It happens to everyone - sometimes, you have nights where you just can't fall asleep, no matter what you do. It could be for a number of reasons, or no reason at all. And this is what's happened now: you've been laying in bed for what feels like hours, just tossing and turning, and nothing seems to help. So what's left to do? Get out of bed and go wake someone else up, of course. If you're not getting any sleep, then why should they?
i n s t r u c t i o n s • Post with your character (note the name and fandom in the subject).
• Other people reply to you by generating a number from 1 to 10.
• Have fun!
o p t i o n s 01 • FEAR. Maybe you're hearing strange, indeterminable noises; maybe there's a severe storm happening outside; maybe you watched a scary movie before bed? Whatever the reason, you're terrified and it's keeping you awake. You just want to wake someone else up so they can protect you from the monster in your closet.
02 • HUNGER. Your stomach is growling and it just won't stop. Or perhaps your throat is so dry you could cough up a tumbleweed? Well, you've gone to the kitchen to remedy this and hey, that was a pan that just dropped on the floor. It was loud enough to wake the dead! Oops.
03 • PAIN. Your body is completely worn out, be it from exercise, battle, sickness, or what have you. Either way you're in enough pain to keep you from sleeping, so maybe someone else has a home remedy or something, or can at least help you take your mind off of it.
04 • SOLITUDE. For some reason, your bed just feels so empty at the moment. You're feeling terribly lonely and really just want someone to keep you company for a while. Maybe it'd be easier to fall asleep if you're with them...
05 • DISCOMFORT. Your room is an oven. Either that or a freezer. Or maybe this bed is just really uncomfortable? Who knows why you can't get to sleep, it feels like it could be anything. Why even bother trying? Maybe someone else can preoccupy you until you feel tired enough to ignore your discomfort.
06 • PENSIVE. Something's on your mind, and no matter how hard you try to focus elsewhere, it's just not going to work. Your body may be tired, but your mind is incredibly busy and it's virtually impossible to get to sleep. Surely, talking it out with someone else will help?
07 • SADNESS. Something terrible has happened that day, perhaps; or you could just be severely depressed. Either way you're trying your hardest not to cry yourself to sleep, and it's not working at all. Better find a way to get it out of your system somehow; you need a shoulder to cry on.
08 • ANGER. You are just... fuming. Who knows why - that annoying dog is barking again, or maybe the people next door are getting busy and keeping you awake. Whatever the reason for your ire is, you'd better put an end to it so you can get some damn rest already! Go wake up a friend so you can complain to them.
09 • RESTLESS. You're far too energetic to sleep right now. Maybe you're just trying to do so out of necessity - you have to be up early tomorrow! But you just don't think you'll be able to fall asleep for a while now, so why waste the time trying to sleep when you could be doing something else? Namely bothering someone else - you're totally jealous because they're getting more sleep than you.
10 • WILDCARD. Choose one of the options above, or make up your own scenario. |
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bakerstreet2016-05-28 07:14 pm
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tucked in the only bed in the barn with a blanket on top. McCree sleeps in the hay :(He'd hardly consider this an effort, but effort well enough worth the price on his pretty little... well... frankly graying and jacked up head. McCree had been commandeering an old log to sit on and with the introduction of his quarry he slowly rises and turns around, patting his rear with his metal hand. Nice and easy, no sudden movements, but with an obvious casualness that suggests McCree isn't taking this guy very seriously yet or just isn't interested in a fight. He was willing to stick his neck out for a kid, maybe he wasn't all that bad.]
Like a moth to a flame, right stranger?
[But apparently bad enough for McCree to not feel bad about taking him for what he's worth.]
I figure we can make all the ruckus we want out here, and no one else who needs to get involved is going to get involved.
[He takes a few steps backwards, the spurs on his boots jingling with every seemingly methodical step. He tips his hat up and splays one arm out by his holster. He's a very polite fellow when it comes to business, you see.]
You wanna' do this the easy way or the hard way?
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would you say he has spurs...that jingle jingle jangle...76 shrugs a little, but otherwise makes no move to lower his gun.]Rather we didn't do it at all.
[Which begs to question why he even walked into this, but maybe 76 thought he could strike preemptively before this guy tailed him all the way to Brazil, or something. This is clearly him giving McCree one chance to back down and back off.]
You think they'll pardon you if you bring me in?
[That's said with an air of incredulity, like McCree would really be stupid if he thought that.]
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Oh ain't I glad I'm single and that song ain't so very far from wrongDefinitely does beg the question why he walked right into this, gun-first no less. McCree supposed maybe old habits were hard to break for some folks but he was hardly deterred. He gives a little shrug of his own.]
I don't even think death'll pardon my name. People are going to believe whatever they like. Can't change that.
[Viejo soldado gets a finger point while McCree slowly circles the firepit, and naturally his fingers form the shape of a gun.]
Better question: why target Overwatch's? Los Muertos? LumériCo? Can't think of a thing they all have in common except for you stickin' your nose in their business.
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76 wants to ask why he even cares. Why he cares when he bailed on Overwatch (Blackwatch, he corrects himself) and presumably has no business in Mexico in the first place. What has he even been doing?
He counter-circles, keeping his gun trained. McCree can and will outdraw him, so he stays at the ready. 76 doesn't answer, only counters with questions of his own.]
You get the recall?
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And--Yep. His eyes widen at that question and his smirk fades rather tellingly. That was pretty much the reason why McCree cared at all--he got the recall and that meant if this Soldier 76 was going after old Overwatch establishments, well, then for his sake he'd better make it his business, much as he'd rather not.
He--and them--were better off going their separate ways. He could carry out his own brand of justice with no red tape and no risk of getting too sentimental about the team. That recall was unsurprisingly met with silence. He sure didn't need any ghosts in his shadows and he sure didn't need any new kinds of guns pointed his way.
Funny how that worked out.
So that question now prompts a wide assortment of many other implications and questions McCree wasn't entirely expecting to be met with. Nor inclined to answer. Either this guy was legitimately previously part of Overwatch in some fashion, or, he's dug around deep enough into Overwatch's old business that he knows about the recall and that's mighty dangerous to think about. The cynic in McCree hadn't entirely gone away, just got quieter after seeing some of the good Jack inspired in everyone else back in the day, but now that cynic elected to oblige paranoia and McCree rolls his eyes like he doesn't even want to oblige it. God damn it.
He doesn't draw his gun but with the same fast flick of his wrist he's lobbing a flashbang at 76's feet. He's circled him around the fire right to where he'd want him and he doesn't need that particular flashbang to hit...
...not when he's buried like three of them in the dirt right next to where 76 was standing.]
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Hopefully McCree assumes the latter, as far as that's concerned, even if he doubts anyone will actually put two-and-two together. What's satisfying is seeing that question throw him off. Make him stumble.
76 is ready for him to unleash either gunfire or something else, and takes a few nimble steps backward. He feels the heat of the explosion, but it's another second before he realizes that it was only a distraction. When the other flashbangs go off, he brings a hand up to shield himself and then indiscriminately opens fire--more a kneejerk reaction than anything.]
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The flashbangs go off and before he knows it there's bullets in the air. His chest armor wasn't for show but that would only do so much for a random close-range spray. They ricochet off his chest and he jumps and rolls for cover
and hits his own flashbang and diesthe horse woke up said stop it dad you are doing me a frighten. He feels more whiz past his head and feels his hat knocked clean off his head mid-tumble. His ears ring from the dangerously close proximity and he hisses a curse feeling that sudden draft through his hair. It's not quite enough to addle him coming out of the roll and he gives a hard kick to the back of 76's knees, hoping to get him more prone. If that does the trick, he'll follow up by shoving that big robot hand of his against 76's face mask and gripping hard, trying to make him eat dirt.]no subject
Still, knocking him out is preferable, so once he gets a grip on his knee-jerk reaction to being flashbanged, he opts to go hand-to-hand.
McCree seems to have the same idea. What McCree doesn’t know is that 76 is intimately familiar with his playbook, unless he’s majorly overhauled it in six years. He expects that, sure, but at the very least, he knows the basics. 76 responds to that strike at the back of his knees by trying to bring the butt of his rifle down on McCree’s shoulder in a bid to get some distance between them. He feels the metal hand scrabbling against his visor and tries to take him by the robot wrist. It’s a precarious dance—him trying to keep his balance and get McCree to loosen his grip while he’s being pulled downward, quite literally, by the face.]
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It's dangerous and bold but he swings his leg over the other man and tries to straddle him over the hip, at first putting his full weight against the temple of his head which he lifts up once and slams bck down, but then he tries to use that momentum and roll off him, hand still tightly clutching at his mask.]
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He growls--a real, honest-to-god snarl as fingers try to wrap around his visor. The mask clasps locks into place on the inside. Good in the sense that it's going to take some substantial effort on McCree's part to get it off him. Bad in the sense that it lets him jerk 76's head around in his efforts to remove it. All bets are off if he decides to hit hard enough to break, it, however.
76 swings a wild punch. He has to let go of his rifle in his attempt to pry McCree's hand away, but he's not going to be doing much good for himself if he's being held by the visor.]
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McCree's natural arm fumbles for a second then goes for the barrel of the rifle and basically tries to blindly twist it out of 76's hand. It's more for a distraction than anything while his robotic hand continues to keep a vice grip on his visor. He's not making any headway that way, and short of punching the poor bastard blind he decides again to try and use the terrain to his advantage.
He tries, rather humorously with his clamped legs, to scoot both of them just an inch or so over so he can promptly lift 76's head up and bash the side of his visor on a rock.]
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He bounces back from injury slower, nowadays. He doesn't know if it's his age or the fact that he kind of got himself exploded in Switzerland that one time, but he's still feeling that grenade he took for the girl. It makes it easier for McCree to get the upper hand, especially when he's putting the metal arm to use keeping relentless hold of his face.
Still, he's augmented. His opponent is not, and 76 needs to use that to his advantage. As soon as he feels his head lifted up in preparation for it to be driven back down, he drives his knee into McCree's stomach, but not before the side of his head slams against the rock. 76 is protected somewhat by the plating around the visor, but white still explodes behind his eyes and his ear pops. He shoots a hand upward, trying to wrap it around McCree's neck to keep him from doing that again.]
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Adding to the symphony of embarrassing sounds is the warbling groan that comes from being nailed in the stomach. This guy sure packs a punch, it's almost inhuman! It ticks McCree off and drives him to really slam that visor down in the midst of it all. He hears the satisfying crunch of glass/whatever breakable material it is and given 76 isn't wailing in pain he assumes his vision is fine. McCree thinks it'd be cruel to rob it from him unnecessarily even if they're fighting in the dirt like two pigs in slop.
He'll have little chance to make any further sounds as soon enough 76's hand finds his throat. Much as McCree wants to keep slamming his head down, now with the intent to ideally knock him unconscious or at least get his hands off his neck it's difficult to do so with said hands around his neck. He gives up messing with the rifle and tries to contest the hand at his neck with his own. He figures he won't have to resort to using the rock now that the visor is broken, he can fumble around and hook his fingers (broken shards of no concern to metal fingers) behind the rim of it and pull very hard.]
Sonnuva--[bitch doesn't make it out and sounds more like GHICKL.]
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Shit. He'd gone through a lot of trouble to steal that. 76 has no choice but to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from getting glass in them, which lets McCree get a better hold on the rest of it.
The mask isn't attached to his face, but it takes substantial effort to wrench it from the rest of his headgear. When McCree manages it, he can't bite down the shout that's a direct result of the sheer force required to snap it off. His head bounces back upon release and smacks against the ground. All it does it make him angrier, hand on the rifle leaving it entirely to join the other around McCree's throat as he tries desperately to kick him off and away.
He's not especially worried about McCree putting a name to the face. The explosion and subsequent years hadn't been kind to him, and he guesses that unless someone is already thinking he's Jack Morrison (and why would they--he's dead), he's mostly unrecognizable, at least at first glance, and hopefully in the middle of a fistfight.
But man if this isn't a bitch.]
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His other hand desperately tugs and pulls and does whatever he possibly can to try and give himself any kind of air but it's not enough to do the job. He's just got to make this quick while he has the opportunity and extricate himself afterwards.
When he feels the face mask give the first thing he does with it is immediately slap 76 with it.]
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76 tries to shake the pieces of the visor away from his eyes, and with a burst of strength, takes advantage of McCree's rearing back to try and switch their positions--or at the very least, get back on his feet.]
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The horse is definitely spooked now.At some point in their tussle they happen to roll by McCree's hat, and, well yeah he picks it back up and puts it on his head in the middle of the fight. That might also be the point he tries to push himself off 76 and put some distance between them and tries to get back onto his feet if he can.]
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All this is quickly turning into a waste of time, and he simply doesn't have the energy to keep it going. Luckily, McCree seems to realize this about the same time he does, and he manages to roll away and scramble to his feet.
He doesn't expect the breather to last long, so he tries to take stock of his equipment while he can. Rifle is within reach, but within reach of McCree as well. His visor and mask have long been thrown away, but he scans the barn floor for them iust in case. After a moment, however, he figures it's more prudent to keep an eye on McCree--make sure he's not going for his own gun. He wipes blood off the corner of his mouth and settles into a defensive stance. 76 doesn't want to give his opponent reason to focus on his uncovered face, but it's hard not to be a little snide, after that.]
Had enough yet?
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...
[Shit was he... His fighting style, the voice, him knowing about the recall... no. No way... McCree looks increasingly uncomfortable, and then there's a flash of anger in his eyes as he takes a step backwards.]
I don't know, you tell me if I'm looking at a dead man or not.
[He waggles his gun.]
You'd better make your answer loud and clear, soldier.
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Besides, he doesn't consider himself the same person anymore.]
Pulling that trigger's no trouble if I'm a dead man, right?
[76 won't give him the answer he wants. Getting shot will hurt, sure, but he's wearing body armor, and presumably McCree wants to take him alive.]
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Just not in the way he would most other dead men he knew.
He could shoot him in the foot or thigh or something for that stupid answer. It'd probably feel cathartic if nothing else but there'd be no point in it beyond that. His lip curls and he spits out all the frustration that was welling up inside his mouth and the way all that said spit hits the ground with a loud justifiable splat that seems to almost be cathartic enough.]
Say it. [He growls and waggles the gun again. It's the only demand he'll make of this encounter, something he hopes results in a better answer.] Your name. Your real one.
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Don't have one.
[He knows McCree won't find that to be a satisfactory answer. He takes a step closer to his gun.]
Sorry to disappoint.
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He can't, though. He can't ignore it now. Christ... was Jack even aware of what happened to Overwatch after Switzerland went sky high, or did he watch everyone fall apart and say nothing to it? ...Like he did? Sure explains the dogged tenacity in sticking his nose in places they don't belong. Now all that makes much more sense. Some part of him is even elated he hasn't really kicked the bucket just yet. Some part of him is even envious he did a better job of it than McCree, but, McCree also had a slightly different methodology enacting his brand of justice. He wouldn't stick that in a grave.
McCree tries to think of a way to get his answer, maybe rephrase the question but he gives up and shakes his head a little, licking his lips. He doesn't need to hear it, satisfying as it would be. He already knows it and furthermore he knows he won't get it out of him.]
You piece of jack shit--[He's so frustrated he says the name as part of the insult unintentionally (though the insult is fully intended), and quickly adds on:] Jack-Shit. That's befittin' of you. [Jack-Shit. His new name.]
You know what--[McCree shrugs audibly and decides he's too old to be getting worked up about this, even if he really has every right, and holsters his gun with a huff.] I don't care if you want to put on a mask and keep your death.
[He tips his hat up, trying very hard to take back his laissez-faire attitude.] But you sure messed up my bounty. [He points his finger, practically as if it was his gun.] You owe me about ten-million.
[Jack-Shit-Jack and Piece-of-Shit-McCree.]
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[Even if, ironically, McCree is probably the one who would understand the most.
But he certainly doesn't owe him an explanation. Maybe if this was Angela or Reinhardt or Lena, but it's not. If it were any of those people, he'd have to explain himself, but McCree did the exact same thing as him, just without the grave.
Still, 76 is acutely aware that what he did was, on some level, unacceptable. Overwatch was finished anyway, but he'd left them all to deal with the fallout. He could have come back, but at the time he'd been so shell-shocked and betrayed that he felt it best to disappear. His punishment for letting everyone down so thoroughly.
And after that, when it was clear that the world didn't want or need them anymore, it just became easier to stay dead. Dead, or reinvented as something else. Let them have their statues and their plaques and their memory of him. They don't need to know who he is now.
Speaking of which--now that the cat is out of the bag, he locates the remnants of his visor. There's a not insubstantial amount of squinting involved. He can't go near his gun? Fine. 76 goes to the pieces of his mask, instead, picking it up off the floor and not caring whether McCree is going to shoot at him or not. The red glass isn't salvageable, but thankfully the lower part is mostly intact. He starts inspecting it. It's like McCree isn't even there, at least until he starts talking about owing ten million.]
You owe me a new tactical visor.
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He as least starts to think if Jack were going to kill him he wouldn't be messing with his broken visor on the ground, so McCree goes over to the rifle and picks it up, turning it on its side and duly not pointing it at 76.]
More tech you liberated from
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