Ferkle Driscoll

"About the part where you gave me radiation poisoning," Craig said, bringing the seething under control. "I’d guess it was you, anyway." His leg started to ache. Shit, the crutches. With adrenaline dying down, the pain from walking on the done in foot was coming back. Craig looked back into the train. It was only next to where he’d been sitting. Close enough. The crutches toppled over then fell along the floor towards him until he caught them. Once again, he exhaled. No flying for a few days. 

Tagging: Kenny McCormick

Timeframe: Shortly after the hospital visits

General notes: Just cause things are getting boring~

It wasn’t so much that noise angered Silly. he was already angry. Barking just gave away where you were. Either way Kenny decided to clear out before the dog’s undoubtedly stuffy owner caught up.

Somewhere along the way he encountered a lone figure walking. Dressed mostly in dark, it was the posture outlined against the shadow that made Kenny feel this person stood apart from the usual passers-by, those that would swivel around Kenny as if he were a sticky spot on a public bench.

Kenny pocketed his hands deep into his hoodie, slumped his shoulders and lowered his gaze to the asphalt. His fists clenched and slackened rhythmically as he approached. Something churned low in his stomach, as if his body felt that this might potentially end up really matter.

A gunshot. He smirked on Craig’s words. ‘Good person’, Kenny was as good as life was to him, not fucking very. Good people Kenny hated the most: They handed him five bucks while they were talking on their multimedia products of child labor, eating their beef tortured to perfection. Their hypocrisy was the worst part. Kenny could see no distinction between them and the lineup of death row.

A gunshot. His head started spinning. He heard a first explosion go off behind him, muffled, as if he was hearing it submerged in battery acid. He jerked his head towards the sound, and realized the dizzying effort it took. A stain was spreading on his jacket, dark red fluid seeping through the holes and mixing with the dirt stains.

He turned towards the woman, who holding the smoking gun in trembling fingers. "Jesus CHRIST," he croaked lamely, bringing his fingers to his lips and tasting his own juices. Blood, mixed with acid, probably stomach. "WHY?" he moaned in disbelief.

The sour bile pooled in his open palm as he felt himself for the bullet. It wasn’t there. Kenny was no doctor, but had enough experience to know that wasn’t a good sign. The bullet had ricocheted, possibly exploded, and Kenny’s clock was hitting twelve. Kenny’s vision was going; he could barely make out the silhouette of Craig, seemingly floating over the floor.

Craig’s temper flared, and Wendy had the wherewithal to do only two things: The first was to turn away and bend sideways, and the second was grab the wrist of the woman with the gun.  When dealing with Craig, it was important to keep a mantra about electricity going: a mantra that consisted of two parts. One: a direct pathway of electricity to the heart WILL kill you (hence the bending away), and Two: bodies conduct electricity.  The lightning hit Wendy squarely in the lower back; there would be burns on the skin there, for sure.  Her coat sizzled, the shirt where Craig had electrocuted her seemingly vaporized where she’d been shocked.  Every muscle seized.  Wendy could not even scream.

But there was a slight upside, and that was the woman with the gun felt nearly every bit of the shock that Wendy did.  Grabbing her wrist had made certain that the volts flowing through Wendy’s body would be conducted through the woman’s.  They collapsed together, the woman’s hands blistering as the metal of the gun became superheated and burned her helplessly clenched fingers.  

The clenching sent off another round of firing.  The bullets were sent off at floor-level, and struck the green man and a few others in the ankle, foot, and knee areas.  One bullet went speeding right toward the left calf of newly-boarded Ferkle.

Firstly, Kenny falling drew his attention. The gravity field hadn’t seemed to work, but then he got shot and that did. Craig didn’t move though - he was busy with Wendy. He only stopped when he saw bile pass up in front of him and had to flinch. Perhaps fortunately his gravity field saved him - the bile flew upwards and splashed on the ceiling of the train before pooling into quite a blob above his head.

Then a lot of gunshots went off. A few people seemed to get hit, including the green guy. But that wasn’t Craig’s concern. He didn’t know these people.

He floated to Kenny, the bile falling to the floor behind him, and then dropped. “Considering you just…hurled bile at me…” Craig said, thinking about how he thought he’d never say that, “I’m going to do you a huge favour here.” He put one hand to Kenny’s wound, palm flat against the bullet hole. The other hand went to its twin on the other side of his body. “This may sting a little.”

Then, being very careful to regulate the path of the electricity to just over his hands and what was in direct contact with them, he put a few thousand volts across his palms and across the wound. Craig kept it up for a few seconds before stopping. It did the job - the wounds were cauterised.

But mayhem was not something to be avoided, it was inevitable. Living among the wastebins and sewage of the city had taught Kenny that society was rotten to the core. A compost heap kept from collapsing by those on top of it, convincing the rest of us that it was best for all. Kenny knew better. The only thing that stopped decline was sliding down to the bottom, where you could look up and see the entirety of the rotten, despoiled mess that was life.

"buzz off, sparky," Kenny positioned himself between Craig and Wendy, unfazed and gazing at the taller Craig through his muddy locks once more. "That nice lady there is about to have an epiphany. A goddamn religious experience. For all you know this is going to be the first day of her new wonderful fucking life. And you’re just going to take that away from her?"

On the whole, being tased (twice) had been far worse, she thought.

The roaring in her ears from being shocked had blocked the dialogue between Kenny and Craig.  But Kenny now stood before her, directly in Craig’s path of attack.  Curious.  Was Kenny defending her? Or was he jut eager to see the woman make her choice?  Or was he just drunk and conveniently in the way?  Wendy turned back to the woman, gratefully.  Now, thanks to Kenny, whatever his reason, she could get back to the important work.

The woman with the gun looked conflicted.  The stupid cow was trembling all over, despite the fact that she now held the weapon.  Wendy sneered at her.  ”So make a choice,” Wendy poked at her wrist in allusion to a watch, “we don’t have all fucking day here.”

The woman pointed the gun at Wendy, the barrel still shaking. 

Wendy tsked.  ”Bad choice.”

She ducked under the barrel in the next second.  Diving forward, she tackled the woman’s legs.  The woman fired, but her imbalance made the shot go wild and hit the roof. Wendy went momentarily deaf at the close proximity of the bullet.  This didn’t stop her however, from grabbing the woman’s arm, slamming it back against the seat behind them, and disarming her in a matter of seconds.  She threw the woman off herself, where the other immediately flinched away, instinctively protecting her own face.

Wendy stood, brushed herself off.   “I did give you a chance to save your own skin,” she said, and then her brow wrinkled, “but you tried to cheat. This is about CHOOSING, don’t you understand?  You can’t cheat the choice, you bitch; everyone has to make it!”

She bent down, and hauled the woman to her feet again, gun still clenched in one fist and now held dangerously close to the woman’s face.  The woman kept looking at it, eyes flitting about nervously.

"Now, I’m going to be uncharacteristically GENEROUS, and give you a second fucking chance," Wendy grabbed the woman’s hands, fitted her finger around the gun’s trigger.  She pointed it at the man, who had flattened himself against the rear.

"Please," the man said.  He had turned from green to pale yellow, "I…I don’t want to die…please?"

"What do you say?" Wendy looked deep into the shaking woman’s eyes.  "Is it gonna be him, or is it gonna be you?"  Wendy released the woman’s hands, and took a step back.

Sound exploded in the small train compartment.  Then silence.

"But don’t think that’s going to stop me dropping your ass." Then the second shot went off. The silence that followed had a bit of a different air to it. Someone had died and Craig knew not who.

He felt the anger building inside him. Just like it had with Kyle, except this time it wasn’t about him and his hat. Maybe it was because in the moment he saw blood spurting across the floor of the train carriage he finally realised exactly how serious this was.

That just maybe, this was actually war.

"Right," he growled. He wasn’t going to zap Kenny. Instead, he built up two gravity fields. One directly in front of him going to one side of the train, just for a second.. That might catch Kenny off guard, fling him to the side. The second one was levitating himself to the direct middle of the carriage.

He felt the lightning coming from all over him now. “Wendy!" he shouted. Then he gave a much more powerful double handed blast. A hospital worthy one, if he recalled correctly. The kind that might cause collateral damage.

Then he dropped, teeth grit and breathing very loudly and very deeply.

Tagging Michael

Ferkle shrugged his shoulders after a few days without a reply to his texts to Michael. Michael might have gotten in trouble, and Ferkle had kept his distance over the last couple days, wondering if Michael had been pissed at him for getting him into such… Deep things.

What Fekle HAD been doing over the week was more important than what he hadn’t (contacting Michael). Ferkle had managed to accumulate quite the wealth in knowledge since the museum incident. Since learning of Wendy’s identity, Ferkle spent awhile trying to figure out a bit about her.

Her youth was easy. South Park blah blah blah, father issues blah blah blah. Then she disappeared, her freshman year of school, after her mother had killer herself. After that… It became difficult. First off, her name seemed to be known by the Taliban, in a weirdly positive way, but aside from representing Saudi Arabia in the Model United Nations and a trip to the country when she was young, there was no evidence that she should have such connections. He was still working on that information, but his available resources were running dry and he couldn’t find a way to get good with the Taliban short of becoming a tool, and he was already some organizations tool, so that was out. After disappearing she apparently got her GED, and a job at the GAP before winding up in Denver.

But now that a week had gone by and Michael still hasn’t replied, Ferkle decided to walk to the University if Denver and find his friend’s dorm. Which… Was way harder than Ferkle thought it would be. Finding his dorm was tough, since apparently nobody notices a goth kid in college. His first lead turned out to be false as he wound up at some fucking emo kids dorm, his dorm mate had pointed Ferkle’s direction in a loathing tone. Ferkle was tempted to round back and kill the kid, but he wasn’t where Ferkle had talked to him.

He scanned the halls and other areas for a familiar face (what was probably an impossibility), and finally zeroes in on one. Professor chaos? Ferkle thought, a tinge of contempt and curiosity drowned under confusion. How could someone who talks as big and evil as him be here... why would he be here?

The world dissolved into snow, white bursting in front of her eyes, raining sparks that spotted over her vision. Sudden, seizing pain tore apart Wendy's ability to focus as a SWAT officer shoved a stun baton against the side of her neck.  Her hands twitched in front of her; she scarcely felt herself hauled to her feet. Twenty SWAT team members were on her in a second, pulling Ferkle off and restraining them both. Wendy couldn't hold herself upright, swaying where she stood.  She managed to snap head up for a moment to look for Bebe, but she was tased again the moment she made a quick movement, causing her to collapse once more.

People were shouting, but Wendy could barely breathe, let alone decipher the words.  Her body still spasmed, refusing her control.  

He brings his fist up, ready for a hit, but before Ferkle could slam his fist into the girls face, it started to convulse and her body began shacking underneath his, much like Ferkle's had when Craig had electrocuted him, but much less violent. Before he could even look up, Ferkle was ripped off of Wendy and dragged back, his arms pinned painfully behind his back and in the air. "Ahg!" He cried painfully, catching a glimpse of the SWAT members as two of them pulled Wendy to her feet and began dragging her towards the back door.

Oh FUCK he thought as he realized he quickly needed to think of an excuse. Who did Wendy shoot? Has to be the mayor. Either way, she was the only person Ferkle could assume was near death or dead. "Let me go!" Ferkle cried, fruitlessly fighting against the hold. "She killed my grandmother!" He cried, hoping they didn't know anything about Mayor Daniels. "Let me... GO!" He cried, trying to put as much pathetic tone into his voice as he could. However, he couldn't conjure the tears. He wasn't sure if they believed him until the guy had him in a full nelson dragged him out of the building and brought him over to an ambulance, where a blanket was wrapped around him, as if her were in shock. Luckily they hadn't noticed the scratch on Ferkle's leg, otherwise he might have been brought to a hospital. 

He wanted to sneak off, but the ambulance was situated next to the one that was used to drive Stan off, so it took a moment before they re-situated themselves to finding the mayor once more, and Ferkle left quietly while everybody was looking away from him.