redshiftlogs | Getting Down to the Club [Open]

Who: Bro Strider, his buddy Lil Cal, and anyone who comes in
What: Being a hot blooded man about town, Bro decides to check out the ruined dance club. He of course brings his bro. No, not his biological brother. His favorite puppet.
When: Late July
Where: The Dance Club
Warnings: Bro is a rude asshole, trolling, creepy puppets

Night clubs annoyed the living fuck out of Bro.

Maybe that's harsh, but Bro was never a big fan of places other people congregated. Despite being as much of a player as he is, Bro still preferred solitude to dealing with other people. It came with the territory. He was a mysterious dude, and mysteries did not simply reveal themselves plain as fucking day. They get rent and shown in lightning flashes of mad inspiration. They're living embodiments of the esoteric, which is really pretty parallel to the ironic. Wizened fucking figures whispering blessings and truths to sweaty, kneeling adherents.

If Bro was being honest, he guessed that mobs of sweaty assholes grinding up against each other to mediocre remixes of mass produced beats was the closest modern equivalent to that, so Bro supposed clubs had their place. What is a DJ but a god?

Behold the modern day incarnate deity that is Dirk 'Bro' Strider, riding one of the little segway devices around the club floor as he checks out the electronics. Right now, he's playing with the light settings while some weird shit metal band plays over the speakers.

"Yeah okay," Bro says, backing the little segway device up a bit. "That's worn out its welcome. Let's change these beats up."

He looks over at the controls for the music, where a awesome looking and not at all creepy fucking puppet is laying. If the puppet understands and has decided to go with Bro's orders, it gives no answer. Just sort of lays there, as puppets are wont to do when they don't have hands all over their creepy asses.

"You serious bro?" Bro asks, slightly annoyed.

The puppet still gives no response.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Really? Really. Bro is really talking to that fucking thing - which of course, of course, this place had to bring with him.

Add another to the list of universes out to get Dave Strider.

"How the fuck do these places all bring Cal along with you? Do you know a guy in charge who's pulling some strings for you, or..."

“Think the universe knows me and Cal are a package deal,” Bro says as Dave emerges.

Bro turns his stupid little Segway towards Dave. Starts rolling up on the goddamn thing.

“We’re a two for one. If one is missing, you gotta demand a refund. If you can, I mean. Universe will probably be tearing its ass apart at the fibers at that point.”

"Pretty sure I ran into a version of you that didn't come with Cal."

And he doesn't just mean the fake version Mu made for him. There was one before that - he thinks. If he's honest, his memories of anything that happened before Mobius are a disjointed mess; more like pieces of a dream that's faded fast than anything solid and real. Which, of course, is how he prefers it.

"And that universe was like, at least 80% fine."

Yeah, no, he's lying through his teeth there. But Bro doesn't have to know that. As far as Dave's concerned, the absence of Cal is at least fifty points in a universe's favor.

“You got out of dodge at the right time then,” Bro says. “Place probably unraveled after you left. Just a universal inevitability, when Strider and puppet are apart.”

Bro drives the segway around in a little circle as he speaks.

“Gonna take it a venue like this is beneath you. Sounds like you were repping your ‘beats’ pretty hard, from what you told me.”

He's getting dizzy just watching Bro. It's a combination of trying to track the circular movement with his eyes and the indignation at the thought that his brother can't be parted from that fucking puppet.

He glares contemptuously at the immobile puppet. It's not as if Bro can tell when his shades are obscuring his eyes, anyway.

He hopes Cal gets sucked out of an airlock.

"Understatement. There were basically fans and paparazzi camped outside my place 24/7. I had to install a security system that dropped everyone who got within ten foot of my house into a ditch filled with fire ants and poison ivy."

Is he exaggerating? Telling the truth? Like fuck is he going to give away the answer.

"So no, I wouldn't have been caught dead in a place like this."

Dave shouldn't worry. Getting dizzy from the mad circles by which Bro leads people around is just a natural thing to occur. Bro doesn't seem to be intending to stop right now while he talks either. The problem with a segway is there aren't many badass tricks you can pull off on the damn thing. It is a useless piece of trash, meant for babies who are just tired of putting in the effort of walking.

If Cal has any feelings on Bro's hijinks, or Dave's claims, he doesn't let them be known. As always, his creepy puppet ass just lays there and stares. Stares seemingly long and deep at whoever it might be facing with this disconcerting blue eyes.

"Pits are a better defense than a moat, so you made a good choice there," Bro says, not once stopping his spinning. "Easier upkeep and to modify too. Tight."

Finally, mercifully, Bro stops his dumbass spinning. "Guess this place is too weak to be worth gracing with your beats, then," Bro asks.

Probably not the question Bro wants to be asking if he doesn't want a smug response back, seeing as music is the one place where Dave is legitimately sure he's hot shit. After all, as Musician, he was kind of a big deal back in Mobius.

"You know, if you wanted to hear a tune that bad, all you have to do is ask."

Dave is, of course, aware that Bro most certainly did not - he remembers how pissed Bro had been the first time he heard Dave's theme, after all. He's also aware that straight up going and asking is hella uncool. What are they, Egberts? Fuck that shit.

Smugness is expected. Smugness, in Bro's eyes, should also be respected. If you're going to tow the Strider name, you should tow the Strider swagger right along with it.

Dave's right on the mark with that bit though. Bro, sad to say, does not think too highly of his brother's musical inclinations as of late. It's a fucking tragedy, truth be told. Bro knew Dave had some legit skills, and here he's gone wasting it on...whatever that shit was.

"Guess I'm getting old," Bro says. "Cause your music confuses the fuck out of me. Makes me feel like an old man slinging empty bean cans at paper boys."

Confuses the fuck out of me is certainly one way to put it, given that Dave's well-aware of what his music is actually designed to evoke in people - and judging from how their last fight went, it certainly seems to work on Bro. Though, maybe it's the most accurate way to put it. Has Bro, outside of that one occasion, ever even felt inadequacy or loneliness? Dave certainly never thought his brother capable of such weakness.

And so, it makes sense that Bro would describe it that way. Those emotions are probably completely alien to the guy.

"Gotta catch up with the times, Bro. Spending less time talking to puppets might help."

Bro tsks at that. Gives his head one small shake. In the world of Bro Strider, that is a serious reprimand.

"Homeboys don't leave their crew behind," Bro says firmly. C'mon Dave. He raised you much better than this. He thinks he did, at least.

Oh, not this shit. Don't you tsk at him, asshole. He's sick and tired of pretending to be down with your evil puppet.

"I guess I wouldn't know, since I work just fine as a solo act." Crews are some chump-ass pansy shit, in other words.

For fuck's sake, it's a puppet.

Getting Down to the Club [Open]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject