I'm Superman with the Wind at his Back [Open]

[nunpunching]

WHO| Punchy and open
WHAT| Punchy ego trips
WHEN| Midway through week 2, during the day
WHERE| The gift shop on the second floor
WARNINGS| Swearing, I guess

Hell yeah Punchy's in a gang.

At least, that's what he's telling himself as he heads down to the gift shop to look for supplies. The shop is a surprisingly good for the science crew - miniature science kits, automated piggy banks, battery-operated toys, and all manner of things that can be broken down and used for parts.

And, of course, it's got a healthy supply of merchandise branded in Punchy's image. Punchy feels absolutely zero shame as he loads up his Punchy backpack with Punchy-brand sunglasses and Sour Patch Punchies ("deliver a punch of sourness!"). A Punchy hat sits atop his head with a chibi version of him stitched onto the visor. He tops this all off by putting a thermos with his face on it into his Punchbox, alongside an alarm clock of him boxing with Hyperion and a pair of socks with his trademark puppet printed on them.

The puppet is dangling out of the waistband of his bright gold pajamas. He's also got one of those corpse-clearing robots tucked under his arm, and he's beatboxing to himself as he grabs things off the shelf. He's in a startlingly good mood for the Arena, given that he's finally found not only a person who agrees with him, but an entire motley group of kindred spirits. Pacifists who want to solve the puzzle of how get out of here, rather than kill their way through the competition.

It's what he's always wanted out of sidekicks, really.

Comments

[alldeduction]

Sherlock was looking for him.

He had almost everything he wanted, now, and Punchy was one of the last pieces of the puzzle.

Sherlock was good with computers, of course he was. He could hack along with the best of them, but Punchy was the best of them. So when it comes to actually flipping the switch on his project, he's not about to do it without every inch of advantage he could possibly get.

Finding Punchy, on the other hand, might prove difficult. It's pure luck when he catches him coming out of the gift shop.

Still in the shadows, Sherlock hisses at him.

"Punchy!"

[nunpunching]

Punchy, unfortunately, doesn't place the same emphasis on stealth that Sherlock does. He raises a hand and waives, even his normal speaking voice seeming to boom over the quiet.

"Holmesboy!"

He worried that he might have lost him after their first encounter. Punchy heads over, hiking up his backpack full of goodies and swinging his lunchbox. "What's cracking?"

[alldeduction]

Sherlock inwardly winced but just shifted further back into the shadows, motioning for Punchy to follow him.

"You jonesing for breadmaking?" Sherlock asked smoothly as Punchy fell in alongside. "Got something for you to lay out."

[nunpunching]

"Shit yeah!" Punchy looks like if the backpack wasn't slung over his shoulder, he'd literally drop everything. As it stands he lets the backpack go and it swings around his body. "Izzat the frequency we was talking about muggin' up earlier?"

[alldeduction]

Sherlock watches the precarious pack with a raised eyebrow, but falls in step with Punchy anyway.

He shakes his head.

"Nah, I was up to hit the ink, and you're legend on the speak."

[nunpunching]

Punchy preens. His ego is pretty easy to flatter. He runs a hand through his hair and grins. "Hells yeah I am. Fill me on the up-and-up and I'll see what to serve in the pocket."

[alldeduction]

It is never difficult to deal with people with high egos as long as Sherlock believes they deserve them.

In this case, he knows Punchy does.

And with Punchy, he can actually speak his mind, safe in the knowledge that almost no one will completely understand them.

"I been sweeping for the tech litter. Ain't gonna build a whip but once I get a motor to purr, I'll be doxing the chips." He was building a computer, and had several harddrives he wanted to access. "Then I'mma relay to you. I like my eggs unscrambled."

Punchy was always excellent with encryption.

[halfa_hero]

"...okay, so I've heard of narcissism, but this is just ridiculous."

Danny knows he shouldn't be calling attention to himself, but he has an addiction to making snarky comments, and Punchy is an extremely tempting target for it.

[nunpunching]

"Bitch, if you got a mug like this, you'd be flossing with it too," Punchy says, stopping in front of a mirror to check his new Punchy hoodie out. He can see Danny out of the corner of his eye, and doesn't look like he's especially worried about him.

[halfa_hero]

If he'd had a better look at the scars on Danny's currently shirtless chest (Thanks to using the shirt as a sack), he might reconsider.

"Pretty sure my girlfriend would dump me if I took using my own merchandise anywhere near that far."

[nunpunching]

As if Punchy notices anything outside his immediate sphere of interest!

Punchy shrugs. "I ain't got time for any bitch who don't recognize."

[halfa_hero]

"Uh-huh." Left unsaid is Danny's belief that Punchy's not getting any girls, let alone ones that recognize.

"So, I'm Danny, and may I say how much I appreciate that you're not trying to kill me?"

[nunpunching]

"I be rolling in tendas," Punchy says, eyes narrowed. "You don't know shit, square pusher."

He harrumphs and wanders down another aisle. "I ain't up for popping no thirty dick in bitches. I'm Punchy."

[iphigeneia]

The gift shop had been beckoning to Felicity for several hours before she decided to dash through the open sections of hallway and into the retail mecca. Since she hadn't seen anyone enter, she'd assumed she'd be alone in there. Unfortunately, she assumed incorrectly and she instantly cursed her own stupidity when she came face to face with Punchy and his self-promoting apparel. Instinct told her to brace for a battle, but a little voice in the back of her head reassured her she could take him.

"What are you doing?" She finally inquired, making the first move and not at all caring that it was a plain one. She didn't know him and if he made a move, she couldn't waste time being witty.

[nunpunching]

Punchy's so invested in figuring out how to get the penny out of the piggybank bearing his face that he doesn't even notice Felicity until she speaks. For about half a second he reproaches himself, but then he thinks screw it, he could probably protect himself anyway.

"Boostin' some swag," Punchy says, zipping up his backpack. He gives Felicity one of those long looks that's inappropriate for polite company or anybody wearing bright gold shiny pajamas. "Damn, shawty, they be stockin' this crib with all the fine bitches?"

[iphigeneia]

That sure as hell doesn't sound like English. But then again, it sounds closer to English than to any other language she's ever heard. If it is English he's trying to speak, it's being absolutely trampled upon to the point that it makes Fee want to weep a little internally.

"You... what?" Shaking her head, she wants to change the subject from the apparent language barrier to assessing whether or not this individual is an immediate threat. She decides quickly to make a bold move. "You should share that with me."

[nunpunching]

"This?" He holds his backpack up, raising his eyebrows at her. "Shawty, you want swag I'm bossed to provide, but you got this whole joint to pick from."

He gestures widely with his arm around the store.

[iphigeneia]

She tilts her head, half smiling at him. The smile is to mask that she's only about half sure of what he's saying. "I'm afraid I haven't any idea what these things are." To demonstrate, she plucks up one of the plushies. "What on Earth is this and what is it good for?"

[nunpunching]

"That? That's some bitch shit. Ain't worth any tenda." He takes a plushie of Sherlock and raises his eyebrows at it. "You're supposed to make it your squeeze, you know?"

And then, after a beat, "I could make you my squeeze."

[aintyourdad]

There are a lot of things that Joel is missing in this place - his gas mask, his flashlight, his guns. His flamethrower. The flamethrower he particularly misses.

But probably what he misses most of all? His goddamn backpack. He feels downright naked without it, and more than that, he has no way to carry stuff. The pockets of his pajama pants are totally inadequate.

So that's the number one reason why Joel is slipping into the gift shop today - Ellie's asleep back in their little makeshift campsite, the perimeter is secure, and when he gets back he'll be waking her up to take his turn for some shut-eye. Why not make his way to the most likely place for decent supplies?

He's aware, of course, that it will probably be a magnet for people - and a good spot for an ambush, too, so he's on high alert. Like he's ever anything but. Still, for now, it's just one dumbass-looking kid who seems enamored of all the shit that has his face on it. Maybe Joel is taking a risk; maybe Ellie's constant reminders that this isn't our world are starting to take root. Either way, he can't quite stop himself from making the comment:

"Most of that shit's just gonna weigh you down."

If he tries to attack him, Joel thinks he could probably handle it.

[nunpunching]

Punchy turns back to Joel with a grin the side of a small state. The fact that this guy isn't attacking him is a good sign, and he isn't keen to discount any small blessing.

He knew Joel was there, and decided pretty early on that the only defense he really wanted to put up was keeping a rack of sweaters between them. That, as far as Punchy's concerned, is one hell of a game plan.

"I'll be dropping this with my homies at the crib, so hands up for the concern and shit, but I's all good."

[aintyourdad]

His what at the what.

Joel is way too old to be deciphering that crap. So he just rolls his eyes like the old geezer he is, scanning the shelves for something useful that he can carry back to camp. But he doesn't turn his back on the kid.

"And if someone nastier than me decides you'll make easy pickin's before you get back?" he asks lightly.

[nunpunching]

"If some foo' be doggin' me, I lay 'em out and ice 'em." Punchy acts like this should be totally obvious. Hidden under the layers (and layers and layers) of egocentric merchandise is actually quite the muscular body, and more importantly than that, one accustomed to combat.

"But us? We cool. You just some old gramps gettin' all tizzed up about us young folk."

[aintyourdad]

Joel, somehow, gets the gist of all that nonsense, though he honestly thinks the kid sounds like someone put him through a translator to Chinese and back again to English.

"You might wanna try usin' more real words," he suggests dryly. Being called "gramps" is much less off-putting to him than being dismissed entirely as a threat. Is he really losing his edge?

[nunpunching]

"Hey, don't be throwing salt on my game." Punchy flashes a rather rude gesture at Joel. "Way I spit's aces."

Being the picture of maturity, Punchy outright pouts.

"What's your handle?"