23: [Action/Video] Pirates

[dashboardlite]

Who'll make his mark
The captain cried
To the devil drink a toast
We'll glut the hold
With cups of gold
And we'll feed the sea with ghosts
I see your hunger for a fortune
Could be better
Served beneath my flag
If you've the stomach
For a broadside
Come aboard my pretty boys
I will take you and make you
Everything you've ever dreamed.

Obscenely loud music is blaring from one of the first floor parlors, and it possesses a remarkable nautical quality that borders on the fucking epic.  You might be wondering the reason for these festive tunes, curious resident.  If you happen to be peering through your communicator or walking down the hall, venturing into the nearest open door, your vision is assaulted by a swath of colorful fabrics draped over the furniture, from the ceilings, along the walls.  The alluring glitter of gold winks up at you from piles on the floor, and a bust of someone who looks suspiciously like Edward Teach is bedecked in jewelry and scarves.

The captain rose from a silk divan
With a pistol in his fist
And shot the lock from an iron box
And a blood red ruby kissed
I give you jewelry of turquoise
A crucifix of solid gold
One hundred thousand silver pieces
It is just as I foretold
You, you see there before you
Everything you've ever dreamed.

You might even see Dean Winchester, sporting an eyepatch and a large, plumed hat, lounging on a silk divan.  His jeans are tucked into heavy leather boots and he's wielding a flintlock pistol, cleaning the barrel with a chamois rag.  Pausing for one moment, he sets the gun aside and reaches over to pick up one of the gold doubloons scattered across the floor.  He then peels away the leafing and pops the chocolate money into his mouth, enjoying it with obvious relish.  Turning the music down as soon as it breaks to an instrumental interlude, Dean crosses his legs on the divan, getting comfortable.

He pulls out a hip flask, taking a swig and saluting the camera with his left hand - observant residents might notice that he appears to have only four fingers now.  Then he spreads his arms to welcome the adoring audience.

"All aboard, bitches."

Comments

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

I was there once. [Wary eye-narrow.] But you knew that, didn't you?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

*he nods.*

Remember.

*Well if there's no more stories then he's gonna get up from his sitting position on the floor.*

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Did you see it? When it happened?

[He sits up a little straighter.]

Can you tell me about the thing that did it?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Wasn't there.

Tell what?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

The...the thing, with long arms? Looks like a dude in a suit with no face?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

The Operator.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I know his name, but...like...does he have-

[Weaknesses?]

...why is he hurting people?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Is what it does. Don't know why.

*He looks around nervously*

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

...huh.

[Eyebrow raise. He might as well ask.]

So why're people video-taping it?

BTW: feel free to attack him or stuff. Just don't injure him.

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Alex? Shouldn't have. Is why following now.

Record and remember. Stay home. Be alone.

*He's visibly nervous now. He really, really shouldn't be talking about this.*

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Now Dean knows why people have been taping it. To remember what the fuck it looked like.]

It's following him because he taped it? It's not like he ran out after it intentionally, right? Why's it gotta-

[He stops. You are very shifty, masked fellow.]

...you okay, buddy?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Not... Not supposed to talk.

*He looks like he may bolt*

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean sits up a little, ready to bolt after him and shut the door should that be the case.]

...Why not?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Will be punished. For talking. Not supposed to.

*Baaaaaaaaacking away.*

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean gets up slowly, to one side, so as not to worry him. He makes towards another "gold" pile closer to the door, crouching and unwrapping a piece of chocolate before indicating that the masked kid do the same.]

What's your name, dude?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Don't have one.

*He picks up the gold coin and stares at it, turning it over and over in his hands.*

What is?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

You want a name?

[Dean peels off the gold foil, showing him how to do it.]

S'candy. You like chocolate?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Alex called me Markus. Can use that.

Is not bad name. Like it.

*He peels off the foil and stares down at it. He can smell the chocolate.*

Is .... food?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Yeah, Markus, it's food. See?

[He breaks off a piece and eats it.]

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Oh.

*He motions to the mask and then holds the chocolate out to Dean.*

Can't eat.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

You can't take it off?

[He's not implying that he wants to, but keeping a mask on all the time seems weird.]

How d'you eat?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Could take off. But wouldn't be me anymore.

Would hurt.

*He puts some distance between him and Dean just in case he tries anything.*

Don't eat.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Not eating sucks, man. You don't know what you're missin'. Cheeseburgers, pizza...pie. Dude, you would love pie.

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Pie?

*He only vaguely even knows what that is.*

Ate once. Was strange. Can't now. Not human anymore.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

You're not human?

[That seems weird.]

I bet you're human under your mask, dude.