Oh, Greased Lightning! {Seaheart}

[Deon]

Salvador Donia was putting his gloved hands to the one thing with the word 'work' in it that he actually enjoyed: metalworking. Over the past few days, this garage had been like his second home, ever since Cobalt had kicked him out of his dorm room. It was the only place where he could exercise his art now, considering that he no longer had anywhere to live. He'd been crashing with some of his buddies, changing where he slept every night, and it was a pretty lousy existence. Shinegami hadn't been much of a help, even though she's the one who arranged for him to get kicked out in the first place, so he's been a drifter. Nonetheless, he was bound and determined to still have time for his passions.

A black welder's mask was attached to his head; it shielded his entire face as well as part of his torso from view and kept his eyes hidden away by dark lenses from the sharp, blinding light of the welding torch. Well-kept, shiny black curls spilled out from the sides. He knelt on the ground with dirty, hole-ridden jeans, and for once he had traded in his ruffly, colorful silk shirts for an oil-stained and intensely ordinary, plain T-shirt. Through the pitch dark lenses of the welding mask, the tiny speck of fire that sparked from the welding torch was like a piercing green star that illuminated only what he needed to see in the deep void of dark space. He moved the wire of the torch in small circles around the point where two bars of metal were to be welded together. They were pulled together until cleanly fused into one.

Salvador looked on with satisfaction at his work as he flipped the mask up away from his face. Though tools like these were superfluous because of the nature of his power, he still enjoyed being able to excel at his passion even when he was bound to the resources of a normal human. Sometimes a challenge is what makes a love so much more meaningful.

A large, spindly, spider-like contraption made of living metal that sprung from his blood scurried over to where Salvador was, holding a power tool to smooth out the weld in its rows of tiny, sharpened teeth. It let out an earsplitting screech as it dropped the tool on the floor and scampered out towards the door of the garage, its yellow eyes flashing eerily in the fluorescent light. In the corner of his vision and the back of his mind, Salvador saw everything that the creature perceived, heard everything that reached its receptors, felt everything that it touched. It was a strange feeling, this double, and sometimes even triple input, but Salvador had grown to ignore it or allow himself to succumb these multiple pairs of senses. Sometimes it got confusing and hard to keep track of what he himself was doing, but practice makes perfect, no? The creature was now signaling to him in his mind, telling him to look through its eyes. The roles of his senses switched, so his body was in the background, and he saw from below the figure of a thin girl pushing a damaged motorcycle into the garage. She had a face impossible to forget, paired with an attitude that was the same way. It was Dementia Kemik.

He could feel the glare that she shot at one of his familiar creatures; she had never been too fond of them, but that was probably because he used them to spy on she and Cobalt during their week of supposed one-night-stands... and to steal her underwear. His collection made him think of the lovely sombrero he hid them in, the plastic one that played his favorite Spanish tunes... yeah, the one that she drove her arm bones through like a stake. He missed that hat. What was she here for?

She rolled, or more, dragged the motorcycle in through the large doors of the garage, making a beeline towards Salvador and his newest creation. When she reached him, she carelessly dropped the motorcycle down on the cement ground to his left.

Oh. That's what.

From the front, the motorcycle looked more like a heap of twisted metal. It was dented and warped out of recognition, and the front tire wasn't exactly spared, either. Its handlebars bent over in an odd direction, and the paint job was chipped all over. Salvador let out a low whistle.

He shifted his horrified gaze from the wrecked vehicle to the pale girl who stood in front of him, who had plastered a fake smile onto her sharp features. Her strained voice was an attempt at cheery politeness that went awry.

"Why hello, Salvador. I was around, and I know how well you work with machines, which isn't really my forte, and I kind of had a little problem, so--"

"What the hell did you do to this thing?" he interrupted in disbelief, not only because he couldn't see this stick-thin little thing surviving in a motorcycle crash that damaged the vehicle as much as it was, but because he couldn't even imagine how she wouldn't get blown away on the wind! Then again, looks weren't exactly everything, though in her case, they could sure be gruesome, and Dementia sure showed him that time and time again.

Her face lost all trace of that constrained emotion she had put on earlier as she regained her normal expression. "I ran the damn thing into a tree. What do you think I did? Ride through a field of flowers?" her voice was dripping in sarcasm and contempt as she glowered at Salvador for not being able to just read her mind.

Salvador knew better not to cross her. "No, no, it wasn't that," he answered quickly, desperation creeping into his voice as he cowered away from her, "I--I--I just wasn't thinking, and I just said that because it was an automatic reaction, even quite rhetorical, really." He immediately changed the subject to try to avoid a bad situation. "So, uh, what was it you wanted from me?"

Dementia frowned, her metallic blue eyes fixing onto his with an intense glare of fury. "What do you think, Salvador? Why would I bring a wrecked motorcycle into a garage and set it down in front of a guy with lots of manly tools, huh?" The sarcasm had only increased in its saturation of her tone, if possible.

He gulped. "To... get it fixed?"

Dementia let out a little sound of disgust. "Yes, to get it fixed! Is there any other reason possible?"

"No, Dementia. I'm just being an idiot, haha, crazy little me," he laughed pitifully, sounding more like he was trying not to cry in fear, waving a gloved finger at his head in a circular motion.

She let out a long exhalation to calm herself and looked off into the other side of the garage. "Shut up, Donia. Just do it right."

[Seaheart]

The mute had come to try out his motrocycle that he and....he couldn't remember the other guy's name. He just remembered they had invented a system that would allow a car to have unlimited energy. Seaheart controlled metal, so he just had to change the shape. He first listened to what was going inside. Ha. The guy's voice was so shaky....what was he afraid of? He walked inside, figuring he'd spare the guy from this girl's supposedly 'oh-so great wrath'. Why? He didn't know. He looked at the motorcylce. Motorcylces...well.....he felt pity for it. This one anyway. He loved other motorcylces because they were one of the best get- away vehicles. He put his hand on the wrecked vehicle, bending it and twisting it until it was whole.

He looked at it, and shrugged. He had fixed it. He was just doing it to stop that guy's whimpering. But he was a little glad this girl knew how to strike fear.....then again, the guy could just be a wimp. Well whatever. He went to a car. It looked pretty plain. Before he had fixed it, it was broken. Wait...not all broken. Some other guy who he had worked with had done some jobs on it. They had planned on making the vehicle be able to have unlimited energy. Seaheart had done it for a motorcycle, in case he needed it for some reason. They had made it so it had unlimited energy, through a sort of recycling system that gave energy to all it's parts, by making energy when it drove. He put his hand on it, chaning it's shape. It soon went from well...ordinary car, to motorcylce.

He surveyed it. It was sheer metal. All glistening silver. He called up some shadows, waving them over it, to create a black motorcylce. He suppressed a smile. He was going to the Masquerade Ball for osme reason. Just for kicks. He was going as Ghost Rider, and even though je didn't watch movies, he had an idea of what he looked like. But that wasn't it. It's what his motorcylce was gonna look like. Maybe he should test out this vehicle right now....

(Sorry. I couldn't stop myself from making this long post.)

[Deon]

((Naw, it's not very long.))

Dementia was speechless for once, as the strange guy suddenly came up, did some sort of metal mumbo-jumbo that reminded her a lot like Salvador, and left just as quickly as he came. Her lips curled into something that seemed to be a mix of a smile, a look of disgust, and a sneer. She took one quick glance at her motorcycle, then shifted her gaze to the retreating Seaheart, and then to the astonished Salvador. She fixed her scrutinizing stare on the cycle and ran her hand along the smoothly finished metal. It squeaked slightly under the pressure of her sliding fingertips. She let out a satisfied, but still slightly annoyed, "Hmph."

Salvador narrowed his eyes at Seaheart. Who was this guy to just come up and fix her bike like that, when it was supposed to be his job? He was able to control metal just as good as this guy was. No... better! Definitely better! Still, he watched the guy with a curious interest as he morphed the car into a motorcycle, but that interest was quickly needed elsewhere as Dementia started snapping at him again.

"Don't think I'm through with you, Donia," she spat, pointing a long, accusing finger too close to his tan face. "Go check this thing. Make sure system is in working order." She paused for a moment, then added as an afterthought: "Oh, and change the oil while you're at it, grease-monkey." Salvador was about to quickly comply, but then thought about his situation for a second. She probably wouldn't kill him because there was someone else who could bear witness, and she, after all, was the one who needed him. That put him in the position of power! He was only used to that when he was ballroom dancing.

"Actually, Dementia, I don't know if I really want to..." he stopped his confident sentence in his tracks as Dementia hit him with a steely glare that could have pierced a lead wall.

"Maybe, if you asked nicel--" his voice was becoming more frantic and weak as he continued, stopping to cower from her raised fist.

"Buuuut, that doesn't matter, because I would love to change your oil for you! Heh, heh, heh..." he put on a forced, fearful smile as he slid under the motorcycle, finally free of her intense eyes. His spindly metal spider contraptions followed suit, scurrying underneath the cycle to check its condition.

Dementia watched him get to work with eyes dripping in contempt. "That's what I thought you said," she snarled.

She looked away from her regulation of what Salvador was doing to her bike to glance over again at Seaheart, who was now doing something to a motorcycle of his own. She let out a long, annoyed exhale and stomped over in his direction.

"What exactly did you think you were doing, just coming over here and messing with my motorcycle like that, huh? I don't even know who the hell you are!" For some reason, it seemed like a typical Dementia greeting.

[Seaheart]

He looked at her, and felt this whole situation too funny not to speak. For some reason he doubted she was much. She had just learned to exert control over this one man. "I guess what I'm doing is fixing your bike. Mr.Whimper over there would have been so shaky he'd have made your bike a scooter. Now learn some manners or your bike will be totalled beyond repair, and so maybe be your brain along with it." He turned his attention back to the car, looking for a pole. He checked the trunk, and picked what seemed to be a regular metal pole up. He opened the trunk, and put the metal pole to it, giving it a burst of energy. This pole was charged with electricity, with his metal as a conductor.

[Deon]

Dementia was slightly taken aback by the threat, but her expression was more of astonishment that someone would raise his voice against her, rather than of fear. This guy was an absolute hypocrite, and a total idiot, too. What was he going to tell her next? That he was helping fix her bike because he was trying to just be a good person? God, like those even exist. She was starting to dislike this guy just thinking about what he might say. A content smirk spread across her features. This guy was full of cracks she could pry apart.

"Yeah. Like you're a judge of etiquette," she told him sarcastically with a roll of her eyes, considering his posture and the harsh way of speaking to her. He had no idea about manners! She would know. Her grandmother made sure of that. "Don't you think you have any kind of leverage on me at all. I think I know what the hell I'm doing. Mr. Whimper over there would have done a damn good job or else he knows he would have been in for the worst day of his life."

Salvador narrowed his eyes at the underside of the motorcycle as he acquired a new nickname. Hopefully Cobalt wouldn't get notice of that. He pushed himself out from underneath the vehicle as a few of his smaller living metal contraptions scuttled into the interior of the bike to check for things he might have not been able to see. His other vision swam in front of his eyes as he looked over at Dementia and Seaheart, strangely merging with the scene. It was kind of weird, because in a twisted sort of way Dementia was actually defending him. Woah. That's different. But the conversation was lost to his ears as a loud screech shot through his mind--one of his machines was signaling to him. His eyes widened curiously as he listened.

"Hey, Dementia," he started, his voice slightly unsure.

Dementia turned angrily. "Not now, Salvador," she spat, still fuming over by Seaheart. She resumed her conversation as if she had never been interrupted. "And what do you think you're saying? My mind will be totaled? Yeah, right. You have absolutely no idea who you're dealing with. You happen to be much to inferior to hurt something of mine like--"

"Dementia, I really think you should see this," Salvador continued, tapping his foot nervously. He knew he was about to get yelled at, but this kind of needed her attention.

"Dammit, Donia, I told you to shut up!" she yelled, clenching her fists. This time she didn't even grace him with a quick glance. Salvador frowned through the fear that he felt, annoyed over all that she wouldn't even give him the time of day instead of insulting some insolent guy. Of course, while he would have liked to insult the some insolent guy, he would have never done it, so maybe it was kind of good in a weird way for him.

"Okay, fine. Have it your way," he huffed as his machines scampered away from the motorcycle with a few metallic clicks. One deposited something from its mouth onto his hand before crawling up his arm. It tickled. He had one more chance to get her attention. "By the way, I guess you're still wearing those black lacy thongs, huh? Or maybe it was just black from all the grease?"

At this Dementia suddenly whirled around, her eyes wild in utter fury and surprise. She straightened out her arm and shot from her palm a flash of white followed closely by a gory trail of red that headed straight for Salvador's abdomen. Blood spurted from her palm from a sudden hole as her arm dropped limply, folding over on itself for a moment before the bones fully rebuilt themselves to support it the limb. A slimy film quickly covered the wound to slow the bleeding as the skin was recreated. Salvador saw the speeding set of bones that had sharpened into something like a lance heading straight for him, and by reflex sank into his liquid metal state. The bone shot through the glob that was his body as gravity pushed him to the ground, and it kept going, finally embedding itself deep in the cement wall behind him. It created a tiny crater on impact and sent shallow cracks shooting across the wall, away from the point where the bony spear had entered the wall.

Salvador was dumbstruck. "Dear god, Dementia, are you trying to kill me?" he exclaimed as his body hardened back up into its previous form. His head was now through a sleeve in his T-shirt, as it hadn't stayed in its perfect position as he turned into a metal puddle. Salvador didn't notice. "I just thought you might like to know the reason your bike's been on the fritz for so long! I mean, you've been complaining about it for months!" He bent over and picked up the tiny heap that had fallen onto the ground and held it up between his fingers. "How the hell did you get underwear in the engine?"

[Seaheart]

(Sorry about the trunk thing. I was hot and tired, and forgot about how I changed the car)

He listened carefully, feeling giddy. She was fun. He then looked at Donia, knowing it was stupid not to listen. Hmmmm......he wondered if the mechanic would discover the surprise he left in it. Heh heh.....He shook it off, then ocntinued. He watched as the bones went out of her skin. Power over bones....blood? Regeneration. The bones were stronger than most. OK. Maybe mor, but that seemed to be it. She could probaly form weapons with them, and with being able to change bone structure, be more acrobatic. He then looked at Donia and almost laughed. Underwear?

He shook his head, then looked at her and spoke. "Listen, I did it because bikes are a bit of my specialty. I ride them, and more than just for fun. That guy would have messed it up with the fear you gave him. Not bad, but he doesn't seem like much to start with. But to me, you don't seem dangerous. You can be all sad and mopey that your parents sent you because your different, but you have no idea about living with true terror. Or the true thrill of the cycle." One of the reason he knew the true thrill is because well....when your being chased down by who knows what, laws don't exactly apply.

He then looked at Donia "I don't exactly think she'd send a hardened bone in your direction to be friendly. Of course she's trying to kill you. But I will admit, I'm also curious to know why she has her underwear in her...motorcycle?" He look a quick look over it. He wondered how good she was on the bike. "So please, explain yourself, or at least explain it to your mechanic." He said with a bit of an amused smile. He was saying all this with a completely calm voice. No raising his voice. No yelling or anything. Complete wit and logic.

[Deon]

Dementia's look lightened up slightly as Seaheart explained the reason he fixed her bike. At least the guy wasn't so much of an idiot to not admit that he did it for himself and himself alone, or rather for the bike, but simply because he hated to see it broken. But Seaheart's next words smacked her in the face.

"I wouldn't make any assumptions about my emotions. You know absolutely nothing about me, my past, my parents, or why I'm here." She showed straight rows of white teeth as her lips curled back in a strange, mirthless smile. "I'd much rather be here than where I was." Her smile broadened as her eyes glinted with a mischievous darkness clouding the clear blue. "And about true terror, thrill..." she chuckled. "You really have no idea."

But still, maybe this guy wasn't a total idiot, because he seemed to have almost as much fun abusing Salvador as she did. For some reason, the Spaniard reminded her of that Jake, Captain Obvious. Oh, wait. It's because he was an idiot. Right. Her good-natured giggle at Seaheart's retort to Salvador was short-lived, because at that moment Damn Donia held up a little pair of woman's panties. Her woman's panties.

She gasped with disbelief, her eyes looking like they were about to bulge out of their sockets. One name echoed through her head: Xavier "Cobalt" Pelasci. Her pale cheeks flushed pink as she went through the dozen possible reasons she could have underwear in the engine of her motorcycle. Oh, god! She thought she was finished thinking about Cobalt Pelasci. She felt sickeningly angry whenever his name was the subject ever broached in her thoughts.

Salvador had a creepy smile on his face. He knew exactly why. Dementia could see it in his eyes. That little asshole had used his machines to spy on them that time! It wouldn't have been the first time... or the only time. She and Cobalt had had nearly two weeks of supposed one-night-stands before... it was finally over.

Dementia's voice was a startling monotone, though it was about to bubble over with unseen fury. "Drop it, Salvador," she hissed. "My business is none of yours. Either of you. Think what you want. I'm not saying anything."

[Seaheart]

He looked at her and heard her. She was dumb. He had true terror living inside of him. He had witnessed, heard, and lived evil. He had never had a friend...well Yuna, but she turned out to be much more. He had killed his parents with Chaos, killed people just to get stronger, lived through Ven's murderous onslaughts...well, there's alot more, but let's not go there. Oh, just lastly, on his first date ever with Yun, he got attacked by a half-demon, and hellspawn. Wanna reconsider now?

"Well, well, well. Donia, you may have just gotten your first leverage...or rather...my first leverage." He said as he snatched it away. "Well, well, well....what have we here. Your panties in a motorcylce......cheeks pink.....looks like someone has been having fun...who? OK, you know what, Salvador, can you tell me?" He then looked at Dementia. "Oh, I really have a good idea. We'll race...with our motorcycles....through highways, streets, no rules apply. You can choose or not choose to follow the law. If I win, this will surely be all over the newspaper. If you win, I won't, and never ride a bike again."

He felt this too funny. He had done something to her bike. Not make it slower...just the opposite. "You don't have to, but tell me, if I give it back to Salvador, you'll never be able to torture him again. I think that's your specialty. At least with me, you'll have a chance." He said with a sick smile. He got on his bike, ready to test this thing out for the first time.

[Deon]

Salvador was about to open his mouth when Seaheart snatched the thong away from his hands. Damn. He was planning on collecting that. Anyways, the harsh glare that was sent in his direction from Dementia's eyes shut him up immediately. Her eyes not leaving Salvador's slightly shaking figure, she listened in earnest to Seaheart's proposition. Little did he know exactly what she did on her weekends. Besides, why should she care about getting this printed in the school newspaper? When Salvador sent in Cobalt's sex journal to be published, she was on the front page. There was no way he could make her suffer any more. He didn't have any leverage on her, but she might as well make him think he did.

She considered it briefly, then made her decision. "Fine. I'll race you." She had nothing to lose. She pushed past Salvador, sending one of his machines scurrying to the ground, and got on her bike. "You name the course."

[Seaheart]

He considered the newspaper more. People heard that stuff all the time. Someone more personal.....OK. He'd give it to Salvador. "OK. Since I like seeing both of you suffer, if I gave it to Salvador, he'd still be afraid of you, but you couldn't hurt him, which would make you hurt, but he'd still be fearful. Two for one." He then thougth about the course and said "OK. The highway. Cars and all. We take it, and at then end, we turn back, and whoever gets back first, wins. Got it? Alright, go." He said as he zoomed off. What? She hadn't even gotten on but so what? He never gave a designated time.

[Deon]

So he was playing dirty, huh? Fine. Then so would she. Dementia angrily shoved her keys into the ignition and accelerated as hard as she could, surprised with the sudden kick her motorcycle started up with. That wasn't there before... She zoomed out of the garage with the sound of squeaking tires and the roar of a healthy engine, leaving Salvador standing dumbstruck by a small pool of leaked gasoline.

"So does that mean I get the panties?" he asked the empty air, slightly confused.

Dementia plowed through the school grounds, nearly running over a half dozen or so kids on the paths before she was finally out of Cassis, gaining on Seaheart. She was at a complete disregard for her own safety--that's what made her such a good racer. Broken bones and the likes didn't really affect her at all with her power, so she always ran harder than she should. Dementia didn't like racing on the highway; she was much more fond of the streets and alleys where one tight turn could be your last--that was where she secretly raced her troubles away. When the wind was battering her body, and her mind was dead set on the road in front of her, there was nothing else that could bother her and the only thing she felt was complete elation.

[Seaheart]

He zoomed quicker and quicker. He zoomed by a policeman. Good. Hot fuzz on his trail. How had he tampered with her motorcylce? He had cut off the brakes. Brakes were absolutely essential in turns. so what if she died? He was that cruel. Crueler. If she died, he'd be happy. Now, he wasn't a killer or cruel, but he just didn't care. The police were coming, and he slowed odwn, but only enough to be with Dementai. "Looks like we got police. Should you handle them or should I?" He said as they went into the highway. He dodged through cars, looking at the drivers. Taking care of the police would be fun.

[Deon]

"What? Let you take care of them, and miss all the fun?" Dementia's voice was nearly ripped from her throat as she yelled to Seaheart over the cacophony of blasting honks and screaming engines. She smiled. Maybe they could work together just this once. Besides, getting him distracted would be a good way to sabotage him somehow. She gassed the motorcycle just a little more as the sirens loudly pierced the air, moving slightly ahead of the slowing Seaheart. The cops really were on their trail. Funny.

"We can both rid ourselves of the pest!" she laughed.

[Seaheart]

He laughed and then thought. There'd be a dozen ways to take care of them.....but if he let his guard down, Dementia would take that advantage. "OK. You take the first couple. Until then bye!" He said as he blasted off, leaving her with the main problem. Some of htem had guns out, ready to shoot. There was a large turn coming ahead...he'd use that. She couldn't brake because he took them out, so it vwould be a perect time to gt her and the police. He put his hand behind his back, and blasted little shurkine with knives, the pseed embedding them in pavement. Oh, this was gonna be fun.

[Deon]

Oh, no he didn't. Dementia swerved dangerously to avoid the sharp objects that sank into the road, narrowly missing a bad situation. Her stomach seemed to do a flip-flop as the motorcycle nearly sent her hurtling onto the pavement. She accelerated even more, to catch up with Seaheart. More police cars were beginning to close in on the two as they called for backup. The speedometer quivered near 200 km/h. The wind thrashed against her slight body, and she fought to hold on against the speed. She leaned down into the wind, thankful she had grabbed her helmet and goggles on the way out. She would have never been able to see in this mess without them. Now to deal with the fuzz.

She carefully lifted one hand, forcefully expelling her detached phalanges like bullets into the wheels of the car. With a loud screech, the back one swerved into the front, taking out both at the same time. The sound of honks and shattering glass wasn't the most welcome sight, but at this point she was already in so much trouble. She'd have to make sure she wasn't caught... or recognized.

She sped towards the curve, trying to make up time with Seaheart.