paixaorpg | Two Dead Guys [Complete]

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Two Dead Guys [Complete]

Character(s): Betelguese, Matt
Content: Betelguese says he knows a way to get out, which Matt wants to know very much.
Setting: Cafe Ersesat, the one near Muepelheim (N3)
Time: A little bit after this thread
Warnings: None, as of yet

It wasn't that he was usually a twitchy individual, but when he ran out of cigarettes (a catastrophe he hadn't suffered from for the past three years) that he began getting anxious. And now, when he was back to life after dying (so he assumed, as long as this wasn't hell), and stuck in a strange city, the fact that all he had in his pocket was an empty packet was the icing on the cake. Taking one last drag before tossing aside the stub of his last smoke, he slouched in his chair, casting around nervously at his surroundings.

Where the hell was that loon? ...he wasn't one to normally just offer his services left and right to people, but this was different. The situation he'd left behind before his death was catastrophic; he'd promised to meet Mello at Nagano and get the two of them out of there, but now that he was here instead of there, who knew what had happened? Anything was possible. The police caught on with Mello, or maybe even killed...

"Fuck!" Swearing under his breath, he scanned the crowd once again for some sign of the man who'd offered him a way out.

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As usual, the cafe appeared fairly occupied. But it was a comfortable, fair amount that was neither to full nor to empty. Only half of the tables available both booth and chair seated remain taken allowing the mood and volume to be set at a perfect level. The front till buzzed as the strong and most inviting aroma of coffee filled the interior. Numerous conversations could be heard, spoken at a soft, casual level.

The sound of chimes wove itself into the blend of noise created throughout the cafe as the front door was pushed open. Unlike the beautiful melody created by the rods metal, the being to enter was anything but enchanting. He looked as if he had barricaded himself in his home for month's, sitting in front of the idiot box for hours judging by the large gut he held. His dark eyes wandered about the coffee shop in the shady of fashions.

"Aren't you even going to say 'Hi' to me?" asked a rather pouty voice from behind Matt.

Now standing before the man, a remarkably beautiful, blonde haired woman stood appearing fairly crushed. Her long, golden hair draped down over her tight, lipstick red dress that showed off her curved figure all to well. Her bright, green eyes fell to the floor before suddenly appearing back on mop haired man.

"I like you hair." she commented, leaning in closer recovering all to quickly from her sour mood. Her hand took hold of a piece of his hair, long, red, fingernails running through it as she continued to lean in closer. The dress she remain clothed in appeared to not only show off her come-hither curves, but also her more than inviting chest which she presented with all to great pride.

She was like a wild animal, climbing up onto the table, closer and closer to Matt till he was unable to escape her glance. It was then her hands took hold of the sides of his head, keeping him from moving away as she brought herself closer in, puckering her lips and forcing a kiss upon the mans lip regardless of any protest he might have shown.

And that was the kiss that broke the spell.

The gorgeous womans image melted away as if someone had splashed a bucket of water upon her, revealing the hideous being who had been hiding beneath the red fabric: Betelgeuse.

His rotten, crooked, stained teeth sparkled at Matt informing him that the ghost most certainly hadn't seen a dentist in years. This kiss he had shared now seeming all the more appalling as what looked like a termite crawled across his smile. Judging by the rest of him, his pale completion and heavily ringed eyes it was seemingly more obvious that this might have been the very man the man may have unfortunately been waiting for.

He didn't bother to move, and remain laying on the table before the teenager in his average day clothing; his black and white striped suit. His blonde hair remain thrown up equally as messy as Matt's, although it was doubtful it bothered the deceased being. Nothing actually seemed to bother him as he lay, batting as eyelashes at his new victim.

"Boo."

Whatever he'd been expecting certainly wasn't this.

When the woman had first bothered him, he'd glanced over, fully intending to give her the finger and tell her to go away but, well, he was just a guy in the end, and her tight dress certainly didn't help matters. As she began crawling up the table, somewhere in the back of his mind, he was pretty certain that this was all too strange, that very few women (other than the random goth chick) bothered to talk to him, let alone flirt around like this. And he'd been just about to voice that concern when she pulled him in for the kiss.

He'd had his share of romancing in his life, having met a few girls during fits of boredom, but this was just nasty. His eyes widened behind his goggles as the image melted away, and he immediately threw himself backwards, tearing out of her--his grip. After taking a moment to sputter in outrage, he looked at the other with what could only be extremely powerful disgust.

"Oh deary me, I'm terrified." Voice dripping with sarcasm, he wiped his mouth off, internally lamenting the fact that he didn't even have a cigarette to rid himself of the horrid aftertaste. "And, by the way, a toothbrush won't kill you."

"That wasn't for you, that was for me." the ghost replied cooly, licking his lips in order to not only tackle down every last bit of the taste and savor it, but also add to the teenagers disgust. He absolutely adored the expression shared when he had peeled back his disguise and shown his true state of being. Perhaps he could get another look of pure disgust out of the boy in the near future. Grinning all the larger, Betelguese added on teasingly, "I know part of you wants some more. HA HA HA!"

Throwing his head back, his poisonous laughter filled the room sounding much like the gaging of someone with a nose tightly tied 'round their neck, struggling to get enough oxygen in their lungs. Continuing, he looked back at Matt sending the horrid smell known as his breath to escape past his lips straight in the boys face. It would take a lot more than a toothbrush to cure him of such a hideous cavity.

"I haven't used one of those my entire life." he said, suddenly appearing in a chair beside the red head. "Or afterlife." Throwing an arm around the boy, he leaned in closer, invading all the personal space he could. His pale fingers rubbed Matt's shoulder, long, chipped fingernails scratching against the boys jacket before twisting in an unusual fashion to reveal a cigarette. But before the apparent genius could snatch it, the deceased being withdrew his hand and brought the smoke to his lips taking a long drag.

His hand brought itself back around his victim as he exhaled sending smoke at Matt's face. "Oooooh, MAN that's good." he said, throwing his feet up onto the table before inhaling again. He was clearly enhancing the boys craving for nicotine.

At the racuous laughter, a few more of the patrons in the cafe turned in their seats to look over at the two of them, only to look away politely when met by Matt's smouldering glare. He'd been a fairly hardcore smoker for close to five years and was completely addicted, and to have cigarette smoke blown into his face when he was this stressed was about as close as one could get to sending his normally level temper off the edge.

Still, this man said he knew a way out. As tempted as he was to deal the other a punch, he instead satisfied himself with rolling his eyes behind his goggles and giving a snort. Besides, the transformation and teleportation abilities meant this man was probably more than powerful enough to shrug off a blow. Silently thanking the heavens that he'd had his gloves on when he died, Matt gingerly lifted the hand thrown about his shoulder and shoved it off, trying not to wrinkle his nose in distaste.

The invasion of personal space, the teasing, the kiss, the smoke. It was all probably just in order to rile him up, and, since he knew it, he wouldn't fall for it. Hopefully.

"Yeah, yeah, we all know how good a smoke tastes." Subtly inching his chair away marginally, he faced the ghost, propping up his head on the table and trying to keep a neutral expression. "But I'm not really interested in that. I told you what I can offer. Now, how do you propose getting out of here?"

The glances received from the cafe other occupants scantily affected the horrid beings behavior. He simply smiled back at them as his laughter died down into a ghastly chuckle. Matt might have not been amused, but he certainly was. It was without a doubt in his mind that he could empty the entire building out if he pleased with less than the glare the teenager had shared. Ha! He probably thought he was so tough...

So, he had just barely 'scared' off the civilians, restrained himself from sharing any truly extravagant reactions from the ghosts absurd antics, and had yet to arise from his seat. Big deal. It didn't mean anything, especially any form of courage. Betelgeuse hadn't even started yet. For when he was done with this specimen he would need more than a fresh pair of undergarments.

He pouted at the boy's preferred placement of his hand, somewhere where it did not make contact with his shoulder. The disappointment appeared all to played out though when being milked to the point every last drop was released. BJ had never exactly been the best when it came to acting, especially when everything was so over exaggerated the emotion lost it's complete genuine value.

Throwing his flower painted hands over his face, he began weeping loud enough for the entire cafe to hear. The sickening sobs produced heightened their volume each time he inhaled through by the sounds of it a partially clocked windpipe.

"Not interested? NOT INTERESTED?! Waaaah-ha, ha! -Is that all I'm worth to you, a ticket out of this place? Don't you care about my feelings? Why don't you find me attractive anymore? How come you never look at me during...?" He reached forward, clutching Matt's arm and embarrassing it all the while carrying on with such absurd comments having more to do with their commitment issues as a married couple than escaping the island they remain imprisoned on. -except when he had paused to blow his nose with the teenagers sleeve.

Once again, all eyes turned towards the odd duo, and this time, even Matt's blatant snarling didn't deter the curious civilians; indeed, it only made the situation worse, as several woman began pointing in their direction, whispering behind their hands. Sighing, he waited for the sobs to decrease in volume, growing steadily more irritated when they didn't. It was when he felt the ghost blow his nose into his sleeve that he finally gave in, lowering his voice to an exasperated hiss.

"Alright, alright, stoppit!" Jerking away his arm, he wrinkled his nose. So much for spending as little money as possible; he couldn't possibly walk around wearing the ruined shirt. Rolling his eyes behind his goggles, he leaned back onto the table, somehow managing to keep his voice in some semblance of bittersweet politeness.

"Now, look, sir. Sir, right? I'm going to assume you're a guy ...or at least natually, anyway. See, how I see the situation is that it's a bit unfair right now. I asked for something, you said you had it, but only in the vaguest sense. Then you asked me what I have to offer, so I told you in detail. Not quite an eye for an eye, is it?"

Some of the patrons turned away, growing bored, and he breathed an internal sigh of relief. He'd tried being blunt, but that didn't work (it only seemed to provoke more annoyance), so, as per the advice of whiny-boy from the message board, he'd try being polite this time. Of course, it was all just a matter of acting, and he wasn't bad at it, from numerous times of haggling with the police about arrest warrants. But still, it had to count for something.

Keeping his face straight, he continued. "So, at least tell me your name. That'll keep the balance even, yeah?"

He'd struck a nerve. Well, several nerves, but it was simply a matter of trial and error to reach the specific one he had been looking for. It was a difficult task, but he enjoyed the challenge... Most of the time. A mental note was made regarding Matt's dislike of the attention being received along with his disgust upon physical contact. After all, it was a scarer's job to distinguish the things that cause discomfort to certain people. Setting them in a state like that could easily make them more vulnerable to almost anything. All he had to do was keep pushing to the point of extreme.

Reeling his arms back in, the ghost stood his ground after being rejected by the teenager for the second time. His hands then fanned out, almost in defense as he stumbled back a few steps before falling back into his chair. He sat there for a moment, legs spread open, arms hanging just above the floor. But after Matt reached the point of serious, Betelguese was all business. ...as business like as he could be, anyway.

It was then he sat proper, one leg over the other as he threw an arm over the back of the chair. The other rested in his lap before he began speaking. "Yeah, just us two guys." he snorted several times, leaning forward sharing the most sinister of smiles with the boy before pulling himself back against his chair. "As for this detail, common, you know I wouldn't be playin' with yeah. Your talkin' to a honest guy here."

Giving Matt a light swat on the shoulder with his hand in a kidding sense, he pulled his hand into his coat, revealing what appeared to be a bright, golden ticket. It was impressive in every aspect; its appearance just screaming importance. But before the teenager could so much as move a muscle, the Bio-Exorcist began to place it back into his coat.

"But, you said you want an eye for an eye, didn't you? Hey, works for me." Shrugging, the key to escaping the city tucked away beneath molding fabric, the deceased being thrust his index finger up, motioning that he would only take a moment as his other hand was brought up to his face, ripping his one of his eyeballs out of his scull.

The sound produced by the snap of the optic nerve was most unpleasant, including the sight of the eye itself behind held up, offered to the teen by the one eyed ghost. His empty socket began to leak out maggots among numerous other insects that fell to the floor and onto the mop haired boy as Betelguese leaned forward once again, his eyeball offered as one of his scarlet fingernails tapped against the goggles shielding the eyes of his accomplice.

"So, what have you got for me? I hope it's green. I always thought I'd look absolutely gratifying with a green eye..."

Even though he was an avid player of zombie games and had pretty much accustomed himself to seeing an assortment of internal organs and bits of flesh splatter against the screen, there was just so far that sort of immunity went. Though he managed to refrain from making any noise, he couldn't help but grimace as the eyeball was torn out, and instinctively pulled back when the other leaned close, grimacing.

It took him a moment to rearrange his features into something that didn't radiate avid dislike of the current situation. "...yes, my eyes are green, but I'm...pretty sure you don't want them." Giving a loud sigh, he looked away from the eyeball and instead down at his clothes, flicking off the stray insect or two that squirmed at the hem of his vest. This situation was certainly more than he'd bargained for.

Straightening up and rubbing his temples, he frowned at the ghost, feeling a headache begin to well up somewhere around the vicinity of his ear. There was just so much teasing he could take before he gave up, really, at this man was rapidly nearing that threshold.

"Look, you." Slamming a hand down on the table, now not even paying attention to the disgusted and amused stares that were directed in their direction, he spat out in a tight, controlled voice. "I'm sure that you know the meaning of that saying, and, no, I'm not going to give you my fucking eye."

"I'm serious about this deal. So far, you're not. I've told you what I can offer you, and all you've done is shown me a bare glimpse of it." Curling his hand into a fist, he glared at the ghost through the lenses of his goggles. "Now, all you've done so far is convince me that you're not interested in this deal, and that you have no intentions of giving me what I'm willing to trade for. And if that's the case, then I'm not interested any more."

Probably not the most diplomatic way of bargaining, but he really didn't feel like having to deal with this sort of shit any more. "So. Give me some serious offer, or I'll be going on my way, sir."

What a coincidence; the boy did possess green eyes. And here he was about to settle for blue. It must have been his lucky day. Or as close to a lucky day as it could be considering there were still a large majority of things that had yet to go his way with Matt. Not that it was discouraging him or anything, because in the end he knew he would crack the code. Each time he was receiving more and more hints, learning more and more... And taking to all to long to achieve his goal. Seriously. This wasn't like him, this was weak.

Drawing back at the teenagers angered reaction, the ghost looked slightly startled. He was really pushin' those buttons, forcing them down as far as they would go to the point it had lead Matt to a state of zero tolerance for such hogwash. If Betelguese didn't cut to the chase, he would leaving any minute. -or so he thought.

Here the boy thought he was in control. Like he had a choice. There was a laugh. Clearly he had underestimated the Bio-Exorcist, for he held every card in his hand and ultimately decided what was to happen. Everything was just where he wanted: it was Showtime.

Suddenly rising from his seat, he sent the chair flying backward and into another table. The floor began to rumble upon impact, shake with every step took by the pale being as he approached the boy. The lights grew bright, as if suddenly receiving a capacity far to great for the bulbs causing them to burst. Pictures that once hung from the walls of the cafe fell to the floor from the continues shaking beneath Matt's feet as the screams of the citizen rushing out of the restaurant filled his ears.

"Wither or not you'll be leaving isn't a choice you get." the ghost growled, towering over teenager as chains wrapped themselves around the boy preventing him from moving from his seat. They hissed almost snake like, tightening their hold of him while the twisted demon threw back his head screaming wildly in laughter.

Reality continued to slip lose, a new world revealing itself as the colour melted from the walls forming paint like puddles around them. The furniture followed, bowing in the most unnatural of fashions.

Taking grasp of the chains imprisoning Matt, Betelguese lifted him up off the floor through a display of great strength. His expression all the more wicked then ever. He was an absolute lunatic. A lunatic whom at this point held the teenager up at least twenty feet in the air by levitating. He was shaken about violently before the ghost threw himself forward, slamming his scull against the teenagers. His hand forcefully clutched the boys head, fingernails digging into his scalp as his cold, black eyes stared through the lenses shielding the eyes of his victim hungrily.

"If you want to leave here, I'll have to take your life to do so!" the deceased being explained all to cheerfully through perhaps the most chilling of tones. His hand, still grasping the chains, poked over the boys chest where his heart lay longingly. Now, he was being serious.

It wasn't that he'd grown up in a nutshell, protected from harm. Hell, he'd had his fair share of street fights in the back alleys, and even holding his own in a few of them. Physical pain really wasn't too hard to endure. But this, well...this was different.

When the other stood up, he'd automatically thrown himself out of his chair out of instinct, sensing something was going horribly wrong; the next moment, the burst of light assaulted his eyes, and his vision went a pure, blissful black, along with a jagged pain that went shooting through his temples. The sounds of high-pitched screaming and the crash of furniture surrounded him as he cast about blindly, trying not to panic. Fuck.

His overly sensitive eyes were still in mid-recovery when he felt the chains wrap around his body. Though he struggled against them, there was just so much he could do, and a large majority of the air in his lungs escaped in a harsh gasp, the chains pressing tightly against his chest. "D...dammit..."

His pace quickening out of fear, he kicked madly as he felt himself being levitated. A small portion of his vision was beginning to return, though this wasn't necessarily an improvement; as far as sight went, he barely caught a blurred glimpse of the Bio-Exorcist's manic expression before being thrown forward. A small, strangled cry escaped his throat when the blunt force hit his head, and he shuddered. The pain was tremendous.

Betelguese's words rang in his ears as he shook his head, trying to gather his scattered thoughts amid the terror that threatened to take over his mind. Mello, the things I will go through for you... His blurry vision was now accompanied by a searing pain in his eyes, and he could feel a dull throb in his head, but he still managed the slightest hints of a grim smile. Fuck this shit. He'd faced off against three dozen armed bodyguards before, a fucking poltergeist couldn't be any worse.

The coppery taste of blood from where he'd bitten his tongue stuck to the back of his throat as he spoke, somehow keepinng his voice from shaking. "...and what use would I be to you dead? If you're aiming for souls, mine isn't exactly the purest one you'd want."

He could smell the fear blossoming within the teenager, spreading wildly like caner throughout his body. It was meant to consume, eat away every bit of 'courage' nesting inside leaving him in a state of ultimate terror. And, by the looks of it, it was working. His hand, which lay over Matt's chest could feel the wild beat of his heart leaving the ghost completely unconvinced by the teenagers firm voice.

Betelguese's lip spread into a vile smile as he forced the teenagers head back to gaze up at the cafe's ceiling. The tile continued to melt away, colours mixing and falling to the floor to produce only a mer puddle above them revealing only darkness. What lay beyond that remain unknown, at least to Matt. The ghost had a plenty of reason to bare knowledge of this twisted world he had created.

Bringing himself in closer, he whispered into the boys ear an all more disturbing response than his last. "That's exactly why I want it."

Suddenly the chair plummeted to the ground, the demon still maintaining a firm grasp. He rode down excitedly in the teenagers lap, laughing all the way down until they landed. Surprisingly, the impact of the chair with the floor was not as great as one would suspect. But still remain fairly violent, sending the chair falling backward before Betelguese pulled it rightfully up.

"Hate to break it to you, but this isn't heaven, kid." he continued, a commonly known scythe appearing in his free hand much taller than himself. It's long, curled blade remain covered in both rust and what appeared as dried blood. To finish the costume, a black, hooded, robe twisted itself over his striped suit, giving him a more obvious identity: Death.

"I've been waiting for you..."

Death... Though he’d been sitting still, dazed, trying to gather his thoughts, when the scythe materialized out of thin air, he immediately stiffened, eyes opening wide behind his goggles. That robe, this whole setup… “You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Hissing under his breath, he began tugging at his restraints, trying to free himself, even when he knew it was impossible.

This was ridiculous. Death? He'd already died once, been brought back to life, why would any manifestation of Death come again-- but then again, just being alive like this again defied logic, who knew, maybe anything could happen-- this--

"You're...sort of late, aren't you?" Even his best attempts to keep his voice steady were in vain, and there was a barely audible tremor to his words. He wasn't stupid enough to think that he could do anything against this apparition; already rattled from being thrown around like that, his eyesight still blurry, and tied up like this...he was pathetic.

But that didn't mean he couldn't try. Twisting his wrists against the chains, he tried to drag himself backwards, away from this...this...thing. "M'already dead, died once..." Keep talking, maybe something - fucking hell, anything - would come up, get him out. "You should have come then, not now."

Releasing his hold of Matt, Betelguese drew himself back through a series of stumbled steps, finally giving the boy the much needed space his desired to examined the scythe in his hold. He looked rather frustrated, frowning as he scratched at the resedu that clung to the blade. This would not sit well with the ghost, for the weapon also appeared fairly dull compared the last time he had used it.

Running a finger over the curled blade, he then paused. A single brow rose as the deceased turned his attention back on his victim. Ah, so he still refused to believed what was being presented to him, did he? Or, by the sound of it, was simply caught in a state of utter denial. Then again, who wouldn't be?

The rotten scoundrel smiled, sharing a rather revolting display of both crooked and twisted teeth. Dental was clearly not included with the job of being Death. Regardless, it did not prevent him from flashing a mirror shattering expression in amusement of the teenager. He had an exceptionaly sick sense of humor, something even someone such as himself could value.

"I'm a busy man." he replied, casually leaning against his scythe. "Do you have any idea how many losers like you kick the bucket per minute 'round the globe? Fucking millions!" Suddenly jumping forward, the ghost shouted straight into Matt's face in disgust. "That doesn't make my job any fuckin' easier, you know. Ever heard of cutting a guy some damn slack?"

Pausing momentarily, a grin formed across his lips he flew backward. "Now as you can imagine, I've got a lot to catch up on. So it's about time we got this show on the road, don't you think?"

Bringing the scythe to his side, he slanted it at roughly a hundred and thirty degree angle, adjacent from Matt's neck as his hand clutched the boys messy, red, mop covered head once again. The chains rattled, hissing with the sickening laughter Betelguese began to generate once again, wildly hitting the peak of his vocals to give off high pitch that was most unpleasant. "Don't move now. You could loose an eye with this thing. Ha ha ha ha...HA HA HA HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!"

The blade swung forward, cutting through the air to create a sharp whipping sound as it approached the teenager leaving it, along with the sickening laughter to escape the ghost, the very last thing he would hear before losing complete consciousness. When he was finally to awake he would find himself laying just outside the gates of Muepelheim, completely unharmed. The only trace to be left of his captor (aside from a now empty wallet) was to be an all to familiar golden ticket stowed away in his pocket. Though it did not hold the same value as the walking corpse had implied, it still proved to be of some worth: One Free, All Expense Paid, Juicing. -Where and how to take advantage of the bargain, unfortunately, remain unprovided.

It was risque of Betelguese to have been kind enough to keep his word and dump Matt outside the city walls, but he had gotten exactly what he had wanted from the boy: his fear. And, having no further use for him after gaining such thing, as well as finding a slight like for the boy, he decided to rid of him in the most convenient place before venturing off in search of more souls to torment.

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Two Dead Guys [Complete]

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