|Participants||Lifeline, Spike Witwicky|
|Date||March 24, 2010|
|Location||Warehouse - Somewhere in the Pacific Northwest|
darkSpike, full of his own crapulance, decides to try to literally piss Lifeline off. However, Lifeline doesn't appear phased. In fact, he's starting to rebel in his own way. As usual, it's darkSpike, so consider it a PG-13 post.
Northwest United States - North America
The top west of this region is formed by Washington, home of grunge band city Seattle. It is also an area of many forests, mostly conifers. The forests also extend into Oregon to the south, becoming thicker as the pines start to blend with other trees. To the east the trees start meshing with mountains as they move into Idaho and near the Rockies. Yet the people seem to find enough rooms to grow endless amounts of potatoes.
Spike Witwicky is alone - finally. He creeps over to a sleeping Lifeline. Trying to keep quiet, he finally reaches the outside of his cell. Biting his lip, trying to avoid chortling in his own crapulance, he unzips his jeans and leans back, urinating on Lifeline's body - some on the face, other on the chest and lower area. At first, Lifers may think it's a leaky roof...
Edwin, who had been sound asleep, begins to stir in a half-asleep daze. "Nngh...raining," he mumbles, flailing in confusion.
Spike Witwicky tries to keep from laughing, but failing to keep his laughter in, in almost a Beavis-like laugh.
Poor Edwin finally becomes alert enough to figure out that he's inside, and that it isn't raining at all. He sputters in revulsion, then skitters further back into the cell, pulling off his shirt and wiping himself off with it. "Being a jerk is just like... a default mode for you, isn't it?" he mutters.
Spike Witwicky looks on in pure, perverse joy and falls down, busting out in glee.
"Oh..Oh my god! Oh my God! OH MY GOD!" He laughs, to the point of pain, trying to force air into his lungs.
"Oh my god...your face! Your face! Your face!" He looks on at Lifeline quizzically.
"Dude...your face! Your face!" Spike Witwicky continues to gasp, desperately trying to force air into his lungs.
Spike heaves, "Oh my god! Oh my god!"
Edwin sighs, looking mostly disgusted as he tries to find a somewhat clean spot on the shirt. Then, he wipes off his face with it.
"I realize you're trying to antagonize me, but it's not going to work," he says calmly.
Spike Witwicky laughs HARD, then looks at Edwin curiously.
"Anta..no, man! Jesus! can't you take a joke?!" With that, he slides a McDonald's bag to Edwin.
Edwin's a health nut most likely, so he's probably not going to like the double quarter-pounder with large fries and a coke.
However...it's the only food he's had since last night.
Spike Witwicky laughs. "Don't worry...it's fine. I didn't put any 'special sauce' on the burger!" He pauses and then corrects himself, in case Edwin didn't get his sense of humor. "By special sauce, I mean my jizz."
"...I think I'm just going to go on a hunger strike, starting today," Edwin decides quickly.
"So what's made you decide to come take your aggressions out on me, hm? There's got to be a reason."
Spike Witwicky tilts his head. "Interesting...but you're wrong!" He trots into the room he's supposed to ready for Ebony and Deadline. He comes out, brandishing a bat. On the bat looks like what could be blood (it's paint, but it's dry enough and dark enough that Edwin may not notice). He smirks darkly at Edwin. "See...I was so hurt and pissed when you thought I COULDN'T kill that fag version of me...so I proved you wrong." He shows the side of the bat with the bloodish color on it. He shakes his head. "MAN! You should have heard the crack. Fucker went down like *that*!" He smirks. "Made his wife a widow... but not for long..." He starts rocking his hips. "As soon as Ebony or Deadline come to relieve me...I'm thinkin' of givin' his smokin' wife the TRUE Witwicky stick..." Spike Witwicky points to Edwin. "All 'cause YOU said 'I' couldn't do it!"
Edwin looks at him blankly. "Um...you've tried this story before. Don't you remember? And you weren't very convincing the first time, either. You've improved a little bit this time around, but it's still failure because I can tell you're lying. If you killed him, then let's see a body."
Spike Witwicky shakes his head and kneels down. "I'm not goin' to the morgue and pull his carcass here and risk getting ratted on." He smirks and winks. "Heyah...you don't believe me, FINE - I don't give a shit." He smirks darkly. "But...I bet you a half-mill - right in that head of yours...there's a bit of doubt swimmin' around."
Edwin's eyes narrow, and he sits in the furthest corner of his cell away from Dark Spike that he possibly can.
"You're a very sad person," he says, which is probably the worst thing he's ever said about anyone.
Spike Witwicky pauses and folds his arms...thinking. He didn't expect that. He frowns and points to Edwin, getting angrier. "Look...you better shape up and eat your fuckin' food and start tellin' us what we want to know! We're gettin' sick of babysittin' you...and ... honestly, I can't defend you against Ebony and Deadline if you don't start.." He yells "TELLING US WHAT WE WANT TO FUCKIN' KNOW!"
Ebony would probably cap Spike now. It's clear that Ebony and Deadline have absolutely no intention of interrogation, they just need to keep Edwin somewhere. Unfortunately for Spike...he's been watching '24' ad nauseum - and pretty much assumes if you take a hostage, it's because someone needs information.
Edwin's used to being in extremely hostile situations, and one thing he's renowned for is keeping very cool under pressure...which is probably just going to drive Dark Spike crazier than he already is.
"I'm not eating, I told you. I'm on a hunger strike due to the inhumane conditions in this place. And I'm certainly not telling you anything."
Spike Witwicky points to the john and the food. "You got food...you got a toilet. It's not freezing. TOUGH - you should have been in the cell the Joes kept me in for two months! This is like...a mansion compared to that!"
Spike Witwicky shrugs dismissively. "Well, whatever. Either way...you're in a mansion compared to what I was in." He scoffs. "Hell..this place is better than Buster's house."
Spike Witwicky pauses and scowls at Edwin. "I mean it...you start telling us what we need to know or lose a finger." He slams his hand against the cell. "WHERE'S THE BOMB!..I mean - give me what you know about the Joes!"
"I'm going to go clean up. I can't believe you pissed on me. Jerk." Edwin gives Spike a long-suffering bored look, then begins heading to the toilet to get some of his dignity back.