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text | un: rico.dredd

I've got some big news, everyone. Could be the start of things happening directly to us instead of around us, so there's one point for experiment. Or drokking entertainment. I woke up handcuffed. Standard issue, nothing special. On all levels they shouldn't be, but I've tried everything. And they are not. coming. off. I know nobody came in while I was sleeping. And unlocking them isn't about skill, don't waste your time implying that it is. I’d like to know if somebody could find it in their gorgeous generous neighborly heart to bring a hacksaw. I’ll even take a sledgehammer and a spike if you have a VERY delicate touch and someone to vouch you’re not a serial killer Your good-looking neighbor in need, Rico Dredd

[ooc: Surprise, surprise - Rico's landed himself some mild city-provided timeout time. He is kind of starting to lose his shit. Plenty of characters are welcome to try breaking them, it’s going to be a very long 24 hours for him. Bring on your brain, magic powers, bullshit, smart comments, etc.

Rico's permissions/warnings are here. cw: hand injuries are involved bc he is insane. Also, I would greatly encourage threadhopping in this network post!]

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[How is his hand feeling now?

He presses his palm flat against the counter - nothing. Can't feel the cold leeching the heat from his skin. Knock on wood, all goes well. Better check again. This time it's a more literal, rather clumsy knock on very expensive-looking marble countertop. A twinge, and Rico grunts, but -]

Good enough.

[His hand goes flip-flop to demonstrate, as he talks.]

Alright, Ichigo-buddy. You ready to inflict some grievous bodily harm and show this cuff who's boss?

（ in a tone that has only the faintest echo of one steeling themselves for some unpleasant task — ）

Sure.

（ not like it's anywhere near the most grievous injury he's ever inflicted on someone who is a maybe-friend, or something. ）

I'm not going to use the hammer, though. I can be more precise with my hands.

（ #OPshōnenfuckery. ）

[Rico raises an eyebrow, not sure whether to take it as a joke or not. But he reaches out his hand anyway, because it probably isn’t.

Well now, he thinks, with a calculating look in his eyes. That could - he could be useful. Because you don’t see strength like that in psis. Or ever. Prosthetics and robots, maybe. But he doubts Kurosaki’s made of servos and steel. It’s a little early in his time for that kind of tech, isn’t it? He’s gotta run out of secrets to tell sometime. How many more tricks is he gonna pull out of his hat?

The answer is too many because Rico has literally no idea about the laws of shounen fuckery.]

Sure.

[Rico echoes, with no hint of seriousness in his voice. A faint smile on his face, and he forces his hand to uncurl. And impatiently;]

Well? Have at it.

（ has anyone ever told you that you should be less trusting, rico?

(given the traps he navigated around to get here, probably not, but hey —)

ichigo takes his hand, cradling it between two of his. there's not much delicacy to the touch, and his hands are rough and calloused in a way that suggests frequent and exhaustive weapons handling. that messy purple x marks the spot scrawl is positioned under one thumb, and then — ）

Count back from three.

（ — spoilers, he's not going to wait for three. little medical trick. he'll be going on two, the quick pop and snap of pressure. sure, he's not as strong as he's used to — but when your default is possessing the capability of stopping a blade swung with the force that could cut a mountain in half, it's really not that hard to break human bones, either. ）

[It's obvious that Kurosaki isn’t going to go on time - he knows that whole song and dance, he's been through that enough - that he’s already tense when Ichigo makes his move and snaps his hand like a candy cane in half, with a wet, crunching sound.

Rico lets out a choked-off noise that stops just as abruptly. It’s like the opposite of watching a vid with the sound off. The noise disconnected from the view, muffled through a dozen layers of synthi-cotton. Bodily injury being an intimate friend of his, he knows what a broken bone should feel like. Just one of the hazards of living in the line of duty - and as a prisoner on Titan with too many kinds of “accidents” that could happen to a bent Judge. But his heartrate picks up as his brain recognizes the way it looks wrong, knows that it's bad. Blood pounding in his head, he takes a moment to collect himself and eyes the cuffs dangling from his wrists with resentment.]

Alright, you little freak of nature, [Rico mutters darkly under his breath. Directed at the handcuffs, obviously.] Let’s see you deal with me now.

[A little less confidently-collected, a little more frazzled, Rico wraps his right hand around the other in an iron grip and gets to work forcing his hand through. His hand squeezes through, he's out. It's a matter of physics. Simple. Easy.

...It is not being simple, or easy. In fact, it's just oddly not getting through, no matter how much he forces his hand in on itself. Then he reaches the point at which he should be free already and he's made no progress. The cuffs are moving the drokking finish line on him! Realizing this, Rico redoubles his efforts with a snarl.]

（ he steps back once the deed is done, knowing all too well just what it means to have one's space when you're in pain — but he pays keen mind to the cuffs, and when rico struggles to extricate himself despite all best efforts, despite the fact that it should work...

he lifts a hand to where the soul chain had once been anchored against his chest, and his fingers work into the fabric of his shirt in a sort of sympathetic grimace, flexing once before he drops it away.

he'd known the cuffs weren't normal when a cero couldn't damage it, but this adds another, complicated layer to what's already pretty fucked up.

shit, this guy — he reaches out and clamps a hand around the man's uninjured wrist. ）

Dredd. Stop — it's not going to work.

[Feeling deft fingers close around his wrist he jerks back on instinct. It's an immediate, well-trained reflex for him to move; pull the other person off-balance, shoulders straining to throw them to the floor, his body compensating for the cuffs instinctively. Five foot eleven, hundred sixty to a hundred seventy pounds, overreaching - but the grip doesn't falter even the slightest and Rico almost loses his footing on the polished floor before bracing his stance again. This is a thousand times worse than the cuffs. Rico turns on Ichigo like he'd forgotten he was even there - which he practically almost did.]

Kurosaki.

[He grinds out, between his teeth. A voice strung taut with tension, a short glimpse of a warning of the explosive consequences tied to it. Like a momentary shine on a metal wire at ankle height. Ichigo could snap his wrist as easily as breathing. He probably wouldn't, but who's to say Rico wouldn't be wrong again? He already made one miscalculation today when he hadn't taken Ichigo for anything but an ordinary juve and invited him right into his safehouse.

Still, that doesn't seem to phase Rico at all in the way he issues his demand in a low growl of a voice.]

Let. Go.

（ two roads diverged in a yellow wood.

with the people in his world, he knows what he'd do. he'd wrestle renji to the floor, probably punch zaraki right in the face (only way he'd ever listen) or squabble with ishida until they've both forgotten what initially set them off. rukia he'd just throw easily over one shoulder, her size working against her all too much. chad wouldn't have fought him in the first place. inoue — no, he's not going to think about her, how her panic would set in under his skin like flaying blades, like —

(he can't do this. not right now. focus, kurosaki. )

but the truth is, he doesn't know dredd all that well. relationships are a matter of boundaries. how much, how far, how fast you can push. and ichigo, for all that he can be a delinquent prick in a lot of ways, isn't fundamentally a jackass.

so he lets him go, hand splaying open without protest. ）

Sorry. （ he says, and means it. he knows blind animal panic when he sees it, even if it's shaped like human fury. ） But you need to stop fighting, or you're gonna do a shitload of lasting damage. Let's get some ice for the break to keep the swelling down.

[In that split-second between demand and apology, Rico is very clearly sizing up his options on how to fight somebody strong enough to snap bones with ease and vaporize anything at his fingertips, and it shows. No matter how ordinary he is, he’s still a Dredd. He’s horrifically, hilariously outclassed in that department, but it doesn’t even cross his mind to not try.

But it doesn’t turn out to be necessary. He pulls away as soon as Ichigo deigns to let go. Standing there with his jaw clenching and unclenching, the muscle twitching in his cheek. It’s evident how much Dredd doesn’t "appreciate” being confined. Nor does he like being wrong.

But between the reasonable tone and ensuing logic, Ichigo backing down and the reminder of lasting damage, he seems to start composing himself.

Seems, anyway.]

Okay. You’ve got a point.

[Rico smiles thinly, pleasantly. But his eyes dart around until they land on the freezer on the other side, still thinking.]

Ice is in the freezer. Go get it?

[It’s about a dozen steps away. It’s a big apartment. You’re not going to make him get it, are you?]

Yeah, yeah.

（ where else would you store ice, you weirdo? it's enough of an offputting statement that his jaw shifts to one side, briefly thoughtful. his attention drops to the man's hand, the ugly purple bruise spidering out from beneath the like-hued marker. he's not sorry for doing it, but he's sorry for the world of hurt it's going to be as soon as those nerve blockers wear off, so — he turns on one heel and heads for the fridge.

there's a faint bit of tension to his shoulders, barely visible save to the trained eye — because he knows that he's probably at some amount of risk of rico just bashing him over the head in his that residual, retaliatory panic. ultimately, though, he doesn't actually care. better to show trust, and let people show you who they really are, than let yourself be consumed by suspicion. ）

You want another bottle of that lemonade shit?

（ shock can dehydrate you pretty quick, after all. ）

[Don’t be ridiculous. Rico wouldn’t bash him over the head in a panic. He’d use his heavy boot to kick in the back of his knee and fold him like an omelette, drop him to the floor, and then stomp him. Economy of effort. That, or a spin kick if he felt like being fun.

Either way, that's not a real concern. Rico picks up on the slight tension in Ichigo's frame, secretly pleased. That means he's something to be worried about, could still be some kind of actual threat if he needed to be. He watches the juve's back as he picks through the fridge. Twenty three feet away.

Now, he wonders... His new buddy Ichigo's strong, but is he fast, too? There's one way to force another trick out of his bag. And if he's not that fast, Rico still gets to do what he needs to do without interference. Like hell it's not going to work. Lasting damage is the last thing on his mind right now.]

Yeah.

[Rico shifts. He lifts his hands above his head, and the clink of the chain is going to the the only warning Ichigo gets before he tries to bring his broken hand down hard on the uncompromising marble counter edge with exact, pinpoint precision and no hesitation.]

（ why ）

（ w h y ）

（ you know what? if this guy has a single scrap of reiatsu to his name, he is headed right for the 11th division if he gets into seireitei. he'd fit right in alongside zaraki and ikkaku and yumichika.

— okay, actually, on second thought maybe not yumichika. but definitely the first two. ）

（ for a moment he actually entertains the very real consideration of just jumping out the nearest window.

he'd live, right? it'd be fine. and he wouldn't have to deal with this fucking insanity another minute. ）

（ OF COURSE HE'S FAST YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER — ）

（ do you mIND he is juGGLING YOUR SHIT ）

What the HELL?

（ it's a loud, annoyed bellow as — yes, he appears as if by teleportation and wraps his hand around the chain that so inelegantly announced his intentions. never let it be said he can't learn his lesson — he'll save physical contact for another time. the chains jerk short of this moron physICALLY DISABLING HIMSELF PERMANENTLY and for a moment, they're eye to eye regardless of the difference in their height.

this debacle occurs at just about the same time that a bevvy of ice cubes clatter to the floor in front of the fridge, the door left broadly open in his scramble.

it dings in protest of this apparent abuse. a cheery sort of, hey, are you forgetting something? vibe. the sound cracks the silence like a shot. ichigo grinds his teeth together audibly, and then: ）

Will you just sit the fuck down? We already tried it your way and it didn't work! Quit trying to be an asshole! Don't make me tie you up and leave you hogtied in a closet!

[So he is fast. Impossibly so. Between one blink and the next, the chain is closed around Ichigo's fist that appears like one frame of a vid skipping to the next, the momentum causing the hard metal edges to dig into his wrists and stop just short from the edge, jerking it back. Like teleporter tech that Tek-Div was always trying to chase, but one that actually works. His mouth pulls back in a hard sneer, baring his teeth.]

I am not going to be punished for something I never did.

[He meets Kurosaki’s gaze and stares him down, raw animalistic hatred leaking through the cracks at even the thought of tolerating this situation. Never again. He’d been intrigued by this empty playground of a city and whoever brought him here at first. But now intrigue has taken a backseat to his reaction from having to take a punishment from on high. Incomprehensible and byzantine, doled out with little rhyme or reason.

There might be a reason why Rico's taking this just a little bit personally. Why he's refusing to just take it on the chin, do the sensible thing and wait it out. He’s not deliberately trying to be an asshole - mostly. He’s just got capital I Issues.]

And I'm not going to be chained up like this - [A yank hard enough to send a distant jolt all the way up to his elbow that he ignores. The weight of a chain around his ankle, hampered more by the dead body laying on the end, unmoving. Three hours until shift’s end.] - ever again!

（ he realizes he's stepped in it (metaphorically) almost immediately. he'd thought the guy was just being irreverent, or working his way through the shock, or something — but that look in his eyes is one ichigo knows all too well, that cleaves too close. it's been levered at him by so many of the people he's fought against, and he's felt it himself. he's not going to take it personally.

he lowers his hand, so that rico's bound wrists occupy the space between them. but he doesn't let go, not quite yet.

softer — ）

I get it.

（ he understands too well the way claustrophobia can grip you by the throat, make you desperate to do anything to claw yourself away from the sensation of being stuck, being trapped. the way despair builds a home in you that no safety can ever erase. ）

But if hurting yourself was going to work, it would've worked by now. You could just be playing right into the hands of — （ a frustrated little tche. then: ） whoever. Maybe it's more test than punishment, just to see what you'd do. Losing your shit gives them more ammunition than you know.

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text | un: rico.dredd

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rico about to mcfreaking lose it

been there, buddy

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1/?

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okay i think i'm done

lmfaooooo

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