan "I haven't even tried to blend in" Strange. Because guess what, he hasn't even tried to blend in. Strange is still wearing his 1800s attire, frayed coat, horribly tied cravat, hair all over the place as he continues to try to mentally reconcile the past day or so of making a contract and then joining the carnival and then going into the Matrix where fun fact, he has no idea how half of these things work.

It was a trying few days to begin with. And then there's a kid staring at him. Strange stares at Nic in return, a bit oblivious to the person in sunglasses behind him.

"May I help you?" It's asked in a gentle, if slightly confused, tone. After all, this child is...well, a child. There's no need to be deliberately rude to him.

[killsign]

Nic's eyes again flick from the agent to Strange. He shakes his head, then grunts out with an uneven, deep voice, "'Elp . . . you."

It's a gravelly, painful thing, his voice, rough with disuse. He really just makes the mouth shape and barks through it.

On top of that, Nic is giving the man's get-up another dubious once-over, as if to say, You really need the help and What costume store did you walk out of? Despite Strange's kindness, there may be rudeness happening anyway.

[kingsroads]

Strange can't help but frown a little. Nic's voice is the sort of voice that Strange can tell isn't rusty from disuse or hoarseness or something like that. The poor young man must have a throat injury or something like that. It's a pity he doesn't know any healing magic--he only had cause to use it in the Peninsula, and most wounds obtained there weren't the sort one could easily heal away.

Still, magic cannot cure madness. Perhaps magic cannot cure muteness either.

"Don't strain yourself. I'm sure we can find pen and paper if you wish. There's plenty of stores around here." He is either blissfully ignorant of Nic looking at him like he's an idiot or (more likely) he is straight up ignoring it. This young man's looking at him like he's mad, well congratulations Nic, you have pointed out the obvious.

[killsign]

Strange is close when he thinks the voice is due to injury; Nic is deaf, so he doesn't have much to rely on to recreate sounds like words. It's okay though. They'll get by.

Nic brightens at the prospect of someone actually putting effort into communicating with him. Acting normal isn't going to do much around a guy like this, and Nic isn't one for subtlety, anyway. But it's either this or fight, so Nic decides to lead the agent around a little.

Nodding emphatically, Nic extends his hand for Strange to take. He is willing to lead him to a store like he's helping an old man cross the street.

[kingsroads]

Strange takes Nic's hand, not entirely sure what's going to happen...but then he gets yanked into the direction of wherever Nic's going. It's not like he knows where he's going, after all. Strange is perfectly fine being pulled around every which way. After all, what else can he do? He doesn't know anything about this world or the carnival.

So, small steps it is. He lets Nic lead him to wherever they're going as he follows behind like a lost child. Strange can't help get distracted though, looking up at cars, at street lights, at every sort of technology that he has no idea what they are (because again, obviously 1800s).

"I hope you know where a store is, as I haven't a clue. Otherwise, we'll be walking around in circles."

[killsign]

Nic isn't looking up at Strange, so he has no idea he spoke at all. Not that it would make a difference. Nic leads Strange through an imaginary maze of the city, taking U-turns and loops and twists until Nic is hopelessly lost.

They really are just walking around in circles.

Nic stops mid-stride. He looks behind them. Okay. No agent in sight. But . . . where are they?

After a long pause, Nic shrugs and tugs Strange into the closest store to them. Whether or not it will actually help them out . . . that remains to be seen.

[kingsroads]

In between Nic turning them everywhere in order to lose the agent and Strange getting distracted by anything remotely modern, neither of them have any damn clue where they are, a fact which Strange realizes once Nic tugs him into the nearest store.

Thankfully, the store is a Rite Aid. But holy mess is Strange just blown away by everything. He's from the early 1800s. Things like this, the lights, the sheer amount of things packed in this one little store, it's something he never imagined in the first place.

While he didn't really change his appearance in the White Room, Strange was thankfully smart enough to pick up some money. They'll be able to pay for whatever notebook and pen they manage to find...once Strange stops getting distracted, that is. Now it's his turn to tug Nic towards something, as he spots some sort of horrible singing ninja hamster children's toy.

"Over here! Look at this odd little thing!"

And this is how the twelve year old became the actual adult of the duo.

[killsign]

Nic sure has grown up fast. Wide eyes behold the abomination that is kung fu fighting ninja hamster. All he sees is a mouse having a seizure.

It must be a weapon. That's the only explanation. Nic slowly, fearfully reaches out . . . and flicks its little swinging nunchucks. He shoots Strange a look, then presses the still-spazzing hamster to the adult's stomach.

Take this. his eyes seem to say, implied tone dry. It's dangerous out there.

[kingsroads]

Wide eyes also behold the kung fu fighting ninja hamster from Strange's end, though his are equal parts confusion as to how this thing worked and straight up bafflement at what it's purpose was. Obviously to entertain, but then what? Did you just play this tiny little hamster and watch it? Is it the equivalent of a music box?

He can't help but give Nic a wry smile as the hamster gets forced on him. "I suppose if worst comes to worst, I could throw it at someone," said as he lightly tosses the hamster in the air before catching it.

Because he's just been having so much trouble getting the Matrix to work, bending it around him the same way he would normally do magic. He'd give all the kingdoms in this world and Faerie just for the slightest ability to be able to do his damn magic here.

And would you look at that, as Strange tosses the hamster in the air, he gets a glimpse of some school supplies, including notebooks and markers, on a shelf further down. He gestures towards the school supplies with his free hand. Maybe now they'd be able to properly communicate.

[killsign]

Nic makes a beeline for the school supplies, a child on a mission. After nabbing the first notebook he sees, he swipes a magic marker and opens it up, right there in the store.

He flips it open and crudely writes:

NICOLAS BROWN
WATS YOR NAME?

Maybe "properly communicate" was putting it nicely.

[kingsroads]

Taking the notebook, Strange writes:

CONDENSED INTRODUCTION: JONATHAN STRANGE, ASHFAIR, MAGICIAN, PENINSULA.
PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, NICOLAS!

His penmanship is simultaneously flowery and messy. It's a bit illegible at certain points but hey, the overall message can be read. He gives Nicolas a little nod as he hands the notebook back, entirely unaware that parts of his condensed introduction don't entirely make sense.

But look, he's not going to write the whole thing down, that'd take time and use up space.