Show Me The Way to Go Home

[Rip]

Paletown awoke atop a storm drain in the gutter of an ally way, propped up against the wall with his head sucken down towards his chest. His eyes opened half way before they felt the burn of the flickering street light above and fluttered shut; the kid gave a groan and tried to raise an arm to rub his throbbing head, but it was weighed down by something cold and metal. Upon closer observation, he discovered that his fingers were coiled tightly around a crowbar, and he didn't regard this with any shock or surprise even though he didn't remember picking the thing up. After five minutes of mentally collection, he stood up and stumbled through the grungy area, rubbing his neck with the free hand while the crowbar hung limply behind him. He was bruised up and thought he felt a bit of dried blood on his lower lip, but there was a grin splashed onto his face. Paletown felt spontaneous.

He half walked, half limped down the sidewalk, leaving the slums of downtown and towards middle class, where he gathered many stares and questionable glances. Admittedly, he did look out of place- bare footed, raggy, dirty clothing, messy hair and various scrapes all over his body, but Pale was never one to care much about the opinions of random people. At least, not when he felt the way he did right now. The grin only grew larger when he noticed a small hospital.

Inside, he asked the recipient for the telephone, and the woman only pointed to the location of the pay phone- kids like Pale came in all the time and they didn't deserve special treatment. Certainly not above a child with a splinter, especially if the child had wealthy parents. Paletown, though, didn't seem to mind. Infact, he waltzed towards the phone as if he were high, deliriously happy and popped in a quarter (which he didn't remember acquiring). He cleared his throat and when the operator asked "What's your emergency?" the show began.

"B-bomb!" he whispered harshly. "There's a bomb and it's about to go off i'm not sure how to disarm it please get your asses over here if they see me on the phone they'll shoot me!"

Click. He hung up, looking rather pleased, then asserted himself to the waiting room, where he slumped against one of the chairs.

[Obelisk]

He'd been at home hovering on the edge of sleep when the pager had gone off. John reacted as he always did, quickly and as if the call was the real thing. (False or misinterpreted calls were common.) He was up and out the door before his sleep-hazed mind finally caught up with him. Work. Right.

It was one of those missions where they met on site without any prior planning or instruction. In other words, John went in blind. He arrived at the hospital to find the place in a state of chaos. Police, firemen, and SWAT were all present and in position to handle... whatever the hell was going on.

He thought he spotted a team of EODs (explosive ordinance disposal) and if that was the case, then that answered a few questions. A bomb situation. Or lack there of. The resident crazies and bored teens seemed partial to bomb threats for some reason -- a sign of the times, he supposed. So John probably had gotten out of bed for nothing. Or not. Sometimes these situations had the tendency to surprise him.

In went the K-9 units, followed by the SWAT team, John serving as point. They secured the waiting area, ignoring the panicked civilians and John went about finding out who had called in the threat. The woman at the desk pointed a shaking finger to Paletown and when John's doe-brown eyes fell onto the man, he glowered darkly.

Now, John wasn't one to judge someone by appearances but the guy looked... questionable. His state of dress and hygiene was suspicious and hell, he looked WAY too calm for there to actually be an explosive ready to blow everyone to kingdom come.

With no shortness of annoyance, John stalked up to the slouching man, stride tight and authoritative. Behind him a flurry of people ran by, EODs responding to a "suspicious package" which would later turn out to be some guys lunch.

The man cleared his throat and peered down at Pale through his visor and helmet. With as much patience and protocol he could muster, John spoke, voice even and calm.

" Sir. We have a situation. According to various witnesses you're the one who called in the bomb warning." He paused, raising a brow as he noticed just how fucked up this guy looked. " I'll ask you now to reveal the location of the explosive. Don't worry about the people 'after you'. The place is secure." John was all business despite his sneaking suspicion that this guy was just fucking with everybody.

[Rip]

Calm didn't quite describe Paletown's current state of mind; in fact, he was sleeping. Actually 'out cold' is a much better phrase and it gave the impression rather well. The kid was completely limp in the chair, sloutched more then half way down with an unlit cig between his lips, arms hanging over the sides and legs just barely holding him in place. His head was tilted to the left, resting his one cheek on his shoulder, eyes closed lightly and a face too peaceful to be alive. He might have been dead, most would assume him dead anyway, since he wasn't even visibly breathing, but everyone either didn't care or didn't notice. The chaos around the hospital, the screaming, hystically women and furious men- not to mention the highly intimidating officers of various units, didn't stir him in the least. However, when he was formally adressed, his eyes opened immidately and he turned his head to face forwards (though didn't bother fixing his posture), locking onto the SWAT agent.

"Dat wasn't me, no sir." Said the kid in a very thick southern accent, quite different then the voice who called in the warning. "I used dat phone over thar..." he paused, nodding towards the payphone tiredly. "Or I tried ta, but it waz hard ta push in the da keys." Raising a hand, he briefly showed Mr. Johnny his one hand, containing fingers bent in strange angles. "Pap wailed on me good, sir, 'n I'm mighty tired. I wanted ta call a friend 'o mine to come get me. I reckon sum otha called in dat bomb thang- ders more den one phone. 'Nother just down the hall, n I thought I saw a feller walk down dat way but he ain't come back. I'll show ya if you wanna- halp clear up dis mess- mebe he still der." The skinny, tall blonde boy sighed, then offered a sort of a shakey smile. "Dey makin' me wait awful long fer treatment cauz of dis mess, 'n I can't call my friend. So I'll ahelp."

[Obelisk]

John's sense of importance and authority deflated when he realized the man had been asleep. Thank god he was wearing a helmet so his expression remained a mystery -- much like Pale's intentions were. The SWAT agent quirked a brow and pursed his lips, looking down at the strange man with a clear look of "what?" This was lost on the fellow, however, due to the fact his face was hidden.

The middle-aged man said nothing and didn't even budge, he just stared at the "Southern boy" for the longest time, as if trying to solve a puzzle with just his gaze. After a good moment of awkward silence, John released the faintest of sighs. Well, he certainly didn't have the same voice as was described. "A frantic New Yorker-accent." The man was good -- really good-- but John knew better than to just dismiss eye-witness reports.

"Uh... excuse me for a moment." He turned on his heel, heavy boots falling loudly against the bleached and waxed hospital floors. John turned his head to one of his fellow agents and spoke quietly as to not be heard by anyone but his intended audience.

He told the guy to keep an eye on Pale and to make sure the man didn't leave the room. John exited the waiting area but not before throwing one last calculating look over his shoulder. Maybe he'd try to get the guy a nurse or an intern-- if he could find one in all this confusion.

He returned and by the way he was walking (forceful, quickly) the man didn't appear all too amused. The agent stopped abruptly in front of Pale and loomed over him, brown eyes narrowed. The effect of the glare was lost through the glint on his visor.

" According to the surveillance tapes, you -are- the one who phoned in the threat." He'd done his homework like a good little agent. As much as he wanted to be pissed at the guy, John was a soft touch and a bleeding heart.

" You'll explain everything ...while we have you looked after." On cue, a curious intern poked her head in the doorway, wide eyes roaming around the room in search of the "mad bomber." Despite the man's charade, John felt that he really actually needed to be examined. Maybe he had a medical file on record... one that might say that he was late for a refill for medicine -- anything to explain his strange behavior.

[Rip]

Soon as John brought over the other agent to watch him, Paletown's expression changed on a dime. So much for the innocent southern boy- the only person sitting in that seat right now was a pouty, world hating teenager, rolling the unlit cigerette with his tounge and glaring at the back of Agent Jesus' head. Thoughts raced through his brain as he came to the conclusion that he'd have to switch tactics here, and damnit all, he had been so sure about the Southern bit... a disapointment if there ever was one. He reajusted his fingers and drew his arms to lay comfortibly over his much-too flat stomach, looking much more like a delinquient now then the sleeping, dead kid he was about two minutes ago.

When Agent Jesus returned, Pale noticed the distinquishing alteration in body language- big tough guy was trying to be a big tough guy, and inspite of himself, the kid had to agree that he was pretty damn good at it. All cops were actors, no matter what juristiction or spot in the food chain; they didn't have to be GOOD actors, but they still had to act. Very rarely did you come across a guy who could pull off his intended part so well- apparently John was among those of distunquished acting honors. Most of these guys were fat and acted like it; these people could easily land a staring role in an original Sci Fi picture. John was not. Paletown decided he liked him. A rather unfortinate and spontanous decision, but one that probablly saved them both a few headaches (the causes of those headachs would be circomstancual, of course... unless Paletown remembered where he hid that crobar).

When the agent loomed over him, Pale looked and felt more like a kid being scowlded by the princible rather then about to be arrested by a SWAT agent (though occordign to him it was the same thing, a position in power and a badge were all the same to Paletown).

" According to the surveillance tapes, you -are- the one who phoned in the threat."

"Aight, aight, those tapes could be faulty yaknow." He said, completely dropping the southern accent and becoming true blue Brooklyn, shrugging his shoulders, the lobsided grin on his face turned cocky. "They got a vendetta against me here. Dressin' up like me, running around and acting crazy- gets me introuble sometimes. But don't blaim 'em, man. They're all crazy here. See?" He paused, gesturing towards the jittery intern. "Mad as a hatter. Tried to dope me up on heroin the other night just to get me put away. And for what, eh? She just dun want you to find out she had her way with the girl at the front desk-" Suddenly, his eyes opened wider then a deer caught in the headlights. Some little electical surge fired rapidly in his brain, regestering a statement Jesus had mentioned that he had, apparently, not heard.

while we have you looked after

"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLS NO SIR, THANK YOU VERY MUCH YOU CAN STICK THAT DICK AND ITS FAMILY IN THE MOTHERFUCKING CASE FILE!" He barked, the lanky kid snaking out like a weasle and darting down the hall. If he could manage to out manuver the amount of very confused agents, he'd be on his way to the fire-escape... a location he knew by heart.

[Obelisk]

Damned if that kid wasn't good at accents. John's eyes were still narrowed, the cogs of his mind running a mile a minute. It could be this kid was just messing with him, fooling him again with that "I'm a New Yorker, born and bred" dialect of his. The tapes were his only comfort -- the only hard proof that was present. And this man --- this kid-- was almost making him doubt that evidence.

Almost didn't mean shit, however, not with a man like John. Sure he was a pretty open guy, but he had the problem (fallacy of character) of seeing things in absolutes, and at that moment, the kid was absolutely fucking with him. John took on that "fatherly disapproving look" and was almost tempted to rip his helmet off to award Pale with the full brunt of his glare.

That was out of the question, though, because when he turned back from looking away for just an instant, the teen was gone. John didn't understand a word of the guy's tirade but got that he was agitated. Or pissed. Or agitated and pissed. The SWAT agents were flummoxed, scurrying around like chicken's with their heads cut off.

"Where'd he go?"

"Left!"

"No, I saw him go right!"

"Watch where you swing that gun, fuckwit!"

"Shove it, asshole!"


John nearly withered inside and restrained the strange urge to throw a tantrum then and there (very unbecoming of an officer) and ordered the men to fan out. He was tired, annoyed, and that burrito he'd eaten before bed was coming back to haunt him. Ooooh Pale was going -down-. As down as John could bring someone, which usually just resulted in a long, snore-worthy lecture of the differences between right and wrong and how "morality is important to everyone."

He was running on autopilot, mind working overtime as his eyes took in everything --every face, every voice, every flash of movement. He'd caught the glimpse of a familiar looking shoe, one that vanished instantly at a corner and followed suit -- a hound on the hunt.

The agent took the turn too fast and his boots slid against the freshly waxed floor, forcing him to take a spill. He hit the ground hard but was up almost instantly, and he almost took out an old invalid toting around one of those rolling IV stands as he rushed forward.

It seemed "respect thy elders" was out of the question for that night.

Eventually John caught up with Pale, so that he had the man clearly in his sights. He yelled, sounding a little winded (god, was he getting old or what?) and did his best to keep his footing.

"Stop. Now. Kid. Stop.Running." He was going to throw a threat in there for good measure but hell, a guy's gotta breath, right?

[Rip]

Pale was thin, skinny and fast as hell; the bare feet didn't even slow him down, infact, they almost offered more grip then any shoes in those annoyingly slippery hospital halls. He didn't slow going around the corners, instead he gripped a hold of the walls and swung himself into the turns, like one might use a street sign for, and all the while he grinned like the Cheshire Cat trippin' on acid. With fish eyes bright and wide, the kid was enjoying himself and the background music of disorder only drove his legs to pump faster. "WHOLE NEW BALLGAME NOW!" He laughed, his voice, still quite New Yorker, boucing rapidly through the stairways.

The fire escape was located just outside the upstairs stairwall. It was little more then an opened window leading to a metal contraption of feeble ladders and metal stands connecting it all togeather. And, of course, it had the same rediculously long ladder that ALMOST extended all the way to the ground- almost, meaning that to GET to the ground you'd have to jump, and if there was nothing to break the fall you'd probably break an arm or leg. To most people, this thing was a dangerous annuicence, but to Joshua Ballmy it might as well be monkey bars in the school's playground.

The kid hopped up the window, ducking his head so he could get out side, but once there he hung against the metal railing, waiting for the agent to catch up. "Wish granted." He said, out of breath from exhiliation, not exhaustion, and held up three very unbroken fingers before folding one down. "Got two more now."

[Obelisk]

John stopped. He stopped moving. He stopped yelling. He stopped thinking. He stopped breathing.

This kid wasn't really going to -- never mind, he was.

John released a series of curses under his breath that would've made his mother bring out the wooden spoon and his preacher scowl. Why did he always get stuck with the "interesting" cases? He supposed it came with the job well enough... but what other guy could claim that he was on good, amiable terms with a drag-queen drug addict? Not many. If you wanted to meet interesting people, forget taxi driving, law-enforcement is where it's at.

He'd have to play this carefully. There was no telling what would set the kid off and make him leap out the window and shimmy down the fire escape. The Swat agent took a single step back and held up his hands disarmingly. The last thing he wanted was for the guy to break his legs on his account.

Two wishes. Okay. He'd bite.

" Alright. Wish two. Step away from the window." John chanced. It was a ridiculous sight. He was clothed in body armor, menacing SWAT gear, M-16 strapped to his back, and a barefoot hobo was the one with the upper hand. He'd been in worse scenarios. He just couldn't think of any right then.

"Wish three... come towards me and we'll have a nice little chat. Hell, I'll even buy you breakfast -- all you can eat." That's right, talk nice to the crazies and they were more likely to oblige. Though... John wasn't too sure if Pale was out of his ever loving mind or just and evil genius.

As they said, there was a thin line between the two.

[Rip]

Paletown was utterly fasinated by his new 'friend' here and took great care to lean against the railing, cross his arms loosely and observe, so he wouldn't fall backwards and miss something this cop might do. He wasn't fearless- ohhh no, the kid would fully admit that this Jesus guy was intimidating; afterall, SWAT man was a big guy and, if he could catch him, could very easily fuck Pale up something awful. He felt the same nervousness most people felt when in the same area as one enduldged in the livliness of law enforcement. Even friend's of policemen felt it- a strange caution and awareness that never completely left... even if you managed to dull the sharp edge to it. You always had to watch, to make sure you weren't doing anything illegal. Because they were there and, even if they weren't scheduled, they were never off the clock. In the same sense, it must have been difficult to work, literally, every second of your life. You were treated like you were working, unless you were in disguise- just another reason cops were such good actors. They had to be, if they wanted to keep a life outside the badge.

As far as wishes went though, this one was pretty boring. The kid only gave him a knowing glance and blew a rasberry in responce to the first. "That the best? C'mon man, you know how genie's roll, right? You've seen Aladdin, right? Tricky little bastards. But ok, ok, your the master. Wish granted." Paletown, instead of stepping into the window and back inside, just climbed up the ladder towards the second floor. He had essentially trapped himself, since that floor's window had been locked and it would take John about 2 seconds to block of the escape down to the allyway, but the skinny kid didn't seem to care. Johnny didn't specificlly say which direction he was suppose to move. "I stepped away." He called down, grinning wildly. "Couldn't hear that last wish, your gonna have to speak up, pops. Kinda noisy up here- damn nurses never shut the fuck up."

[Obelisk]

Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck!

He should've known the kid would pull something like that. John's patience was being tested and though he may have looked like Jesus, the man was no where near a saint. John caught the sight of Pale's bare feet and literally gave pause so he could do the moment justice with a muttered "what the hell?" Why was the guy moving up as opposed to down? If John didn't know any better, he'd say the odd move was part of some elaborate plan the kid had cooked up. But that would be giving the guy too much credit...maybe.

The agent rushed to the window and leaned out, craning his head so he could fasten his eyes onto the skinny teen. John played with the thought of stepping out and climbing up after the guy, but decided to leave that as his last resort. He wasn't too sure about the integrity of the fire escape and he really, really, didn't want Pale to give in to the sudden urge to push him just to see if a SWAT agent could fly or some shit.

He took a second to come to a decision. Any physical action might be perceived as threatening so that was out of the question for now. Talking nice and buying into the little game hadn't worked either, much to the older man's chagrin. John settled on logic. There was little chance the tactic would work, but the man was hard-pressed to come up with a different route.

" Come on kid, quit pissing around. You're trapped now, with no where to go. You work with me now and I swear I'll make them go easy on you." John waited, gloved hands poised at either side of the window sill ready to launch him forward should Pale decide to run -- or climb-- for it.

[Rip]

Pale looked delightfully amused, sitting there indian style for about three seconds, then it seemed like his attention span ran out, and he laid on his back, stretching out his legs and yawning. "Still mighty tired, sir." He said, so return the southern accent if only for that one scene, and propped his head up with one hand. The other was amusing him as he held it infront of his face, popping the fingers in and out. Double jointed, the little asshole, and the thought just made his smirk double in size. "Talented little bastard." The kid cooed to himself, and after a moment longer of observing his knuckles, he turned his head and looked back at the agent, letting the free hand plop on his stomach. "Ok, I'll work. Gotta wish first. No tricks, pops, I gotta cobra up my sleeve."

He rolled over onto his stomach, stretching out one arm towards John, making a grabby motion with his hand. "Cell phone."

[Obelisk]

He waited for the kid to run and when he didn't, John relaxed his white-knuckled grip on the windowsill. John wasn't accustomed to playing negotiator (that was someone else's job, not his) but he felt he'd just done a pretty damn good job. Now wasn't the time to get cheeky, not when he still wasn't sure what the next move in what was a very screwed up game of chess would be. It was Pale's move and John waited, ignoring the man's theatrics.

When Pale extended his hand and demanded a cell phone, John was pretty damned surprised. But, what the hell, at least they weren't running around willy-nilly anymore.

He dug his phone out from one of the many, many pockets of his vest and reached out towards Pale, stopping short of his hand.

" No long-distance calls, they aren't in my plan." With that, he handed the device to Pale and waited. John sat on the window frame, tired as hell from their little jog and watched the other carefully. Lugging around full-out gear was a pain. Literally. His back was starting to ache again.

[Rip]

"Danke, my hombre." He grinned, snatching up the phone without giving him a chance to grab a hold of his arm and recoiled back against the wall of the building. Paletown pondered for a moment, then punched in the numbers and put it up to his ear. It rang five times before a very quite 'hello' came form the other end. All at once, he exploded into hystics, hands moving wildly, eyes big, acting out the motions as he spoke complete gibberish:

"Eelay, I'mway ettinggay arrestedway againway. Omecay etgay emay
easeplay? Eythay entway allway outway isthay imetay, isthay
udesday away ATSWAY uygay andway everythingway!"

Well, perhaps it wasn't gibberish.

After a few seconds of silence from the other end, Pale pulled it away from his ear and looked down at it, frowning, making sure whoever he was calling hadn't hung up, before an exploding female voice boomed out of the speaker.

"YOU FUCKING RETARDED BASTARD- JESUS FUCK I!!!!!!!!!!!!! I JUST GOT!! FUCKING WHAT TEH FUCK PALE I JUST GOT HOME FROM FUCKING WORK AND I'M HALF NAKED FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'M TAKING A FUCKING SHOWER YOU CAN WAIT AND ROT IN FUCKING-..................... I SMELL LIKE FUCKING DOGSHIT MAN!!"

The kid blinked rapidly, looking like he most certainly hadn't expected that. Finally, he just pouted out his lip and said "Please?" A sign came from the other end and a meek 'ok fine'. Reclosing the phone, he leaned over to hand it to John. "She's mad at me. HEY, I'll make a deal with you. I'll say you caught me bare handed if you carry me."

[Obelisk]

"Mm." He made a noncommittal sound to Pale's thank you, and turned his head to look down. He could see the blinking lights of several sirens on several types of emergency vehicles. Ooooh shit. He'd forgotten to disarm the situation. While Pale was busy speaking gibberish into the receiver, John slipped out his radio and clicked the button. He spoke lowly and gave the go ahead to calm down the general public and to spread the word that it was all just a false alarm.

The agent nearly dropped his radio to an untimely death on the asphalt when that enraged female voice assaulted the night. John nearly grimaced. He'd been on the end of a woman's wrath plenty of times to sympathize with the kid. John returned his cell phone to its rightful place in his pocket and flashed the now apparently sane man a dubious look.

Carry him? Ah, hell, but his back was being a bitch again! Pale looked worse than how his back felt, however, and that fact pushed John over the edge to saying yes. He wasn't going to climb up and get the kid though.

" Alright. I'll carry you if you get your ass down to my level. I don't want to come up there and get you." He sounded a bit put-out, a tad tired, and just the tiniest amused. He'd blame that misplaced humor on the burrito. Next time he'd look at the expiration date.

[Rip]

"Ok, I can do that." Said the kid, apparently quite uneffected by the vocal bitch out, and sat up immidately, making his way down the steps in his typical clumbsy way- wherever that quick, smooth moving kid went, he certianly wasn't avalible at the moment. He stopped just outside the window, crossing his arms briefly, his eyes moving around in a circle to signal thought, and the kid began feriously messing up his hair. It was bad to begin with, but once he was done with the rediculous shaking and scratching and rubbing, Paletown might have gotten electricuted. Looking up, he blinked three times and swayed, obviously dizzy, but then grinned stupidly. "Gotta make it look good, like you gave me a run for it. Ya were pretty fast, but I think you otta take up joggin'- ya know? Like those idiots out there at 5 AM, just running like this," He gave a fairly amusing imitation of a jogger running in place. "But they're speedy bastards... alright, if you don't wanna do that then," He started messing up his already messed up shirt. "You at LEAST gotta get yourself another fucking team, man! I mean, Jesus Christmas they're dumber then fucking rocks. Or... a fucking dog, man. A big one. A big scary one, not like those fluffy puppies down stairs. I'm talking MEAN Cujo dogs. I'm telling you." He was shaking his finger at John now, screwing up his own pants. "Put some shaving cream on a dog's mouth and set him in a situation and those asshole'll be running like no tomarra." Once he finished and looked like a genuine mess, Paletown hopped at the agent. It would have been pretty unfortinate if Agent Jesus didn't catch him - Funny, but unfortinate.