Picky Minch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
imjustpicky) wrote2011-10-20 03:09 am
imjustpicky) wrote2011-10-20 03:09 am
Entry tags:
01 - I Believe in Second Chances
[Evenings were coming earlier and getting colder in Onett, but that didn't stop Picky from taking his usual place on the hilltop. The meteor was long-gone, the crater partially filled in and covered with grass, but the place was still... important. He had made sandwiches, bologna with mustard on white bread, and taken them along. Three of them. One for him, two for...
The two always wound up being for him, too. But maybe...
So he ate his sandwich, and watched the sunset, and played with his Game Boy, and waited. When sunset became stars, he watched those, too. And when the temperature took a sudden drop, he pulled his hands into the sleeves of his sweater and wrapped a camping blanket around himself. Tonight... he had a really good feeling about tonight. Tonight, Pokey would come back, and he'd be really happy to have sandwiches waiting for him. Then he'd explain everything. And he'd say that he missed him. And he'd have his big brother back. And things would be better.
Under the sweater and blankets, Picky was warm and cozy and comfortable. Comfortable enough to eventually lie down, curl up, and drift off to sleep.]
---
[Locked to household at 7132 Brooks Lane, Morning]
[Picky isn't sure where he is when consciousness starts coming back to him. He's warm, and comfortable, and not outside in the grass all dew-soaked and chilled... which wasn't what he expected, once his thoughts began to gather.
Had someone come and taken him home...? But who would ever bother to do that?
He cracks one eye open, meaning to check the time on his alarm clock, but his alarm clock wasn't there. Or any of his other things. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't his room. Wakefulness is coming back to him, and how. He rubs his eyes, throws aside the blankets, and stumbles across the unfamiliar floor.]
H-hey...?
[The only conclusion he can come to is that he has been KIDNAPPED. Didn't they warn about this sort of stuff on that one day of the year when the police came to school and handed out pamphlets? They totally warned about this sort of stuff. But his kidnapper was dumb. His kidnapper had left a baseball bat in the room. Brandishing it, still in his jammies, he advanced into the household.]
[Phone - Morning]
[The voice on the phone is a whisper.]
Hey. Is this 911? The police? I'm... My name is Picky Minch. I've been kidnapped, and I'm being held hostage by... by really weird people.
They keep calling me "son". They're not my parents. It's creepy, it's really creepy.
[There's a sudden, sharp intake of breath, and then the voice becomes muffled as though someone is holding a hand over the receiver.]
Nothing... I'm not talking to anyone! B-breakfast? I'm... I'm not hungry!
[The line eventually un-muffles. The boy sighs.]
Can you hurry? They're trying to make me eat oatmeal. Yuck!
[Action A - School]
[Despite his protests, Picky's drone mother had handed him a lunch and a book bag and shooed him out the door to go to school. Experience had told him that it was almost always a bad idea to miss school... so even if this wasn't his town? And wasn't his school? What choice did he have but to attend?
So here's the new kid, sitting at his desk, looking slightly stunned. Or in the cafeteria at a table by himself, slightly stunned. Or in the playground off to one side, slightly stunned.
He's still not sure if this is actually happening.]
[Action B - Around Town, Afternoon]
[School is out, and there's this really strange town to explore. So Picky is off exploring it. He's peering in store windows, stepping on crunchy leaves with gusto, staring at the drones as they go about their business.... And shyly avoiding eye-contact with the people that act real-er. The bangs make it pretty easy.]
[action]
Yeah, they're....let's say programmed to repeat that crap. They believe it.
They'll be gone eventually. Actual people will replace them.
[Pokey thinks for a moment on how to answer that. Really, how is the town not dangerous? He's been here so long that it's kind of hard describing it to someone who hasn't been. An outsider.
And it's so weird thinking of you as an outsider, Picky.]
...Two things.
About every month or every other month, and especially on holidays, something will....happen. The people running the town will cause something to happen, and it's always bad and almost always dangerous. People can get killed Picky.
[No. He won't tell you people come back when they die yet. Because even though he thinks that's enough to hopefully keep you practical in what you might try to do...he doesn't want to reveal that information that dying just ends with waking up the next morning.]
And then there's the town. Most of the people are....good. [It feels so weird saying that.] But there's a lot who are real jackholes, and some of them are powerful.
And some of them don't like me.
Get it?
[action]
[This situation is strange. And despite what he picked up during his brief time on the phones, he trusts Pokey to...
Well, this isn't the kind of time that Pokey would lie and bluster to make himself look more awesome, right? This was too important for that, right? He wanted to trust his brother.]
...killed?!
[That's even worse than the robots. Now he's pulling back, looking scared. He listens to the rest, giving little nods all the while.
And then there's a long pause, before he nods rapidly to show that he understands. Even if he's not completely sure that he does. Lots of people didn't like Pokey, in his experience...
...but last he heard from his brother, he'd gone off to the big city and done... weird things...]
I get it. It's like before. You're... a big shot? Right? So everyone's got an eye on you? Especially bad guys?
[action]
[And the fact that he doesn't know what happens to drones, especially people he know who've been droned? Bugs him. A lot.
Pokey just nods his head.]
Right. They mean serious business here, Picky. This isn't like the crap going on back home. They're real honest to god villains who don't care about how bad they hurt you, they're going to do it anyway.
[Wow. Pokey isn't really sure how to even begin to address this. Time has clearly passed, but Picky didn't know who he really was? Ness never really filled him in? He guesses he can understand that, considering how kind-hearted Ness is, that he wouldn't want to tell Picky what a jackass his older brother really was.
The problem now is if Pokey can bring himself to tell his little brother that. To tell him the truth on the matter, about how god-awful he was, or lie for his sake.
Picky deserves to know what actually happened. Pokey fully believes that.]
.....Yeah. I'm a big shot. So I don't want you to have to get over run because of how well-known I am, especially by the jerks out there.
[But he can't do it.
Not now. And it's just so much easier.]
[action]
[He's smart! He totally gets it! And he needs to remind Pokey that he's smart. It's been a while.]
Why would they have... [...have you here? Me here?] ...have us here? All that stuff back home, it's done. Ness and his friends... fixed it.
[Ness had explained a few things. Very few, and very vaguely. There were bad aliens, he beat them, and then Pokey wrote Ness a really mean letter... Picky knew that there was something really big that he hadn't been told. He had spent that year filling the gap with wild imaginings and bizarre assumptions.
Like, maybe Pokey was with the mob. That's what you did in the big city when you were getting up to bad stuff, right?]
I knew it! I knew you were doing something big! So... so I can't tell anyone who I am? Anyone? What do I tell them?
[This was totally confirming his mob theory. Totally winning out over the one that had to do with aliens and the meteor and a hive full of space-bees...]
[action]
[He just sighs, running a hand through his hair. Dammit, Picky...]
Yeah. They're kinda like zombies except they don't eat brains.
[Well, your previous theory was far closer to the truth Picky, though the space-bees part may have been a bit of a stretch even in that story. Though hey. Pokey would have to admit the idea of a mobster still kind of appealed to him.]
Make up a different name for yourself. We can still....be around each other, you just can't let people know we're that connected to one another.
[Really? This is kind of a blessing to you Picky, at least in Pokey's mind. He's always thought you'd be better off if you were able to cut yourself off from being connected with the Minch family.
In a weird way, he's giving that to you now.]
[action]
[It felt really good to actually be understanding things. Even if he didn't actually understand at all. So Pokey was a mobster and rivals were out for him, so...]
A new name?
[And he's not sure what to think about that. Nothing is coming to him immediately. But it makes perfect sense, and he had already had a moment or two of thought of calling himself something else entirely.]
I'll think of one. Uh... that's hard, thinking of a new name.... but we can hang out? Right? Really?
[His name meant nothing if he and Pokey could go and do stuff together again. Picky's excitement is almost a tangible thing that fills the room.]
[action]
[If there is one of the few things the brothers can agree on, it's their distaste for oatmeal. Pokey's just as disgusted by the prospect as Picky is.
He nods a bit, rolling his eyes.]
Oh, for-
It doesn't have to be anything amazing. Just call yourself the first thing that comes to mind.
[Pokey gives off an exaggerated sigh, his whole head rolling in response to that question. But really?
There was nothing he wanted to do more.]
I guess. Sometimes.
[action]
...okay.
[But that answer from Pokey, head-rolling and reluctance and all? That was as good as it could possibly get with his big brother. And that was great.]
Yeah! What's there do to here? Is there a park? An arcade? Fun stuff? I've... I've got all these old toys in my room here, too! They're kinda cool, the planes and the army guys and...
[Even after the unfortunate realities of his less-than-perfect life, Picky is still an 8 year old boy.]
[action]
Pokey fights down a small smile at Picky's enthusiasm. It's weird but a year and a half a go? That's pretty much all he cared about in the town too before it utterly beat him down.
He's not going to let that happen to Picky. He has no clue how, but he's not going to let it happen.]
Well, there's a park. And sometimes a carnival will come into town, but it's kinda crappy. We'll find something to do. It looks boring as crap, but you can always find something in this hole.
[action]
What do you normally do, Pokey? [Knowing his brother, it was probably some variation on "get into trouble", but he had come to miss being accessory to all kinds of obnoxiousness.]
[action]
[Pokey just shrugs. And smirks.]
Oh. You know.
The usual.
[Vandalism, being obnoxious, pranks,
killing the enemies of himself and those he loves. If there's any difference, it's that he occasionally does it with other people now.][action]
He gives an uneasy glance out the living room doorway again. Drone-mom and drone-dad seem to still be intermittently chatting over breakfast.]
Uh... uh, do you have... fake parents too? Do you ever... y'know, get grounded or anything?