witchesreign | 3. [Action] (open to 4th-wallers)

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3. [Action] (open to 4th-wallers)

[It's a lovely weekday afternoon. The sun is shining, flowers are blooming, and Edward is absolutely furious. He has the crushed but just about recognisable remains of a standard-issue alarm clock in one hand.

Despite appearances, the clock is not what he's riled up about. He doesn't give a crap about the alarm clock. Okay, it's weird for a clock to suddenly sprout pointy mechanical tentacles and start jabbing you in the face first thing in the morning, but by lunchtime he'd already almost forgotten about it. It was only an hour or so later that he happened to think back to it... and realised why.

After all, who else could he have pissed off enough to pull something like this? ...Okay, quite a few people. But how many of them also have the ability, inclination and sheer pettiness necessary to track down his room number without him knowing and then break in just to modify a goddamn alarm clock? (Or replace? Ed can't tell, and it makes not a shred of difference.)

Yep, he's looking for Jack. Not in any methodical way, mind - pretty much just stomping around Garden (indoors and outdoors), because some things are too important to stop and plan out before doing them. And God help anybody he bumps into in the meantime. "Destruction" is not a fundamental component of alchemy for nothing, you know.]

COME OUT! IF YOU NEED A SPINE SO BADLY, I'VE GOT ONE FOR YOU RIGHT HERE!!

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[Jack's sitting on a bench in the quad, scribbling in a notepad. Then he hears the shouting. Oh, the delicious angry shouting. It just warms his heart! But he also realizes that it miiiiight not be a good idea to engage Ed right now. He slips the pad and pencil into one of his pockets and tries to look nondescript.]

[Jack and nondescript aren't even on speaking terms.]

[Randomly attacking somebody from behind when all you can say for sure at this distance is that the back of their head looks superficially similar to someone you don't like is an unreasonable thing to do. Happily, at least in Ed's estimation, warning shots are much less so.

He claps and briefly presses his free hand to the ground. Starting from his fingertips, ending underneath the bench just an inch or two away from where the person is sitting, a ridge of earth erupts from the ground in a shower of mud. Some of the mud sticks in Ed's hair as he rushes along the top of the ridge, mangled clock in tow.]

[Cue girly shriek! Jack half jumps up, half awkwardly scrambles away from the surprise!mud geyser. He's got quite a bit of mud on him at this point, but he ignores it in favor of looking around rapidly, trying to figure out what the--oh. Angry Edward. Coming towards him.] Chusheng!

[More scrambling! Jack's guessing now might be a good time to run.]

[Nuh uh, because here's a pipsqueak taking a running leap off the ridge and landing pretty damn close by.

He spins round to face Jack and brandishes the alarm clock almost like a weapon.]

YOU!! WHAT THE HELL WAS THIS THING?!?

[Rabbit-like freezing action! Ok, so he probably can't outrun Ed. Ok. This is cool. Just fine. He can handle this. Jack forces himself to look at the clock with detached curiosity.]

It looks like some sort of mangled mutant alarm clock. Where'd you find it?

You tell me, you bastard! When the hell did you get in my room?!

I take it you found it in your room, then.

...Whyever would you assume I had anything to do with it? [Entirely too innocent face.]

Quit screwing around and answer me, dammit!! [That last part is punctuated with another clap, although he doesn't transmute anything else just yet. Two can play at psychological warfare!]

[It takes Jack a moment to put the clapping together with Ed's magic, but when he does, his eyes narrow. When outclassed, bluff like hell.]

I've never been in your room, wonang fei! What I want to know is why you think I was! You seriously think I would break into your room to give you a busted-up clock?

[Still glaring at him, Ed violently shakes the clock a few times until a lone mechanical tentacle falls out and dangles uselessly from its front.] Look more familiar now?

[Jack looks at the tentacle skeptically, finally prodding the pointy nub on the end.] This is a toy. What are you so worked up about, anyway? That it broke? Because I've got a strange feeling that's your fault.

[Back on the offensive! Take some of the wind out of this guy's sails.] I answered your question; answer mine! Why would I break into your room to give you a toy?! Do I look like I like you enough for that? ...If you say "yes", someone needs to teach you to read people better.

[Pff, Ed has a limitless supply of hot air!] Worked up? Oh, I wonder, maybe because it attacked me?! Play all the games you want, it's written all over your face!

[Ok, now Jack can't help grinning just a little bit.] Pfft, "attacked"? This thing is. a. toy! If you call anything it's capable of an attack, you must be... how did you put it? "More of a pushover than you look"?

[Yes Jack, antagonize the professional soldier who's already pissed off. That is very smart.]

SHUT UP!! [So he ended up having to bare-handedly smash up the stupid thing because he couldn't find an off switch, so what?! Not everyone can be a Mr. Resident Tech Guy!

Time to get some actual use out of the last time he clapped. The alarm clock glows in his hand. This guy might be the only person ridiculous enough to build tentacles into a clock - and goddamnit, it's got to be him!! - but Ed can certainly repair them. With a few, um, sharp modifications. Which are now reaching out towards Jack in the same way that Ed remembers from this morning.

Also, the clock now has little angry eyes, a single plastic "hair" sticking up from the top and a braid. Because it's best to engage with people on their own maturity level.]

[Another automatic shriek as Jack scrambles away frantically. A couple of the tentacles manage to stab him in the arm. Distance, distance! Oh wait, he can fly faster than he can scramble. Out pop the propellers, and he starts taking off--still backing away as quickly as he can. Blood's running down and out of his coat sleeve--not much by real combat standards, just enough to alarm any less experienced onlookers.

Jack doesn't register the stabbing beyond "and this is why I'm running".]

Oh, like I'd let you!!

[One more quick transmutation to move that stone ridge from earlier under his own feet so he can run after Jack. He barely even notices the mud this time.

But as he gets closer, seeing the blood dripping onto the ground brings Ed a little closer to his senses... The rather battered and neglected part of his brain containing his self-restraint kicks in. Hey, remember the Garden rule that says no deliberately picking fights with other cadets? That's kind of a thing. Specifically, the kind of thing that could get him thrown out of here, when he's so very close to going home and making it up to everyone. Okay, technically the clock did the stabbing by itself, but relying on word games like that would make Ed no better than this jerk! What's he going to do with that armblade he was thinking of bringing out next, anyway? Cut the guy up some more? What would his brother think?

Ugh, see, this is why he neglects that part of his brain in the first place. It only gets in the way.

Instead, he throws the clock, tentacles and all. Target: not Jack - that'll be for later on, when the bastard is on the floor where he belongs - but that damn backpack.]

[The backpack is hit! And... Jack does not immediately drop. His helipack's damaged and he's sinking somewhat, but he's not exactly falling.] Si gui!

[He is moving too slow now, though. The blades halfheartedly try to retract and eventually settle on staying out but turning off. He hits the ground--actually managing to do a sort of rolling landing!--aaand managing to snap off one of the propellers.] Si gui!

[Ok, getting out of this thing before it gets beat up any worse. He clicks open the clasp and slips out of the straps, then tosses it out of the way.]

[Hi again, Jack! Ed has hopped back down to ground level in order to greet him appropriately, or in other words yelling incoherently and trying to tackle him into the mud.]

[Jack, distracted by trying to get his helipack to safety, does not see the tackle coming and into the mud he goes! Ed is treated to yet another surprised shriek, before Jack starts trying to push him off.

And then he quickly draws one of his knees in, attempting to knee Ed in the groin.]

[Bull's eye! It takes Ed by enough surprise that he does back off... but he's a resilient little sod and regains focus almost right away. Yet more alchemy ensues, this time in the form of small rocky spires sprouting from the ground at various angles near Jack's ankles and wrists.

If Ed can pin the guy down long enough to jab him in the face a few times, then they'll basically be even, right? Well, no, he'd still need payback for the break-in too. But it would be a start.]

[Aaa, that hardly worked at all! Wait--what's that moving over--aaa, this guy's got Wuya's rock magic too?! So unfair. Think quickly, think quickly!

Jack thinks he has an idea of what those little spires are for, and he's not about to sit still for that. He quickly wrenches his limbs up--the ankles are too far gone and are good and trapped, but he manages to get his wrists free. Now they're raw and bloody, and the wound on his arm is bleeding worse, but hey.

Jack doesn't stop the upwards motion of his arms at all once they're free--he's trying to grab Ed's ears. If he's successful in grabbing either one, he is going to twist back hard.]

[Ed sees the grabbing and ducks in time to spare one of his ears. The other isn't so lucky.]

What is this, a damn playground?! Fine, let's make it one!

[Initialising stage 2: the face-poking! No sharp implements any more, just a couple of (by now extremely mud-caked) gloves.]

[Cue the incredibly unimpressed leader of the Disciplinary Committee.]

Planning on starting a fight, zift?

Stay out of this, kid!! [Disciplinary Committee, what's that?]

Who's calling who a kid? You're just as tall as I am.

[Just as he's about to push past this guy so he can get on with more important crap, Ed freezes.] What the hell does that have to do with anything!?

[Jack keeps pulling that ear backwards. Maybe eventually it'll pull Ed's head back too... Of course Jack hasn't been in a fight for years, maybe he isn't pulling hard enough. He can't even tell anymore.

He tries to shield his face with his other arm.]

Get off of me! What's wrong with you?!

[So Ed is now in a position where he's simultaneously trying to pull himself away (to get Jack off his ear, because that's getting annoying, and then out of reach before the guy manages to work his legs free or something) and trying to move in so he can pin down Jack's remaining limbs. It's totally due to bad luck as opposed to any hypothetical lack of forethought on his part, and more importantly it's not working. Got to decide on one or the other - but the fraction of a second it takes for him to weigh up his options is one fraction of a second when he's not paying any attention at all to Jack...]

[Jack has the instincts of a prey animal, and with enough adrenaline in his system, the same reflexes. He subconsciously notices a moment of confusion on his attacker's part and lashes out, attempting to punch Ed in the face somewhere, anywhere, with his free hand.

Consciously, a nebulous idea-fragment presents itself. Maybe if he could get his ankles into a different angle... He starts twisting his legs about, trying to get them into some kind of different position.]

[The punch connects with Ed's jaw, and suddenly the way forward is crystal clear. Or completely obfuscated by all the red he's seeing, same difference. He grabs at Jack's wrists, both the one under the fist that just hit him and the one that's still hovering around his ear, intent on forcing them backwards; there's more than one way of pinning someone, after all.]

[The wrists are caught! But with the one, Jacks keeps wriggling. And with the other, it's grabbing at the ear again. Either way, there is fear-based resistance--at first. Then Jack's expression clears a little, and suddenly he tries to wrench both wrists toward the points where Ed's fingers and thumbs meet.

Meanwhile, his legs continue twisting, but... he's already gotten one ankle past the rock manacle. He's mostly trying to get that one out of the still-pinned boot at this point.]

[The ploy half works: Ed's automail hand hangs onto the wrist it was holding, but his left hand lets go involuntarily. Not good... he might as well still have both hands occupied, since he's not going to be drawing any transmutation circles at this close a range without Jack noticing. Yeah, what was wrong with him earlier, hesitating? That's not what an adult is supposed to do!

He looks around, to the best of his ability. There doesn't seem to be anything useful to him nearby, not unless he gives Jack the other wrist back first. In fact, there doesn't seem to be anything, which is odd; you'd expect at least a random cadet or someone to have wandered past by now. Unless they already did walk past and were scared off. Or weren't scared off, but went to go tell someone important about the fight they saw...

Okay, Ed seriously needs to finish this quickly, as a different smug bastard from back home would say. New plan: kick Jack as heavily as possible (with his left leg, obviously) in whatever body part becomes available first, and hope that distracts him while Ed runs away.]

[Oh.

So this guy's sensitive about his height...] It was an observation. If you want to talk it out with me, though... Be my guest.

An"observation" has to involve calling someone so damn small that you can't even tell whether they're a kid or not?! Well, sorry, I preferred your previous offer! [Chaaaaarge!!]

[Immediately stepping to the side.]

You really wanted detention this week, didn't you?

[Ed goes sailing past him, but squeaks to a halt at the mention of actual repercussions.] You're an instructor? They've gotta be desperate.

Not exactly. [He shakes his head.] I'm the head of the Disciplinary Committee. That's the student group that makes sure us cadets don't pull crazy slag.

[The point still stands!] Okay then, since I'm not doing anything detention-worthy right now, you can just go somewhere else and tail some real troublemakers. How's that sound? [...he says with a busted-up alarm clock in one hand, and probably having announced what he intends to do with it within earshot of this kid.]

[Jack looks pained. Free hand? Good. Still captured hand? Ow that hurt.

He tries to to grab Ed's newly freed-up arm before the lunatic could punch him with it or something.

His foot pops out of the boot finally, and he may or may not knee Ed in the back in the process.]

[Nope, not having that arm, Ed likes that arm. He doesn't see the knee coming, though, and it forces him to acknowledge that Jack is going to be getting up sooner than hoped. Dammit, dammit - all that time spent in the Training Centre only beating up on monsters that don't play dirty or do anything unexpected, he's let himself get out of practice!

That kick he was planning? It's headed towards Jack's abdomen. If it doesn't get there, it's fine, Ed's temperament is hardly about to get worse - and either way, he's going to try and make a break for it. There's stupid risks, and then there's stupid risks.]

[Aw, he wanted that arm! Oh great, Ed's getting up. Jack gets ready to roll away from some kicks, and sure enough, there is one. He does just barely roll out of the way of it, at the expense of his still-trapped ankle. Yep, pretty sure that's sprained.

Wait--Ed's running off now? That's it? That's great! Jack's just going to... lie there and breathe. Slowly. None of that hyperventilating stuff. He's not got to have a panic attack alone, pinned to the ground in the middle of the quad. It's more useful to have your breakdowns in front of the nurse. He smirks a little.]

Riiiiiight. And I was born yesterday.

[Eyeroll.] Hand over that alarm clock, and maybe I won't write you up.

What? Is there a rule against carrying alarm clocks around too? I'd love to know what made that necessary... some other time. [Besides, ~~wibbly wobbly timey wimey he already stabbed a guy with it in the future? Um ._.;;;~~ it's vital evidence!

He's just going to (try to) calmly walk away now. It's taking some effort.]

Tch, whatever.

If you end up doing stupid slag with it, don't mind me writing you up for double the hours. [He's acting like a total kid about this... but then again, he's also. Twelve.]

[Ed has less of a valid excuse... but he restrains himself to just glaring over his shoulder as he leaves instead of charging at the guy again. Make that quite a lot of effort.] Yeah, I'm sure I will.

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3. [Action] (open to 4th-wallers)

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