Log Title: Hurt
Summary: Galen fills Acorn in on the happenings at the Panama Rose. In their unique fashion. Warning: Language, violence, etc.
IC Date: 03/18/2381
OOC Date: 03/20/2019
Related Logs: Strung Up
galenacorn

 

 

  • * *

'Don't shit where you eat' is supposed to mean that you shouldn't work and live in the same space. Acorn doesn't believe in that, because he lives beneath Liquid Air. The private lounge and seat of his power also has a bedroom. It's impractical for anyone except those who are always awake when the club upstairs is open. Otherwise, it would be impossible to sleep with the thudding bass.

The fighter is one of the privileged few with access to the back door, with its biometric scanner. Acorn has been known to revoke access if he's dealing with something sensitive in his inner sanctum, but most of the time Galen is allowed in. The gangster is alone, reclining on the sunken couch, ONI flickering as he goes over the day's receipts. And that doesn't mean how many drinks he sold.

* * *

Another notification pops up in the corner of Acorn's ONI, and that is that Galen has entered the premises. He breezes in without so much as a word of greeting as he heads to the bar and takes one of Jules' finest decanters from the selection and pours himself a drink.

To say he looks frazzled is an understatement. The man who builds a reputation not only on his skill in the ring or on the sales floor but also on his appearance has his shock of blondish brown hair in disarray and his coat looks like it was thrown on inside out. Beneath that he wears a pair of skinny jeans that appear blue or silver depending on the light and a clear tank top that shows off every muscle and scar he's earned the hard way. He downs the first glass full in a series of heavy gulps and as he goes to refill it, he mutters back to Acorn in a hoarse voice. "Carnage got offed tonight."

* * *

Acorn for his part, isn't wearing anything special. In fact, he looks like he was getting ready to bed, in a long sleeved black shirt and gray sweatpants. They're both a bit big on him. At first, he doesn't move from his spot. "Just got a new bottle of Ryuka on the top shelf. I…" he turns around and leans against the back of the couch. Then he stands up and pads across towards the bar. "Real deathed?" There's almost a note of…hope in his voice?

* * *

Galen grips the edge of the bar area, stepping back and leaning over it with straight arms and a bowed head. "Stack was saved, we slapped him in a new Synth body but he's pissed as hell. Wants me to call in a favor with you and get some muscle to shake down the Rose. Thinks it's an inside job." For now, Acorn just gets the abridged version of tonight's events because Galen himself is still trying to work out the particulars and what it all means inside that gerbil powered brain of his.

Finally he pushes up again and turns to face Acorn properly, taking in his appearance with a sweep of his gaze. If he notes that it looks like the mob lieutenant is getting ready for bed, there is no apology for disrupting the quiet lull right before.

* * *

Acorn lets out a soft grunt of disappointment. He reaches over and pulls down a glass, then pours himself a shot of something dark that smells like licorice. "One thing I have learned about Carnage? Never jump on his orders. He says shit when he's mad and gets real pissed if you act on it right away. Especially if he's sleeve sick. I'll confirm with him in the morning." He looks Galen up and down. "Why are you so rattled? Someone was bound to come after Carnage. It's happened before, you know."

* * *

"He had a shattered Stack around his neck." Galen says in answer, flustered as he takes off his coat and it doesn't want to easily obey being removed. He ends up shaking an arm with a growl until the sleeve can be properly stripped off. "That's the third, I know of. Violet from the Rose, the kid I'm training, and then Carnage. It's gotta be linked to Longbow."

* * *

Acorn takes pity on Galen and reaches out to help tug the jacket off. He turns it right side out and drapes it over the stool tucked up against the bar. "There's been like, two hundred of those things. A bunch of kids started wearing fake ones, too. Because kids are idiots." He reclaims his drink. "This has really shaken you up, hasn't it?"

* * *

Galen watches Acorn tend to his jacket, which is better than it just pooling on the floor had he had his own way. "Hitting a little too close to home." Like. Everyone around him and the fight he was involved with, with the clone. Reaching out, he claims Acorn's free hand but it's not in some sweet gesture. He's bringing those fingers up to his throat and conforming Acorn's grip around it.

* * *

"What are you doing?" says Acorn with a little flicker-smile and a bit of amusement in his eyes. "You think someone is going to come for you next? You were just part of the show. You haven't been nosing around, have you?" His fingers flex, and not especially gently.

* * *

Galen's chin reflexively lifts higher which only straightens out his neck more and gives Acorn more access to his windpipe. "No." He hisses, "But the kid has." Obviously his loyalty lies with the man who has his hand around his throat, and not with his new protege. "And Carnage has the TBT from some strip show another Longbow clone did." His eyes pinch shut and he mutters, "Harder."

* * *

"Yeah well, kids do dumb shit." Acorn obviously doesn't know that the kid in question isn't actually one. "You know I will protect you, yes?" Says the man who does as he's asked and squeezes harder. He knows how to do it in a controlled way. Make of that what you will. "I'm a good friend to have. Better than fucking Carnage."

* * *

Galen is barely a half decade older than Kagami that he calls 'kid' but for whatever reason, it's a moniker that's seemed to have stuck for the fighter. "He's trying to…recreate the virus." His vision is starting to go fuzzy at the edges, but trying to swallow past that hand is easier than thinking. It's a distraction, and one that's working. "You. I'm loyal to you."

* * *

"Is he? Well, if he manages, let me know. I could have a lot of buyers for something like that." Acorn presses harder for a moment, and there's a glint in his eye the suggests he might not stop. But he does, pushing Galen back a bit as he does. "If you want to make yourself feel alive, Galen, there are more fun ways to do it than just with my hand on your throat."

* * *

There is a gasp of air as he's released, Galen needing to reach back and grab the bar behind him to steady his legs. Oxygen floods back into his system, leaving him with a weird sort of euphoria and lightheadedness that works faster than any alcohol he's plied himself with thus far. "That was just the appetizer." His lips shift into a wicked smirk, his tongue poising on the tip of one incisor.

* * *

Acorn swallows what's left in his glass with a single gulp. It burns all the way down. Then he walks over to the end of the bar and flicks open a small box. He pulls out a slick black atomizer. He slides an orange metallic cartridge in it, primes the pump, then takes a hit off it. His pupils dilate, then he walks over and drapes one arm over the other man's shoulder. He offers it up to his lips. "You want to forget tonight? I'll fucking make you forget. But you have to be serious. I promise it's safe. I wouldn't want to damage your sleeve. Worth too much right now. Do you know I have all sorts of booking requests? They all want to fight the man who took down a meth."

* * *

"When you promise it's safe, it takes half the fun out of it." Galen points out, dipping his head slightly to take a hit off the atomizer without so much as a question as to what's in it. Forgetting sounds like just what the non-existent doctor wants. "Give the Rose a day to clean up the blood and I'll fight whoever you want me to fight." He blinks once, and when his eyes reopen his pupils nearly eat up the entirety of his blue irises. "Fuck whoever you want me to fuck. Kill whoever you want me to kill." Galen's voice turns into a rumble as he attempts to nose his face against Acorn's like a puppy that just wants the attention. Scratch that. A full grown Pitt.

* * *

Acorn does like his body highs, and whatever's in that atomizer is no exception. It's not Dwell - it's something stronger and more intense than that. Within seconds of the hit, every limb is vibrating, everything looks sharper and every touch is more intense. He slides his hands back through Galen's hair and tugs, lighting up every nerve in an odd combination of pain and pleasure. He pushes his head back and slides his tongue along his neck, raking teeth and very nearly breaking skin. "You wanna go from showdog to attack dog, hmmm? Because I can do that." He slides a hand around his waist and pulls him in tightly. He's not a bruiser, but he's no weakling either.

* * *

There is a low chuckle from Galen, a full body thing because the vibrations make the tingling just that much more delightful. The threaded hand in his hair tugging is pulled against to intensify that sting there which is in a strange juxtaposition to the feeling of Acorn's tongue on his throat. "Make it hurt." He croons, already forgetting about what they were just taking about.

* * *

"That's my specialty," says Acorn. Then he pushes hard, using leverage to shove the taller man hard up against the wall. He curls his fingers over on Galen's forearm, then pulls down with short nails, hard enough to leave red marks in the skin, and the tiniest welt of blood. Then he pulls up one of the other man's hands and puts a finger into his mouth. He bites down until he tastes iron, then he releases. "Is that what you want?" he asks, tilting his chin up, a touch of Galen's blood staining his lips red. "Or is that the wrong kind of pain? I know so many kinds."

* * *

There is a certain risk versus reward when dealing with Acorn, and the thrum of drugs in Galen's system dulls the former in favor of seeking the latter. His head bounces off the wall, the sudden crack of his skull against the hard surface bringing about little stars that just make him chuckle more. "Perfect." But honestly he'd accept all types at this point, because it's good to feel anything except that anxiety he left the Drome with. He has a new ring of teeth marks around his finger, but he doesn't care. He'll wear it like jewelry. The groan is muffled as Galen seeks out the taste of his own blood on Jules' lips.

* * *

The scary thing about him is that Acorn when he's in control, is very in control. No violence without utility. But his frag brings manic moments when he becomes wholly unpredictable - even to himself. Fortunately for all involved, those moments rarely come when he's got drugs in his system. Hence why he does tend to give himself a dose before sex. Otherwise, the high emotions might trigger a manic episode.

He kisses, hungrily, probingly, and more than a little possessively.

* * *

It wouldn't be fun without the threat. If Galen wanted normalcy, no doubt he wouldn't stray from his Neo-C supposed girlfriend. He's kept her secret thus far, but perhaps that's part of retaining his image. The kiss is met with equal fervor, adding the bite of teeth to Acorn's bottom lip, sharp enough so their blood mingles with the swirl of their tongues. After indulging in the feel for a brief moment, there is a rough shove against Acorn's shoulders to send him backwards with the full strength of the fighter.

* * *

In truth, the thought that Acorn is keeping Galen from his pure Neo-C girlfriend is part of the fun. Especially since he's doing it with very impure things. He staggers backwards, laughing in a darkly amused way. The back of his legs hits the back of the sunken couch and he nearly topples down into it. "Do you want to fight me? That hardly seems fair." He reaches up to dab the blood on his lip. He smiles wickedly.

* * *

Galen pulls his teeth over his own lips, digging troughs through the red speckles them and stains his teeth momentarily pink as he matches that smile of Acorn's. "I suppose you could just give up? But where's the fun in that." With his arms bowed out to the sides and his shoulders flexed, he stalks forward with a lowering of his head like a bull presenting his horns. The last few steps are in a rush, moving to bowl Acorn over the rest of the way onto the couch and perhaps the floor beyond.

* * *

"One of us is a professional fighter. The other one of us is just very good with a gun in his hand." Well, in truth, Acorn can bash heads with the best of them, but it's not usually in a fair fight. He seems a little taken off-guard by the bull-rush. He topples back into the sunken living room. As he falls, he tries to grab for Galen's arm to pull him down with him. He bounces off the edge of the couch and slams into the carpeted floor with a skull-shaking thud and an exhalation of breath.

* * *

Pulled with, Galen tumbles along and ends up in a sort of graceful heap on top of Acorn using the momentum of their fall to draw the other man into a roll onto the floor without so much as letting Jules regain his senses. By the time they come to a halt, Galen has their positions inverted so Acorn is forced to straddle the fighter's thighs as hands rake up the lieutenant's shirt that looks suspiciously familiar. In the question of who wore it better, the floor wins.

* * *