Post by Press1269 on Feb 24, 2020 20:03:34 GMT
"Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi,
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pochemu, pochemu ya s toboi.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi,
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pochemu, pochemu, ya s toboi.
Mein herz brennt"
The hauntingly childlike voice of T.A.T.U, mixed with the dark growling voice of Rammstien's Till Lindemann, fills the house with their savagely beautiful lyrics.
The music sets a freshly showered Zachariah Krähe on the trail to his target, which he finds her in the kitchen at the stove.
Her elegant black dress exchanged for a crop top Katana DC shirt, sweat pants, and what appears to be zombie rabbit slippers. Dark hair whips around gently with the beat of the music, as she constantly checks whatever she has in the frying pan.
It's a very different version of the "Lady" that electrocuted someone with a car battery not even a few hours ago, yet even without the elegant clothing and make-up, she was unmistakable.
He leaned against the door jam, and watched her use the spatula as a microphone.
"Mein herz Bernt
Pochemu, pochemu, ya s toboi
ya s toboi."
After a few moments he snatched the nearby remote and killed the music. The action immediately made him the soul focus of Munin's dark brown eyes.
"Rude…"
Her gaze slid back to the pan, as she idly flipped what appeared to be a sandwich.
"You ready to talk about what the hell you're doing Munin."
The words were said in a tone that was far more tired than heated, but the underlying annoyance was there. It was that trace of annoyance that had Munin arching a speculative brow.
"This is my bread, this is my cheese."
"...What?"
"This is my bread, this is my cheese."
She easily flipped the sandwich onto a plate, and turned off the stove before facing him.
"This is my grilled cheese sandwich, there are many like it but this one is mine."
With that she sauntered her way to the breakfast table.
"A Full Metal Jacket reference, really?"
Munin merely shrugged her shoulder, and took a healthy bite of cheesy goodness in reply.
It was obvious that she was perfectly content in taking her time to chew, and not one bit disturbed by Krähe watching her impatiently.
"You ask as stupid question, you get what you ask for."
For the first time anger started to creep into the typically cool features of The Catalyst.
"How's asking what you're current game is a stupid question?"
"It's stupidly vague. Is this about Astrid? You know it wasn't a big battery, and not nearly enough water."
Her genuine confusion over which of her current actions he's referring to has his anger melting away.
That in itself was annoying in it's own way. Would life be easier if he could stay angry with her?
No, not likely. Besides, he was rarely angry with her in the first place.
With a sigh he pulled out the chair beside her, and dropped into it. His scarred hand reached out to nab a piece of her sandwich, as a petty form of retribution. Her outraged huff giving him his first smile of the night.
"Brodie…"
"What about her? I told you I found her calling card at the last show, but did you listen?"
Her tone dripped with exasperation, as she leaned back her chair. One hand desperately holding her sandwich out of his reach.
"Nooooo you didn't! You decided to be an ostrich, an ostrich doesn't deserve cheesy goodness!"
"Are you saying that you had nothing to do with booking me against Willie?"
The chair goes from four to two feet, while Munin's foot hooks around the nearby table leg for balance.
"I didn't say that!"
"So you did know!"
"I didn't say that either!"
"THEN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING?"
"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?"
"BECAUSE YOU DRIVE ME FUCKING CRAZY SOMETIMES!"
The sound of a throat clearing has them both looking to see Richard in the doorway.
"Pizza will be here in forty-five minutes."
Munin takes the opportunity to punch Krähe in his shoulder, and shove the remaining quarter sandwich into her mouth. The result being a look not dissimilar to a chipmunk.
"What the fuck! Do you know how damn sore I am?"
Richard silently gets the milk and pours a glass of milk.
"Who the hell does that?"
The cup is set in front of Munin who repays him with a look of undying gratitude. She drains the cup, seemingly ignoring Krähe's mini rant.
"Richard, the curse jar please."
"Fuck that curse jar!"
"Don't be such a bitch."
"Ah! You gotta pay too!"
The jar lands between the with the click of glass against wood, and left them to it without looking back.
Meanwhile both Munin and Krähe shove bills into the jar without missing a beat.
"Look, anyone that's paid attention could have predicted that Brodie would show up for that match, and honestly you should be grateful you were caught by surprise in the ring."
They stared at each other silently over the table.
"I notice you didn't deny having something to do with the booking."
Munin calmly stuck a bill in the curse jar without breaking eye contact.
"Well Zachariah, I'm glad you finally fucking noticed something."
The two continue to bicker and feed bills to the curse jar, while Richard pauses one of "his shows" to answer a knock at the door.
"That was much faster than forty five minutes…"
He trails off after he opens the door, and stares dumbfoundead for a moment.
"You're not the pizza man."
Youth shoots Richard a grin as his fist reaches within inches of the man’s face. When he opens his hand, a baggie unravels to reveal some green ‘herb’ at the bottom, and the young man’s eyebrows shoot up and down repeatedly in comic fashion.
“Nope! Just the weed guy!”
Youth pushes on past Richard into the room and upon seeing Munin and Krahe sitting at the kitchen table saddles on up to take the seat beside The Lady. He immediately starts rolling a joint.
Press pats Richard on the shoulder as he passes and says, “Good idea about that pizza though, I’m starving.”
Richard groans a bit, realizing that he didn’t order enough to feed the giant, before closing the door. Press sits down at the other end of the table which put him across from Munin, and he glances between her and Krahe for a moment, sensing the tension in the room.
Before he can say anything, however, Youth pipes up at the sight of her grilled cheese sandwich. “Oooo…Is that grilled cheese!”
He reaches as if to grab the other half when, quick as a cat, Munin’s hand slaps his fingers away, and he draws back shaking his hand ruefully. He looks over at Krahe who still has a dour expression and shrugs his shoulders.
“What’s eating your goat? She wouldn’t share with you either?”
Munin sighs loudly, crossing her arms over her chest and leans back in her seat perturbed.
“Zachariah is upset that I electrocuted someone.”
Press snorts at the end of the table in amusement and puts both elbows on the surface as he leans forward with an incredulous expression.
“C’mon, dude. It was a small battery.”
Munin suddenly springs forward, pointing at Press while staring at Krahe in triumph.
“SEE! That’s what I said!”
Krahe appears to be fed up at this point, shaking his head in frustration.
“I’M NOT UPSET ABOUT THE GOD DAMN ELECTROCUTION! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT PART NIN HAD TO PLAY IN BRODIE’S APPEARANCE!”
Richard suddenly appears beside Krahe, indignantly pointing at the swear bar that is still at the center of the table. Everyone but Youth look to one another before turning all eyes on Richard in bemusement that seems to only make Krahe hotter. Youth finishes rolling his joint and looks at his craftsmanship before pushing it over in Zach’s direction.
“Listen man, I realize that Brodie is a crazy bitch, but she ain’t nothing in comparison to Deus.”
Munin shakes her head, “Don’t even say that name in this house.”
Press grunts and looks across the table at the others.
“We’re going to have to talk about it eventually. You see, Zach, Deus was stapling shit to Munin long before Brodie ever came around with stuffed rabbits, or whatever the fuck it was.”
“It was a rabbit head…” Munin offers, seeming distant now that the conversation has taken this turn.
“Uh…” Youth begins, scratching the whiskers on his chin. “I don’t want to break this serious vibe and all, but…are you gonna light that thing or what?”
“Wait!” Richard cries. “I’ve heard at least three or four curse words since this conversation started, and I am the keeper of the swear jar. So make with the cash!”
The participants around the table begrudgingly begin digging in their pockets to produce a dollar. As the change tinkles into the glass, they all watch as Youth drops a twenty into the pot. When he notices everyone staring at him, he shrugs and sends a thumb in Press’s direction.
“I’m just making an advance for the big guy.”
“Fuck You!” Press replies harshly.
Youth grins, tossing his hands behind his head and coolly leans back. “I rest my case…”
At that moment the doorbell rings prompting Richard to grab the curse jar. He flashes the group his Sunday best smile and pats the jar as if it were the church offering plate.
"This should cover the pizza and tip nicely..."
He quickly hurries out of the room, leaving the others to stare at the now-vacant space.
Krahe scoffs in the sudden silence.
"Well, there goes your case."
Youth shrugs and adds, "That's the reason why that guy shouldn't get a bedroom."
"Yeah, well not only did he get a bedroom he got bedding to go on the damn bed."
He cocks his head to the side with a humorless smile for Munin.
"Then again you two got flannel and Egyptian cotton sheets..."
“Of course we do,” Press replies indignantly. “We aren’t savages.”
Munin doesn’t even bother to comment on the topic, instead choosing to give the finished joint a pointed glance.
“Just remember who got those flannel sheets and pass to the right.”
Youth nods excitedly, reaching for the joint and placing it gently between his lips. He yanks a lighter free from his pocket and in one quick motion of flicking, inhaling, and holding….passes the joint her way. After a good thirty seconds he exhales, smoke filling the dining room and he gives a goofy grin to Krahe.
“See, it’s about the finer things in life Krahe. Flannel keeps you warm, and looks like a picnic when the ladies are sprawled on it.”
Press shakes his head incredulously. “God damn it, can we stop talking about who got what sheets. This is serious.”
He points an accusing finger at Krahe, “Why aren’t you the Television Champion yet?”
Munin gives a coughing laugh at the question, or maybe it was Youth’s picnic reference. In all likelihood it was probably the weed more than anything else.
Krahe didn’t bother to respond right away, choosing instead to take a draw from the joint with practiced ease. Truly relaxing for the first time that night, as he blew smoke rings.
“Nin doesn’t pay me to win pointless titles. That’s Cross’s shtick.”
Youth is staring across the table now with bloodshot eyes, a seriousness to his entire demeanor. “But...your jawline…”
Krahe raises a brow at the comment while passing the joint along. However, when Youth continues to stare, the momentary silence becomes somewhat awkward. Krahe finds one hand subconsciously covering his jaw before he even realizes he moved his hand.
Meanwhile, Press holds up a hand in Krahe’s direction and waves the joint back to Youth.
“There’s only room for one burnout on this team.”
Richard enters the room on unsteady feet a slightly traumatized look on his face. A face that now bears a hot pink lipstick kiss on his cheek.
He drops the pizza on the table unceremoniously before trying to talk...and failing.
“What the hell happened to you?”
The sound of Krahe’s voice seems to somewhat snap the retired choir director from his daze.
“I don’t know if I can handle this place...I just had a youngman...girl? Youngman girl? Give me a kiss and tell me they had a thing for silver foxes and teddy bears...I don’t think I want to know what that means.”
He gives the table a look that is equal parts horror and embarrassment.
“I feel violated.”
Youth takes another deep drag from the joint before passing the half burnt stump towards Munin.
“Sounds like some furry shit to me. You know...they have conventions out here. Like...dudes and chicks dressed as panda bears and shit. It’s not that weird if you think about it. Anyone that looks closely at Press can see that there’s some gorilla dna at work. Like that time he was at the amusement park and did the strong man booth. God damn, that was ridiculous. The bell fell off the thing. I’m pretty sure that was the same night that my new cock ring lost its virginity. That’s the key, Richard. Keep replacing it, and you get your chastity back until you use it.”
Youth takes a deep breath, pausing the rambling diatribe to look and find all parties staring at him.
He sheepishly shrugs. “Sorry, I get chatty when I’m high.”
A ringer suddenly goes off at the other end of the table, and Press reaches into his shirt pocket to produce a phone. He looks down at the touch screen and a look of worry creases his brow. He gets quickly to his feet at the same time grabbing a piece of pizza.
“Sorry, we gotta take this. Youth…”
He cranks his neck in the direction of their rooms all while stuffing the pizza into his mouth.
Youth sighs heavily, and then pops up to his feet to follow his partner out of the room. (To find out who's on the other line, check out Devil Is In The Details (Part 6), out on newsstands this week!)
Munin glances down at the joint as the two men leave the room, and passes it to Richard with a solemn look.
“I think you need this more than me.”
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pochemu, pochemu ya s toboi.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi,
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pochemu, pochemu, ya s toboi.
Mein herz brennt"
The hauntingly childlike voice of T.A.T.U, mixed with the dark growling voice of Rammstien's Till Lindemann, fills the house with their savagely beautiful lyrics.
The music sets a freshly showered Zachariah Krähe on the trail to his target, which he finds her in the kitchen at the stove.
Her elegant black dress exchanged for a crop top Katana DC shirt, sweat pants, and what appears to be zombie rabbit slippers. Dark hair whips around gently with the beat of the music, as she constantly checks whatever she has in the frying pan.
It's a very different version of the "Lady" that electrocuted someone with a car battery not even a few hours ago, yet even without the elegant clothing and make-up, she was unmistakable.
He leaned against the door jam, and watched her use the spatula as a microphone.
"Mein herz Bernt
Pochemu, pochemu, ya s toboi
ya s toboi."
After a few moments he snatched the nearby remote and killed the music. The action immediately made him the soul focus of Munin's dark brown eyes.
"Rude…"
Her gaze slid back to the pan, as she idly flipped what appeared to be a sandwich.
"You ready to talk about what the hell you're doing Munin."
The words were said in a tone that was far more tired than heated, but the underlying annoyance was there. It was that trace of annoyance that had Munin arching a speculative brow.
"This is my bread, this is my cheese."
"...What?"
"This is my bread, this is my cheese."
She easily flipped the sandwich onto a plate, and turned off the stove before facing him.
"This is my grilled cheese sandwich, there are many like it but this one is mine."
With that she sauntered her way to the breakfast table.
"A Full Metal Jacket reference, really?"
Munin merely shrugged her shoulder, and took a healthy bite of cheesy goodness in reply.
It was obvious that she was perfectly content in taking her time to chew, and not one bit disturbed by Krähe watching her impatiently.
"You ask as stupid question, you get what you ask for."
For the first time anger started to creep into the typically cool features of The Catalyst.
"How's asking what you're current game is a stupid question?"
"It's stupidly vague. Is this about Astrid? You know it wasn't a big battery, and not nearly enough water."
Her genuine confusion over which of her current actions he's referring to has his anger melting away.
That in itself was annoying in it's own way. Would life be easier if he could stay angry with her?
No, not likely. Besides, he was rarely angry with her in the first place.
With a sigh he pulled out the chair beside her, and dropped into it. His scarred hand reached out to nab a piece of her sandwich, as a petty form of retribution. Her outraged huff giving him his first smile of the night.
"Brodie…"
"What about her? I told you I found her calling card at the last show, but did you listen?"
Her tone dripped with exasperation, as she leaned back her chair. One hand desperately holding her sandwich out of his reach.
"Nooooo you didn't! You decided to be an ostrich, an ostrich doesn't deserve cheesy goodness!"
"Are you saying that you had nothing to do with booking me against Willie?"
The chair goes from four to two feet, while Munin's foot hooks around the nearby table leg for balance.
"I didn't say that!"
"So you did know!"
"I didn't say that either!"
"THEN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING?"
"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?"
"BECAUSE YOU DRIVE ME FUCKING CRAZY SOMETIMES!"
The sound of a throat clearing has them both looking to see Richard in the doorway.
"Pizza will be here in forty-five minutes."
Munin takes the opportunity to punch Krähe in his shoulder, and shove the remaining quarter sandwich into her mouth. The result being a look not dissimilar to a chipmunk.
"What the fuck! Do you know how damn sore I am?"
Richard silently gets the milk and pours a glass of milk.
"Who the hell does that?"
The cup is set in front of Munin who repays him with a look of undying gratitude. She drains the cup, seemingly ignoring Krähe's mini rant.
"Richard, the curse jar please."
"Fuck that curse jar!"
"Don't be such a bitch."
"Ah! You gotta pay too!"
The jar lands between the with the click of glass against wood, and left them to it without looking back.
Meanwhile both Munin and Krähe shove bills into the jar without missing a beat.
"Look, anyone that's paid attention could have predicted that Brodie would show up for that match, and honestly you should be grateful you were caught by surprise in the ring."
They stared at each other silently over the table.
"I notice you didn't deny having something to do with the booking."
Munin calmly stuck a bill in the curse jar without breaking eye contact.
"Well Zachariah, I'm glad you finally fucking noticed something."
The two continue to bicker and feed bills to the curse jar, while Richard pauses one of "his shows" to answer a knock at the door.
"That was much faster than forty five minutes…"
He trails off after he opens the door, and stares dumbfoundead for a moment.
"You're not the pizza man."
Youth shoots Richard a grin as his fist reaches within inches of the man’s face. When he opens his hand, a baggie unravels to reveal some green ‘herb’ at the bottom, and the young man’s eyebrows shoot up and down repeatedly in comic fashion.
“Nope! Just the weed guy!”
Youth pushes on past Richard into the room and upon seeing Munin and Krahe sitting at the kitchen table saddles on up to take the seat beside The Lady. He immediately starts rolling a joint.
Press pats Richard on the shoulder as he passes and says, “Good idea about that pizza though, I’m starving.”
Richard groans a bit, realizing that he didn’t order enough to feed the giant, before closing the door. Press sits down at the other end of the table which put him across from Munin, and he glances between her and Krahe for a moment, sensing the tension in the room.
Before he can say anything, however, Youth pipes up at the sight of her grilled cheese sandwich. “Oooo…Is that grilled cheese!”
He reaches as if to grab the other half when, quick as a cat, Munin’s hand slaps his fingers away, and he draws back shaking his hand ruefully. He looks over at Krahe who still has a dour expression and shrugs his shoulders.
“What’s eating your goat? She wouldn’t share with you either?”
Munin sighs loudly, crossing her arms over her chest and leans back in her seat perturbed.
“Zachariah is upset that I electrocuted someone.”
Press snorts at the end of the table in amusement and puts both elbows on the surface as he leans forward with an incredulous expression.
“C’mon, dude. It was a small battery.”
Munin suddenly springs forward, pointing at Press while staring at Krahe in triumph.
“SEE! That’s what I said!”
Krahe appears to be fed up at this point, shaking his head in frustration.
“I’M NOT UPSET ABOUT THE GOD DAMN ELECTROCUTION! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT PART NIN HAD TO PLAY IN BRODIE’S APPEARANCE!”
Richard suddenly appears beside Krahe, indignantly pointing at the swear bar that is still at the center of the table. Everyone but Youth look to one another before turning all eyes on Richard in bemusement that seems to only make Krahe hotter. Youth finishes rolling his joint and looks at his craftsmanship before pushing it over in Zach’s direction.
“Listen man, I realize that Brodie is a crazy bitch, but she ain’t nothing in comparison to Deus.”
Munin shakes her head, “Don’t even say that name in this house.”
Press grunts and looks across the table at the others.
“We’re going to have to talk about it eventually. You see, Zach, Deus was stapling shit to Munin long before Brodie ever came around with stuffed rabbits, or whatever the fuck it was.”
“It was a rabbit head…” Munin offers, seeming distant now that the conversation has taken this turn.
“Uh…” Youth begins, scratching the whiskers on his chin. “I don’t want to break this serious vibe and all, but…are you gonna light that thing or what?”
“Wait!” Richard cries. “I’ve heard at least three or four curse words since this conversation started, and I am the keeper of the swear jar. So make with the cash!”
The participants around the table begrudgingly begin digging in their pockets to produce a dollar. As the change tinkles into the glass, they all watch as Youth drops a twenty into the pot. When he notices everyone staring at him, he shrugs and sends a thumb in Press’s direction.
“I’m just making an advance for the big guy.”
“Fuck You!” Press replies harshly.
Youth grins, tossing his hands behind his head and coolly leans back. “I rest my case…”
At that moment the doorbell rings prompting Richard to grab the curse jar. He flashes the group his Sunday best smile and pats the jar as if it were the church offering plate.
"This should cover the pizza and tip nicely..."
He quickly hurries out of the room, leaving the others to stare at the now-vacant space.
Krahe scoffs in the sudden silence.
"Well, there goes your case."
Youth shrugs and adds, "That's the reason why that guy shouldn't get a bedroom."
"Yeah, well not only did he get a bedroom he got bedding to go on the damn bed."
He cocks his head to the side with a humorless smile for Munin.
"Then again you two got flannel and Egyptian cotton sheets..."
“Of course we do,” Press replies indignantly. “We aren’t savages.”
Munin doesn’t even bother to comment on the topic, instead choosing to give the finished joint a pointed glance.
“Just remember who got those flannel sheets and pass to the right.”
Youth nods excitedly, reaching for the joint and placing it gently between his lips. He yanks a lighter free from his pocket and in one quick motion of flicking, inhaling, and holding….passes the joint her way. After a good thirty seconds he exhales, smoke filling the dining room and he gives a goofy grin to Krahe.
“See, it’s about the finer things in life Krahe. Flannel keeps you warm, and looks like a picnic when the ladies are sprawled on it.”
Press shakes his head incredulously. “God damn it, can we stop talking about who got what sheets. This is serious.”
He points an accusing finger at Krahe, “Why aren’t you the Television Champion yet?”
Munin gives a coughing laugh at the question, or maybe it was Youth’s picnic reference. In all likelihood it was probably the weed more than anything else.
Krahe didn’t bother to respond right away, choosing instead to take a draw from the joint with practiced ease. Truly relaxing for the first time that night, as he blew smoke rings.
“Nin doesn’t pay me to win pointless titles. That’s Cross’s shtick.”
Youth is staring across the table now with bloodshot eyes, a seriousness to his entire demeanor. “But...your jawline…”
Krahe raises a brow at the comment while passing the joint along. However, when Youth continues to stare, the momentary silence becomes somewhat awkward. Krahe finds one hand subconsciously covering his jaw before he even realizes he moved his hand.
Meanwhile, Press holds up a hand in Krahe’s direction and waves the joint back to Youth.
“There’s only room for one burnout on this team.”
Richard enters the room on unsteady feet a slightly traumatized look on his face. A face that now bears a hot pink lipstick kiss on his cheek.
He drops the pizza on the table unceremoniously before trying to talk...and failing.
“What the hell happened to you?”
The sound of Krahe’s voice seems to somewhat snap the retired choir director from his daze.
“I don’t know if I can handle this place...I just had a youngman...girl? Youngman girl? Give me a kiss and tell me they had a thing for silver foxes and teddy bears...I don’t think I want to know what that means.”
He gives the table a look that is equal parts horror and embarrassment.
“I feel violated.”
Youth takes another deep drag from the joint before passing the half burnt stump towards Munin.
“Sounds like some furry shit to me. You know...they have conventions out here. Like...dudes and chicks dressed as panda bears and shit. It’s not that weird if you think about it. Anyone that looks closely at Press can see that there’s some gorilla dna at work. Like that time he was at the amusement park and did the strong man booth. God damn, that was ridiculous. The bell fell off the thing. I’m pretty sure that was the same night that my new cock ring lost its virginity. That’s the key, Richard. Keep replacing it, and you get your chastity back until you use it.”
Youth takes a deep breath, pausing the rambling diatribe to look and find all parties staring at him.
He sheepishly shrugs. “Sorry, I get chatty when I’m high.”
A ringer suddenly goes off at the other end of the table, and Press reaches into his shirt pocket to produce a phone. He looks down at the touch screen and a look of worry creases his brow. He gets quickly to his feet at the same time grabbing a piece of pizza.
“Sorry, we gotta take this. Youth…”
He cranks his neck in the direction of their rooms all while stuffing the pizza into his mouth.
Youth sighs heavily, and then pops up to his feet to follow his partner out of the room. (To find out who's on the other line, check out Devil Is In The Details (Part 6), out on newsstands this week!)
Munin glances down at the joint as the two men leave the room, and passes it to Richard with a solemn look.
“I think you need this more than me.”