Sunday Morning

August 31, 2014:

What does Kwabena do after getting Hulk-flicked into the East River? Drag his busted ass to Darcy's apartment, of course. (Vulgarity)

Darcy's Midtown Apartment

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Mood Music: Sunday Morning - by The Velvet Underground


Fade In…

Sunday morning. Approximately… 12:15 AM.

Something goes soaring over the Chrysler Building, falling in a descending arc into the East River. That something… screams, but it's hard to tell whether it's a scream of terror of excitement.

1:25 AM.

Darcy's buzzer goes off. There, sprawled out upon the stairs leading to her apartment building, is Shift. Not Kwabena Odame, per say, for his usual attire is nowhere to be seen. Instead, the African is clad from head to toe in what might be mistaken for gunmetal gray spandex, if it weren't for the armored thickness of the uniform. He does have the mask up, for now… because his uniform is covered in mud, grime, and other unmentionables gathered from a little late night swim in the East River. "Ooohh fuck, please be home," he groans.

-

Fucking New York. Darcy grumbles at the scream, rolls over, and crams a pillow onto her head. A moment later,s he's snoring again. When the buzzer goes off, Darcy sits up and glares around. Another buzz and she grabs a shirt, Kwa's, and heads to her intercom while tugging it on.

"Who the fuck and what the fuck, dude? I was dreaming in here!" Her voice is sleep rough and intercom crackly.

-

"Dahce, it's me, it's Kwa." He sounds… like he was just out through a Kwabena-sized blender. "Hey, lemme in, okay?" He's already climbing to his feet, ignoring the trail of wet and grimy… East-River-crud… that he's leaving behind him.

-

"Fuck," Darcy says into the intercomm as she buzzes him in. And then she goes to pull on some underwear.

-

It takes a while for Kwabena to make his way upstairs. By the time he has, he's at least stripped the mask from his face so as not to entirely spook her out, but the climb has him feeling like a wet sock again. When he reaches her door, he collapses onto his ass, arms and legs all sprawled out everywhere. It's all he can do to tap his forehead against her door, three times.

-

Darcy pulls the door open, the scent of coffee in the air. Seeing Kwa on the floor, she reaches down tot try to haul him up. She's fit, but not crazy strong. "What the hell, Kwa. You look like shit!"

-

He also smells like everything that is wrong with the East River. "Bruce threw me," he says grunting painfully when she hauls him up. He reaches with a gloved hand to brace himself upon the door jamb and her arm, groaning. "Easy! I think… I think he flicked me. I went ovah de Chryslah Building." The scent of coffee, though, that perks him up. Silver eyes look for the pot, then look back at Darcy regaining some of their strength, even if it seems drained from his body.

-

"Bruce…. flicked you?… over the Chrysler… Kwa. Get inside. Take a shower, and drunk some coffee. Fuck," Darcy says, moving to pull his arm over her shoulder. Ugh. she needs a shower now.

-

Kwabena laughs a bit, realizing how strange it must sound. "Yeah, he, well, not him but, his… his…" He grumbles when she pulls at him, and pushes the last bit of strength he can muster to get into her place. At which point he comes crashing down, right onto her most prized possession.

Her router.

The strangest thing then happens. Kwabena, en masse, transforms into so many curling trails of smoke. They pass right by the router (though some pieces of trash and goo and mud fall anyway, having not transformed with him), before coalescing upon her couch. A sound of displacing air joins the reforming of Kwabena, sprawled out on that couch, still wearing the strange (and leaving nothing to the imagination!) uniform. He lets out a sigh of relief.

-

Grunting under the weight, Darcy staggers as she moves to help Kwa toward the bathroom. She gasps when he comes crashing down, pulling her with him for a few inches, toward that router and then… smoke!

"What the fuck, dude!" Darcy says, watching as the smoke coalesces into Kwa again.

"You might be ''clean'' but seriously! That's the only fucking sofa I have, and you nearly took out my router. For reals," she's grousing as she pours Kwa a cup of coffee and sets it on his chest for him to collect and drink. She's got a router to cuddle and a shower to take and disgusting Kwa-flotsum to clean. Not necessarily in that order. TO THE BROOM CLOSET!

-

"Oop!" He steadies the coffee with gloved hands,then closes his eyes and groans out, "Ah'm sorry!" He scoots back a bit, putting himself slightly upright against the arm of the couch, and drinks. "I couldn't… make it back to de Bronx," he explains, "you're de only pahson I knew close enough." He does sound apologetic. Also, based on the way his free hand holds his midsection, it's a good guess where 'Bruce' may have flicked him.

-

Darcy watches Kwa as he groan and holds his middle and seems so… Her shoulders droop, because she's not a Heartless. "Well, you're cleaning my apartment tomorrow. That's all there is to it. After you tell me if I'm calling an ambulance or not."

-

"No!" Well, that response came quickly. "No ambulance." He pauses, and realizes he must explain why he is refusing an ambulance when he clearly may have a cracked rib or two. "No insurance." His gut-holding hand comes up to hold his head. He closes his eyes and takes another drink of coffee, before sighing. "Clean. Yes, can clean. Muddah fuckah! He can hit. Hahd."

-

"I'm just worried," Darcy says as she goes to wash her hands. And she does sound worried. She pours herself a cup of coffee, making it nearly as pale as her skin, before moving to the sofa and Gibbs Smacking Shift. "What is wrong with your brain? What on Earth makes you think you can hang with a guy that can finger flick you across Manhattan?!" Because that's what's important!

-

"Hey— ow!!" Kwabena scowls at Darcy, before pulling himself out of the sprawl and finding himself in a seated position. "It's Bruce," he explains. "Doctah Bannah. You know him." He's certainly appreciative of Darcy's concern, even if he doesn't entirely show it. One has to look in his eyes to really see it, and right now, he's turned away, hunching over while setting down his cup of coffee.

"He's like me," he explains. "He can change. It's just, his isn't as, ah, voluntary." Reaching up, he unfastens a piece of his uniform, ripping it open down the chest to reveal his bruised torso. He presses against it and winces. Yep. Definitely cracked ribs. Even in his nearly impervious, super-solid state, the Hulk was able to crack his ribs.

-

"Hey— ow!!" Kwabena scowls at Darcy, before pulling himself out of the sprawl and finding himself in a seated position. "It's Bruce," he explains. "Doctah Bannah. You know him." He's certainly appreciative of Darcy's concern, even if he doesn't entirely show it. One has to look in his eyes to really see it, and right now, he's turned away, hunching over while setting down his cup of coffee.

"He's like me," he explains. "He can change. It's just, his isn't as, ah, voluntary." Reaching up, he unfastens a piece of his uniform, ripping it open down the chest to reveal his bruised torso. He presses against it and winces. Yep. Definitely cracked ribs. Even in his nearly impervious, super-solid state, the Hulk was able to crack his ribs.

-

Taking the now empty spot on her couch, Darcy sips her coffee as she curls her feet under her butt. Having not bothered to put on her glasses, the world is blurring and Kwa's appreciation unnoticed. She watches as Kwas pokes at his own his, her blurry vision noting that there's something that might be a bruise there. Then again, it could be a shadow.

"That nerdy guy did this?" Darcy asks, waiting a heartbeat before: "Damn. You got bitchslapped by White 'n Nerdy." Her head is shaking as if in disappointment.

-

A tilt of his head and Kwabena is looking at Darcy ruefully. "He changes," he offers, as if that might be enough to explain. He doesn't want to out the Doctor, no, but… sigh. "Big, gigantic, impossibly strong, green monstah." Maybe she's seen it on TV. "Just don't evah call him 'Hulk' to his face." And his tone carries an extremely stern warning about that one. Bruce doesn't even refer to 'him' as 'Hulk'.

-

"Wait wait wait. Skinny white guy's Big Green Rage Monster?" Darcy asks, eyes a bit wide. She looks away, like she's processing, processing, processing. "Dude! That's fuckign awesome." She may not have finished SHIELD's sensitivity training… or have the clearance for Hulk-info. Oh well.

-

"Yeah, but—" Kwabena turns to face Darce directly, not even giving himself a moment to zip himself back up. His hands come out to either side in a pleading gesture. "Don't tell anyone, okay?" His expression grows consternated. "Imagine de… experiments. What dey would do if dey contained him. Imagine if dey found out what I could do." He turns away, shaking his head in disgust. "Turn me into a fucking lab rat, dats what." The tone of his voice becomes… determined. Disgusted. Touched by a shade of hatred. A small sign of who he is when he wears that mask.

Gloved fingers stretch out to take up his coffee. He isn't so honest with most people. Trust, for Kwabena, does not come easily. He may have just cracked open his door a touch for Darce to see… and he's immediately beginning to regret it.

-

Kwa's lack of zipping up isn't noticed because unglassesed Darcy is blind Darcy. She knows he's looking at her, but her eyes don't focus fully. Her brows crawl high on her forehead as Kwa pleads his case. Her head tilts to the side. She seems to be thinking very deeply, or else having a super Barbie blonde moment and that unfocused look is really her mind having no thoughts in it whatsoever. And then, almost suddenly…

"Well, I have a tazer. So, if NYPD kicks down my door, they'll eat taz to the faze…"Darcy sounds grumpy-annoyed, protective to a large degree. People don't just make lab rats out of other people. It's just not right. She'll play her own Men in Black card if some other Men in Black show up for him, unless those Men in Black are her Men in Black. Then she'll have to file a fucking report and goddammit! Did this just go above her fucking pay grade? Fuck. It's her three day weekend. Shit! Well, what SHIELD doesn't know yet, won't hurt her. Maybe. Possibly. They'll pat her on the head for showing she can keep a secret.

And Darcy nonchalantly-ish drinks her coffee.

-

Kwabena doesn't want t say what might happen if NYPD kicks down her door. There would be bullet holes and Shift-chokes, and someone might get hurt.

The Ghanaian finally zips himself back up - it was getting drafty - and returns to his coffee. "Besides. I can heal it mahself. Just need to… find a big, open, uninhabited space." Now, if that doesn't sound weird…

-

Which it does, but when SHIELD picks you up for standing with a bunch of ren faire rejects who happened to be from another time and space (a parallel dimension is falling on its face!) after trying to save a puppy from a giant metal monstrosity known as the Destroyer… well… Darcy blinks a few times, brows going up.

"ooooookay. Should I get dressed and walk you to Central Park, or…?" Is her apartment big enough, as small as it is. "I could step out a minute. Let you.. do your thing?" Boys that suck other boys into themselves. Boys that make beer perfectly cold. White guys that turn into green guys. And a black guy that needs an open space to heal himself.

This is not weird at ALL!

-

"I can do all four states of mattah." She's nerdy, to a degree. She'll figure it out. Either way, Kwabena offers, "Plasma heals but it's… very destructive." He can clearly remember the first time it happened. There's a hole in Cincinnati somewhere because of it, and the bodies were never found.

Kwabena goes back to his coffee.

-

Darcy takes this in, again with that Thinking Face or Barbie Mental Void Face. It's like, one can see the thoughts. Plasma. Plasma. Plas- "OH! The shit stars are made of!" Darcy blurts out suddenly, a smile blooming to her face, proud that she GOT IT!

"Right. Yeah. That could be a problem. …Well, there's a place out in New Mexico that I know…" she starts to offer, before the reality that she has no way to GET to New Mexico sinks in. Well, fuck.

-

Kwabena smirks ruefully. "It'd be a long-ass bike ride," he argues with dry wit, before shaking his head. "No, Dere's plenty of space upstate. Or Canada. I just… need some few days before I do it." He also does not like to even speak of this particular power set! He intentionally tries to avoid using it. "Right now?" He grunts and stretches out his legs, having finished the coffee. "Movie. And rest. I need rest…" He slumps back, legs all sprawled out, and his eyes grow lidded with fatigue.

-

As Kwa stretches out, Darcy's forced to hold her coffee up and wiggle free until she's standing again. "Fine. But I'm picking hte movie. Crasher shuts his pie hole," is the retort as she moves to put in the Princess Bride, because it is fantastic and wonderful and do you want a peanut? As the opening credits roll, Darcy collects an extra pillow and a blanket (sniffing it first, just in case), before dropping these on Kwa and bustling about to turn off lights and things. Sleeping movies. She hasn't done this since early college. And she curls herself up on the mixmatched arm chair nearby to wait out Kwa's inevitable passout.

-

Aforementioned passout happens pretty quickly. Three minutes, tops.

Fortunately… Shift don't snore.

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