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okaywolfWritten to the prompt by Make Up A Criminal — Bounty Hunter who hopes the CCTV caught them catching you — it was sick as hell, dude
Originally posted on cohost on April 3rd, 2024.
Chambers slammed the door of the retrofitted cargo van behind them after stomping their big fuck-off boots on the thick rubber mat of the floor. The whole van lurched with each bootfall.
The door slam made Auzel—wrists cuffed and waist strapped to a bench running the length of the cargo portion of the cargo van—flinch away from the glimpse of the alley behind his complete mistake of a decision to secure funds before vacating the east coast for maybe forever. Now he knew it should have been forever, if he had made it. He was feeling pretty sore—physically and emotionally—about the whole situation.
“Yo! I got it.” Chambers’ speaking voice was a hearty chest rumbling shout. So was their laugh.
Every ear splitting sound out of Chambers was a spike driving into Auzel’s headache. He squinted up through a wince at Chambers’ beaming shit-eating grin that was waiting for something. He huffed a sigh—he had been huffing his breaths when he wasn’t carefully sucking in air and wheezing exhales, he was pretty sure he had a fractured rib—and relented, “Got what?”
Chambers absolutely howled “HA HAAA” and threw themself against the space on the bench next to Auzel. For a second, Auzel thought the van was going to tip over on its side, then Auzel was struggling to focus his eyes on the tablet thrust in front of him. He recognized the tablet as made in the same backyard manufacturer halfway across the continent that Auzel got his gear from. That was... frustrating.
“Okay, check this out, I got multiple angles.”
When Auzel recognized the telltale server space saving quality of the video as security camera feed he wheezed, “I’ve been waiting here for you to get security footage?” Entirely unnecessary. Auzel had thought Chambers was doing some sort of psychological thing by making him wait for so long. In a way, they had been and were currently.
Then Auzel watched what was definitely not him doing crimes and what was definitely him absolutely eating shit in the most spectacular fashion. Chambers, out of frame from this angle, hadn’t even done anything. Auzel had taken a corner too sharp and clipped some atrocious corporate art installation, continued to run with increasingly failing balance until finally toppling over to fall down a giant brutalist concrete step, do a boardslide on the actual human steps’ handrail with his actual human torso—this is probably where the probable fractured rib occurred—and tumble into Chambers’ arms that appeared at the last possible second.
Auzel pressed his eyes shut tight from the psychic damage and the screen exacerbating his headache.
“No, no, man, you gotta check this out.” Chambers held up another camera’s view and waited until Auzel peeked an eye open before hitting play.
This angle didn’t show him running but it showed his fall, his cracking a rib on the handrail instead of his skull on concrete, and—most importantly to Chambers’ glee—Chambers doing a roll out of a vault over another rail so as to put their momentum into leaning their upper body forward just enough to catch Auzel in time and somehow not fall over.
Auzel didn’t bother justifying his absolutely mortified groan with any of the many physical pains he was currently suffering.
“Okay, okay, totally sick, right? But then...”
The third video showed Chambers, running full speed like a boulder down a sheer mountainside, change tack when Auzel clipped the atrocious corporate art installation. They dive forward at the wood-on-concrete benches at the top of the steps that surely weren’t comfortable enough for anyone to sit on, plant their hands to push themself past the bench and then drop multiple giant brutalist steps before the whole rail vault and roll into catching Auzel’s sorry ass.
Chambers is howling with laughter right next to Auzel’s headache. They slam an arm across Auzel’s shoulder when they notice him curling away from them. “Fucking magical. Magnificent. I’m putting this on my reel.”
Auzel didn’t want to know if Chambers meant a parkour reel or a “check how good I am at catching bounties” reel. He was busy trying not to pass out from the pain from his ribcage with Chambers’ heavy arm on him shaking with laughter. When it lifts, he sucks in as much air as he can stand and feels the tingling sensation of passing out subside just a little.
Meanwhile, Chambers pockets the tablet in their of course black cargo pants and wipes tears of laughter from their eyes. “Ahhh,” they crow, stretching their legs out to the opposing bench and crossing their ankles, the van bounces accordingly. “Good times.” When they lift their arms to thread their hands behind their head, Auzel flinches and they pretend not to notice. “So, Auzel. Is that like blue? You can call me Shame.”
Auzel is regretting not passing out a moment ago. He purses his lips and tries to wait out Chambers—Shame. Several minutes later, when it’s evident Shame is in no rush and will sit there until they get a response, Auzel mutters, “No, it’s like bird.”
“What?”
Grimacing at another spike in his headache, Auzel repeats himself.
Shame drops their feet from the bench with a slam to the thick rubber mat floor that Auzel is starting to think is the only thing keeping Shame from punching their boots through the van’s body, the van bounces accordingly. They somehow get closer to Auzel while getting up, and head for the front of the van. “Alrighty then, let’s get going, little bird.”
Originally posted on cohost on April 3rd, 2024.
Chambers slammed the door of the retrofitted cargo van behind them after stomping their big fuck-off boots on the thick rubber mat of the floor. The whole van lurched with each bootfall.
The door slam made Auzel—wrists cuffed and waist strapped to a bench running the length of the cargo portion of the cargo van—flinch away from the glimpse of the alley behind his complete mistake of a decision to secure funds before vacating the east coast for maybe forever. Now he knew it should have been forever, if he had made it. He was feeling pretty sore—physically and emotionally—about the whole situation.
“Yo! I got it.” Chambers’ speaking voice was a hearty chest rumbling shout. So was their laugh.
Every ear splitting sound out of Chambers was a spike driving into Auzel’s headache. He squinted up through a wince at Chambers’ beaming shit-eating grin that was waiting for something. He huffed a sigh—he had been huffing his breaths when he wasn’t carefully sucking in air and wheezing exhales, he was pretty sure he had a fractured rib—and relented, “Got what?”
Chambers absolutely howled “HA HAAA” and threw themself against the space on the bench next to Auzel. For a second, Auzel thought the van was going to tip over on its side, then Auzel was struggling to focus his eyes on the tablet thrust in front of him. He recognized the tablet as made in the same backyard manufacturer halfway across the continent that Auzel got his gear from. That was... frustrating.
“Okay, check this out, I got multiple angles.”
When Auzel recognized the telltale server space saving quality of the video as security camera feed he wheezed, “I’ve been waiting here for you to get security footage?” Entirely unnecessary. Auzel had thought Chambers was doing some sort of psychological thing by making him wait for so long. In a way, they had been and were currently.
Then Auzel watched what was definitely not him doing crimes and what was definitely him absolutely eating shit in the most spectacular fashion. Chambers, out of frame from this angle, hadn’t even done anything. Auzel had taken a corner too sharp and clipped some atrocious corporate art installation, continued to run with increasingly failing balance until finally toppling over to fall down a giant brutalist concrete step, do a boardslide on the actual human steps’ handrail with his actual human torso—this is probably where the probable fractured rib occurred—and tumble into Chambers’ arms that appeared at the last possible second.
Auzel pressed his eyes shut tight from the psychic damage and the screen exacerbating his headache.
“No, no, man, you gotta check this out.” Chambers held up another camera’s view and waited until Auzel peeked an eye open before hitting play.
This angle didn’t show him running but it showed his fall, his cracking a rib on the handrail instead of his skull on concrete, and—most importantly to Chambers’ glee—Chambers doing a roll out of a vault over another rail so as to put their momentum into leaning their upper body forward just enough to catch Auzel in time and somehow not fall over.
Auzel didn’t bother justifying his absolutely mortified groan with any of the many physical pains he was currently suffering.
“Okay, okay, totally sick, right? But then...”
The third video showed Chambers, running full speed like a boulder down a sheer mountainside, change tack when Auzel clipped the atrocious corporate art installation. They dive forward at the wood-on-concrete benches at the top of the steps that surely weren’t comfortable enough for anyone to sit on, plant their hands to push themself past the bench and then drop multiple giant brutalist steps before the whole rail vault and roll into catching Auzel’s sorry ass.
Chambers is howling with laughter right next to Auzel’s headache. They slam an arm across Auzel’s shoulder when they notice him curling away from them. “Fucking magical. Magnificent. I’m putting this on my reel.”
Auzel didn’t want to know if Chambers meant a parkour reel or a “check how good I am at catching bounties” reel. He was busy trying not to pass out from the pain from his ribcage with Chambers’ heavy arm on him shaking with laughter. When it lifts, he sucks in as much air as he can stand and feels the tingling sensation of passing out subside just a little.
Meanwhile, Chambers pockets the tablet in their of course black cargo pants and wipes tears of laughter from their eyes. “Ahhh,” they crow, stretching their legs out to the opposing bench and crossing their ankles, the van bounces accordingly. “Good times.” When they lift their arms to thread their hands behind their head, Auzel flinches and they pretend not to notice. “So, Auzel. Is that like blue? You can call me Shame.”
Auzel is regretting not passing out a moment ago. He purses his lips and tries to wait out Chambers—Shame. Several minutes later, when it’s evident Shame is in no rush and will sit there until they get a response, Auzel mutters, “No, it’s like bird.”
“What?”
Grimacing at another spike in his headache, Auzel repeats himself.
Shame drops their feet from the bench with a slam to the thick rubber mat floor that Auzel is starting to think is the only thing keeping Shame from punching their boots through the van’s body, the van bounces accordingly. They somehow get closer to Auzel while getting up, and head for the front of the van. “Alrighty then, let’s get going, little bird.”
