morirelogs | (no subject)

Who: Mituna and Mukuro
When: 2nd of January
Where: Streets of Vizzini Sicily, Italy
What: Unfortunate Meeting
Warnings: PG-13 for cursing.

The weather was perfect.

Okay, maybe by other people’s standards it wasn’t so great, but, when it came to him, he thought it was the perfect time to try out some skateboarding moves. It was a challenge that he was more than willing to accept because, hey, what could possibly happen?

Mituna was his name. He was normally quite the eye catcher. Fortunately (or, rather, unfortunately), thanks to the heavy rain, he was concealed by the billions of little droplets falling from the cloudy sky. His bright yellow suit was only a pathetic dull shade in the shower and he was pretty muddy from tumbling in a murky puddle just a few minutes ago.

It also probably didn’t help that he was now propelling across the street straight towards a nearby railing. Apparently, no one informed him of the dangers of slippery steel bars (or he’d just decided to ignore his better judgment) because he soon went flying literally into the air and down, down, down until he landed on a…

Wait, what was that? A pineapple? Holy shit, this was going to hurt.

And it did.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rainy weather like this was the worst time for any thief to be about, unless they were bold and-or reckless. Mukuro was neither, and so after making a futile round of the city, he had begun to hurry back to his decrepit lodgings in the less savoury part of town. And of course, his quick eyes hadn't failed to notice the skateboarder zooming towards him. He'd thought that he'd be quick enough to cross the street before they caught up to him, but apparently his judgement was somewhat impaired today, and he underestimated their incompetence.

Merda--!

Mukuro and the yellow hazard collided painfully, the weight of the other propelling him face-first into the mud. Almost immediately he was twisting and kicking to get them off him, spitting out foul-tasting water and cursing.

"What the fuck, cazzo?!"

“ASDJFK;ASDFASF SADF;FJ WH47 7H3 FUCK”

The cry of complete and utter outrage was apparent as he’d quickly rolled away from the kicking and punching. “7H47 FUCK1NG HUR757H 4557H7H0L3,” he snapped, sitting upright on the wet ground, “W47CH WH3R3 Y0UR3 W1GGL1NG” Mituna pushed himself up, snatching his overturned skateboard. He was now even more muddy and soaked, if that was actually possible. Wiping the grime from his face, he flicked it away with his gloved hand, a displeased expression clearly visible.

“WH47 4R3 Y0U 3V3N D01NG 0U7 H3R3 1N 7H17H W347H3R” Not that he really cared to know the answer, but he hadn't expected anyone to be wandering around outside anymore. It was one thing for him to be considering he had no place else to go – not even a shack to hole up in. But, unless this kid was like him, he should be somewhere with a roof over his head. Shaking out his boots, he dropped his board back down onto the pavement, planting his boot firmly on top of it. “83 M0R3 C4R3FUL”

Mukuro also gets to his feet, his one good jacket and set of clothes dripping with mud and rain water while his anger positively seethed from his pores. If he could, he'd be steaming the water around him, because there was no way in hell that he was going to find such nice clothes any time soon. The pitiful wages he earned at his part-time job went mostly to food and bare essentials.

"Who's the fuckin' asshole here, asshole? I shoul' be askin' you wha'the hell yer doin' skatin' in th'rain." The teen glared at the obnoxiously-dressed skater. Okay, so maybe he shouldn't have run out at the precise moment the guy was trying for the rails, but he'd never admit that. It's not like he couldn't have seen such bright yellow amidst all the grey. Taking an aggressive step forward, he clenched his fist as if he were about to punch the other boy.

"Watch where y'go wi' that board nex'time," he snarled. "Or'll punch tha' helmet o' yers in."

Edited 2012-10-29 09:24 (UTC)

“WH47 D0 Y0U 7H1NK 1M D01NG,” he said, not even bothering to hide the aggravation in his voice, “1 4M 7357H7H1NG 0U7 R4D M4NU3V34R57H 1N CH4LL3NG1NG 47M057HPH3R1C C0ND1710N57H R374RD” He made a wild gesture up at the gloomy sky. “57H0P W457H7H1NG MY 71M3 W17H 7HUP1D QUE57H0N 1 M34N 57H17 WH47 D1D 1 JU57H W4LK 1N70,” he practically spat out, “4 G4M3 0F 7W3N7Y QU357H10N57H” If this boy thought he could scare him, then he was dead wrong. There was no way he was going to feel intimidated by someone who resembled a prickly yellow fruit.

“1 W3LC0M3 Y0U 70 7RY 7HR0W1NG 7H4G PUNCH 700” A feral grin covered his face as he responded to his advances with one of his own. “L375H 533 1F 17 D0357HN7 1F 17 D0357N7” Fuck. His spazzing was starting again. The older teen began to twitch, a distraught look replacing the once present smirk. He couldn’t stop himself whenever his condition kicked up and it happened to kick up sporadically. “ASDJKF;ASDF SADFJK;F SJKDFLSF” The spastic noise of a computer system going haywire could be heard through the patter of the raindrops against the ground, his movement becoming more unstable and rapid. Then, as sudden as a flash of lightning, he stopped, his hand reaching up to rub his helmet. “FUCK 7H17H 57H17 FUCK17Y FUCKFUCH FUCK”

He'd grinned back, about to brace himself to take on the dare and throw out a punch regardless, but then the kid had just started spazzing and he'd stopped, wary. Mukuro was not sure what to make of it. Was he on drugs or something? Great, just what he needed. A druggie who wore loud clothes and talked like Darth Vader.

"Y'spastic or somethin'?" he asked with some scorn. He didn't have patience for those pitiful members of society who either couldn't help themselves or made themselves incapable of it. "Y'got some nerve tryin' t'threaten some'un." Mukuro went up to him while he was still rubbing his head and shoved forcefully.

Mituna didn’t even have time to react before he felt himself tumbling back onto the wet ground. A snarl erupted from his lips as a wide range of censored vocabulary soon followed afterward. “G0D D4MN P1L3 0F 57H1757H41N 534LF3C357H SADF;AJSD ASDF 4R3 Y0U L00K1NG F0R 4 M07H34RF0UCK1NG D347HW157H 83C4U57H Y0U JU7 34RN3D 17” The spazzing returned at the suddenness of his rage, cutting in between his speech with momentary fits of twitching. His screen instantly became illuminated by successive flashes of red and blue lights as he managed to get back on his feet. “1 4M G01NG 70 FUCK1NG CULL Y0U PI3C3 0F PI3C3 0F ASJDKF;ASDF LASDKFJ FUCK 5UCK MY PUL7H47H1NG 8ULG3”

Making a particularly obscene gesture with his finger, he set his foot on top of his skateboard, kicking it straight towards him in an attempt to knock him down. He doubted it would be very effective, but he was prepared with Plan B. If he could remember what Plan B was first – Oh, right. Pulling his arm back, he curled his hand into a tight fist before he aimed it directly for h— HO SHIT WRONG WAY WRONG WAY SLIPPERY PUDDLE WHERE THE HELL DID YOU COME FROM ASJDF;KASJDFASDF PHOENIX FUCKING DOWN

Mukuro barked a laugh and shook his head, flinging heavy water droplets off his long fringe. The rain scattered off his hair in a shower but water simply continued to drench him. A part of him knew that he ought to get out of the cold and get dry and warm as quickly as possible - the common cold could easily spell death for street rats. It was easy to quickstep out of the way of the other as they tumbled for the third time to the ground, then he leaned over them and smirked freely. There wasn't much to see of the tuft at the back of his head now, sodden as it was.

"S'that all y'got, Banana Peel?" he asked tauntingly. "I'm still waitin'."

“WH0 4R3 Y0U C4LL1NG 4 84N4N4 P33L”

Swinging his leg out, Mituna gave another shot at tripping the obnoxious, little brat. He was going to have to pray that good fortune was on his side for once. Frankly, he had never had much trouble in Vizzini up until now. Fights were common on the streets, but he’d usually managed to avoid getting directly involved in the affairs. It was none of his business and he liked to keep it that way, especially since he had more important things to do.

Then, there was the obvious fact that he wasn’t mentally built for battles anymore. He used to be, but that was a long time ago (or at least it felt like a long time ago). His only form of defense was actually more of a burden than anything else, so that was completely out of the question. Now, his life pretty much depended on either absconding on his skateboard or handing out some intense smack downs with it.

Mukuro deftly skipped out of the way and laughed. The sound didn't travel far in the rain, but it was still loud. If everyone weren't inside sheltering from the rain, he might have brought down the local law enforcement on himself. He still might, if he didn't hurry on his merry way.

"Careful," he sneered, "y'wouldn' wan' others t'step on yous an' lose their footin'." Contemptuously, he aimed a kick at the fallen boy's side. It really was a pity the kid seemed spastic; Mukuro would have liked to have a tussle with them. Brawn was pretty much the only way to earn any respect on the streets, and while he didn't look it, there was strength in his slim arms. Sure, he couldn't out-muscle any of the real fighters, but that's where his cunning came in handy.