Day 49: Late Afternoon - Lil' Tyke Toys

[vstheworld]

Scott had barely gotten a few feet out the door of Tasty Burger when the nurses started blaring their megaphones and shuffling people back indoors. He was definitely getting just a little tired of this, not least due to the dazed and confused mood he had been in since breakfast. Would he get any chance to just walk down a street in a straight line again today? What if he liked the rain, huh? Did the nurses think about that? ...Okay, he didn't like the rain, but that was beside the point. The point was that seeing more of the town was turning into pretty much a non-option.

He was caught by a nurse in front of the door to a local toy shop, and before he could get out so much as a protesting yelp, he was hurried inside with a strong, encouraging shove.  Great, thought Scott, reluctantly peeling off his coat again as he wandered down one of the back aisles and resigned himself to staying. What am I gonna do in here? It's a toy store in Outer Bumblesticks. What are they going to have to keep my mind off things? Dolls? Tin soldiers? Teddy bears? This is gonna su— "HEY is that Godzilla?"

Sure enough, it was. Or rather, it was a large Godzilla action figure sitting on a shelf just ahead of him. The toy was wired into the box good and tight, but the front was open to allow kids to test out the toy's arms and sound before buying. Drawn inexorably to the blinding red "TRY ME!" written on it, Scott pulled the box down and pressed the button on the back of Godzilla's head. 

"AAEEEEEAAAAARRRR."

The roar was small and tinny, but it made Scott grin a little.

"Heheh."

"AAEEEEEAAAAARRRR."

"Heheheheh."

"AAEEEEEAAAAARRRR."

"Hee. Oh Godzilla, you wouldn't leave me, would you?"

"AAEEEEEAAAAARRRR."

[For Mothra Peter Parker. Stein can come too.]

Comments

[vstheworld]

Scott nearly dropped the box when the red missile unexpectedly struck. He whirled around, nearly slipping on the water from his own rain boots before his brain registered Peter and the robot there in front of him. Oh. It's only Spider-man. That's okay, then. A slightly awkward look crossed his face at that. God, Spider-man. Has someone broke your fourth wall yet, I wonder? He wouldn't be surprised if someone had, but he wasn't going to be taking any chances, not when he'd been kind of a jerk with Keman's wall earlier.

"Oh, no way, dude! Haven't you ever seen a Godzilla movie? Military stuff does jack-squat! Not even Mechagodzilla can beat the King of the Monsters," he shot back with a grin, hoping that Peter hadn't caught the awkward look. He started walking in Peter's direction; the limp in his leg was still apparent, but it was definitely better than it had been. "Wish I could say the same for you. What's with the bandages, man?" he asked.

[tightsofmight]

"Um, excuse you, this robot was obviously constructed by a species with ten times the intelligence of man. Godzilla can stomp around all he wants. Ain't nothing gonna save him from the power of Pluto."

The guy was still limping. That wasn't going to help if things got all George A. Romero again. Peter frowned. It was probably a good idea to stick with him until night fell. He could manage carrying him if they found an easy rooftop real quick. He would be heavier than Brainy, no doubt, and Peter's hands would give bitter revolt, but he could do it. If he was fast he could do it.

"Ah - just some jerk." Peter replaced his own toy on the shelf and turned his volume down a notch. The aisles were empty aside from the two of them, but you could never be too careful. "It was this nut I clobbered during Special Counseling. He caught me wandering around in my costume and took a swing at me with a shovel, and I didn't have room to dodge, so." He gave a weary shrug. "At least I saved my beautiful face."

[vstheworld]

"The original Mechagodzilla was made and controlled by aliens, you rank amateur," Scott argued back, though he was already moving to put his toy back on the shelf as well. It seemed like the real, grown-up conversation was about to really get underway, disappointing though that was. And Peter was looking at him in a way he couldn't quite describe, like he was sizing Scott up or something. He wasn't sure what to make of that, but didn't question yet. For the moment, he only gave Peter an odd look back.

"Thank god for the important things," he answered with a wry smile. "Think you'll heal up soon enough, at least? We could sure use another hand with tackling the basement sometime now that we know how to get down there."

[drheadscrew.livejournal.com]

[Before meeting Tsubaki]

Ah, this weather was really starting to be a pain. Rather than a refreshing precipitation, this was more like a pounding wave that was trying to crush him under its weight. Heck, he couldn't even get his cigarette lit in this kind of weather.

And now Stein was in a Toy Store, the closest shelter he could find. No chance of them letting him light up in here.

So it was with sodden cigarette hanging pathetically from his mouth that the tall man began stalking the aisles idly, thinking about where he could go. Ah, plus he still had shopping to do. What a pain; just thinking about it gave him a crick in his neck.

Turning a corner, Stein loudly cracked his neck to one side. But before he could do it the other way as well, he noticed a pair of boys talking. One of them looked familiar... and a quick scan of his soul confirmed it.

"Why, if it isn't young Tyler!" he said cheerfully, disconcerting coming from a six-foot-something tall doctor covered in stitches with a screw in his head and even worse when he was dripping wet and had his head tilted almost ninety-degrees to one side. Pushing with one hand, he cracked his neck the other direction and righted it. "Fancy meeting you here."

[tightsofmight]

"What? Seriously?" Peter's pulse jumped. With all the hullabaloo about Luxord and webbing and things, he had entirely forgotten about the basement. Way to go, Parker. "How did you find it? When are you going down there? Does Indy-"

"Why, if it isn't young Tyler!"

And that was when his heart stopped dead.

Peter knew that voice. Eyes blown wide, he turned a one eighty and came face to face with Stein just as he pushed his head back into place with a revolting crack. He tried not to flinch. He really did. Please stop being such a freak.

His silent prayer would, of course, fall on deaf ears.

"...Yeah. Uh. Fancy that." What he really wanted to do was get at least three aisles between him and Stitchazoid and start chucking every Cabbage Patch doll he could find his way, but such things were generally frowned upon in polite society. Instead, Peter did the proper thing.

"Scott? This is Dr. Franken Stein." He paused. "...My therapist."

It was physically painful to admit. He was fairly certain his spleen just ruptured from the strain. If he was lucky he would hemorrhage out in the next five seconds and Scott and Dr. Stein could make polite conversation over his newly fallen corpse.

A man could only dream.

[vstheworld]

Scott had heard a crack as Peter started asking him questions, but thought nothing of it, assuming that some little kid had stepped on some colourful plastic thing or another. Unfortunately, following Peter's freak-out face, what Scott turned around to find was probably the tallest, stitchiest, screw-in-head-iest "kid" he had ever seen in his life. He was just in time to watch said "kid" snap his apparently dislocated neck back into place with a shudder-inducing crack, too.

Scott blinked a few times.

What am I looking at?

He had to take a while to just stare with mouth agape. Had nightshift snuck up and football-tackled them both when they weren't looking? Or had his brain really been broken that badly by S.T. earlier? There was no way he could be seeing the sort of person he was seeing right now, Scott thought. Even if they hadn't been in a place that was trying to maintain a front of being all smiles and sanity, and thus not be seeing anything even the slightest bit weird during the day, something like this just shouldn't have been. People just . . . didn't survive with . . . screws . . . in . . . place . . . what?

"This is Dr. Franken Stein."

He was half-tempted to croak out "Give my regards to Dr. Al U. Card," in response, but his neurological circuits were a tad out of whack at the moment. Instead, he opted for something a little easier.

"Nice to— Uh. Pleasure. Honored. I'm Scott. Much obliged. Pleased to meet you have a screw in your head why do you have a screw in your head?"

Easier, if not necessarily more coherent.

Is that like Dr. Acula?

[drheadscrew.livejournal.com]

Ah, now that was a delightfully terrified expression the boy had their. His friend too. The benevolent smile widened into a not-so-benevolent grin.

"Nice to meet you, Scott," he said, though he had to wonder if that was the boy's real name. Well, he wasn't one of his patients, so he hadn't looked in his file. "Just Stein will do, since we're outside the institute and all."

And then Tyler's friend started babbling away. Ah, right, the screw. He'd gotten so used to the nurses and townspeople saying nothing about it, he'd forgotten how much it had upset some of his patients. Amusing, really.

"Is there something wrong with it?" he asked, reaching up and twisting the over-sized screw head. The ratcheting sound of winding gears filled the aisle with each crank.

J.D. needs to be a doctor here. I don't care how many RPers I have to troll, I will find one.

[tightsofmight]

Smooth move, Travolta.

"Nothing! It's just fine," he assured, putting on his best poker face to combat the urge to twitch as Stein cranked the screw. If they had been sitting at a table, Scott's toes would have been crushed under the reprimanding force of Peter's heel. Sadly, their legs were in full view and Scott was being too much of a dumbass for even a swift kick to the shins to fix. You did not tell crazy people about their crazy. You simply did not talk about it. Like Fight Club.

That first time in Stein's office was totally different. Peter could punch through steel. Scott giggled at plastic Godzillas in toy stores. There was a severe disparity in what the two of them could get away with.

He subtly stepped a small ways in front of the older boy, a silent sign to zip it if there ever was one. "Is there anything we can help you with?"

Dammit, forgot about Dr. Acula. Why did I miss the most obvious joke? DX

[vstheworld]

Scott was about to tell Stein that probably at least one or two laws each of physics and biology were wrong with the screw, but Peter moving in front of him did indeed send him the message to zip it. He looked down at the floor, trying to let his brain catch up with what his eyes had seen. He also listened in slight awe to the teen hero trying to talk to his improbably-named doctor. It was a wonder that anyone could talk to this "Stein" as though he were a normal person; somehow, though, Peter was doing it. Clearly, whatever had gone down during therapy with this guy, Peter did not want to risk it happening again. Scott could only imagine what might have happened.

"Er, uh, yeah, it's fine. I was just curious," he finally managed after looking back up, trying to keep his gaze below Stein's face. He knew that would probably open him to some variety of "my eyes are up here" joke, but he figured it was worth the risk to keep from himself bugging out again.

[drheadscrew.livejournal.com]

"It seems to be a common thing to be curious about," said Stein with a lopsided grin. "Tyler was even curious as to whether it would grant wishes. Of course, there's no way such an un-scientific tool could exist." Outside the realm of demon tools, anyway. "To answer your question, it helps me think." He gave it a couple more cranks, as if to prove his point.

Ah, amusing. Stein watched Peter's actions like a scientist observing insects - because that more or less exactly what he was. Stepping in between them, both shield and barrier, trying to keep him from interacting with Scott or the other boy from interacting with Stein. With himself in the way. That kind of heroic impulse was familiar to Stein - in others, anyway. No, not himself of course.

"Oh, nothing much. Just thought it might be nice to see you were doing, Tyler," he said. "And get to meet your friend as well! So how's the trip treating you two? Shame about the weather, huh?"

Scott's aversion was amusing as well, but there wasn't much point in calling him out on it, since he already knew what the problem was. He'd let Tyler have this little victory for now and concentrate his questions on him for the moment.

[tightsofmight]

Wonderful. Now Scott was going to think he was a jerk for silently getting on his case over the screw. The best he could do now was shrug uncomfortably and provide himself with a lousy defense. "Well if you're going to stick things through your head they had better be pretty special."

He needed to end this conversation. Pronto. His hackles were raised and he did not trust Stein even in a public venue with a shmuck in a nametag peeking into their aisle every five minutes to make sure the crazies weren't stealing anything. (Hello, who was the bigger freak here? The two well-behaved boys or the man patched together by medieval science? Everyone in Doyleton was stupid.) The man had pinged his spider-sense before. If he was dangerous enough to do that when the thing was this broken, that meant he was a genuine threat. Maybe not now, but it was getting closer to nightfall. Peter didn't want to deal with both zombies and psychopants surgeons. That just wasn't fair.

"It's been all right," Peter said shortly. His voice was clipped and polite, as if this were an accidental meeting with his school principal rather than a ten point creeper. "Wet, but I think we missed most of it."