seasonsrpg | [OPEN] If you need a villain, or if you need a friend;

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[OPEN] If you need a villain, or if you need a friend;

WHO: Chipp and YOU!
WHAT: Event stuff!
WHEN: Event... time!!
WHERE: Around Nightwake
WARNINGS: Death, violence ~~and ROCK AND ROLL~~

[A - Cleaning up] (WINTER GUILD)

[Honestly? To be really, truly honest? Chipp's not here for spring cleaning.
He's only here for one thing - free stuff. The guild leaders had promised as much, saying they were giving out adventuring gear... so, far be it from him not to go and collect everything he can.

However, he's found himself cleaning anyway. ... Just not in the traditional sense.

But it's something that's a little hard to do on his own, so at some point, he grabs the nearest person with those metal claws of his.]

Hey. Think you can help me with somethin'? I can't tell ya too much what it is, sensitive info 'n all... don't wanna step on the guild leaders' toes, sayin' too much.
But I ain't gonna be able to hold it all by myself, me. Only got the two arms, 'n I need'em free for this.

[... Sounds ominous, considering literally everyone else is, you know, cleaning.]

[B - A helping hand]

[Stumbling in the dark? Unable to see? At risk from injury just due to running into things?
Scared? Alone? Uncertain?

None of these apply to Chipp. However, if they apply to someone else that he spots while walking through the darkened city, he's going to stop, take this person's hand, and press something into their palm -
Specifically, it's a Pokeball.]

Here. You can leave'im at Miyata Clinic after this all over.
He got fire moves, he glows, he'll keep ya safe.

His name's Clem.

[Even if Chipp doesn't know this person at all, he will still do this for them. Anyone who looks frightened, anyone who looks unable to help themself amongst this darkness... they're being blessed with one (1) Crocalor, who will watch over this person like a hawk.
Or... like a crocodile, in this case.]

... He likes oranges, if you wanna thank'im after this shit blows over.

[C - Collectathon] (cw: implied death/violence)

[Oh, this is rich. This is rich!
Something that's been on Chipp's mind, lately, has been an urge - one that he's been struggling harder and harder, day by day, to keep in. It's not an urge he's been proud of, but it's one he's dealt with all the same...

The urge to maim. To kill.

He felt this urge even during his first go around in Ellipsa, though he did his level best to keep that urge to himself. To not frighten the people he's met. To keep his loved ones safe.
But since returning, learning what he's had, dealing with so much heartbreak... it's like the world's been chipping away at the tiny, little jar where he's locked these urges up, just asking him to snap.

And today's the day!

The gangs, after all, have fucked up more than perhaps anyone in modern Ellipsan history - in their plans to cause a mess and chaos, under cover of darkness, they released all of Ellipsa's criminals onto the public... it was like dumping chum in the water and not expecting sharks to come eating.

It doesn't take long for him to figure out the jail's bracelet system. White bracelets meant the criminal was harmless, maybe a brat at most. Green was harmless, too - petty criminals, thieves, the like. Blue... could be talked down, for the most part, and it's impossible to say what crimes they've committed; it's easier to pretend they're as harmless as the rest, turn them into the police where he can.

But red?
As far as Chipp is concerned, red bracelets are targets.

Thankfully... no one will be wandering in on his activities. No risk of someone stumbling onto something they shouldn't see.
But there's a non-zero chance that someone will get to see the aftermath:
Chipp, spattered with blood, spinning a red bracelet around a metal claw as he approaches - the expression on his screen is just the big, empty eye, fuzzing out with static, as if his helmet can't parse what he's feeling in the slightest.]

... You seen anyone wearin' a bracelet like this?
I'm... collectin'em.

[So far, he has two. The one in his claws, which he's holding out to show whoever he's approached, and one that he's clipped to his belt.]

[D - Late night slasher] (closed to Bakugou)

[Speaking of criminals, blood, and sharks flooding the waters to eat -

There is a point where Chipp has managed to sniff out another red bracelet among the chaos... this one a bit more of a coward than the others he's found, but a red bracelet nonetheless. It means they're dangerous - they're a dangerous criminal, someone who'd been locked up for crimes that Chipp considers abhorrent, and that's all he needs to try and turn this man into nothing but a fine, red paste.

At some point, however, this man manages to scramble out of Chipp's range and absolutely book it down the sidewalk, nearly tripping over himself to get away as the Grim Reaper patiently walks behind him - Chipp knows there's no way this guy won't end up falling over, passing out, becoming an easy target once more... so he knows there's no need to rush, to run after him. To waste his own energy.

But this means there's ample space between them when the criminal turns a corner into an alleyway - "stupid," Chipp can't help but laugh to himself - disappearing into the darkness of it altogether.

...

And then there's a scream, as if something had been waiting in that alleyway for food to come running into the darkness and that red-bracelet made the perfect meal. The Grim Reaper, himself, takes that as a reason to run, speeding down the sidewalk and skidding as he turns the corner to see just what the hell happened to his target -

Only to lock eyes with a teenager at the back of the alleyway, hunched over the now unconscious criminal and dripping with blood.
He has no words for what he's found. Just straightens up, that screen of his cutting with static for a second as he draws his hatchet off of his belt, and levels Bakugou a look.]

[E - The end?]

[... Of course, in all of Chipp's limitless wisdom (read: stupid idiocy), he's forgotten about one teensy tiny, itty bitty, wee little fact:

He literally needs light to live.

That's how his magic is made, after all. When light hits an object, certain frequencies of it bounce off of it, which is the means with which people see color - and his body absorbs that reflected light, as well, converting it to magic outright.
Without enough light, his body won't get enough to make anymore of that magic. Even just a dimly lit room could be bad for him.
All he needs to do is breathe to burn through it. He is built entirely out of magic, after all - without it, he'll simply "unravel", falling apart into inert ashes that easily blow away in the wind.

And there's no way he wouldn't meet his limit, pushing himself as hard as he has.

At this point, if anyone manages to find him... they wouldn't be blamed for assuming he's dead outright.
So close to being out of magic as he is, he's fallen unconscious, slumped against a building... and, as he's always been, he's completely without a pulse. That screen of his, usually bright and lively and glowing, is dark - and his prosthetic, usually burning with magic itself, is powerless, disconnected. The forearm lays a little bit away, as if someone kicked it like a can while passing by.

It's fine, though... it's fine. Even if he ends up in the Flower Yard... he's already reasoned with himself that unraveling would be okay, at this point. He managed to grab four of those red bracelets. That's enough for him.
Even if he unravels, at least he managed that.]

[ooc: WOW i write way too much. anyway - if none of these prompts suit you, please hit me up in a PM or ping me in the game discord! And please stick with brackets for me, my dyslexia really doesn't play nice with prose. Thank you ❤]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Um. I'm on fire because I need it to see? And then I found you unconscious, and you weren't responding to anything, but when I brightened my flames to try to see if you had injuries your monitor started crackling a little, so I just assumed that more fire would help?

[He's gonna take a moment, here, to look down at his hand and flex it like he's making sure his body still works... listening to her talk as he does, of course.]

... You -
You brought me a light...

[That's not what she said, but okay, sure. He even sounds touched, saying it. Doofus.]

Uhh... k-keep it up. I should prolly take my helmet off... 's usin' up my magic -
Could... couldja help me with that? Only got the one hand...

[The prosthetic still isn't on yet. It's like he's got enough magic to stay conscious, but not yet enough to provide it for everything else.]

Yeah, I brought you a light.

[Evangeline nods, and goes to lift the helmet up off his head, assuming it comes off straightforwardly like that.]

[It does indeed! There's a little bit of resistance, just thanks to how snug the hole that goes over his head is, but otherwise? It just comes right off, nice and easy.
And heavy. That thing is heavy. Not something Evangeline can't handle, but still - how does he not have a constant neckache...??]

... Merci. Thank you - I mean it. I-I...
N-needed it. I needed it...

[His head dips a bit as he admits as much, and even though his face is flat as ever underneath his helmet... it's still noticeable, the way his brow scrunches up like he's sad he had to admit it at all.]

[It's pretty damn heavy. She sets the helmet carefully on the ground next to him - she doesn't want to damage it.

Evangeline looks at him for a moment, then leans in to kiss his lips, very briefly. She's not expecting him to respond and doesn't really give him the chance to before she pulls away.]

Sorry, I know you don't like kissing, but... I'm really relieved you're okay.

[- The kiss, as light and brief as it is, still gets a wide-eyed look from him, his brow pinching together as a bright, glowing orange blush starts to crawl across his face.
But... he's not going to just leave that.
Evangeline gets out her apology, and it spurs him on - reaching out to grab the front of her EGO suit, just so he can pull her in to return it as best he can.

... Which means it's very quick and very chaste, but still, it's a kiss, right??]

It -- I --
I ain't hate it, no... just - a-ain't... good at it.

[And then his expression scrunches up even more, letting go of her shirt as he looks away.]

... Mais... thank you. Again.
'M glad I'm okay, too.

[Oh! She's being smooched! Evangeline blinks at him momentarily before breaking out in a smile bright enough to rival the fire around them.]

Any time.

How much light do you need? I'll glow as bright as I can for you.

[It was the softest, gentlest, chastest smooch - but a smooch nonetheless!!]

Mmm... this should be good, but -
You think you could... walk me home?

If I'm gonna sit 'round recoverin', I'd rather do it on my cot, me.

[... Because of course his shed has a fold-up, army-barracks-style cot rather than an actual bed to sleep on. Why wouldn't it??]

[It was extremely cute! Her heart feels soft.]

Yeah, of course! I'll escort you home like a proper gentlelady. The ground's no place to take a nap anyway.

[She offers him a hand to help himself up with.]

[That hand is taken, of course; he trusts she can handle his weight as he stands, no big deal.
He's, like, 300lbs but it's probably find.]

Ouais, yeah... 'n I'd rather be somewhere with walls.

[...

Now that he's standing, the hand is also not let go of. His hand now, sorry.]

[Evangeline's not complaining! She gives his hand a little squeeze.]

Of course. -Oh, excuse me, one sec.

[She unzips her purse and then... It's pretty difficult to pick up his helmet one-handed, but she does manage it, and it disappears into the hammerspace purse as easily as anything else does.]

Wouldn't want to leave that behind. Am I forgetting anything else?

Hand.

[Said nice and plain, as if it's, like, obvious what he means.
It's fine, though - the forearm of his prosthetic may be laying on the ground, but he can just scoop it up! With his magic!
So he'll hold out his hand to just that!

...

It's clearly a little difficult, despite the ease of which he used his magic last time she'd seen it from him. But he at least manages to get those claws of his up into grabbing range, so it can be put into her purse as well.]

Oh! Right!

[Up and into the purse it goes, and then Evangeline zips it shut.]

Alright, all ready. It's not too long a walk back to your place.

[They're in the right district and everything, which simplifies matters. Still holding his hand, she starts in that direction, slowly at first to make sure he doesn't have trouble moving.]

[The slow start to her walk is appreciated, considering he does seem to be a bit slow about it, himself.
At least to start with... just for now.]

Fuck... been a long time since I last felt like this. Ain't used to not... healin' up.
Stupid shit, lettin' myself get this bad.

Hey. [She squeezes his hand again.]. I do wish you’d gotten help earlier… But you don’t have to beat yourself up about it.

[Sometimes it’s hard to ask for help, or it gets worse than you expected faster than you expected, or a bunch of other reasons that aren’t being stupid.]

... If I got help earlier, folks woulda told me to stop.

[Said as he watches her from the side of his eye while they walk, though that little squeeze of his hand is returned.]

I didn't wanna stop for nothin'. I still don't -
Only reason I am is so I don't got folks lecturin' me when I pop outta the Flower Yard.

…I wouldn’t lecture you. I’d just be upset.

[She doesn’t have the right to lecture anyone about dying in easily preventable ways, after all.]

What if I go with you, next time? So you have light and you don’t have to stop.

You wanna come watch while I rip folks open?

[That, then, does get him to look at her properly - complete with tilting his head a little, eyes wide.
Were he wearing his helmet... the expression on his screen wouldn't be a fun one. Not a bad one. But not a fun one.]

... I know you could handle it, Miss Evangeline - but you really wanna be complicit in somethin' like that?

-You know, at home in the Backstreets, the laws weren’t enforced? We didn’t have prisons or trials. You had the gangs exerting control over their territory, and you had people taking revenge, and that was all there was to dissuade people from becoming serial killers.

[Evangeline speaks evenly, quietly, not looking at Chipp.]

I hear a lot about prisons, and mercy, and rehabilitation… But to me, if you kill someone, you should be prepared to be killed yourself. That’s just how the world is supposed to work.

...

Ain't just other killers I go after.
Anyone who hurts someone else bad enough... 'specially if the one they hurt can't fight back.
Those're the folks I go for.

[His tone's a little softer, and again, he gives her hand the gentlest, gentlest squeeze.]

... You ever met Duval while he was runnin' 'round here?

No, I didn't.

[She squeezes his hand back, reassuring. She assumes he's about to tell her he killed him, but the idea of Chipp killing a random person she doesn't know isn't enough to trigger any upset in her.]

Damn - too bad. He was pretty fun, won't lie.
I liked'im a lot! One o' the ones I miss. 'S too damn bad.
You can guess what I did to'im, though. 'S why I had that basement in the first place...
I got the house expansion to make it, just for that.

[A short, little pause, almost in thought.]

... 'S a shame I got rid o' the chair I used for it, too. I think you woulda liked it, maybe; had good wrist straps 'n shit.

But, ehh... my point is - there ain't no one out there that's safe.
If you ended up fallin' from grace, hurtin' someone bad enough when they couldn't fightcha back... I'd kill you, too.

[There's probably, like, an implied heart emoji in his tone, there. If he were wearing his helmet, he'd definitely be smiling, at least.]

Huh.

[Evangeline turns this over in her head a bit. Really gives it all the consideration it deserves.]

Well, that could happen? I don't think I'd do that while in my right mind, but I'm not immune to mental damage or EGO corrosion, and that tends to involve lashing out violently at everyone around me.

Dying here isn't permanent, so that'd suck, but I'd get over it... Um, but, I've been informed that other people get upset when I get hurt or die? So people would probably get mad at you.

[Which is her biggest concern, over not wanting to die.]

'S fine with me. Folks're always mad at me, anyhow.
Ain't like I lived my life fulla friendship 'n joy, y'know.

My death ain't been any happier, neither.

[Just. Saying that as plain as possible, of course. Like, the idea of being mass hated really does not bother him at all.
That's his preference. He WANTS to be mass hated.]

... 'Course, if you worried, we could write up a pact.
You go crazy, then I'm allowed to kill ya. Folks get mad about it, I show'em the papers.

Well, I would be upset about people hating you because of me, even if you're fine with it.

[She likes Chipp and doesn't want him to be hated!]

-A contract doesn't sound like a bad idea, though. It is good to know that someone wouldn't hesitate to stop me if I snapped.

[OPEN] If you need a villain, or if you need a friend;

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... i need yet more helmetless icons, turns out

I apologize profusely

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im so sorry he's like this

i love him so much

even tho he was suggesting he'd have fucked her on the Murder Chair?

yes. she'd have been into it.

chipp like "note to self: more murder to make the shed sexier"

delightful.

Re: delightful.

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