Freddy Newendyke || Mr. Orange (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
super_cool) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nexus_crossings2017-07-20 01:43 pm
super_cool) wrote in nexus_crossings2017-07-20 01:43 pm
NEW ARRIVAL :: AN UNDERCOVER COP, NERD, AND ALL AROUND DISASTER
Freddy’s pretty sure he’s dead. He’d like to believe everything – the heist, the getaway, the bloodbath back at the rendezvous – was just a fucked up dream. He’d like to. There’s no hole in his cheek, no bullets in his gut, but he’s still wearing the same clothes – black suit, white shirt, and black tie – and they’re still soaked with blood. There’s blood in his hair, splattered across his face, and coating his hands.
He’s sitting on the curb outside of something that resembles the type of cheap convenience store familiar to someone from Los Angeles during the late 20th century. Next to him is an open bag of Doritos, four empty bottles of shitty beer, plus two more unopened bottles of that same shitty brand... and also a welcoming pamphlet.
While he’s not exactly feeling any better than he was when he first woke up, the alcohol is at least helping him settle into a sort of numbness. He opens the pamphlet and reads. Most of it fails to register.
‘Do you have a question for the Nexus?’ the pamphlet says.
‘What the fuck?’ is all that comes to mind. He sighs and rubs his temple, before burying his face in his arms. It's been a long goddamn day. Thinking it over though, he does actually have a question:
“Does everyone who dies get sent here? Or is it just like”–his voice still sounds hoarse, so he coughs into his fist and clears his throat–“only certain ones?”
He tries to brush his hair back, but his bangs just flop back into his face. He opens another bottle. Don't worry, he’s not going to cry or whine about shit. He may be a hot fucking mess, but he’s still a tough guy, okay?
He’s sitting on the curb outside of something that resembles the type of cheap convenience store familiar to someone from Los Angeles during the late 20th century. Next to him is an open bag of Doritos, four empty bottles of shitty beer, plus two more unopened bottles of that same shitty brand... and also a welcoming pamphlet.
While he’s not exactly feeling any better than he was when he first woke up, the alcohol is at least helping him settle into a sort of numbness. He opens the pamphlet and reads. Most of it fails to register.
‘Do you have a question for the Nexus?’ the pamphlet says.
‘What the fuck?’ is all that comes to mind. He sighs and rubs his temple, before burying his face in his arms. It's been a long goddamn day. Thinking it over though, he does actually have a question:
“Does everyone who dies get sent here? Or is it just like”–his voice still sounds hoarse, so he coughs into his fist and clears his throat–“only certain ones?”
He tries to brush his hair back, but his bangs just flop back into his face. He opens another bottle. Don't worry, he’s not going to cry or whine about shit. He may be a hot fucking mess, but he’s still a tough guy, okay?
no subject
"Don't worry, there are quite a few ways to arrive at this place. Don't worry, you're not in the underworld or anything like that. Regardless of what you may have done in life, I'm sure you're in good company. So, what exactly did you get yourself into that got you killed in the first place? To end up in the shape you're in, there must be one hell of a story behind it."
no subject
Unfortunately, he’s not sure how to answer her own question. “Ummmm,” he begins, oh-so eloquently. “It was a long hard battle with leukemia, but at least I was surrounded by friends and family?”
A crooked grin. Yeah, he’s sort of awful, but mainly just embarrassed and unsure of how to explain... It’s personal, emotional. He might start crying if he actually talks about it, and no one wants to see that shit.
no subject
Her only knowledge of modern medicine being the bits and pieces she's picked up from her short time here in the Nexus, she's completely misunderstood his blatant deflection of the question, for better or worse.
"Though... it looks like you're still a bit worse for wear."
She takes another sip from her flask, licking her lips as she stares at his wounds.
"I may not look it, but I've been in quite a few tussles myself."
She not so subtly cracks her knuckles against her hip as she tucks the flask away, gibing him a smirk.
"I certainly hope those wounds aren't still open. I might be able to help patch you up a bit until you seek a professional healer."
no subject
“I don’t think they are, actually,” he says, brow furrowed. “Like I thought I was shot in the face, too?" An odd thing to have to explain, but he's calm. "It’s like it never happened, and I’m not in any pain or anything. I don’t know. Do dead people normally go to healers when they get here?”
You know, instead of getting drunk in front of 7-11...
As for her getting into ‘a few tussles,’ it’s true that she is petite and does not seem particularly threatening – but he nevertheless takes her word for it, having known a couple women in the police force who could kick his ass.
no subject
She gives him a smirk as she goes to take another sip from her flask, revealing a pair of sharp pointed fangs.
"Though, I'd say I'm a special case. I didn't simply wake up dead and covered in my own blood, and most of those times getting myself patched up were prior to finding myself here."
Gazing down at the empty bottles and bag of chips, she stifles a laugh.
"At least you still have a taste for beer, in spite of all this. I'd kill to be able to enjoy a nice red wine again... and not my own special variety."
She sloshes her flask around a bit before taking another swig.
no subject
Maybe he should be frightened, but it doesn’t really seem like she wants to drain him like a juicebox. Perhaps all the blood is what drew her over here though? But she’s also apparently brought her own... He’s choosing not to think about where that might have come from.
“Yeah, I think I’d be pretty pissed off if I couldn’t even drink.” He laughs a little, realizing the absurdity in dying and going straight for beer and chips... Usually, he’d be really drunk by now – being sort of a lightweight – but a general state of shock, anxiety, and despair has a sobering effect, unfortunately. “What about cigarettes? Do you smoke?” He’s offering her one.
Not like they have to worry about their health, right?
no subject
"One crippling addiction is more than enough for me, but I appreciate the offer."
She takes another sip of her flask,looking over at him.
"Don't worry, I prefer not to drink straight from the source, though I'm open to taking donations."
no subject
“I’m not sure I have enough left to donate right now.” It makes a lot of sense to donate blood to a vampire, though. Sometime when he’s feeling less like a zombie, she’s welcome to hit him up about that.
“What’s your name, by the way?”
no subject
She took another small sip from her flask before tucking it away at her hip.
"And what may I call you?"
no subject
“Freddy,” he says, also sticking with just a first name. He holds off on a handshake, assuming she’d rather not get blood on her. “Nice meeting you, even if I’m kind of fucked up right now.”
no subject
She gives him a smile, giggling a bit as she looked him over.
"So, what was it like where you come from, back when you were alive?"
no subject
“Well,” he furrows his brow, unsure how to describe Los Angeles to someone with no common reference. “There’s a lot of light, a lot of cars, a lot of different people... It’s a real big city, so...” He waves his hand around vaguely, trying to think of what else to add... There’s the beach, there’s Hollywood... His eyes widen as he realizes that he’s left out possibly the most important thing!
“Everyone’s a human. No vampires, no aliens, angels, demons, or anything like that... There's no magic or supernatural type stuff either-- that’s only in the movies.”
no subject
"It sounds like quite the experience, living in such a place. I've seen my fair share of cities in my travels, but truth be told I prefer the seclusion of a small manor tucked away in the woods or somewhere off the beaten path."
She gives him a smile, taking another sip from her flask.
"If there's anything you'd like to know about my world, I'd be happy to share a few details."