27th Inning

[freakinblur]

[Zip! Zoom! What is that blue blur? Naturally, it's Scout! And today he's even faster and more energetic than ever, if that's even possible. He's laughing wildly, almost maniacally, jumping from rooftop to car to tree and keeps going.]

Un-freakin'-touchable!

[That's because he got sent a certain atomic soda sent after they got back from Soviet Mayfield. 24 cans of caffeinated bliss! Of course, he should be rationing his supply, but after depriving a caffeine junkie for so long, only so much restraint can be shown.

So, Mayfield, be treated to a happy blue blur today. He's running past your windows, denting your cars, rattling your trees, even running right through your house if you leave the door open for more than a second. And of course, mocking you as he zooms past.

Later he can be found in the park, exhausted but still happy. Wearing himself out, he's asleep under a tree, his usual smirk still on his face.]

Comments

[muertederojo.livejournal.com]

They know I'm here well enough. They've been keeping track.

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

Fair enough, pally. I won't rat ya out. What's yer name, anyway? [Mostly he's wondering if any of his Amerstrian bros ever mentioned you to him.]

[muertederojo.livejournal.com]

I don't care if you do rat me out. I can hold my own.

You can call me Kimbley.

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

[That name's familiar. Scout thinks for a second --

There was that phonecall. One from Mustang warning people about a Kimbley.

And Kimbley himself talking about mutilating the Major General. By the time Scout got to Olivier, she had been droned.

Scout narrows his eyes at you, and reflexively reaches for his gun in his bag, but stops once he remembers he's in a public place. Instead he gives you a nasty smirk.]

I remember that name. Boy, ain't you lucky yer there's like, kids 'n all around, or I woulda just blasted her face all over tha landscape.

[muertederojo.livejournal.com]

That would have been exciting, wouldn't it? Too bad you don't have the guts to do it. I assume you're friends with the Major General as well?

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

[Scout leans in, trying to stare Kimbley down.]

Oh I got plenty 'a guts, pally, with some to spare. But blowin' yer face off in the middle 'a the park ain't gonna get me much, now is it? An' yeah, I happen ta be pretty good friends with her. So add another name to the list of people who'll be keepin' an eye on you, ya got me?

[muertederojo.livejournal.com]

I will keep that in mind then.

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

Good! Glad we could get along so great. Now if you'll excuse me, I got some more laps ta run, an' you can go about doin' whatever it is ya do. But if I hear you so much as look at one 'a my friends the wrong way, it's on pally. Ya got me?

[muertederojo.livejournal.com]

Yes of course.

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

[Scout nods.] So's long as we're clear.

[With that, Scout is off once again! At least this time your hat stays put.]