Don't Touch Me

" you know what they say, once a killer, always a killer. " {{ laurie is bitter, & unforgiving at first so, let's have some fun >:) @strodestabbings

Michael tilted his head at her carefully. Was he supposed to be upset by that? It was somewhat closer to a compliment, seeing as he had no intention of stopping his murderous ways.... Especially not while Laurie was still breathing. And she was right here giving him an opportunity to do so.

Only here there was little point in killing her other than to just cause her suffering. That in itself was something he would still enjoy, but the realization that he couldn’t actually kill her for good here made him feel like he’d been tricked. He had joined to be able to kill her for eternity but if she was only going to come back well... The satisfaction would run dry eventually... Although there was another way he could try to ‘kill’ her.

Jumping through the hatch was always a bit jarring. You jumped in, fell in complete darkness for an indiscernible amount of time—sometimes feeling like seconds, sometimes feeling like minutes—and landed feet-first at whatever place you wanted to be in the realm. Any injuries would be healed and torn clothing would be mended. It left you feeling a bit tingly afterwards. Once you landed, it was like you only fell about a foot. It was very discombobulating to those who fell for a while.

Thankfully, the duo were free calling for only a moment until Quentin landed with a grunt. He didn’t have time to gather his bearings before Michael was wriggling around, desperate to get down. He supressed the urge to chuckle, finding the behavior cute.

“Alright Mister Impatient, down you go.” He carefully kneeled down, allowing the squirming child to slide off of his back.

He basically pounced off of the other’s back, giving him a brief glare and a kick in the shin for talking to him like a child. He might have looked like one but he didn’t want to be treated like one. Giving another brief glance to the area, he turned his attention to how he looked. His hair was annoyingly long and now he only had one sleeve.

The young boy didn’t react much to the adult pulling away but does seem rather surprised when handed the knife, just like that.

He blinked slowly and carefully grabbed the handle, starting to see images of that night. How he grabbed it was almost identical, he even held it the same.

Michael stared down at the knife, images of his older sister falling over and screaming. He shivered and perked when the blade shined in the moonlight, seeing left over blood on it more clearly.

Next thing that happens is rather odd, even to young Michael himself. He spoke but only because it’s, well, him. Slowly looking up at himself, he looked rather hopeful but still dead inside “Mom…? Dad…?” He asked, pretty much questioning if they ever came to take him home. This Michael hasn’t experienced everything in childhood yet. Hasn’t been broken down with the realization that he was locked away and his parents won’t be coming to visit anytime soon.

He watched him, finding it weird seeing himself as a child from an outside perspective like this. It was like a literal version of something Loomis had tried to do with him once and he... Wasn’t sure how he felt about that, feeling his now empty hand tense at his side.

The sound of him talking was enough to snap him out of his brief moment, once again tilting his head at him. Their parents? He took a moment to figure out what he was specifically asking about them. Was he asking if he’d killed them? Were they alive at all or just.... Ah.

He felt a pang of pity for his younger self, not sure if he should lie to him or not. Would giving him false hope make it better or worse. At least warning him about it would stop him spending time thinking about it. Perhaps he’d even be able to escape sooner if he wasn’t worrying about the parents that had abandoned them. Finally he responded, if only with a small head shake. 

Quentin felt more exasperated than threatened when Michael oh so casually gauged how easily he’d be able to choke him. Could Michael go, like, five minutes without actively trying to hurt someone?

It would appear he couldn’t, for not even five minutes later, he felt the little shit yank on his cheek rather painfully. He turned his head and glared at Michael, then at whatever it was Michael was pointing at. Then Quentin heard the humming of the hatch.

Oh.

“Oh,” he echoed. “Uh, thanks. Good eye. Or ear, rather.”

The insomniac went over to the hatch, which seemed a bit…wider than usual. Did the Entity make it bigger so they could both use it at the same time? No matter. He adjusted his grip on Michael. “Hold on tight,” he said, waiting until the kid had a tighter grip before he jumped inside.

Michael didn’t really care about the glare, honestly a little excited to finally get to go through the hatch himself after seeing so many survivors and the excitement definitely stood out against his usual lack of expression. He grabbed onto the other a little too tightly as they jumped through but actually hadn’t meant to hurt him for once.

Quentin perked up at being told to wait, but then visibly deflated when Michael held his arms up expectantly. “You can’t be serious,” he deadpanned.

Michael’s response was to thrust his arms out again, more aggressively this time. Quentin let out a long sigh and trudged back over to the youngster. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you a piggyback ride,” he grumbled, kneeling down in the grass. “Hop on up.”

He smirked a little at getting his way, standing up as the over trudged over to him. Once he was knelt down he climbed up onto his back. Once he was on it he didn’t try to hide the fact that he was comparing the size of his hands to the other’s throat because he wanted to make the other uneasy. It wasn’t really clear what conculsion he had reached, but he made himself comfortable on his new method of transport.

He didn’t move about too much on the other’s back, mostly staying still and only half listening out for the hatch. He had planned to let the other find it as they (well, Quentin) ambled around looking for the hatch, just wanting to inconvenience him as much as he could. 

Quentin didn’t feel like it was a good idea to leave the young killer alone. Like, on a scale from 1 to 10, with 10 being the best idea and 1 being the worst, leaving Michael unsupervised was a solid -8. But how could he convince the stab-happy child to—actually, that gave him an idea.

He shrugged nonchalantly and started to walk away. “Alright, sounds good. I guess that I, the person who has your prized knife, will go look for the hatch all by myself, while you stay here and wait for me to return, trusting me to not leave you behind and escape with your weapon.”

Did Quentin always have to be so... Annoying, even when he had the upper hand? Michael had actually intended to stay put, content to let the other man wander around like a headless chicken while he rested. His tiny legs were tired from having to walk around looking for survivors for most of the trial.

@stabbyboymyers

This was... Odd. Having his own face staring back at him like this. He wondered if this other him knew who he was. Apparently they were both in similar clothing, something that was almost amusing to him. Did this survivor version of him actually work as a mechanic? Had he killed anyone yet?

If looks could kill, Quentin would be dead on the spot. Oh, he was so getting Mori’d by Michael once this whole ordeal was done with. He probably already had at least three waiting for him in the future.

Quentin glanced around, making sure they were still alone before turning his attention back to Michael. “I hightly doubt that you want anyone else to see you like this, so I have a proposition: we wait until the others leave and use the hatch to leave. It will take us to my private camp far away from the others, and you can stay there—or not, if that’s what you want—until your…’condition’ wears off. Is that agreeable?”

He stared at him, trying to figure out why he’d want to help him like this. Was this because he gave him the hatch? Did the other feel obligated to help him because he’d taken the action as an act of kindness? God he hoped not. 

Now was his chance. He quickly rushed forwards and grabbed the de-aged killer by the arm. After a minor scuffle, Quentin yanked the knife out of Michael’s hand, holding it high above his own head. “Nope! Yain’t shanking anyone on my watch!”

He hadn't been expecting to have his arm grabbed. And once the knife was pulled from his grasp and held above him he frantically tried to grab it back from the other. There was a low growl of frustration from him the child after a good minute or so of trying to climb the other to get to his knife, and it was only the sound of the final generator being completed that got him to finally stop.