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niteo_logs2010-04-15 07:42 pm
smilinggrimmer.livejournal.com) wrote in niteo_logs2010-04-15 07:42 pm
Entry tags:
For the Love of Life~
Characters: Wolfgang Grimmer [ou], The Joker [ou]
When: April 14th, Afternoon
Where: Downtown Nesreca
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A rather confused East German journalist arrives amidst the zombie invasion.
Grimmer breathed in Prague's cool night air as he plopped himself onto a staircase in front of a abandoned shop. Nobody would be walking by at this time at night, so he was free to eat some of the food that he had stocked up on earlier.
Wolfgang Grimmer had gotten himself in quite a situation. This was namely due to his naive detective friend, Jan Suk, who was framed for the murders of several Czechoslovakian police officers (almost all of them former Secret Police).
Eventually, rescuing the detective meant that Grimmer needed to forge a letter which confessed that he himself had performed them. Of course Grimmer had not murdered them, (well...except for the ones that had tried to torture and kill him first) but he had seen the crime scenes himself, and so could give enough information for the letter to appear legit.
So now, he was a wanted serial killer that Europe was obsessed with catching.
If he wasn't such a skilled spy, his chances of escaping would be zero.
He sighed and bit into the sausage, chewing slowly as he thought over his situation. Just when he was finished swallowing the food, a deeply disoriented feeling came over him.
Next thing he knew, he was laying on concrete pavement, and it was light out. "Did....I fall asleep?" Grimmer muttered to himself in German as climbed up and looked around. No, this area was completely different looking than the area he was in before. This...was odd.
He instinctively checked to see if he still had his bag; good, it was safe. Just when he was about to open it up to see if anything was taken, he heard footsteps nearby. Grimmer looked up to see...a large group of people dressed as zombies. He smiled. That looked like a fun hobby to do.
However, he could not allow these people to recognize who he was. Hiding his face, he quickly stood up and began to briskly pace towards the nearest alley way.
When: April 14th, Afternoon
Where: Downtown Nesreca
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A rather confused East German journalist arrives amidst the zombie invasion.
Grimmer breathed in Prague's cool night air as he plopped himself onto a staircase in front of a abandoned shop. Nobody would be walking by at this time at night, so he was free to eat some of the food that he had stocked up on earlier.
Wolfgang Grimmer had gotten himself in quite a situation. This was namely due to his naive detective friend, Jan Suk, who was framed for the murders of several Czechoslovakian police officers (almost all of them former Secret Police).
Eventually, rescuing the detective meant that Grimmer needed to forge a letter which confessed that he himself had performed them. Of course Grimmer had not murdered them, (well...except for the ones that had tried to torture and kill him first) but he had seen the crime scenes himself, and so could give enough information for the letter to appear legit.
So now, he was a wanted serial killer that Europe was obsessed with catching.
If he wasn't such a skilled spy, his chances of escaping would be zero.
He sighed and bit into the sausage, chewing slowly as he thought over his situation. Just when he was finished swallowing the food, a deeply disoriented feeling came over him.
Next thing he knew, he was laying on concrete pavement, and it was light out. "Did....I fall asleep?" Grimmer muttered to himself in German as climbed up and looked around. No, this area was completely different looking than the area he was in before. This...was odd.
He instinctively checked to see if he still had his bag; good, it was safe. Just when he was about to open it up to see if anything was taken, he heard footsteps nearby. Grimmer looked up to see...a large group of people dressed as zombies. He smiled. That looked like a fun hobby to do.
However, he could not allow these people to recognize who he was. Hiding his face, he quickly stood up and began to briskly pace towards the nearest alley way.
no subject
The alleyway was dim enough to obscure the outline of the clown in the purple coat. A moment later, there came a glow, lighting up the Joker's face, making the scars stand out in even darker contrast.
He was leaning against a wall, and had been partially hidden by a rusted-out, broken dumpster. After the prior day's activities, zombie-mutilating had lost some of its luster, so he'd decided to focus on more important things. Things that had nothing to do with standing outside, but... what did all work and no play do to Jack, again?
A gloved finger prodded at the face of the PDA as he stood there, idling some time away. He hadn't even bothered to look up at the new arrival- whatever on the PDA was much more interesting. And even it looked boring.
"Welcome to hell."
no subject
Grimmer laughed quietly. "So...in Hell they speak English?" He spoke in English with a slight German accent. Since he could not speak any Czech, this made things a lot easier for him.
no subject
...a stick of gum.
Unwrapping it and stuffing it into his mouth, he leaned away from the wall and took a couple of uneven steps toward the man. The Joker's eyes took the newcomer in, sizing him up, reading him. His head then bobbed toward the sack in Grimmer's hands.
"What you got in the bag?"
no subject
As the weird clown walked forward, Grimmer also took advantage of the time to look over him, and came to the conclusion that there was something completely off about this man. Even for the emotionless Grimmer, he could tell that he was far, far different from any normal un-stable homeless person.
Grimmer completely hid his nervous-ness with a large smile; faking emotions was simple for him. "German research books! I am gathering information on a unusual East German orphanage called Kinderhiem 511; which has lead me all the way to Prague." He nodded and pulled his bag onto his shoulder. He was quite open about his research into Kinderhiem 511, since he really didn't have any repercussions to fear.
Grimmer began to take a few steps away. Hopefully the homeless-clown wouldn't try rob him, since he now knew that the ridiculously large shoulder-bag consisted mostly of books. Or picnic supplies. Normally Grimmer liked to give homeless people some food, but this guy was strange, and Grimmer did not like that.
"Do you know where I am in Prague?" Grimmer did not like to continue his interactions with this strange guy, but he didn't want to ask any regular person on the street, or walk out in the open to see a street sign, and risk getting recognized.
no subject
"Prague, Prague... didn't I just tell you, this isn't Prague?" the Joker growled. Casually, he began to pace a circle around the man, eyes traveling up and down him. Something about the clown's gaze was disturbing, as though he was corrupting something very private just by looking.
He stuffed both gloved hands into the outside pockets of his coat and came to a stop in front of Grimmer. He was intimidating, despite being noticeably shorter than the newcomer.
"You know? I hate liars. And I hate it more when people lie with their smiles. A smile really should be honest. Hm?" The Joker punctuated this by cocking his head from side to side, giving Grimmer a very good look at the crimson-streaked scars.
no subject
Grimmer blinked, before he laughed slightly. "Ah...sorry, I thought you making a joke." Normally, he would push this off as typical psychosis behavior, but...there was just something more disturbing about him. "So...this doesn't look much like how I imagined Hell. How did I end up in here?" Grimmer always imagined that if Hell existed, than it would look like Kinderhiem 511.
The lanky journalist held his breath and kept his smile frozen to his face as The Joker paced around him. It was only when he stopped in front of him that Grimmer suddenly noticed the massive facial scars beneath his face paint. Somebody inflicted a Glascow Smile onto him? Yes, this man was far from typical.
As The Joker accused him, Grimmer's expression turned to one of surprise, before it became flat and empty. He'd been blamed of having awkward or inappropriate responses before, but nobody had ever seen through his expressions this quickly. He was simultaneously impressed and disappointed; the effort he had put into learning each expression had been enormous. "Sorry, it's kind of a learned habit. I agree though." He nodded blankly as the Joker spoke.
He truly did agree that smiles needed to be honest. People were sup-post to feel happy when something good happened, or cry when their sons died. They weren't suppost to learn 'This is good, and therefore I smile.' or always wrack their minds on how a normal person would respond.
Still, judging from how angry the clown was getting over this, Grimmer knew that he would have a special time if he got stuck in a group of Kinderhiem alumni. This guy was certainly very dangerous.
no subject
The Joker looked up and down the alleyway, gesturing with a purple-gloved hand as he explained. "Euhh, it was a joke. This whole place is a joke, a joke in poor taste."
The clown's eyes remained distant, locked on the far end of the alley, the direction Grimmer had been running in before he'd stopped him. "City's called Nesreca, and this isn't your world. Or my world. Doesn't that sound crazy?" He flashed Grimmer an ugly grin.
"I'll do you a favor and break it to you now- whatever it was these kiddies were, ah... doing..." A his fingers wiggled. "...back home? You can forget about that. 'We're not in Kansas anymore', if you catch my drift."
'Kinderheim', huh? Old Mr. J knew crazy when he saw it, and the thought of a guy like this running around and getting details about some spa resort for kids? Priceless. He giggled. Maybe Nesreca had given him somebody useful for once. Good for a laugh, at least.
"Check your pockets and your bag. Princess Pale might have left a love letter for you."
no subject
"Hm, somebody put a note on me?" Grimmer fished through his pockets, and, finding nothing, glanced towards his shoulder bag. Was this guy trying to find a reason to mug him? He took several steps away, and watching the clown out of his eye, dug through his bag quickly.
After making note of the picnic knife left at the top of the bag, it didn't take long for him to find the PDA.
"Hm? How did this get here?" He turned it on and suspiciously switched his gaze between the clown and the PDA's screen. He was very familiar with the current 1998 technology, and he had never seen something as fancy as this.
no subject
'Leaking', here, indicated the still-fresh bodies of the fallen soldiers, the dripping bodies of the recent victims of war. It was odd, the emotions they elicited in the evil clown... they were pathetic, but they were proof positive of the horrors of life, of the chaos, that nobody ever wanted to see. But they were also too much fun to want to wish away.
At Grimmer's discovery of the PDA, the Joker couldn't help but smile. The 'journalist' acted so... human. So disbelieving, as though he was convinced this wasn't a joke, that there still was a reality behind it all. This man was still trying to pretend that he wasn't batshit crazy.
Interesting.
After all, it hadn't taken him long to adapt to the new circumstances- chaos was chaos wherever you went. Bullshit was still bullshit, and the troops across the river proved it. Give it a little time- the newcomer would get it.
"Ahh, there's the million-dollar question," he said, throwing his arms up in mock exasperation. He'd begun to walk around Grimmer again. "'What's this doing here? What's that doing here?'" His voice took on a high-pitched, girly tone. "'Why am I here? What's the point of life? Why did my dog die?'"
There was a glint of steel as something slipped from his sleeve into his gloved hand.
"Ugh, spare me. I think you and I both know... there isn't much of a reason for anything. Is there?"
no subject
As the clown paced around him, Grimmer pursed his lips, sensing the sudden disturbing switch in mood. He turned off the PDA, placed it in his bag, and left his hand in the bag to hide the knife now in his hand.
His work as a East German spy had given him decent self-defense skills; hopefully they would be good enough if things went bad here.
"Not really." Although Grimmer's lack of emotions had given him no drive to attach meaning to events, his work as a East German spy only furthered that fact. He had watched hundreds of innocent people be charged for crimes they were incapable of doing.
"There's no sense to anything that people do. Still, if believing otherwise keeps the normal people happy, than I am fine with that."
no subject
"Keeping the 'normal' people happy, huh... I mean, you do know that they can't be happy. Don't you? And why should you care about the normal people?
Once they find out what you are- and I have an instinct about these things- they'll cast you out. They'll isolate you, then they'll kill you. Of course, you could spend your entire life acting like a complete fake. But who would do that?"
His hand, bearing the butterfly knife he'd been hiding in his sleeve, began to dance, spinning the blade, sheathing and brandishing it, back in and back out. He did this idly, not pointing it directly at Grimmer- rather, the act seemed to help him think better.
"Certainly not you."
no subject
Grimmer refused to make eye contact with the clown, and instead just remained facing in one direction, where he watched the Jokers movement out of the corner of his eyes. He remained quiet for a long moment, apparently thinking. "People can feel happy. Maybe only slightly and not for long, but they do. If they have a good beer after a long day of work, they are happy. I like to see that. I don't like to see 7 year old boys be driven to suicide."
He stayed quiet for another moment. " I do not mind being alone, and being 'killed' by them would hurt no more than any other form of death. And I have no existence, so there is no fake for me. The real me was stolen ages ago." Grimmer refused to allow the Magnificient Steiner personality to be apart of him; that was a different person.
no subject
Grimmer's honesty made the Joker laugh. He nearly dropped the butterfly knife, he was laughing so hard. Deciding it wasn't worth looking after it, he flipped it closed and dropped it in his pocket. The most unnerving part was that it was honest laughter.
"It's the principle, pal, not the pain. Really!" Another whoop of laughter. "No one gives a rat's ass what it does to you. Not you, not them, not the birds, not the bees. And their, uh, so-called 'happiness'? Distraction. No joy, no... smiles."
He wouldn't say it, not yet, but true happiness was a well-placed block of C4 surrounded by barrels of gasoline.
"Look," he said, stopping to look Grimmer in the eyes, if the man would reciprocate. "I know my kind when I see them, and I'm lookin' right at one right now. By all means, shack up with the others in that sorry little living space, but... keep something in mind."
Something else dropped out of his sleeve, and this time, it wasn't a knife. It was a playing card. With a flick of his hand, he sent the thing spinning in Grimmer's direction.
"We're all the real us, friend. Some of us just make a habit of lying."
And with that, he turned his back to the man and headed off down the alleyway. Places to be, people to kill.
no subject
Grimmer remained silent until after the Joker was far away. He broke the silence with a quiet sigh, and let his shoulder's relax. That was...a very upsetting encounter. He'd never felt so unnerved by a person in ages.
The tall German checked the Joker's card to see if there was anything on it, before he tucked it away into his bag. He was different from that man. After all, he did not look down on the normal people, and he did not enjoy the suffering of others. He tried his best to shove the Joker's words out of his mind.
Grimmer walked back towards the entrance. He needed to confirm that the clown was screwing with him. After all, there was no way that...
Grimmer suddenly froze in shock. In front of him was a certain obese and corrupt Czechoslovakian Police Officer.
"T-There's no way..." Stiener had killed him! After the corrupt man and his lackeys had torn out each of Grimmer's fingernails, he had fainted. When Grimmer awoke in the corner, he found all of his torturers laying still as bloody, broken corpses...
Grimmer's hands tearing flesh apart, a skull being cracked against the concrete wall; a neck snapping beneath his grip...
The minuscule images died out before Grimmer could even recognize them, and the lanky man found himself staring in shock through the oblivious transparent man.
"Oh god, he was telling the truth?"
Just when he thought his life couldn't become any more complicated...
After several attempts to interact with the dead people, he set out to find the "others to shack with" that the Clown had talked about. He did his best to keep himself from dwelling on their conversation the entire time.