Yeah so for some reason, Mik felt disappointment that it was nothing. The stink was definitely ripe. Maybe it was the power coursing through him. And then he was jabbed in the ass. If her fists had been sharp, her finger was more like a needle. He glanced back over his shoulder, grin on his face. "Hey now! Buy a guy a drink at least, first. Jeez." He laughed. Normally, it didn't take much more than that.
They entered the opened area he'd noticed. And she was right. Just a body, half decayed. Sucked for them. Dying down here wasn't gonna get you buried anywhere. You just became part of the decoration. The atmosphere. He could imagine a realtor trying to sell this place. This is late 20th century brickwork. Notice the cracks spidering the walls. They add an sense of age and history to the place. And over here is a dead body. It's fairly new. Maggots are extra, but well worth the asking price. He thought about sharing but it would take too long. He was a talker, sure. He knew that. So did everyone who knew him- or at least spoke to him. It kept people from noticing how much he heard. And if they dismissed him as flighty and dumb? Well, that was on them.
He looked around the room "Yeah, not really a hobby, though. This is only my second time down here. My hobby- if I have one- is mostly looking to see what kind of trouble- and how much of it- I can get into," he added with a wink. "First person shooters are fun. For a little while, anyway. I get restless sitting too long. But a drink....yeah. I like that. Especially with good company. Tell you what. We find something good- a good fight or your uncle- and we go out celebrating. Do it up proper. Moscow style" Then he frowned. "And if we don't, well, we can go get some milk shakes.
He looked at her, hoping she'd say yes. That stench was still there. The power flooded his senses with everything around him. And of course stuff NEAR to the stuff around him. It was all quite gross. He let the power go. Everything went dark for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the new lower levels. At least the smell was mostly gone.
He opened his mouth to comment when something from one of the side tunnels flew out at him. His peripheral vision barely had time to register movement- and feel a slash at his body and head. Whatever it was hit him hard and he bowled over, thudding to the ground. He rolled around in the muck, which fucking pissed him off. Dammit!! Now he was gonna have to get his jacket cleaned. He rolled over immediately, trying to stand and succeeding only after a moment. Silence.
It was gone. He looked around, straining to see, to hear. Nothing. Rune seemed ok, at least, which was good. Still, he asked "You ok?" His ear throbbed with pain as did his neck. He touched them gingerly, feeling wetness. He felt for his lighter- he'd have the power with him next time that asshole tried to run him over- and for the first time, felt a bit of panic. Not a lot. No. Mik was not one prone to panic attacks. He was breathing a bit harder than normal, but that was to be expected. He was ok. He was.
In the semi-dark, Spectra gave him an evil grin. You bitch! he thought.
He thought he did a pretty good job of keeping his voice calm. "So...did you see what that was?"
They entered the opened area he'd noticed. And she was right. Just a body, half decayed. Sucked for them. Dying down here wasn't gonna get you buried anywhere. You just became part of the decoration. The atmosphere. He could imagine a realtor trying to sell this place. This is late 20th century brickwork. Notice the cracks spidering the walls. They add an sense of age and history to the place. And over here is a dead body. It's fairly new. Maggots are extra, but well worth the asking price. He thought about sharing but it would take too long. He was a talker, sure. He knew that. So did everyone who knew him- or at least spoke to him. It kept people from noticing how much he heard. And if they dismissed him as flighty and dumb? Well, that was on them.
He looked around the room "Yeah, not really a hobby, though. This is only my second time down here. My hobby- if I have one- is mostly looking to see what kind of trouble- and how much of it- I can get into," he added with a wink. "First person shooters are fun. For a little while, anyway. I get restless sitting too long. But a drink....yeah. I like that. Especially with good company. Tell you what. We find something good- a good fight or your uncle- and we go out celebrating. Do it up proper. Moscow style" Then he frowned. "And if we don't, well, we can go get some milk shakes.
He looked at her, hoping she'd say yes. That stench was still there. The power flooded his senses with everything around him. And of course stuff NEAR to the stuff around him. It was all quite gross. He let the power go. Everything went dark for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the new lower levels. At least the smell was mostly gone.
He opened his mouth to comment when something from one of the side tunnels flew out at him. His peripheral vision barely had time to register movement- and feel a slash at his body and head. Whatever it was hit him hard and he bowled over, thudding to the ground. He rolled around in the muck, which fucking pissed him off. Dammit!! Now he was gonna have to get his jacket cleaned. He rolled over immediately, trying to stand and succeeding only after a moment. Silence.
It was gone. He looked around, straining to see, to hear. Nothing. Rune seemed ok, at least, which was good. Still, he asked "You ok?" His ear throbbed with pain as did his neck. He touched them gingerly, feeling wetness. He felt for his lighter- he'd have the power with him next time that asshole tried to run him over- and for the first time, felt a bit of panic. Not a lot. No. Mik was not one prone to panic attacks. He was breathing a bit harder than normal, but that was to be expected. He was ok. He was.
In the semi-dark, Spectra gave him an evil grin. You bitch! he thought.
He thought he did a pretty good job of keeping his voice calm. "So...did you see what that was?"
"Good and ill.
We're like the wind,
we blows both ways."
- Mad Sweeney, American Gods
- Mad Sweeney, American Gods