Branch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchifer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
longestnight2023-08-23 03:59 pm
branchifer) wrote in longestnight2023-08-23 03:59 pm
[audio] The traps will continue until (his) morale improves
[After a while, there's no need for anyone to keep too much of a close eye on Branch, despite the fact he was possibly one of the closest to death by the time they got to the Pole. By the time everyone else is feeling well enough to leave the Infirmary (albeit maybe with a limp in the case of some of them) he's still out but at least finally firmly stable. Breathing easily and far less pale. It's just that the sleep caused by the myth healing has him firmly knocked out for far longer than everyone else as all that extensive poison damage heals up.]
[Jack at least keeps occasionally checking in on him. He'd placed him in a little doll bed and placed that in a little dollhouse. The house is meant to make it so the troll won't just sleepily stumble out and fall right off the table or something before he's fully awake.]
[The problem is he hasn't noticed that one of the Elves noticed him initially tucking Branch away. And said Elf also keeps watching him go in and open up a little doll house. Bingle knows better, he knows he's not allowed in the Infirmary unless he wants to be helpful and has been given specific Infirmary-related instructions....but he also thinks that toy looks so adorable. And!!! Jack keeps playing with it and Jack liking the toy makes it seem even cooler!!! So after one of the times Jack closes up the little dollhouse again, and leaves the Infirmary Bingle jingles his way happily into the Infirmary after he's out of sight to go play with the toy...]
[A short time later, there is a whole lot of screaming. Terrified, Bingle drops what was in his hand, and runs out. Then what Bingle thought was a toy also runs out of the Infirmary and the rest...]
[The rest is the kind of mess that happens when a bunch of upsetting events running consecutively are filtered through a filter of high octane paranoia. Branch doesn't waste time after escaping his would-be murderer. Limping out of the room, he makes his way onto a hustling bustling floor filled with furry artisans. Looking around in awe at the strangeness of his surroundings is how he gets run over by some kind of toy car. Great. Wonderful. The injury jangles his leg even worse and causes it to break open the partially-healed snake bite gouge. But that's not about to slow him down.]
[Some stolen ribbon is tied over the bandage to put more pressure on the injury. (They must have bandaged it because they wanted him to live long enough to clear the poison.) His hair is quietly washed in the as-of-yet unused paintbrush water of a yeti setting up a table to paint toys. Then he smears green and red paint on his body and more bits and bobbles, pieces of ribbon and tinsel and pine are used as camouflage all over his body. The place is littered with garlands and scraps of ribbon and tinsel. It genuinely lets him blend. All he has to do is stop moving and then he looks like all the rest of the detritus and garland on the tables and floors.]
[He blends enough that he manages to limp to one of the windows and see what's waiting for him outside without being seen. The view is devastating and makes him realize he has to change his tack.]
[He figures out the comm devices the hairy guys are making are important by silently watching a yeti test one out, including by using some kind of... listening devices with it? Ones that go in the ears? When the yeti's back is turned, both the larger watch device and the two ear-things are stolen, as is the box and instructions for the ear things. And Branch spends the better part of an hour figuring out what it's all for, how to sync the devices, how to use the mic on the one ear bud, and how the menus are navigated - including how to navigate them by tapping the earbud certain ways without touching the comm watch.]
[Then he looks out on what is to become a battlefield, a place to lay waste to his enemies, and starts to get to work. It takes him the better part of a few hours to prepare, the large space of time between anyone possibly thinking to check on him in the Infirmary. He has to use his hair to do most of the traveling because of the shape his leg is in but he pushes his way through it.]
[Then the first casualties start rolling in. The Elves and the yetis, the most numerous of the Pole's residents and most prone to roaming around, are disproportionately affected. The first trap is tripped by an Elf. Somehow the Elf is successfully netted to the ground in a weighted net made of volleyball netting. A yeti trips a trap that causes a cascade of marbles that causes a whole group of yetis to slip and fall. A snare trap somehow whips someone upside down. Super soakers full of lemon juice are activated by a tripwire to squirt the juice in someone's face as they walk by.]
[The traps are all harmful but not permanently damaging. There are no traps that might make people fall over railings or down stairs. Nothing will permanently scald anyone and even if things cause pain and irritation they don't cause permanent damage. And it's possible to avoid tripping traps, certainly. After all, most of the traps are in the busiest areas of the Pole, and not quieter ones prone to relaxation. There's no point in hunting the hunters if you do it in places where they don't heavily congregate.]
[But for those in the more heavily trap-set areas: visible chaos erupts. The Elves and the yetis are clearly panicking. Then, in explanation, a voice comes over the new comms, in audio only, spoken over the mic of a single Samsung earbud. A few of them might recognize said voice from their time in the Multi-plex or before.]
Yeah, hi, all those traps going off around you? Those are mine and I work fast. I guaran-flipping-tee you there are a whole lot more of them than you think. Pick a random number, then quadruple it, because that's what I did when deciding how many to set. And I'll keep setting more the longer my demands go unmet.
Now I'm sure some of you are thinking "well, I can avoid all the traps." Maybe true for you, but your ugly, pointy-headed little children and the big hairy guys sure seem to be running into them. And wow, they are really freaking out right now.
So we're going to do this my way. If you want it to stop anytime soon, you'll do exactly what I say, when I say it. If you don't do what I say, I will make it worse.
[Branch is about to limp around and be a problem.]
[Yippee-Ki-Yay.]
[ooc: Threadhopping is encouraged. The main negotiations will happen with Miguel playing hostage negotiator, but anyone can talk to Branch. He can't see anything because it's all audio but he'll definitely gloat if he hears someone get trapped while on the comms with him, completely endearing himself to them instantly, I'm sure. All the traps will be inconvenient, annoying, and maybe slightly painful but not cause any genuine risk to life and limb - yet.]
[Jack at least keeps occasionally checking in on him. He'd placed him in a little doll bed and placed that in a little dollhouse. The house is meant to make it so the troll won't just sleepily stumble out and fall right off the table or something before he's fully awake.]
[The problem is he hasn't noticed that one of the Elves noticed him initially tucking Branch away. And said Elf also keeps watching him go in and open up a little doll house. Bingle knows better, he knows he's not allowed in the Infirmary unless he wants to be helpful and has been given specific Infirmary-related instructions....but he also thinks that toy looks so adorable. And!!! Jack keeps playing with it and Jack liking the toy makes it seem even cooler!!! So after one of the times Jack closes up the little dollhouse again, and leaves the Infirmary Bingle jingles his way happily into the Infirmary after he's out of sight to go play with the toy...]
[A short time later, there is a whole lot of screaming. Terrified, Bingle drops what was in his hand, and runs out. Then what Bingle thought was a toy also runs out of the Infirmary and the rest...]
[The rest is the kind of mess that happens when a bunch of upsetting events running consecutively are filtered through a filter of high octane paranoia. Branch doesn't waste time after escaping his would-be murderer. Limping out of the room, he makes his way onto a hustling bustling floor filled with furry artisans. Looking around in awe at the strangeness of his surroundings is how he gets run over by some kind of toy car. Great. Wonderful. The injury jangles his leg even worse and causes it to break open the partially-healed snake bite gouge. But that's not about to slow him down.]
[Some stolen ribbon is tied over the bandage to put more pressure on the injury. (They must have bandaged it because they wanted him to live long enough to clear the poison.) His hair is quietly washed in the as-of-yet unused paintbrush water of a yeti setting up a table to paint toys. Then he smears green and red paint on his body and more bits and bobbles, pieces of ribbon and tinsel and pine are used as camouflage all over his body. The place is littered with garlands and scraps of ribbon and tinsel. It genuinely lets him blend. All he has to do is stop moving and then he looks like all the rest of the detritus and garland on the tables and floors.]
[He blends enough that he manages to limp to one of the windows and see what's waiting for him outside without being seen. The view is devastating and makes him realize he has to change his tack.]
[He figures out the comm devices the hairy guys are making are important by silently watching a yeti test one out, including by using some kind of... listening devices with it? Ones that go in the ears? When the yeti's back is turned, both the larger watch device and the two ear-things are stolen, as is the box and instructions for the ear things. And Branch spends the better part of an hour figuring out what it's all for, how to sync the devices, how to use the mic on the one ear bud, and how the menus are navigated - including how to navigate them by tapping the earbud certain ways without touching the comm watch.]
[Then he looks out on what is to become a battlefield, a place to lay waste to his enemies, and starts to get to work. It takes him the better part of a few hours to prepare, the large space of time between anyone possibly thinking to check on him in the Infirmary. He has to use his hair to do most of the traveling because of the shape his leg is in but he pushes his way through it.]
[Then the first casualties start rolling in. The Elves and the yetis, the most numerous of the Pole's residents and most prone to roaming around, are disproportionately affected. The first trap is tripped by an Elf. Somehow the Elf is successfully netted to the ground in a weighted net made of volleyball netting. A yeti trips a trap that causes a cascade of marbles that causes a whole group of yetis to slip and fall. A snare trap somehow whips someone upside down. Super soakers full of lemon juice are activated by a tripwire to squirt the juice in someone's face as they walk by.]
[The traps are all harmful but not permanently damaging. There are no traps that might make people fall over railings or down stairs. Nothing will permanently scald anyone and even if things cause pain and irritation they don't cause permanent damage. And it's possible to avoid tripping traps, certainly. After all, most of the traps are in the busiest areas of the Pole, and not quieter ones prone to relaxation. There's no point in hunting the hunters if you do it in places where they don't heavily congregate.]
[But for those in the more heavily trap-set areas: visible chaos erupts. The Elves and the yetis are clearly panicking. Then, in explanation, a voice comes over the new comms, in audio only, spoken over the mic of a single Samsung earbud. A few of them might recognize said voice from their time in the Multi-plex or before.]
Yeah, hi, all those traps going off around you? Those are mine and I work fast. I guaran-flipping-tee you there are a whole lot more of them than you think. Pick a random number, then quadruple it, because that's what I did when deciding how many to set. And I'll keep setting more the longer my demands go unmet.
Now I'm sure some of you are thinking "well, I can avoid all the traps." Maybe true for you, but your ugly, pointy-headed little children and the big hairy guys sure seem to be running into them. And wow, they are really freaking out right now.
So we're going to do this my way. If you want it to stop anytime soon, you'll do exactly what I say, when I say it. If you don't do what I say, I will make it worse.
[Branch is about to limp around and be a problem.]
[Yippee-Ki-Yay.]
[ooc: Threadhopping is encouraged. The main negotiations will happen with Miguel playing hostage negotiator, but anyone can talk to Branch. He can't see anything because it's all audio but he'll definitely gloat if he hears someone get trapped while on the comms with him, completely endearing himself to them instantly, I'm sure. All the traps will be inconvenient, annoying, and maybe slightly painful but not cause any genuine risk to life and limb - yet.]
no subject
It's just a stupid coat; it looked warm.
[Nothing is wrong with anything he piled in there and it's all indeed warm and soft, no prankery afoot.]
And it doesn't matter that you hu-mans or whatever are different from the Bergens. You're not that different. You only look a little different.
[That is not true but it's one of those "these two groups of people are kind of ugly by my people's standards and therefore look sort of similar in my eyes."]
You know that guy that keeps arguing with me over the messages, spider skull guy? He chased and grabbed me for no reason when we both first showed up. Just because he wanted answers. He didn't care that I was scared he was coming after me, or that I didn't want to talk to him, or that I didn't know anything. He didn't care that I was very obviously trying to run and escape.
And when I tried to fight back, just to give myself enough space to get away, it only made him angrier.
It is a size thing. It's always a size thing. Maybe not every big person is a psycho but being three inches tall [he pushes his hair back slightly to show he means to exclude the hair] and unable to fight back sure is an easy way of finding out which ones are.
[And there it is. When you're small and vulnerable, there will be people that take advantage, just like there are people that specifically target other vulnerable groups of people, regardless of the particular ways they're vulnerable, whether it's by size, physical capacity to fight back, or vulnerable demographic.]
[There are always people that do it. Because they can. Because it makes them feel powerful. Or because it's just...expedient.]
It's not just about species, it's about power. [And power differentials.] So I get that you want me to ignore things back home but I can't. Because nothing's different here. There are still people that can't put themselves in my place.
And back home? The big people that couldn't do that? They used to keep us caged in the Troll Tree and kill us. Lots of us. Over generations until we escaped.
[Which paints a different picture than just "some big people couldn't be trusted/tried to hurt us." It is something far more systematic and inhumane. The kind of thing that might leave someone twitchy and paranoid for life.]
no subject
Then, he puts the coat on - fully puts his arms in the sleeves, even though he knows by looking that they're too long and will cover his hands. He wants to look young and harmless and small (even to someone the same height - oversized clothes will do that). The coat pools behind him like a train. ]
Okay - in most important order. No one here's going to kill you. I know at least half a dozen of the people here from before, so if you want clear descriptions of who you can observe to see if they're safe, I can do that for you.
[ Probably best to steer him at the angel first. Go with the safe bet. ]
The spider skull guy is intimidating at any size. I don't think he's used to working with other people.
[ You know. Like other people in this mousehole who shall remain nameless. ]
I don't know what a Bergen is.
[ It's a Dutch surname. What with species blindness, Tim doubts that Branch would different between American and Dutch and elects to not share that knowledge. Bergens are likely bipedal humanoids but not human. ]
There are elements of pranking to most of your traps. I know you're working with the supplies available, but the overall affect is "adorable menace" right now. It's not going to get them to take you seriously - which is probably for the best. It means the dynamic is fixable.
no subject
[Like consecrated salt in the meat and attempted exorcism?]
And what about the other half of them? The ones you don't know?
And that's if I can trust you.
Two, spider skull guy may not be used to working people but I bet he can't pick the rest of you up and crush you like an overripe fluffleberry without even thinking about it!
[Yes, he said fluffleberry. Even the flora back in his home sounds cutesy and exactly what you'd expect in the forest of a big-headed woodland critter in a leaf vest. (When you're trying to be taken seriously, it's a curse.)]
Three, the Bergens are the big people back home. They were the same size as hu-mans and had streets a lot like the one we all showed up near.
[IE they lived in a civilization that looked near-human.]
Four, of course they're mostly harmless! [He throws his hands in the air.] I'm not trying to actually hurt anyone, especially with the little kids in the pointy hats running around. Obviously, they have some kind of massive artisanal manufacturing operation going on, though. I figured if I could be disruptive enough to it, that might be enough to get people to let me go.
And those hairy guys are fuh-reaking out so I know I'm onto something.
[It's not actually a bad plan for someone that doesn't want to cause anyone harm. He's disrupting important local manufacturing.]
no subject
So, that's continued honesty from me. I haven't given you any reason to not trust me, except for my former status as "big" and indeterminate future. Which I'm hoping isn't any time soon. If I revert in here, I might end up impaled. I know you're not concerned about that, but I am.
[ (Actually, if it operates on similar metaphysics to Bart's phasing or Bumblebee's size changes, it should be impossible for him to get stuck. But they don't know that.)
Tim is arranging the sock in the corner, trying to get it folded in such a way that he could sit and still have the sock between him and the plastic back of the trap, with the netting on his righthand side. ]
I don't know about Spider Skull. I've lived and worked with people who could crush me like a raspberry if they wanted to - when I'm my normal size - but they're good people, so they don't want to. I trust them with my life and that's not just because I have to because they're strong. One of them is here.
You say of course like I have a reason to trust that you mean any of that. You could just be resource-constrained and trying to make me into a more docile captive. The elves aren't human, just so you know, so please don't hold what they do against me. I don't think they're intellectually gifted.
[ Tim sits on his makeshift sockseat like it's a beanbag chair, but with the prim posture of someone who's trying to maintain some semblance of control (in his fur coat and sockseat, as he drapes a Calico Critters blanket on his legs). He'll take his dignity where he can get it. ]
Out there isn't going to be safer for you.
no subject
In here isn't safe either! Nowhere is safe! [Just home is, with the friends who would hate who he's being right now. Especially the best friend who would be stamping her foot down and putting her hands on her hips and saying "Branchifer!!!" in her best irate, queenly lecturing voice.] But at least maybe out there it'll be harder for anyone to find me. I don't believe the thing about tracking.
And I'm good at hiding. I hid from the Bergens for 10 years.
[Branch gets up to work on gathering some last few supplies and then taking a piece of pencil led to write something on a scrap of paper.]
Look, you don't trust me, I don't trust you. Fine. It won't matter soon, anyway. I'm bringing you with me to the meeting. That way even if they kill me, you can still go free.
[He grumbles.]
I don't even know why I'm bothering trying to explain anything. [He shakes his head, stopping his frenzied movement, looking embarrassed at his own foolishness.] I guess I just - I just had this stupid idea that if one of you could see the world from my point of view now, you would understand the danger.
[But it's not enough.]
And there is danger. Even for you. After I'm gone - one way or another - you need to watch your back if you're stuck like this, or can't control times you're like this.
[The warning is meant to genuinely help him.]
If you can genuinely trust that person that can squish you at normal size, in the future, don't ever leave their side when you're like this.
no subject
(Which the statement about wanting to someone to see his perspective belies.) ]
I believe the tracking thing. Whether it's technological or magical, it's absolutely possible to track people across the globe. I don't care if you stay or go in the end, but you need to take that seriously. We didn't arrive at the same place, but we were all drawn into that movie theater. Can't do that kind of mass teleportation if you don't know where everyone is.
[ It's just solid advice to add it to the things to be paranoid about, rather than dismiss it. ]
If you want to be pedantic, yes, nowhere is safe, but that nowhere would include whatever your final destination hideout is even if they give you transport and you move to a warmer latitude that doesn't feature permafrost and polar bears. There could be an earthquake. The Yellowstone Caldera supervolcano could erupt. So like you said, nowhere is safe.
I might not be the best person to try to understand. Size aside, I'm a little...
[ Paranoid. ]
Suspicious of people by nature, and my hometown is obscenely high crime. Gotham's so bad it got kicked out of the country once. So... I'm sort of steeped in it, and I've only been this size, what? A half hour? I haven't even come to grips with it yet.
[ Dryly, but not meanly, Tim continues to lightly press.
He's my boyfriend. He has a vested interest in not hurting me. Look, they're not going to kill you. You haven't done anything worth a death sentence, and I'm willing to keep my mouth shut about being kidnapped if you (1) ask that Conner Kent or Dick Grayson attend the meeting, because they won't anybody kill anybody just so you can feel reassured not because I believe it's likely, (2) promise me you're not going to kidnap anyone else if this doesn't go entirely your way, and (3) don't permanently burn any bridges. There's at least two people here familiar with multiverse travel. We might be your best way home.
no subject
[He can't voice those in particular, though, because they'd betray that Boba even reached out to him and he is about to hand Tim a microphone.]
I'm not kidnapping anyone else. [He's a good liar, and it also just...doesn't count if you're saving them and they want to leave.] But I am seeing this through.
I'll take my chances out there.
[As much as he wants to go home and someone familiar with "multiverse travel" might have better chances of helping, it will be useless if he's dead. He just has to hope that the universe cuts him a break down the line and lets him go, too, just like he's trying to get these people to let him go.]
[He pulls the ear bud out of his hair and holds up the paper he was writing on against the side of the cage, readable through the mesh.]
In a second, after I talk to skull guy, you're going to read this into the mic. The alternative, if you refuse to say anything, is I just tell them where your little device thingy fell and everyone gets to extra freak out.
Everyone will be better off if they actually hear from you. Including your boyfriend.
[He's not just trying to burn this bridge, he's pouring rocket fuel on it first.]
Don't get any ideas about saying where we are; I can cut it off with a tap.
no subject