estoria | [OPEN]

Entry tags:

[OPEN]

Who: maruko "marco" reiji (

drinkscola) and you!!!
When: 08.02
Where: various places
What: marco being uncool... also guns, soda, and a football
Rating/Warning: mild language, but otherwise nothing for now!

a.

[ welcome to the gun show

or a gun range, more specifically. here's a guy dressed in a pinstripe suit (actually a school uniform, thank you), lifting a sig sauer p226 towards a target. he's done his homework such that his stance and grip are correct, but... experience tends to trump textbook knowledge. he sweats, manages to keep his hand from trembling, and squeezes the trigger.

BANG.

and holy shit, even with protective earmuffs, that's loud as fuck and the resulting kick is even more startling. while the bullet's hit its mark, marco doesn't quite notice as he yelps and drops the weapon; it clatters to the floor wherein it sets off again.

BANG.

whoops. at least that one hit the wall and not a person. he's immediately looking around to make sure no one heard that, much less witnessed it. ]

b: shopping district.

[ well that had been rough and embarrassing— time for some caffeinated, sugary calories. after fishing out his wallet, selecting coca-cola and swiping his card, a single cola tumbles out.

except, after that's been retrieved, the sodas don't stop coming. they continue to cascade out of the machine one-by-one, rolling on the surrounding pavement in a variety of directions. ]

What the hell, I'd say—!!

[ the vending machine continues until it's empty of every can. ]

c: shopping district, part 2.

[ during his hour of waiting for a maintenance bot to show (it won't), marco's taken to building an elaborate pyramid structure. he kind of half-expects something to come along and obliterate it, so he won't be too surprised when that happens. it's been a painful waste of time.

he fixes another can to its side. ]

Geez, what is up with CERES lately...

[ he gets being forced to live in a dystopia, okay, but an inefficient one sucks. ]

d: entertainment/pleasure district.

[ as someone who usually practices alone, even back home, it might be useful to scope out talent. temporarily useful, as marco knows none of this should actually stick. once he's spied someone that looks physically capable of regularly withstanding tackles and somewhat unoccupied (by which he means, unoccupied hands), he's raising his football. ]

Here. Catch, I'd say.

[ whether you like it or not, it's beamed toward your torso. hey, be grateful or something that at least he didn't beam it at your head!! ]

e: boutique; closed to kashuu.

[ okay, in-between being broke (a relative adjective) and newcomers and gross cybuddies and avoiding the hell out of everyone due to those memory shenanigans, marco's finally traversed somewhere beautifully expensive with intent. upon entering, impressed already, he'll approach someone that looks to work there. ]

Hey, I'm Marco. [ potentially useless information, okay. moving on: ] And I'm looking for someone named Kashuu Kiyomitsu...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

History is important. You can learn from it, you know?

[ seriously, he couldn't put more emphasis on that word if he tried... even if it appears to be falling on deaf ears. as a student that goes to a school that specializes in paleontology, of all subjects, it's held sacred.

but kaneda appears to have moved on, so— ]

Who the hell is Tetsuo...

[another flap of the hand, a little more agitated now because he's being lectured about school and then he went and brought up Tetsuo]

A piece of shit I used to be buddies with. He got fucked over and then fucked over the rest of us. Went crazy. Did worse shit to Japan.

... You're being pretty scant on details here, I'd say.

[ "how did he get fucked over" "how did he fuck you over" "what do you mean by going crazy" "how could he do worse shit to japan"— all on the tip of the tongue. ]

This something you don't like talking about? [ too soon, maybe?? ]

You weren't there and ain't gonna be born-- er, you're gonna be dead, maybe? So why's it matter? [again with the history, jeeeeeez

Kaneda gets more and more riled up, shoulders jutted up]

It's whatever, I ain't a pussy who gets all whiny about it. He just...he fucked us over, he killed one of us, and fucked the world over. And he's got a big head.

... Of course I won't be dead. [ the "maybe" allowed room for disagreement. ] I still have stuff to get done.

[ just sayin'. unless he's assassinated, or killed on the field (he supposes that's a possibility, too), he doesn't plan on dying just yet, apocalyptic wars or not. if shit gets bad in japan, he's zipping on over to italy. ]

So, what are you going to do about it? Kill him?

Like what? Learn how to properly use a gun?

[scoffs bc that's not going to happen]

Yeah. I'm gonna kill him. I let him get that bad, so I'm gonna take him out.

One of many things, actually.

[ he doesn't let the scoff and clear condescension bother him this time. marco arcs a brow at the next statement— it was an anticipated answer. and while he didn't exactly pin kaneda for the "hotheaded protagonist" type, something about that reply still alludes him.

he almost laughs, but it's not really that funny. ] And here I thought you might say something foolhardy, like, "No, I'm going to change for him the better." For someone that's allegedly screwed with Japan so badly, killing him sounds like a tall order.

Touch a tit too, I see.

[says this as if he truly understands this. with just a sprinkle of pity. now that's different.

the scowl, on the other hand, doesn't stop. he squeezes his hands into fists, wishing tetsuo were here to take 'em.]

What am I, a chick? You can't change people. He's gotta be taken down like a dog. It's a tall order but it's mine.

I can say with certainty I've touched more than you have.

[ absolute confidence, there.

and marco's noting this body language; the motion of clenched fists is telling. he won't empathize, permitting his emotions to keep a cool distance. more accurately, he doesn't want to imagine it. ]

Kaa~ I see, I see. I wish you the best of luck in this endeavor, then. [ he lifts his gun to it. cheers, mate. ]

Ah, the delusions of a broken man. How sad.

[it's interesting how he can say all this with so much certainty, with so much smugness...the little bastard. Even at a time when he's so angry.]

I don't need luck, I've got skill. But thanks anyway.

[ ...

and there marco has to check himself again; lord, it's as if everytime he speaks with this guy, he's going to be dragged into some childish war of immature insults. he really wants to be above it. ]

You're welcome. [ perhaps in sharp contrast to his companion, his smile widens. and that's that. he's unsure if kaneda would appreciate a change of topic, or even reciprocate, but he goes for it anyway. after meaningfully glancing towards his target and back again: ] —So. You must be a good shot, huh?

[ if the condescension thrown his way meant anything... ]

[face the facts.....

a lazy-ass shrug of the shoulders. It doesn't matter to him, none of that shit. Except killing Tetsuo. This guy wouldn't understand a manly mission like this. Friendship like this that sours.]

I'm damn good, yeah. I've had plenty of practice.

Kill a lot of people in your time?

[ an arc of an eyebrow. he might be less chill about that question if, for instance, a gun was being pointed at him... but alas. ]

Not the one that matters.

[that's pretty vague for this pain in the ass.]

What's it to ya? What's the point of using a gun...its for killing.

For sport, for starters. Quick draw, CAS, biathlon, steel challenges...

[ he would go on, but he realizes the original question's been dodged. ]

Is that a "no", then?

Steel challenges? Doesn't sound like it involves tough balls.

[huffs]

It's a fuck off.

[ a shrug. ] The gist of it is that, within thirty seconds, you try to hit as many steel plates as quickly and accurately as you can. Semi-automatic rifles are best for it, I'd say.

[ that's a no. weird, though: he thought kaneda would more openly brag about something like that— even if a lie. or perhaps he's just not as proud of it as he'd seemed initially... ]

I see... Don't worry, I'm not going to rat on you.

Oooohhh, that thing! That doesn't matter when a buncha supercharged fuckers are coming after you. That's more for fun.

[ok but here is the bragging you've been waiting for.

also the hard scowl, a shove of his shoulders]

I don't give a damn who you tell what. No one's gonna believe a goodie goodie like you.

[ what the... he hadn't anticipated that accusation. but he can't say he isn't pleased with it, somehow; appearing innocent isn't not a perk, even if he does fashion himself after the mafia. ]

I would think they'd believe me because I'm a "goodie goodie". Why would I have a reason to lie about that?

[fuck...he's got him there. Kaneda Struggles]

Yeah but you lot exaggerate. Also, you're a douche.

Am I.

[ flatly, without inquiry. ... yes, okay, he's kind of a douche. he knows he hasn't exaggerated, though. ... when it comes to things that matter in the slightest, anyway. ]

May I ask how I've offended you? [ "kaneda-chan" would go here, if he knew his name. ]

Your breathing. Your whole slick deal. You're a shithead.

[seems like it makes enough sense. crosses his arms over his chest]

A goodie goodie, a douche, and a shithead...

[ he's kind of??? complimented??? kaneda admits he's slick. thank you for that. ]

One of these things aren't like the others, it seems.

The fact that you're still talkin' like you know jack shit sure wiggles its way into that list.

[dryly

don't feel flattered, dick]

Oh?

[ now, kaneda's got him there. marco hadn't thought he'd been pretending— much less about anything in particular. ]

What am I talking about like I know jack shit, hm? [ not without a tone as if speaking to someone a bit slow. it's a sincere question, at least. ]

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