thedifferencebetween | Ryslig Inbox

"How 'bout we play it by ear? See how it goes down. I can be anybody you want, sweetheart." He likes improv, it's fun! God, it's been a while since he hunted with a partner.

"Pinky swear! Who'm I gonna tell?" He hooks his robotic pinky with hers and puts his other hand over where a human's heart would be. "Secret's safe with me. Come on, after all the shit I told you while I was loopy?"

Which he assumes he doesn't have to say stays between them. There'd been a lot of personal opening up and sharing, more sharing than Jack likes and more than he figures she likes, too. But it's already done and now they know that stuff, and it's the kind that automatically makes two people closer.

"Spill."

"Psh, you know that's in confidence. Even if we weren't cuckoo for cocoa puffs, that shit stays between us."

Her nose wrinkles again, even with the promise; and just the memory makes her hands tighten on the steering wheel, trying to curl into fists.

"... Wilson and I got married while we were all drugged up."

The words come out in a rush, and Harley lets it sit in the air for a minute. The sun is already out of sight, light fading from the sky above them; and Harley's driving into the heart of Bavan, aiming for the shabby old town area on the other side of the financial distract. Big cities were all alike, in some ways; all scrumbled together out of similiar pieces in different ways.

"....Really?" Now that's not at all what Jack had expected to here. "That's...okay, you guys win for weirdest shit done while out of our minds. Why?"

He's fighting back laughter. The dude hadn't mentioned anything, but then again, they haven't exactly had a conversation about the last week. After their friggin cupcake party, what is there to say?

"I feel like I should tell you, in the interest of our friendship...your new husband wrote sex parameters into our business contract with pretty much everything on the table, so I'm probably gonna bang him in the near future." Now he laughs. He can't help it, it just seems ridiculous and he can see it. He spent plenty of time with them both while they were all higher than a guitar player in a rock band.

"It wasn't like...official or anything, right? This isn't some sitcom where in half a year you're gonna realize you're still married or some shit. Don't worry about it, you weren't yourself. None of us were."

This time it's a gargling noise in the back of her throat. "Why?" I don't know, Jack, why do people usually get married? Temporary insanity. Duh."

She wants to distance herself so much that her hands come completely off the streeing wheel, like she can ward off the words. "God, don't say the H word. You can have him; aside from anything else, the only thing I want from that motherfucker is his head on a platter." Her fingernails dig into the steering wheel when her hands come back to it, slowing the car as they get into the heart of downtown.

When she looks at him, it's the face of someone who knows they've fucked up. "It... might be. I think I signed something." Is he laughing? Against her will, Harlet's mouth twitches. "Jack. It's not funny." She stifles a giggle, and slaps his chest with the back of her hand. "It's not!"

"Oh shit."

Jack tries to cut off his laughter at that.

"Okay...okay, look, we're not like registered citizens or anything. So it's probably not gonna be anything that hard to undo." At most, likely just filling out a form. Besides, they were friggin monsters, who was gonna say 'no' to them?

"It'll be fine, Harley, relax! So you lost your mind due to crazy monster magic and you married a giant angel. That's not something to be embarrassed about, that's the best story at every party you go to from now on. Plus..." Jack clicks his tongue, the lights in his eyes flashing. His voice takes on a teasing, playful tone.

"That means tonight, I'm hooking up with my business partner's Missus. And that? Is really friggin hot."

Christ, but it's tempting to just let go. Leave it as some joke that never comes up again, just one of those things that happens here apparently. And she and Jack can go out and get covered in blood and have a fun little roleplay night.

But she can't. Just thinking about Wilson makes her want to put her foot through a wall- by preference, once about seven feet tall and sporting wings.

"Wish I could, Handsome. You should've heard the shit he spewed at me this morning, when we snapped out of it. Then he electrocuted me- and when you're half metal, and half delicate flesh bits, that packs a punch." Her teeth clench, staring at the red light they're stopped at.

"The next time I see that asshole, I'm going to cut his fucking head off."

With his simulacrum changes, it's hard to see the sudden shift that comes over Jack. There's no closing of his expression, no sudden stilling of body language, no rigid set to his shoulders. There's only an oddly mild and emotionless tone to his voice when he responds, looking straight ahead with the light behind his eyes brightening to a blaze.

"I'm sorry...He did what now?"

The change goes over Harley's head; she's still used to facial expressions and posture changes. Reading someone by the glow of their machinery is harder; especially when your eyes are on the road.

"Oh yeah; that overgrown Daffy Duck's got lightning magic or some shit. Felt like my skeleton was on fucking fire. I mean fine, whatever, I hit him with a lamp first, but-" her hands clench, turning the corner, looking for a parking spot.

"He'a the one who made it personal." Her voice is colder than Jack has ever heard it.

"Uh-huh."

Jack nods once. This? This changes everything.

"Okay, I gotta ask, cuz I don't wanna be that asshole who crosses a line... you wanna handle this yourself or is it cool to take a shot on your behalf? Cuz...No. Uh-uh. Disproportionate fucking response right there. Not to mention I just don't like people frying my dear friends, that doesn't jive with me. But you do not fry somebody who's part made of metal, the amount of damage that can do....was he trying to fucking kill you? Over what? Jesus tap dancing Christ..."

"Over my shitty taste in men, apparently! No offense." Pulling into the nearest space, she yanks back on the parking brake, jaw still tight. "The last time I took a shock was a walk in the park compared to that. I still hurt. You ever wondered how it feels to get a sunburn on your kidneys? That's what this feels like."

The implications, of course, aren't super great. It means she's got more than just a metal leg and weird hair going on. Something's different under her skin, and Harley can't think about it too long, or it gives her the shakes.

The offer comes as a surprise; and not an unpleasant one. Jack taking a shot at Slade- watching Jack take a shot at Slade- "Are you serious? That's- okay, that's kind of hot. Sweet, of course, obviously, but- also a little hot." But. But some of the choicer bon mots from Wilson's morning tantrum are still ringing in her ears.

You lost the Joker so you're grabbing on to the next best thing. You can't stand on your own two feet. You don't know independence because no one ever taught it to you.

Despite the pain, despite the fury she's been venting at him for the last ten minutes, Harley manages a smile. Leaning over, she presses a kiss to his cheek, giving his hair a ruffle, before pulling away again. "I'll handle it, hot stuff; don't you worry about that. But I appreciate the offer, I do. You ever need someone at your back, I'll be there."

She slumps in her seat a little, looking out at the night. "Anyway, now you know why I wanted to blow off a little steam. I just- can't sit still today." Her fingers tap out a meaningless, staccato rhythm against the steering wheel. "Maybe it's the electroshock or whatever, but I been twitchy." Her fingers still, and she glances his way, lips curling up into a grin. "I'm glad you decided to come out with me. Got to admit, I've been wondering what you're capable of. You got to be able to fight, right? You're from Planet Wild wild West."

"Yeah, I'm serious! But see, that's why I asked. I know sometimes ya just want to take care of it yourself, I respect that! But same goes for you - you ever need somebody to watch your back, you call Handsome Jack."

But Harley's more than capable of meting out her own vengeance, and Jack's not going to interfere. Nisha had been the same way, she liked to hunt down and string up the people who took a shot at her. He's not about to get between a woman and her well deserved violence!

"Speaking of...if you want me to...I dunno, take a look at anything...I know my cybernetics. But yeah! Oh yeah, I don't have any formal training or anything but I can street brawl with the best of'em, plus I'm a friggin cyborg. I can fuck up people's day in all kinds of fun ways!"

"Really?" Fun talk about killing takes a backseat for a moment; Harley glances around, but they're on a dark side street edging into the Bad Part of Bavan, no one's around to see. "There ain't much to see; but, since you'll probably get a look at it later anyway-" Shifting, she raises up a little to unbutton her shorts and slide them down to her knees.

"It's all mostly on the inside, I think- and Christ do I not want to think about what that means- but this is the worst of it that I can see." She nudges aside her underwear; deep blue silk today, soft and nothing that would rub too harsh against the red burn wrapped around her hip. Where skin meets cybernetic leg is red and puffy; though thankfully that's the extent of the damage, there aren't any blisters or signs of worse than a first-degree burn.

"I think the actual leg is fine; it's the rest of me that ain't so hot. It's not really cybernetics, but there's this, too." Turning over her hand, she shows him her palm; a long strip of burn stretches diagonally across it. "I was holding the lamp I'd bashed him with. And I thought he blew a fuse in my hair for awhile, but-" She reaches up, picking up a lock of fiber optics to stare cross-eyed at it. "I think it's perked up a little since then. The glow looks about right."

Funny, what you could get used to.

"I just feel- I don't know, hollow? Like something's missing, like I need-" Her shoulders shift in a restless movement; and Harley's hand comes back to the steering wheel, starting to tap her fingers against it again. "I don't know. Maybe cutting loose will settle me some."

"Okay....first, just gotta get this out of the way. I know you're freaked out about changing, and it's scary and new and weird, but also ya know, I'm the same thing you are now. I've literally gone through this and out the other side. I'm right here, fully changed, totally fine. And you're gonna be, too."

Being a robot is awesome! And Jack is inspecting the damage as he talks, shifting his visual settings to account for the low light. It is some nasty damage, and he doesn't like where it's concentrated at her leg's connection port. Or...whatever it's called when it's magic robotics.

"Because yeah, your insides are changing. They're gonna change a lot. So much! But the more you worry about it, the more you try and fight it, the worse it's gonna be. You gotta lean into this, babe. And I got some basic x-ray tech in my lab, we can get a look inside so you know exactly what's changing. It helps to know! Also start thinking about all the cool shit! Like...once you're done, it's gonna be so much harder to hurt you. And you're gonna be even stronger than you are now. And you will be able to fry people."

He glances up, though the motion involves moving his entire head.

"And, uh...speaking of. You could be hungry. Exerted a lot of energy, need to replenish...I feel pretty empty when I need to suck down some juice."

The convertible has bench seats; lifting her legs a little to get around the stick shift, she scoots closer, close enough that to touch. Kicking out of the shorts entirely allows her to slide her knee up and over his; in theory to give him more to look at, but honestly, it's mostly for her own comfort.

"I- I'm trying. Honest. The last week left me with bad shit to clean up, but- while we were all weird, it honestly didn't bother me? I was just like 'tee hee, turning metal, oh well!' And I don't know, maybe I'm still rocking some left over vibes from that. I'm better- like it doesn't make me want to throw up to even think about, much, but it's just-" Her fingers catch his own, metal and skin, and she looks up at him.

"It's not like everyone else. We don't just grow new weird shit, you know? You, me- we get replaced, one chunk at a time. I'm losing my fucking body, which I actually happen to like, like, a lot. Call me old fashioned, but that pisses me off some."

She squeezes his fingers with her own, and sets his hand back on her knee. "But, there's also fuck all I can do about it right now, so- woah, hey, wait a second. Did you say hungry?" Harley's brow furrows, examining her stomach- or whatever this other new, weird feeling is.

"... Well how the fuck is that fair? It's not like I got tentacle wires, I can't just suck someone down like a freakin Capri Sun!"

"Okay, but sweetheart....you aren't your body." Jack covers her hand with his, returning the squeeze gently.

"Bodies are just meat, a vehicle for the real deal. Up here." His other hand taps his temple. "I'm still me, I've just got a way snazzier physical conveyance system! What's a human body, really? Just a lot of messy red stuff and blue stuff, blobby easily bruised meat parts all hung on a really fragile support system that's built to just break down the whole time it exists. You're your thoughts, your memories, all the experiences you been through. And none of that's going away."

He gives her hand another encouraging squeeze.

"I dunno, maybe it doesn't bug me cuz this is basically what I always planned to do? My brain, robot body. Upgrade from meat sack to metallic wonder. But it's not gonna change who you are. And yeah, hungry. I dunno, maybe you do, and they just haven't popped out yet. We'll see what happens."

This is a weird conversation to have with her pants off. Leaning over, Harley snags a finger through the belt loop of her shorts, and tugs them back up into place again.

"I guess that's probably the way of the future, huh? Upgrade everything. I mean, if you wanted to do it, go to town! It's your flesh meat to do what you want with, right? Maybe that's why it sticks in my craw so bad. I didn't consent to this shit. I've got no idea what's coming." There's a sigh, and in the quiet and the dark, she rests her head against his shoulder.

"Maybe it's just that I put so much damn work into this sack of meat. I used to compete, back in the day. Got me into college, back before I cared enough to get my grades up. I was in gymnastics for- Christ, ten, fifteen years?" She looks down at her non-robotic leg, letting a hand move over her bare thigh, trace along the tattoos she'd doodled when she was bored. "You don't get gams like this without putting the work in."

Her head tilts up without moving, to look at him. "But- I mean, you got a point. I'm still me, no matter what happens."

"No, you didn't get any choice. But...babe, that's how life goes sometimes! Shit happens." Jack shrugs. He really doesn't see what the big terrible thing is here.

"Look at it this way. All that work - which yes, you have a fantastic body, not gonna argue that! - could just as easily get ruined by a horrible car crash or plain old age. You're just in your thirties, you haven't hit the wall yet. The wall where you reach a point and it doesn't matter how much ya work out, whatever, your body just is not what it used to be. Except now...all that hard work is gonna be perfectly preserved. Look at me! Sure, I got the chest of a Ken doll now, but Ken's pretty cut!" Jack rubs Harley's metallic leg with his own metallic hand.

"Now come on. We're a couple of badasses with super cool extra features fully designed to make us beautiful forces of glorious destruction! Let's go mess some guys up. You know you wanna see me throttle some shitbag with my tentacles."

He really doesn't get it. And maybe it's because he was from the future, and people apparently just go to town with the cybernetics then. Maybe it's because he'd already had it in mind, so it wasn't so totally alien to him. But for whatever reason, the horror Jack must have gone through when it was him changing wasn't the same as Harley's. He hadn't scrambled backwards across a bathroom floor in some panicked attempt to get away from the thing attached to him. He hadn't touched the seam where metal had welded onto flesh and thrown up everything in his stomach when he'd realized what it meant. He hadn't had to physically fight the urge to chop the damn thing off, because every time he looked at it his stomach turned over at the thought of being unconscious and strapped to a table somewhere while someone cut off what had been there before.

And Harley is better, now. She can look down and not flinch at the sight of periwinkle metal. She can walk and move and kick, and there isn't something in the back of her mind going this is wrong, this is wrong. She can't escape- yet- and she can't stop what she knows is coming. So... maybe Jack has a point.

"It's cute you think I'dve lived long enough to hit that wall. I hadn't figured on it." But there's a smile tugging at her mouth, and Harley arches up again to brush a kiss against his cheek. "And you're right; you're a model for all monster-kind, Handsome." Pressing close, she reaches around him for the car's door handle, and nudges it open. "And you know what? I absolutely do."

Her shorts are somehow even shorter when she's standing up; and the bustier doesn't quite cover the Lucky You tattoo. Harley'd kept a couple of suits, but fashion in Djavulenstad is way more fun than Bavan.

"There's a place around the corner I been in a time or two; think it's called Dealin' Dan's Dive? Your standard rough house; sweat and stubble and stale beer. Probably a poker game or a fight club in the basement, but I never bothered to find out." Harley links her arm in his, and reaches up, adjusting his lapel a centimeter. "Pure human, last time I checked; haven't been back since I turned half Lite-Brite. People go out back to smoke. Plenty of assholes."

"Sounds like the perfect place to find some of humanity's mistakes and take care of'em."

Jack slips out of the car and flashes his eyes down at Harley as she smooths his lapel. He's itching for a good kill. It's been way too long, over a week. The amount of pent up violence he has in his system right now....

"Alright, you are definitely dressed for this. But uh...first off, ya got any special requests? Wanna see me rough whatever prick we nab up before crushing his throat? Cuz I'm happy to oblige."

It's not gonna take long for some sleazebag loser to try and get with her. Not in a place like this. Oh, this is gonna be good. This is gonna be so good.

And maybe watching him in action will warm Harley a little more to the while robot thing.

Harley winks back at him, at the flash of lights; and there's no denying that her teeth catch on her bottom lip, at the image of Jack playing with his food. Moving closer, she lets her fingers trace the metal just above the collar of his shirt.

"You know what I really want, Handsome? I just want to see you give some motherfucker exactly what he deserves. As to the how-" Her fingers hook under the collar, and she tugs, gently, until their chests are close enough to touch. The bustier is tight enough to show off every time Harley inhales. "Why don't you just show me what you like? It being our first time and all."

She glances in the direction of the bar, and back to him. If Jack was the type she thinks he is, this is going to be so much fun. Maybe the most fun she's had since showing up here.

"Should I try to get him out back? Or you want to set a time to walk in the front door? Hate to say it Handsome, but- if you're with me, I don't know if anyone would dare to come up to me." Her eyes light up. "Or you could go in first. If you want to watch the fun."

Anyone smart would see two Sims in a human bar and stay the fuck away. But Harley's not looking to kill anyone smart.

"I'll go in first. I wanna watch."

There's an excited, hungry tone to Jack's voice, and it's pitched low. Eager. He'd be wetting his lips in anticipation if he could.

"You get'em out back, I'll follow. Keep his attention on you, I wanna surprise the living fuck outta him."

And no one ever asks him what he's doing when he's in a bar. If anyone thinks it's strange to see a robot who can't drink, they keep it to themselves.

"Gimme a couple minutes."

He flashes his eyes once more at Harley and pulls away to walk ahead and get himself settled into a dim corner of the bar where he could see the whole room. He does enjoy a show before dinner...

Christ, just the tone of voice he uses is enough to start Harley's breath speeding, bring a hint of a flush to her face. Her pigtails shift and ripple, but there's no breeze to stir them. "Yes sir." One more brush of fingertips against synthetic skin, and she lets him go, leaning back against her car, and pulling out a cigarette while she waits.

Maybe no one notices when Jack walks in and settles himself. But a lot of people take notice, when Harley walks in. Djavulenstad fashion is common enough in Bavan not to get her actually arrested, but that doesn't mean it isn't remarked on. Especially when the wearer is young, fit, attractive, and meeting the sudden influx of gazes with wide, innocent doe eyes. There's a lull in conversation near the door; and then Harley ducks her head, twining a strand of her pigtail between two fingers, and makes for the bar.

It ain't the first time she's played this kind of game. Mostly places like this- dirty, smokey, with hubcaps on the walls, loud music, and a predominately straight male clientale- were easy pickings in the early days of running with her Puddin'. No one ever seemed to look past the short skirts and the pigtails to wonder what the hell she was doing there. And even a place like there, where her pigtails glow as a clear sign she's not all sweet innocent flesh girl- there's some guy on her before she even gets her drink.

He's younger than most of the guys in here. A little younger than her, with a charming smile and a sort of winsome look in his eyes; like maybe this wasn't what he'd pictured, growing up as a boy, and he hasn't quite let go of the dreaming yet. He pays for her drink and compliments her eyes, and Harley plays her part, shy smiles and sidelong looks, brushing one pigtail back so he can get a good look at the soft arch of her neck. She knows he was with a group, before he came over; but what Harley can't see from her position is the other men at his table sneaking looks their way, glancing up as Harley giggles, recrosses long legs over one another.

Jack can see them just fine, though.

And Jack can see when Harley pats the pocket that holds her cigarettes, asking her new friend a question, fingertips brushing down his arm. The boy's eyes light up; and he catches her hand with his own, which has Harley ducking her head and giggling again, nudging at him a little. The pair of them tip back the rest of their drinks, and head for the back door out to the alley, the boy leading the way as they thread between tables, her hand still in his. Harley keeps her head down mostly; nervous smiles in the direction of one or two comments thrown their way. There's the barest second where she catches Jack's eyes, gleaming in the dark corner; and the barest flicker of her eyelid in his direction.

And after the door shuts behind them, Jack can see two men from the boy's original table look at each other, shrug, and move to follow the pair out the door.

By the time Jack emerges into the alley, Harley's back is against the opposite wall, held and frantically and enthusiastically kissed by her chosen beau. One hand is still holding her cigarette, far out to one side, and she has her left leg up and tight against his hip. The other two men also have their backs to the door; smoking, they don't even try to pretend they aren't watching the show.

Jack watches silently from his dark table in the corner. His eyes follow Harley, no surprise when she's immediately approached. Dumb kid. Who's stupid enough to hit on a monster? Obviously this guy.

And oh, she's good at this. He can imagine the conversation, how she's reeling him in. She's friggin perfect.

God, he needs this. He's been flying solo feeding way too long. And he hasn't had anybody to play this particular game with in ages.

It's a struggle to stay in his seat, feigning indifference, as Harley leads their prey out. He's gotta do this right, give them a couple minutes. And what's this...oh, oh boy. Bonus! This just keeps getting better and better.

He gives it one more minute after the extra dead mean walking head out, then slips out of his seat and casually slips out the door after them.

He's already charging his wires - not enough to kill, but enough to make a nice show. So many options, Jack doesn't even know where to start! He'd planned on just yanking the dude right off of Harley, but he's got two other dumb fucks to play with! So...change of tactics. He's always loved a good dramatic entrance.

"Hey there, fucknuggets!" Jack's tentacled wires are already emerging from his temples, crackling and flinging sparks, coming up behind the pair of onlookers with the light in his eyes up as bright as it goes. He savors the confusion and shock and dawning realization as he reveals his presence. He hopes they fight back, he wants them to fight back.

"Hope you enjoyed the little free back-alley soft core porno, but show's over! And now it's time for your special prize - I'm gonna kill ya!"

The boy yanks back from the kiss, at the sound of the voice behind him; the three of them turn to stare at Jack as one. When the boy turns back to Harley, she has a bright, hungry grin on her face. "Run," she says, not unkindly, and shoves him hard to one side to try and help him along.

He seemed sweet, Dumb, but sweet. Sometimes it's nice to give them the option.

The other two pricks aren't going to get the same treatment; they look at each other, and go for Jack almost as one, fists up and ready. With her boy out of the way, Harley handsprings to cover the distance between them. Her legs come up and over, landing on one man's shoulders: thighs clenched around his neck, she pulls and twists, dragging him to the ground.

God, she needed this. Two or three chumps she could take just as a regular human, without Jack here, so it's hardly a thrilling fight; but her insides still ache from her fucking lover's tiff with Slade this morning, so not getting the shit kicked out of herself is just fine. And kneeling in the ground, the guy scrabbling at her back, her legs, his head is in the perfect position for Harley to punch him in the face. She does it again, and again, blood on her knuckles and a fierce satisfaction keeping her heart pounding.

Edited 2020-09-28 17:29 (UTC)

Jack isn't paying any attention to the original target Harley lured out. Why bother, when these two piss for brains are right here and making much more engaging targets!

Or target, rather, once Harley leaps into action. Jack would be perfectly happy just watching her go to town on that asshole, but dumbskull number 2 is still coming at him.

Jack's robotic hand comes up to catch the human's fist, his permanently grinning face fixed on the man.

"Careful there, buddy! You might hurt yourself...and that privilege is all mine."

He exerts pressure with his black metal hand, loving the way the idiot human's face contorts in pain. It's such a struggle, between wrapping his wires around his throat and drawing it out. He wants to do both, wants the satisfaction of the kill but the pleasure of the torment...

As he continues slowly crushing the hand enclosed in his own, a few thin wires unfurl themselves from the main bundles and twist together into two slender cables. With a chuckle, he sends those two smaller wire tentacles right for his human's eyes - nothing's funnier than watching a blind dude in pain try and fight!

And he'd promised Harley a good show.

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, HANDSOME JACK. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 021.07.222.57 * H.Jack69 has joined 021.07.222.57 <USERNAME> First sentence of message. <BANNED USER> SCREENED MESSAGE. UNSCREEN? Y/N -- sample for when you ban someone <USERNAME> First sentence of message. <USERNAME>** First sentence of message.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw, mild body horror

no subject

cw for burn injuries

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw; body horror

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw; violence, murder, mayhem

cw; violence, murder, mayhem