The Post-Apocalyptic Doughnut Thief

[ablacksun]

Nothing in Antillioch is clean. Or tidy. Or not covered in a thick layer of desert. Which is why the appearance of a pristine white door that may well lead to some spiffed-up futuristic hospital ward is something of a shock to Zack. There follows a brief consultation with his brother, who doesn't seem to want anything to do with it, as it's so ..spotless, and white, and... ewww. For the two hellgods it's completely out of place and worse. They're so attuned to their hell dimension that anything this hygienic sits in the craw like a stuck fishbone.

Abe, casually examining his fingernails, suggests Zack tries the handle, just, you know, to see if it's locked. We don't want anything pleasant coming in. Stupidly, Zack's curiosity wins over and he does actually open the door a crack... Abe swiftly shoves him straight though it, and the Apocalyptic prince is sent sprawling. He literally faceplants into this new, uncomfortably pure environment.

He's ended up on the main plaza, and lifts his head, not liking anything he sees. But that's Zack all over. He doesn't like anything much. He even snarls at the few unfortunate people closest to him.

Nothing about the Nexus feels comfortable to Zack. Not until he smells something drifting across the plaza. He follows the scent until he comes to a doughnut stand.

Zack is the embodiment of the post-apocalyptic hellscape. He's on nodding terms with all four horsemen, and his own essence combines War, Famine, Pestilence and Death.. or more accurately the after-effects of such things. Away from his own dimension, he feels the hunger of famine, and Zack hasn't actually ingested anything for centuries.

Now he's in the realm of the living, these soft little dough things smell amazing.

He grabs one and tears into it, ignoring the stallholders protests about something like paying, or money, or something. When the stallholder tries to physically take his arm, Zack pulls away, swipes another of the sweet dough shapes, and wrenches himself away from the stand. Zack moves through the crowds away from the still-shouting stalholder, almost bumping into everyone - he's not used to crowds.

And he doesn't understand the concept of theft.

He almost sends some poor person tumbling as he tries to make his exit. But he can't find the infernal door and that stupid sweet-dough-thing person is still on his tail. Zack grabs the nearest passerby by the lapel, demanding... “What's his fucking problem? What the fuck's money? What does that even mean?”


[ooc: Cue argument between your muse, Zack, and the doughnut seller. Mun apologises for his language and behaviour. He's not housebroken yet...]

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[the_rebel_son]

Lucifer has a thing for sweets, or rather his partner does and he is on his way to the newest donut stall. That is when it happens, someone runs headlong into him with a screaming man on his tail.

On instinct all four of Lucifer's wings open to kept his balance, fire briefly rippling across them from his annoyance. His eyes drop to the grip on the lapels of his slim fit black suit. Eyes flickering up to the angry person, the food and then the question; Lucifer gets the idea that this person comes from a culture without money. Humanity has had many of them through the centuries.

"Money is an object of agreed worth that is traded for goods or services to compensate the person doing the work." It was a simplistic but clear definition of money in the angel's estimation. His eyes come down to the hands on him, then the man who is a half foot shorter than him. "Remove your hands."

The voice holds authority as he closes his wings. There's no reason to grab him while asking a question.

[ablacksun]

The wings are a shock. Zack knows about angels. He's sure he's met one or two, but that was so long ago he might even have dreamt it. The vague idea that he's ended up in a paradise dimension courses though his mind, making his body involuntarily shudder.

The definition is actually excellent. In short clear words that Zack can easily understand. But how's he to know what has worth? The doughnuts have worth to him, and evidently to the being who has a lot of them on a stand in the middle of a paradise dimension in the middle of a crowd.

It's so unlike Antillioch. He's going to brain Abdiron when he's safely back at home.

“Oh.” The sound is out of his mouth unbidden in response to both the explanation, and the order.

“That's rude, isnt it?” Abe tries to verse Zack in decent manners, he really does. What's the correct response again? “I apologise,” he offers stiffly, and releases the lapels at once... but is braced for a good hard fight. Because that’s the way things are between the infernal and the celestial. He's almost certain.

The stallholder is still making his way through the busy plaza towards them.

[the_rebel_son]

The fire leaves a lingering sulfur smell though Lucifer naturally smells of rain, flowers, apple and church incense. However, he is mostly aloof to the situation.

"I would prefer not to be touched by strangers." Lucifer has mellowed some in the Nexus and is very aware of the anti-violence field. All of his motions controlled when his eyes look past them to the stall owner.

"I suggest you pay for what you have taken." Lucifer pauses to glance at Zack. "Bartering is usually as acceptable as money here."

He is not going to stop a thief from being roughed up but he is willing to smooth things over. Now that he has paused he can sense the aura around these people. It's enough to raise his brow curiously. As the embodiment of sin and virtue his awareness is locked on the person before him though he isn't going to read him because Lucifer values individually.

[chiaro_oscuro]

Ben knows that there are people poor and desperate enough that the concept of paying for things is a luxury. He's startled when the man grips his collar, but he keeps his cool.

"Money's...how do I explain this..." He wrenches himself free, dusting himself off. "It's something we decided had value collectively. Money's given in exchange for goods and services, a trade for their time and work. In most cultures stealing is not socially acceptable."

"If you want, I can pay for some food." Ben had a good day and he's not hungry, and he can guess that this person needs it more than him. "And what you took, so there's no trouble between you and the storekeeper."

[ablacksun]

Something in the way the stranger wrests himself free makes Zack want to grab him and shake him. It's pure instinct though and he suppresses the urge.

“If I knew what stealing was, I might be shaking in my boots,” Zack snarls back, despite the offer, which is genuinely kind. The Apocalyptic spirit never expects such a thing as kindness, so when it happens it often takes a beat for him to recognise it.

In the meantime, as he's realising the strange mortal has actually offered to give him money, or get him food, the stallholder arrives, a little out of breath. “You took those without paying,” he accuses, deeply annoyed.

Zack has eaten one of the doughnuts. The second one, he dropped when he grabbed the first mortal by the lapel. He stoops and picks it up and pushes it towards the stallholder. “Have it back then!” he growls, entirely unrepentant.

“It's been on the floor!” says the man. “And what about the one you scoffed? Huh?”

Zack's getting ready to smite the doughnut guy. It's all getting a bit out of hand.

[chiaro_oscuro]

Ben has a good friend who grew up in poverty and scavenged for a living, so he can understand where the stranger's coming from. And habits like that are hard to break. It looks like the man who runs the shop isn't too impressed, though, and they're close to a fight breaking out.

It looks like it's up to him. The newcomer's angry and the shopkeeper's angry, and clearly the two won't come to an agreement. It's ironic that the former Kylo Ren is the one here who is keeping his relative cool.

Ben is not used to being the one to defuse situations, quite the opposite actually - but it looks like he's caught between the newcomer and the storekeeper. And a brawl breaking out in the Plaza isn't good for anybody. He stands up, clearing his throat to draw their attention to him.

"I don't know exactly what's going on, but I'll pay for the ones he took, and for extra besides."

[has_a_phd_in_teddybear]

Dean had been making his way to doughy-goodness when he'd seen the guy just grab one and run. An eyeroll to himself later, and he was weaving his way through the crowd, managing to edge ahead of the stall holder and as he caught up to the guy- he grabs his jacket. Okay, first off? rude. He raises his hands non-threateningly, using his eyes to gauge the guy and try to get a read on him, ready to attempt to break the hold if he needed to. His pulse quickens at the thought of a possible fight, but he mentally stamps on it. "Woah, hey. If you're gonna get handsy the least you could do is buy me a drink first."

Dean very deliberately turns his head towards the guy headed their way, an unimpressed look on his face. "Money's what's gonna get that ass off your tail. And when you let me go?" Note the when, not if. "I can pay up for you and maybe explain some things. Well, best as I know 'em."

[ablacksun]

The mortal he has in his grip doesn't react quite the way they usually do. This startles Zack enough to give him pause, and perhaps not dry the mortal out from the inside, or have him eaten by rats. (He has no idea as yet, that his powers are useless here.)

Handsy? It takes him a moment to work that one out. Zack is pansexual, not that he'd dirty himself on a mortal. So if he is offended it's not for the usual reasons... only the human goes on to speak clearly and without fear. It might not answer his question, but it's good enough. Mortals frequently try to bargain their way out of certain death, even when their planet is crumbling around them. This one seems no different, but at least he's not cowardly about it.

Zack growls, but he releases the human. “Don't think you can cheat me. Nobody can.”

He might sound a bit more grateful.

[has_a_phd_in_teddybear]

"Excuse you?" But he backs up a couple of steps, still ready to hit fight mode if necessary. "I mean, I don't owe you shit, but that's fine. I can always leave you to the guy." He takes another step back to make his point, but with enough weight on the balls of his feet that he'd be able to manoeuvre himself quickly. He continues "see how well you eat and how long you last on scraps if you don't pay the guy. Place like this? Word spreads fast. Some manners might be a good idea."

He's like 90% sure this guy ain't playing with a full deck.

[sonof_mogh]

Worf had heard the commotion coming from where the donut seller was and immediately intervened since this was his years of being head of security coming into play now. Frowning deeply, the Klingon noticed the donut seller's plight and saw how angry he was. Then, the new stranger was pulling on the end of his Klingon tunic, demanding and shouting. Worf wrenched his clothes free and grabbed onto the man's arm, almost growling. He hated it when people touched him, especially demanding strangers who happened to be a thief.

"You stole? Then, you are a theif! Unhand me or I will cut your hand off myself."

The Klingon growled and then withdrew one of hie Mek'leth blades from inside the back of his tunic. This man was not from here but that did not mean he had the right to steal. Worf hated thieves since that was the most dishonourable thing anyone could be. A coward.

"Give back the food you stole. Here in the Nexus, you use your PINpoint to pay for items. You should have one. Do this now."

Worf's tone was stern and his deep voice powerful. Not to mention the guy was over 6'4" and made of muscle. He was in no mood for dealing with thieves, not today.

Worf love! (might have to invoke the anti violence field for this one.)

[ablacksun]

Well. This one is certainly strong. As the being tears himself away from Zack's grip, the hellspawn braces, adopting an aggressive posture and ready to do battle. War is a natural part of any world's decline, and this he can work with.

“Thief? PINpoint? What is that?” he demands, having no real idea about such concepts. He squares up the much larger being, ready to take him on. It's a little David and Goliath, but if there's one thing Zack isn't, it's cowardly. He may have no idea who or what a Klingon is, but he's certain this is no god.

“Thank you, sir!” cries the stallholder to Worf as he catches up.

Having been told both to pay now, and to return the goods now, is a tad confusing. Zack throws the uneaten and somewhat crushed doughnut back at the stallholder.

“I'd have to puke to return the other one,” he sneers. “I'm happy to oblige. though. If that would make you happy.”

Oh, it's there. Worf is just giving you a warning, pal.

[sonof_mogh]

This one is strong and is easily provoked. Right now he's eyeing you up, Zack, wondering if you are a little thief.

"Are you a fool? It is the device you are given once you enter into this place. Did you not read the pamphlet or were you so intent on stealing your mind drifted from it?"

The Klingon's blades were still drawn but by his side as a warning. If this guy tried to run or grab anything else then Worf would leap into action. He had spent a good deal of his life chasing after criminals and bringing them to justice aboard his starship. This was no different. He nodded to the stall holder and was glad the thief had been apprehended.

"Do not do something you will regret. You filthy, P'taq. What would make me happy is for you to abide to the rules here. No thieving. You insulted this vendor and stole his produce. For that I would cut off your hands and then gut you. You may thank this world for their weakness---the anti-violence field. I do not condone it but then I do not make the rules here."

Worf hated the anti-violence field.

[eumenis]

The woman he's grabbed is on the tall side and dressed like she could potentially have stepped through his own gateway. Which she hasn't, but the Wasteland she comes from is pretty rough. As such, she doesn't flinch at the grip, but the way she goes very still and gives him a steely look speaks worlds of displeasure. He has his hands on the buckled strap that holds on the shoulderpad of her left arm prosthesis. This is Not On.

She raises said left arm, clicking the metal claws together twice, quietly, and raises an eyebrow at the doughnut vendor. "Money is a losing battle most of the people here are still fighting," she says.

And then, to the vendor: "You seem to have more balls than sense. You're going to leave your whole stall to chase down one thief? If he has a partner they could already have taken everything valuable you have."

She's not above paying for two doughnuts for the sake of peace and quiet, but she's not ready to offer that yet, either. In the meantime, though, and more importantly:

"You want to get your hands off me before I decide to enforce my personal space bubble."

[ablacksun]

Everything about her, Zack can sense is born of the post-apocalyptic. His very own hearth and home. A small part of him can't help admiring a mortal survivor such as this, but the majority of him is angry and baffled.

Her definition is something Zack himself would have said, and he understands it on a level that nobody else could.

“My kid's watching the stall, okay?” The vendor tells the woman. “If I let everyone help themselves, how would that look?”

Zack lets her go without apology, his ire turned onto the doughnut guy. “If you were eaten alive by cockroaches, how would that look?” He attempts to call forth a swarm, mainly to frighten the annoying mortal away; but the environment itself seems to have its own power. Hence, all that happens is that a handful of confused-looking ladybugs flutter around the stallholder's head.

[eumenis]

After years of visiting the Nexus, Furiosa is well-versed in the way other, softer worlds work. They have their laws and their systems and their thousands of intricate unspoken rules that are so ingrained most people don't even realize they exist. Very few of them apply to her Wasteland and none apply to the Fury Road, because there are no rules on the Road but survive. Often, she's been taken aback by the behavior of these people, who may have come from terrible hardship themselves, but undeniably come from privileged worlds. You have water to drink, to bathe in!

So she gets it, his anger and confusion and ferocity. But it won't do him any good here, him or anyone else. Maybe she can keep him from finding that out the hard way.

She shakes her head at the vendor. He has a point; people expect fairness and civil behavior here but it's only really enforced through public pressure and the antiviolence field. If he didn't stick up for himself, he certainly could get taken advantage of on the regular. It's just that the idea of leaving a kid behind to protect valuables is a little insane. The kid is the valuable. "I think you need a better preventative system," she says dryly. "Chasing people down on foot isn't going to get you much other than blisters."

She's about to add something when the feral (because that's how she already thinks of Zack, though by her standards is only part-feral because he can talk) lunges and makes his odd threat. She blinks at him, then at the flurry of ladybugs, and when she looks at the latter something in her expression softens. They're not edible, but they're kind of sweet. She wonders if they're pollinators.

"...see," she says, "that could have ended badly in another world." But she reaches into a pocket and pulls out a handful of coins of varying universes and values. She picks out a few of the ones she knows are stable and of moderate value and pushes them at the vendor. He'd have to get them exchanged, but it's more than fair compensation. "Here. Go back to your kid. This isn't one of mine, but I'll make sure he's covered, this once."

To the feral, she adds, "No point attacking people unless they hit you first. There's a kind of magic here that prevents you from hurting them."

[candysgirl]

He grabs an impossibly frail woman, wrinkling her perfectly tailored pink jacket.

“Money is a currency.” She smiles, after a brief moment of surprise “You are supposed to exchange that for goods and services, such as what you’re eating”

Her words are gentle and kind and calm as she tries to free her lapel. Her words and demeanor, however, don’t seem to fit the darkness surrounding her, it doesn’t hide the death and destruction she tends to leave in her footsteps.

“What currency are you used to dealing in?”

[ablacksun]

It's not in Zack's nature to be merciful to the frail, but being what he is, he's aware of the darkness surrounding her. It feels somehow familiar and indicates that this mortal might be more than she seems.

Her manner does nothing to anger him further, and Zack takes a beat. He releases the woman, digesting her explanation. … She may now have sugar and doughnut crumbs on her impeccable jacket.

He glances around for the stallholder, who is approaching before he replies to her question. “The souls of the dead.”

But it doesn't look like the stallholder would find those at all useful.

[higginbottom]

Esther lets out a small shriek as she's grabbed, her eyes wide with fright.

"Oh my God, why are you being so vulgar?" she asks, in a not-entirely-polite way. The tall blonde is more than a bit miffed at being accosted in such a way, and as she frees herself from his grip, she pouts moodily.

"Money is something used to buy goods and services. How did you get so far in life without knowing that?"

She turns towards the doughnut seller's stand, pointing in that direction.

"You need to go and apologize to them," Esther insists.

(ooc: I'm...I'm so sorry for her attitude. XD)

[ablacksun]

Small nippy human. Huh. He's not encountered one of these since that one apocalypse where some idiot female was trying to save a small unpleasant lap dog.

This female reminds him of the lap dog .

“Like souls of the dead?” They being the only things that Abe trades with other hellgods, or considers currency. “And I'm sorry if the spirit of devastation is vulgar to you,” Zack adds a little spitefully. “But I'm a little less offensive than a world of mortals systematically destroying everything that lives.”

As for apologising, Zack crosses his arms, plants his feet and tilts his head in a 'make me' posture.

At this point the doughnut vendor appears. “Hey buddy, I'd like to get paid for those.” He turns to the woman. “Is this punk pestering you, miss?”


[ooc: For his behaviour... I hang my head in shame.]

[tieflingtarot]

For someone from a post-apocalyptic hellscape, Molly is a veritable kaleidoscope of color, even ignoring the fact of his obnoxiously decorated coat, from the tattoos, to the decorations he wore on his horns, to the red of his eyes, to the purple skin. He was, at the moment minding his own business, when a stranger, scruffy and grubby grabs him by the front of his jacket.

Molly glances between the stranger, with the pastry crumbs on his hands, and the seller running this way, shouting his protests.

He should likely just smooth things over. Pass the vendor a silver or two, it was the decent thing to do-

But the tiefling was also more than a little bit high right then, and so instead his gaze lit in a way that anyone who knew him would know meant he'd seized on a truly stupid idea, face splitting to a bright, fangy grin as he grabbed Zack by one of his hands, entirely unconcerned by the sticky mess on it as he spun on a heel with a swing of his coat and tail, off like a shot away, with a wild cackle. "Come on, keep up!"

He'd likely come drop some coin off for the poor doughnut seller later once he was a bit more sober, but for now he just wanted to run and this seemed like a great way to do it.

[ablacksun]

Apocalypse survivors are people Zack can relate to best, even if that best is somewhat strained. Usually though, they look a lot more like him, than this unusual being. Still, all manner of intelligent life has managed to kill its own planet, so Zack doesn't question why the creature looks like it does.

He's not even sure if it's mortal. His powers don't seem especially sharp here.

As a prince of hell, Zack expects a respectful response to his demands. Instead, he's grabbed back and dragged away. He has little to fear from the cosmos, so wonders why they're running from the stallholder, and how dangerous he really is, but Zack goes with it.

He can run well, without any sign of breathlessness... and this.. this is unorthodox, but he can't help a bubble of rare laughter as they easily outrun the vendor, dodging people and pelting down the plaza.

“Wait!” Eventually, it seems a little less crowded, and Zack tries to pull the being to a halt. “We've lost him. I think he's given up.“


[ooc: I do hope I haven't godmoded here...]

[itmeanstruth]

And here, Minoru thought his shift last night at the hospital had been crazy. All he’d planned on doing was picking up donuts on the way home to surprise Isamu, but instead, he’d walked into something even crazier. Like a starving man stuffing his face with a donut and multiple people screaming about money...

“Easy... easy there.” Minoru’s hands went up after being grabbed. He wasn’t afraid of the stranger, but his heart certainly went out to him. “It’s okay. I got this.”

He shouted over to the vendor, “Can I get a mixed dozen? Whatever’s fresh this morning! And ring me up for whatever he had too!”

Having been a resident (and earning a steady paycheck) here for the better part of the last year, Minoru even had Nexus-specific currency now.

[ablacksun]

Prepared for a scuffle, and to smite anyone who pisses him off, Zack isn't expecting to be... reassured. Or to be assisted in any way. The nexus feels hostile to him, unnatural, and the people here would surely be the same?

“If you're okay with that, sir,” the vendor calls out and turns back towards his stall.

“What was his problem?” he asks the stranger, releasing him, and taking a large mouthful of stolen doughnut. Uppity fucking mortals. Don't they know who he is?

[soundwave_ascendant]

Soundwave almost doesn't notice that someone's trying to grab him, because he isn't mass-displaced at all right now. He supposes he's a decent choice to hide behind, given that he's much larger than either the person who's grabbing his leg or the person who's running after them.

It doesn't take him long to assess the situation, though.

"Stop," he tells the merchant. "Query: do you wish to lose the value of two pastries, or do you wish to lose whatever else people might choose to take from your open stall, plus the respect of those who value life more than profit? This person is a refugee, and starving."

He looks down at the thief. "Where did you come from, and who are you running from?"

[ablacksun]

Having spent aeons as the apocalyptic bogeyman, it simply doesn't occur to Zack to be wary of anything, et alone scared. The large mechanical creature seems as good a being as any to demand some answers from.

And he's certainly not hiding.

Even if the mechanical creature does make for good cover.

It's a surprise to Zack that the creature admonishes the sweet-dough vendor, and doesn't try to lash out at him. He's usually prepared for a fight.

"I...guess.." says the vendor, peering at Zack around one of the mechanoid's legs. "He does look kinda dishevelled."

Zack squares up the mechanoid, his indignation at the question is obvious, until it occurs to him that it does actually look that way.

"I'm from Antillioch," as if everyone should have heard of it. "And I'm not running, I was only.. didn't want to get involved with a petty mortal."

"Hey, who you calling petty?" demands the vendor. "You little gobshite."