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

[fauxbot]

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 ❤]

Comments

[fauxbot]

Sure, but you gotta promise you'd tell me if ya got all worn out -
'Long as we got light, I heal up real fast-fast! Folks get sick o' fightin' me, back home, even though we all heal like that.
"Too tanky", they say.

[But he's still here for the idea, frankly. A good sparring match against someone who can keep up, only to then fuck it all out because she's also someone he trusts??
Sign him up, yes please.]

[abnormalizes]

Sounds like a fun challenge! But I'll definitely tell you when I need to tap out, I can go for a while but not forever.

[...well, he already knows that, though.]

[fauxbot]

Oh, for sure.

[Don't perceive the fact that he's swinging their arms a little as they walk, by the way. He might be doing that, but like, don't acknowledge it, it's fine.
He's simply Happy, that's all.]

... Maybe I oughtta start keepin' snacks in the shed. Snacks that ain't mine, I mean.
You the kinda gal who likes takin' snack breaks?

[abnormalizes]

[It's cute! He's cute.]

Oh, yeah, definitely. I always have some in my purse so I can refuel whenever, but I won't say no to your hospitality.

[fauxbot]

Well, if 's hospitality you want... then maybe I oughtta go whole hog 'n cook for ya, someday.
Still gonna stock on good snacks, 'course. But I mean...

You ain't come from some kinda Earth, right? You prolly got no idea the kinda food I grew up eatin'.

[And he'd love a chance to share something just a teensy, tiny bit more vulnerable with her like that.
It'd be his grandmother's recipes he'd be sharing, after all.

Sorry, Evangeline. He's a goopy kind of motherfucker, this way.]

[abnormalizes]

I'm not from Earth, but the food here is relatively familiar to me? But I'd love to experience your cooking.

[Food is part of home, and sharing your home with someone means a lot.]

[fauxbot]

The food we made back home was, eh... particular. Real particular! Unless you wanna tell me those Backstreets o' yours were hidin' the entirety of Louisiana in'em, I dunno how easy it woulda been for your world just stumble 'cross that kinda cuisine...
But that just means I wanna share it with ya even more.

[Food is also, like, his main love language. Chipp struggles to get across how he feels for his friends, sometimes, but there's no way to miss those feelings when he's gone and made them a big, warm meal.

Or killed someone for them.
But mostly the first thing.]

[abnormalizes]

I don't think so! I'd love to try it. Thank you, Chipp, you're sweet.

[They were just talking about how he'd murder her without hesitation if she fit his criteria, but she maintains that he is still sweet. She gives his hand a squeeze.]