Last Day On The Job (Closed/Training)

Today was the day! Today was the day! Gettin' paid and gettin' free! Free of this dumb Eight-Till-Late job, free of smelly sailors and serving these gross drinks. Yes Pluton was quite happy indeed, but his work wasn't over yet; if anything today was the day he had to work the hardest. Creak would be back around ten tonight, having taken a short camping holiday; still on the island apparently. Pluton didn't understand the old man's choice to remain on the island, rather than to set sail or visit the mainland, but to be honest he didn't really care. He figured he had long worked off his debt and was probably owed a little money by now, not much but it would be a start at least.

He had just finished swabbing the decking, honestly the place had looked far worse upon his arrival than while he was running it, and was now made his way back behind the bar itself. Reaching down he would pick up his apron, light green in colouration, and wrap it around himself; positioning his spray painted skull medallion to hang in front of it. Reaching down he would double check his weapons case, opening it. All of his disks were set at his feet, clean and organised. It had been... strange going from being homeless for the past years to suddenly having a bed and washing facilities, but that was all about to end anyways. Back to sleeping on benches and bathing in fountains.

Rising once more and busying himself polishing pint glasses the grandfather clock in the far corner struck six, the night had begun. Creak's Tavern was set up very much like a typical small pub, there were four tables with three chairs on either side while the bar had a collection of five stools before it. The interior was wooden, presumably from Finnek due to the slight blue colouration of the wood, and dressing the walls were all kinds of fishing trophies. From skulls to poles to claws, in particular there was a set of shark jaws hung above the doorway. A set of jaws Pluton himself had tried to steal. But yes, now that the bar was open, Pluton was sure he could expect the first customer any minute now.

Of course Creak's was never her favorite place to catch a drink since she had gotten here. Of course she loved the place simply for its approximate location to the beach. And of course she started to like the place a bit better now that it had started to be more clean. For the first time in a while, Remy had a day off from her classes and she decided that the best way to spend her morning was to be into a tavern at opening time and stay there until she was forced to leave. Remy considered the prospect of some guy kicking her out of the bar while she was drunk and giggled at the number of outcomes that a situation like that might have, not all of them ending well for anybody involved. For now, she simply giggled and stepped through the door to the bar.

"Oi. Gimme a pint o' rum at the bar. I got an itch 'at needs scratchin'!" She waved her hand up and into the air at the gent standing near the bar as she made her way over.

Pluton didn't blink at the order, without hesitation he took the glass he had been polishing and held it to one of the taps behind him. Quickly the pint glass filled with rum nearing black in colour, despite how the weeks he had been working this job Pluton still did not understand alcohol concentration. No one had thought to tell him that he was pouring bottles upon bottles of rum out when he should have been using a fraction of the volume. Regardless he would then turn the the woman, planting the glass down before her. He hadn't thought much at first, assuming her to just be a sailor or the like as was the typical patronage, but she was wearing... perhaps the strangest hairpiece Pluton had ever seen? It looked like a tiara made of red and white felt, long pigtails sticking out the back, not the typical silly tricorne or bicorne hats he was so used to seeing here.

Eyeing it with quite blatant confusion he would look her up and down, leaning over the bar with the subtlety of a rhino entering a library. She was wearing weird plate things on her hips and a small gun attached to her leg. Pulling himself back from the bar, brows furrowed he told her; "Ya' don't really look like the normal folk, also I think I'm meant to like... tell ya to put weapons where they can be easily seen n' stuff? That and I probably need identification? Can never tell how old you folk are, probably for the best." Despite saying this he had placed the drink within arm's reach of the girl already. "I don't think I've seen you drinkin' here before either... are you a sailor or somethin'? That stupid hat some weird sailin' hat I've never seen before?"

Remy took a seat at the bar and lifted the pint of rum up to her mouth while she wrestled her scroll free of one of her bags. As she chugged the rum down, she opened an ID on the screen and rotated it around on the table to face Pluton and tapped it with her fingernail. But after that she would kick her leg up and onto the bar with her shotgun attached, right in front of him. Pulling the glass down and onto the table nearby.

"Aye. You see enough from 'ere love?" Remy would giggle and wink at him before pulling the scroll back and back into one of her bags. "Oh, but d'ya think you might be a dear an' get us another?"

Remy would then go and take her bandanna off of her head, untied as she flaps in in the air and straightens it out. Deftly tying it back around her head once again. "Aye, yer very astute, oooh an' handsome too. I am a sailor, but I'll be grounded for the next 4 years while my training finishes up. An' it's not like ya need any specific headwear fer sailing. It's just a bit o' cloth my da gave me, but..." Remy bats her eyelashes a few times at him. "...about that drink?"

She seemed to drop more letters in her speech than even Pluton, slightly surprising him. One would expect more surprise to come from the flirtatious actions or the rapid consumption of alcohol but Pluton didn't seem to bat an eye at this, in the case of the latter fact he just assumed that was how people drank; so many around here seemed to do it that way. If anything he was a bit annoyed to have heavy boots on the bar, that'd be more work, but honestly he was pretty sure this woman was already drunk. If it kept her from falling over that'd be fine. To her continued flirting she'd recieve a blunt response; perhaps not what she anticipated.

Grabbing another glass he'd turn back to the tap, "Yeah I mean, duh I'm handsome I'm big and strong. Biggest and strongest on the island. Hard t' be tough, this tough, and not look this good. As fer the drinks... yeah, I mean long as you can pay I don't really care. Especially if by training you mean up at that dumb academy thing, you must be so stupid goin' up there that these drinks won't change anything. Nothin' left to empty out yer head." Placing the full glass of rum before her, "Only the weak folk who use that dumb aura stuff go up there, as if ya'd need some religion to protect you when fightin'. Don't you idiots know how to get strong yourself? It's weak stuff for weak folk, just find a weapon and go out fightin'. Get those scars and stuff, even if it gives you super power all the prayin' under waterfalls or whatever dumb thing you need to do to get it is a huge waste of time. Why meditate when you could be runnin' laps or liftin' weights."

Pluton had been shown once or twice that this logic was indeed flawed, but he was the kind of guy who'd stick to his guns no matter what. He didn't care if he'd get a rad super power, it was just some dumb to him in that way it would stay. "I could probably take anyone from up there with one hand, dumb magic or not!"

Remy listened to these words carefully, picking and choosing exactly which ones to focus on, but for the most part she was fairly heated with all of them. She swirled the rum around in its glass, remembering how her father would always lecture her on the worth of pure rum and scolding her at the thought that she might waste it, but this time, she felt like wasting it wouldn't be much of a waste after all. She grabbed the mug and splashed it's contents into Pluton's face and began examining the empty glass.

"Ya know, it takes a real horses ar- rear end to not be appreciative of the people sacrificing their lives t' keep yer fat head attached t' yer scrawny body. Not talkin' about just me neither. Astute yes, intelligent no, it seems." She then whipped the glass at the booze shelf behind the bar, shattering the glass as well as a few bottles of liquor. Remy would pull her leg off of the table and lean forward onto her elbows, grinning wildly at Pluton.

"Now be a dear and get me another." Her grin dropped into a much more plain look as she stared at him. No one crossed her and got away unscathed, and this idiot would be no exception. "Put it on my tab."

Pluton, safe to say, hadn't anticipated the girl throwing the alcohol over him. Much less shattering the glass on the wall behind him. A conflict was now brewing, not just between the two humans but between the job he was doing and his personality. Had Pluton talked less of a game he'd perhaps have been willing to back down, not apologise but back down, however Pluton had indeed talked himself up to be invisible. Such meaning he had to become it. A majority of the splash had simply dripped from his face onto his apron, after removing it he would place his left hand on his right shoulder and slowly begin to circle his right arm. After two rotations and the sounding of a harsh click he would stop; leaning in and matching the girl's stare... quite uncomfortably close. Pluton Cronus was not one to be intimidated; "Ya know, to open a tab ya have to leave yer card on the bar. Whether ya open a tab or not, ya'll be charged for damages to property. And if ya can't pay."

Pluton, tensing his neck would tilt his head right... no click. Left? No click. He opted to then transform it into some kind of cobra-esq like head sway; looking quite ridiculous with his rum soaked white hair and stupid glasses atop his head. It was fortunate she had thrown the drink at him however, otherwise she'd have to battle with his breath. "Well I've beatin' down hunters from Atlas to Vaccuo, with or without their dumb religion. Somethin' tells me yer not the exception." This was a flat lie, but Pluton at this point believed his own hype enough to make it sound real. He in fact had been beaten down by hunters from Atlas to Vaccuo, not the other way around. "Ma parents were hunters, and ma useless brothers are currently. Ya don't need no stupid school or fancy pants powers to be tough, even if they did. If I wanna deal with Grimm, I'll go out there and do it ma self."

With that Pluton, certain he had been intimidating enough, would cease his head-sway and lean in even closer. To the point foreheads would almost touch; "So ya can put your leg back up, put ya cash on the table, and I'll get ya that drink. But if ya don't then yer gonna become another statistic, just another wannabe run down by Pluton Cronus."

As it turned out, even if Remy had planned on paying, she hadn't brought any money. She had actually been planning to put this on her tab in the first place, this changed things. First, this cretin would end up paying for damages by the end of the night, and if he had no money, she'd make sure to get a few jobs done to pay Creak back. It wouldn't take long, all things considered, but that was future talk, and this was now.

In the present, Remy closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. She would pull her shotgun out from the holster on her leg, slowly and deliberately. "If ye want my gun on the bar, 'at's fine." She set it on the bar, three of her fingers in the lever and the barrel facing Pluton. "Let's get yer smelly breath outta my face first though, love."

She pulled the trigger when it was facing his chest, the pellets mixing with the dust to fire out large rocks, travelling at the same speed as any pellets, she quickly flipped the lever with one hand and placed her foot on the bar to slide her chair a few feet backwards so the chair would tilt backwards and fall. As it slid, however, she pulled a shell loaded with pure dust, rather than the mixes she usually used, and loaded it. She fired at his head with the intent for the stone to wrap around his head and restrict his vision, as the chair fell.

She rolled backwards when it collided with the ground, flipping the lever again, and landing on one knee. Remy gathered her bearings and fired another mixed shot, and then another as she stood up, focusing her intention to bring him down quickly into both shots. She counted that she had two shells left in the chamber and loaded two more with the time she allotted herself, before flipping the nearest table and crouching behind it.

~~~~~~~

HP: 200/200
SP: 100/100

Actions Taken: Remy fires a shot, and slides herself away to make space, firing off a blinding shot in the process. She then fired two more shots, both intending to hex , reloaded two, and dove behind cover.

Attacks: Shots: 35 +35 (Blind chance) + 35 (Hex chance) +35 (Hex chance)

-1 Dust use (9 left)

Despite explaining, albeit angrily and stupidly, that he lacked aura to the girl she had still thought it wise to shoot him in the chest. Were he not so strong she would have for certain killed him. The girl seemed to thing he would remain standing after the first, let alone multiple, shots. The first blast to his chest sent Pluton stumbling backward; almost falling over only for the second shot to smash him in the face; knocking him flat on his back. Rocks had affixed to his face, blood beginning to drip down from beneath the solid mass of dirt blocking his vision and sealing his mouth shut. His chest was no better, his shirt having been destroyed by the blast, a giant crater filled with rock-shrapnel had formed at around his bellybutton and alike his face blood was beginning to leak from it.

Pluton wasn't getting up, honestly it was unclear if he could get up in this state, he brought his hands to his face and began to frantically scratch at his face; he was slowly making his way down the small rock mountains on his face but as they thinned he found it harder and harder to remove them. He couldn't cough, he couldn't scream, he was honestly struggling to breath. He'd be lain out flat for a good minute or so at this point, If she had taken the last two shots they would simply shatter more bottles and glasses and further increase the damages bill. He would lay there, continuing to squirm... if she hadn't believed his lack of aura before it would become rather abundantly clear now. His hands would continue scraping and thrashing as he convulsed and bled.

Pluton's HP:

Remy peeked over the table, if only to see what he was doing. No retaliation, no retort, he hadn't been lying. Well, obviously he had been lying about some things, but not having aura wasn't one of them. She would get up for now, slinging the shotgun over her shoulder as she casually idled up to the bar and peeked over to examine him. Yeah, he couldn't see or speak, but maybe he'd be keen on listening while she was in the talking mood. She strode around the bar and holstered her shotgun, grabbing his hand as he flailed about and kneeling on top of it to hold him still.

"I knew ye had to be lying about one o' two things. The aura or the beating any huntsmen in fair fight. I guess we learned which 'un that is 'cause I'm not in the minority fer using a gun." She laughed for a moment. "Gods, yer something dumb fer letting pride get in the way o' saving yer hide. But, I'm gonna do ye a favor, only 'cause murder idn't a big part o' my MO."

Remy drew her gun and flipped it around so she was holding it by the barrel, sharply striking Pluton on his temple as many times as she needed to until he stopped moving but continued breathing. After his squirming finally ceased, she'd holster Krakatoa once more and place a hand on his shoulder.

The old captain had taught her a bit on aura unlocking in case she did end up becoming the captain one day, although there hadn't been much time for her to study it too keenly before she came here. In any case, she was certain she could do it.

With her hand on his shoulder, she would focus her aura through her body as a manifestation of a current, something like water as it flowed down to him in the hopes that it would spark his own to activate. She felt a bit more tired when all was said and done, but for now Remy would have to pin this all on him.

She grabbed a few bottles and dumped them on him and around him so that he would reek of alcohol before dropping the half empty and completely empty bottles on or around him. She did grab a pen and post-it paper off of the table only to write 'Call me, love~' and drawing a small heart on it before cramming the note into his pocket.

She was sure that by this point any story he could cough up would be so far fetched or have a rational explanation that nothing could be traced back to her. She did nab a pair of bottles of rum off the shelves as she made her way out of the bar, but she made a point of switching the 'Open' sign to say 'Closed' on her way out.

Pluton upon, hearing the woman's voice, began to rise and reached out in an attempt to grab her; only to feel the repeated blows strike the side of his head. It would take a lot... like, she'd have to wail on him for a good minute or so to get through that thick skull, but eventually he would indeed pass out from a combination of concussion and blood loss. Upon her placement of a hand on his shoulder and the forceful activation of his aura the dust stuck to his body would be forced out, as though a hand had pushed out of his face and chest; leaving him with no new scars. Pluton would not awaken that night, far from it in-fact, it wouldn't be until the following morning that Pluton awakened; in an all too familiar bed. Awakening to the smell of alcohol he would groan, bringing his hand to his forehead. Looking to the bedside table he found his glasses, surprisingly they had survived the blasts. Looking down to his chest he found his shirt shredded, last night had indeed been reality, but strangely enough he found no scarring to his body. The skin was lightly muddied yes but it was smooth as before. Rising from the bed, having seemingly been resting above the covers, he would check himself over once-more for cuts and bruises... growing more and more confused to find none. Finding his pendant on the bedside table he would bend it back into shape, having been dented b the rock blast.

Making his way into the ensuite he would first look at himself in the mirror, finding his face again muddied... but not a single mark. There wasn't even a cut where the rocks had made impact, not a mark! His brow growing deeper furrowed he would hang up his clothes and take a brief shower, attempting to remove the smell from himself before even daring to face Creek. Pluton Didn't really own many changes of clothes... well, rather he didn't own any full ones. He had a couple remaining white vests, a few pairs of socks and pants, but no change of trousers nor jacket. As such he came down into the bar area of the tavern wearing a vest and his baggy trousers; jacket wrapped around his waist.

To be blunt, Pluton was ready for a fight. Pluton was ready to throw hands at this old sailor, this old man who had given him work and a home. Instead however he was greeted rather neutrally, a simple nod. The whole area had been cleaned, well... as cleaned as it could be. There was still a crater in the wall behind him but all the bottles had indeed been replaced. Before the old man was Pluton's bag, a card which was unmistakably lien and a post-it note. Looking at the man he simply waved his hand over the items before nodding once more, "I subtracted some of the damages, the hole in the door and some wasted drink, but otherwise I doubt you would have done that much to yourself in a stupor."

Pluton, unaccustomed to being treated so kindly after messing up, snapped back "Well yeah, duh, I wouldn't blow my own chest open. Obviously."

"Right. Take your things, you're free to go."

"Fine, whatever I'll leave." Sliding his bag on and putting the card in his pocket he would turn to the note, his displeased demeanour only growing greater. Holding the note out to the man who himself raised a brow. "I mean... that's got to be for you hasn't it?"

Age had not been kind to Creek, he was the first to admit that; "No I'm pretty sure it's for you."

Pluton went from being annoyed to confused with that single sentence, looking at the paper before back up to Creek; "But I'm gay... so it must be for you? Is it... not obvious?"

With that Creek would shrug and pocket the paper, "I can dream I suppose. Hopefully she was a pretty lass."

And with that, only returning to gather his clothes and add them to his weapon box, Pluton would begin to make his exit... but once he reached the door he would turn back to the old man; "Hey... did you do like... some kinda healing mumbo jumo or somethin'?" The man would raise a brow once more, "I'm fairly certain your aura did all that. You took a bit of a beating though." To which Pluton would roll his eyes, having not known the old man was religious... let alone that dumb religion. Exiting the tavern, making his way through town, and arriving in Skylight Pluton decided that he decided he should maybe train, having had his time eaten up by the bar job. Drawing a disk from his bag he would throw it at one of the trees... and slice it plain in two.

Looking to his hand Pluton could now see a faint red glow. Like a piece of metal beginning to get hot. Pinching himself and looking back up, the tree had still been torn asunder. It wasn't a clean cut no, but he had taken such a chunk out it's left side that the tree had fallen. Looking back down to his hand he let out a surprised;

"...Huh?"

-Exit-