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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Jan 21, 2012 23:44:23 GMT -5
Month 6, Week 2, Day 2, an apartment in Detroit
Maddox Darwin Wayne bounces nervously from one double-socked and slippered foot to the other as he dials his phone. It's 1 am, his home has been invaded, he needs help, and there's only one person he knows he can count on.
Clutching the phone desperately to his ear and listening to it ring, he decides that staying on the floor isn't safe enough, and quickly pulls out a chair to stand on. The chair doesn't wobble at all, because he made sure all the legs were perfectly level down to micrometers.
He whimpers as the phone continues to ring for an eternity - okay, maybe only a few minutes. Or less - shooting terrified glances into his bedroom. The invader is still there. "Come on, come on, pick up!"
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Post by Breakaway on Jan 22, 2012 14:26:36 GMT -5
Brock Anthony Wayne rolls over in bed, getting his legs tangled in the sheets. He's face-down and muttering "Five more minutes," into his pillow as his hand gropes for the snooze button on his alarm clock. (Dramatic convention dictates this must be so whenever someone is awakened by a phone ringing.)
He finally finds the snooze button and hits it with the palm of his hand several times before realizing it's his cell phone that's ringing. He starts groping for that instead, finally bringing it to his ear. He doesn't check the caller ID because he doesn't particularly feel like opening his eyes.
"If this is a marketing call, I will come to your house and kill you. Even if it's in India," he states groggily.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Jan 22, 2012 15:14:45 GMT -5
"Brock! Brooock! Broooock!" Maddox says into the phone, clutching it like a lifeline and getting progressively more shrill with each repetition. He doesn't bother introducing himself, because it'd be pretty hard for his brother to mistake that voice for anyone else.
"There is a spider in my bed, Brock!" he squeals in a tone best reserved for when a dark portal opens above your bed and begins bleeding eldrich horrors from another dimension. "A spider in my bed."
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Post by Breakaway on Jan 22, 2012 17:37:16 GMT -5
"For cripes sake, Mad . . ." Brock answers, still only half-awake. "You got me up in the middle of the night for a spider? Uuurgh. Deal with it yourself. If it's the little creepy one, shoot him, and if it's the big curvy one, then, congratulations, I guess?"
Wait, what? He's pretty sure he was just hilarious, especially considering he just woke up, but he has no idea what he meant.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Jan 22, 2012 19:15:02 GMT -5
Maddox makes an incredibly confused and distressed noise, then whimpers, "...B-but I don't have a gun." And he's pretty sure that shooting at spiders indoors is against apartment regulations.
Recovering his terror, he whines, "Broooock, it's, like, the of dinner plate!" Well, okay. Maybe more like a penny. Or smaller. "What if it bites me and then all the flesh on my hand necrotizes and then my hand falls off and I get a secondary blood infection and die! You have to saaave meee."
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Post by Breakaway on Jan 23, 2012 21:21:32 GMT -5
There is a prolonged and long-suffering groan into the phone. "Fine. I'll get up, get dressed, go outside and drive across town to your apartment to save you from the spider. Are you sure you can't just scoop it off the bed with a newspaper? Or, like, use the vacuum to get it off?" Brock asks hopefully as he crawls out of bed and bends over to pick up/sniff the pair of pants he wore yesterday.
Yes, these still count as clean.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Jan 23, 2012 21:34:01 GMT -5
"Eeennnh-noooo, I can't!" Maddox squeaks, staring in terror at his bedroom door. The very thought of being in the same room as the horrid little monster makes his knees jitter.
And yet Brock is making him feel all guilty and silly, and so he adds, "Have I told you that you're the best, coolest, most awesome big brother a guy could wish for?" If pleading sad puppy dog eyes could be distilled into a tone of voice, that is the tone he uses.
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Post by Breakaway on Jan 24, 2012 19:11:44 GMT -5
"Not nearly often enough," Brock responds, yawning. "Alright, Mad, I'll be over in a bit. See you," he says. Once Maddox responds in kind, he'll hang up. He's currently preoccupied staring at a shirt on the floor next to the pair of counts-as-clean blue jeans he's currently sliding into. It has a big purple Decepticon logo on it. 1 For certain people, the appearance of giant alien robots on Earth is pretty cool, even if some of them are evil. Plus, everyone knows the bad guys are cooler. And Brock has always liked military aircraft better than cars, as evidenced by the various posters on his wall. So why does looking at this T-shirt make his right wrist flex reflexively? That's weird. He shrugs, picks the shirt up to toss it in the hamper- "Two points! *yawn*"- and gets a different T-shirt, this one with a U.S. Air Force logo on it, out of his dresser. Donning a leather jacket and picking his helmet up off the table in his kitchenette, he heads downstairs to his apartment complex's garage. As he mounts his motorcycle, he suddenly feels awkward, like he just did something inappropriate with another dude. He quickly shakes it off though, as he accelerates off into the brightly-lit night, wondering for the umpteenth time how the heck he is related to his brother. 1. This is a knock-off T-shirt, not an offical Decepticon T-shirt like the ones that Swindle was putting out a while ago. The person responsible for manufacturing it has not yet been missing long enough to be declared legally dead.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Jan 24, 2012 20:02:57 GMT -5
Clearly Brock and Maddox's parents made an infernal bargain so that their firstborn would be strong, athletic, handsome, and cool at the expense of their second child being weak, fragile, neurotic, and socially inept. How cruel fate is!
While he waits for his brother, Maddox continues to cower anxiously on his chair for several long moments, before being stricken with the urge to clean things. Cleaning things always helps calm him down! Creeping down from his perch, he collects his cleaning supplies and goes to meticulously polish his collection of model spaceships.
Ah, how he longs to go into space some day. Something about that star-studded blackness has always been comforting to him, ever since he was a child. Just him, a little space shuttle, and the vacuum of space. Of course, there was no way he could ever become an astronaut, making his greatest dream a forever out of reach.
I should just build my own ship, Mayday thinks. Then Maddox laughs at the thought, and mutters to himself, "Yeah, right. If only..."
Despite his cleanly distraction, he'll jump to let Brock in at the first sign of his arrival.
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Post by Breakaway on Jan 25, 2012 20:27:10 GMT -5
Brock arrives at Maddox's building, parks, and walks through the lobby. "Hey Brock," the night watchwoman greets. "Cockroach?"
"Spider," he replies with a wave and an eyeroll as he heads for the stairwell. Elevators are for sissies.
He knocks on Maddox's door when he arrives at it.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Jan 25, 2012 21:02:37 GMT -5
Maddox manages to only squeak a little in surprise when Brock knocks, clutching his USS Enterprise model - well, one of them - to his chest tightly. It could be worse; he's been known to shriek out loud at sudden noises sometimes.
Quickly but gently setting the Enterprise (NCC-1701) down next to the Enterprise (OV-101) in his display cabinet, he rushes to the door and throws it open. He opens his mouth to shout 'Brock!' before remembering that it's past midnight in an apartment building, and forces himself to whisper loudly. "Brock!!"
He looks positively delighted. His knight in... suspiciously rumpled jeans has arrived! Maddox will try not to wonder how long he's been wearing them since he last washed them, because any answer other than 'this is the first time I've worn them since I washed them!' will start to gross him out.
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Post by Breakaway on Jan 26, 2012 21:15:00 GMT -5
Brock likes Star Wars better than Star Trek, because it has more dogfights, but he has watched enough Star Trek to match the various Enterprises with the series they hail from. He doesn't know their serial numbers, though.
"Maddox," he whispers back, leaning in conspiratorially. "I've just had a brilliant idea. We're going to get you a girlfriend, and then she's going to move in with you, and she can kill spiders at oh-dark-thirty in the morning."
"So where's the little monster?" he asks, straightening up.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Jan 26, 2012 21:39:45 GMT -5
Maddox mouth drops open and he squawks out loud before slapping a hand over his mouth and making several muffled distressed noises. He remembers having a girlfriend once. It was in high school and she programmed his ship- no wait, what? And she asked him to prom. That... didn't turn out well.
Ushering Brock in, he closes the door and takes up a position of partly hidden behind him, and whine, "It's in my beeeed."
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Post by Breakaway on Jan 28, 2012 13:14:58 GMT -5
"Alright. I'll see what I can do," Brock responds, rolling his eyes as his little brother hides behind him. He opens the door to the bedroom, walks in, and begins searching for the hideous arachnid menace. There it is, clinging to the headboard. Oh look, there's a line of silk going from the pillow to the headboard. Maddox will probably burn the sheets or something.
The jetformer- human- (Why did he want to identify himself as a nonsense word?) -gets a tissue from the box on the bedside table, wipes up the strand of silk, and throws it in the trash. Then he scoops up the spider in his hand, opens the window, and throws it out, brushing his hand off on his motorcycle jacket because of course he has a bit of silk on there now.
Then he screams "Oh god, Maddox, it's got me! It walks like a maaaaan!" He woke up at 1 AM for this $#!&. Turnabout is fair play.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Jan 28, 2012 13:39:47 GMT -5
Maddox peeks nervously into the bedroom as Brock does his thing, and shrieks out loud when Brock starts yelling. "What! What! Where! Ack! Nuh! Does it hurt! We need to get to the hospita-"
"...Walks like a man?" Maddox stops flailing all over the place, blinking wide, panicked eyes.
Then he crosses his arms a pouts. It is a pout to end all pouts. "Oh ha, ha. Very funny."
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