Swing Life Away

Part 1

Swinging around an empty container, the spiked contents sloshing about in a noisy manner as the teddy-shaped contained smacked against his hard pelvis bone, only slightly showing through the greenish brown khaki shorts. The rest of him was a swaying mass of chittering bones, a orange hoodie stained with a sweet-smelling grease. Black and orange sneakers shuffling and kicking rocks beneath him, holding himself with a hand to the buildings he passed.

He was wasted; there was no doubt when looking at the tall monster, and the way he shuffled his long legs to the sway of his drunken stupor. A grin plastered to the hard skull, and an unlit cigarette between the creases of his mouth, humming a severely out of tune rhythm. But even in his state, his honey-smooth tone would be enough to swoon heavenly birds, despite the coarse smoke damaged scratch that would occasionally appear. The occasional group of humans that witnessed him would try to move out of his way; some out of fear...most out of disgust. But the tall skeleton couldn't care less at the moment.

"shouldn't of listened to BP...this is gonna be a rough night." Regret lacing his words as he continued forward, now passing one of the small banks. The city was huge no doubt about that, but the places he frequented was a small downtown area, with only a small buzz of activity during the day. Night was like flipping the world upside-down...or being back in the ground again; dead and barren, with barely anyone to break the grasp of silence. There did seem to be a group of rowdy men at the nearby bars making a racket, but they paid him no mind, despite a few slurs of racial names his way. "heh, at least I got something to look forward too..."

Getting himself to the corner of the building, coming up to a parking lot for the said bank he leaned against. There sat an old, slightly rusty, blue Ford ranger truck. Atop it's hood sat a human clutching at a greasy food bag, and a water bottle at their criss-crossed feet. Bright green Kracken pro resting around their neck as they had the black hoodie of their sweatshirt pulled over their face; moon images along the rim and down the sleeves, covering over sleeved gloves that only bore fingertips at the end. Bare knees from dark blue ripped jeans, and black n' white converse tightly fitted at the feet. A purpleish-blue tapestry fastened around their neck decorated in many bright colors, just barely peaking under the headset. Despite the pulled up hoodie, the features were very visible, munching away at some greasy spiced fries. Short tuffs of hair could be seen poking out the top of her hoodie, suggesting extremely short hair.

"Well if it isn't 'Mr. Candy Corn'..." Chirping from the shadows of the pulled hoodie, the voice holding a tint of feminine grace, while the rest screamed tomboy; gruff, sarcastic, goofy and nonchalant. "Wasn't expecting to see your long legs for another five minutes..." Emerald gleaming eyes gazed from the shadow of her hoodie, ever so gently watching the skeleton sway. "Having a good night it seems? You look like a pirate who just got his land-legs back." She hummed a chuckle, popping a fry in between her lips. Grabbing the food bag tightly in her grasp and shaking it in a few tugs; motioning to share her food.

"technogirl!" Speaking almost as loud as his body screamed 'I'm drunk' by the way he moved, that grin on his skull just spreading wider at the sight of her...and the offer of her food that hit his sense of smell from where he stood, against the red brick of the bank. "out of all I've been through tonight, you're my highlight." Letting go of the wall that supported him, and tripping over his own legs, it took him a good two minutes to make his way over. "so...is today my lucky day?"
Finishing the fry she had, and giving a very slow drawn out arm cross against her chest and displaying a cheesy teeth baring grin, she remarks back in a teasing tone, "Afraid not Skullz." Raising her hand to the air, her pointer and middle finger raised, "Two reasons why. One, you look just as drunk as I do after 7 shots of Cinnamon Fireball. Two, I'd rather you remember my name sober, so you don't go forgettin' me."

Dramatically placing a hand to his chest, and a slightly agape mouth, dropping the cig that was stuck there previously. "you're breaking my non-existent heart Lassy-Dubstep" he pouts, his other hand making a fake 'tear roll' down the side of his skull, as if he were crying from her choices.
"Don't worry rum-breath, you'll get my name next time you walk by. But, Sober! Don't make me turn into momma bear and have to watch out for your ass..." A smug scrunched look on her face, she meant what she said, no 'ifs, ands or butts' about it. Even the nickname; it seemed that's how they started their semi-friendship. Pointing out the most obvious things they could see, just to feel more at ease and give a good laugh. They barely knew each-other, other then the given nicknames.
"welllllp..." he swung a leg, drawing out his voice in a playful manner, "you can save your name...but I gotta do the honors and give you mine." Just about falling over from the swing of his leg, he gave an awkward bow, momentarily having to steady himself with his hands on the ground, "Stretch is the name, lazin about is my game. Or if you're not up for more nicknames, Papyrus.. at your service" attempting another bow at his formal name.

This earned a soft chuckle from the girl, and this sparked a amused gleam of orange in his right eye-socket. In his mind, any reaction to his goofiness was like music to his soul...and oh boy did she sing. There was just...something about her; like a pulling feeling at his soul, a magnet of some sort and he intended to figure out what it was. That's what kept him coming back, what got him hooked on the small talk. That, and the mysteries she held back. Like a book just waiting to be opened, but only by those worthy to view...and he was trying his damnest."Well, it's very nice to finally hear your name, Papyrus." she dipped her head slightly as she spoke his name, noticing that her semi-friend grew happy to hear her say it.

The dip of her head helped her catch the sight of a passing group of men. This group always seemed to hop from one bar to the next, and never faulting at cat-calling and slurring names at both her and Stretch as they talked. This was the only time of the day she could really relax in the presence of another person, and take a break from her work, and it always seemed to get ruined by the passing group. With an annoyed huff, that gave a signal to the drunk skeleton to see where she lay her gaze; to his disappointment, it was the group he hated seeing too.

"Little lady, why mess with death when you got living flesh right in-front of you." Whistles came from the men, and the whole group shifted toward the Ford Ranger. There were four men, their faces not as visible thanks to the poor lighting of the Bank's parking lot. One of them carrying two glass bottles of their choice drinks. "Sure your friend won't mind us havin a little bit of fun with you... you look like such a pretty damsels in distress."

"Well be your knight's in armor, just tell us...we don't bite."

The words spoke went in one ear and out the other, both Stretch and the girl only sharing minimum glances at the group...before realizing they were getting closer, the invisible bee-line the men made raising both to alert. "I'd rather chuck spices into your eyes, than go anywhere with you lot." Earning a snark from her lips, her remark seemed to spark frowns at the group nearing them. Stretch, still slightly swaying where he stood, his eye-lights locked to the group...and an electric shock running through his bones as they neared.

The lvs. on them...oh it was frightening, all the Levels of Violence stitched into their dampened souls was taking Stretch's scrambled brain straight to the edge. His once smiling mug was now straight and pressed, no emotion showing in his features. They both looked equally annoyed, even more so as the group continued their advance.

What they didn't count on was the action the group took in a single instant. Guns cocked at their heads from two, while the other two advanced towards them. But they halted a good midway from their companions and the truck...the pull of magic putting fear in their feet.

This same pull of magic, even in his current state, bewildered Stretch; his head giving a slow turn to the girl he'd been talking too, the girl he grew to like with the little talks they had every weekday. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary with her, but the air around her seemed to quake with energy. Even if he tried to match that energy with his own magic, it wouldn't compare to what his soul was feeling emit from her. His clogged mind couldn't even focus on bringing his bigger blaster's into play, and they were both held at gunpoint.

"Best put the weapons away little boys, were not playing games here." The taunting got a well deserved scowl from one of the gun-holders, and their target switched to the monster beside her. This got a more serious look out of her face, and the click of a trigger sounds.

Like a knife to butter, the bullet made it's way through the orange hoodie that Stretch wore. A harsh crack of bone breaking from the attack, and the sharp arch of his spine signal it hit, and hit hard. The scream that followed was a mixture of his cracked voice, and an eerie wail as he slumped down to his femurs, hitting the ground hard with his legs. His left arm dangled while his right arm went to hold his shoulder in the excruciating pain.

As soon as Stretch hit the ground to curl up in shock and the suffering wound, a casting of whitish blue circled around him; runes danced in a circle as the large projection of a waxing moon centered it, and the thrumming low frequency humm kept him in the bubble it formed. It was all he could see, all he could hear. Blood did splatter from his shoulder, and he could feel the tug of his health slowly going down. Being shot, even for a monster, was a very serious wound...but being him, and only having the sliver of health that crippled him each day. This wasn't how he'd thought he'd go. At this moment, all he could think about was his friends; the last bit of good memories played in his clouded mind. His brother; oh how he wished, and wished aloud, to see him one last time. He called for Sans, he mewled for his brother in sorrow, scratching his mind of any memories he had with his energetic brother...cause to him, this was the last he'd get to think of anyone, and it was his brother that mattered most to him.

In his weakened chanting, he could hear a soft strum of words. Was someone singing? How could someone be singing at a time like this, a time of sheer horror and torture. Stretch couldn't understand the reasoning, but it wasn't like it mattered to him, he knew he was dying, no point in thinking about why someone would be singing near him. The words were in a rhyme, and he listened.

"Ancient Moon, lend your power. Bring him peace this very hour. I call upon your strength and might, bless his soul this secret night."


~ ~ ~


A piercing spark shoot through his numb shoulder as he came too. A large warming blanket swaddled around his legs as stretch started to shift in the hospital bed, screeching beneath him with the metal prongs that held it up. A well deserved groan slipped from his still clamped jaws as he raised his skull, his eye sockets only slightly open due to the tug of a pounding migraine and the light from a nearby lamp not doing his pain any sort of good.

A nurse was in the room, draped in a white and silver coat covering over a light blue frilly shirt and dress pants. He couldn't quite see who she was talking too, since she was faces in his direction, but clearly not looking down at him in the bed. Hearing hadn't come back to him yet; as it did, he could hear the energy-filled and worry struck banter of Sans from his left side. The world was throwing cuss words into Stretch's skull as he painstakingly turned himself to see his brother.

His usual energetic and loud voice was turned down a few notches in consideration, not wanting to disturb his injured brother. Sporting a light blue jeans jacket, covering a white t that was labeled with red letter spelling out 'Cool Dude', long well-kept jeans and bright blue and white sneakers. A large blue bandanna fastened around his neck, you could call the look 'casually heroic', or at least that's what Stretch saw it as.

"Papyrus! Your awake!" for a good second, his lowered voice faltered into a loud call of excitement, forgetting what he'd originally promised to keep his voice lowered. Earning a wince from Stretch to remind him of his slip-up, and a blue gloved hand to his round skull, "Sorry...forgot. Toriel's sake it's so good to see you moving Pap." Holding back the excitement in his eyes, the wonder sparkling stars glistening in his eye-sockets.

The nurse gives a slight smile as well, and gives a slight bow of their figure, "Now that he's awake, I'll go fetch the Doc. and Officers." With that, she turns to exit, leaving a very gleeful Sans besides an ever confused injured brother on the bed. The mentioning of police was what sparked his eyes to open just a tad more.

"Officers? Hell, what happened to get them involved?" His good arm running up to the throbbing cranium as he lay his skull back to the pillow behind himself. Sans chimed in, keeping his voice minimum, "You were targeted Paps, all four of them are in custody thank gods. They.." these next few words seem to stay stuck, Stretch could see it was hard for him to say or even think about what happened. "You were shot Paps...they shot you and go-" His usual front of charm and glee was tearing down, those eye-lights no longer sparkled with gleaming stars. Almost hollow and filled with a sadness indescribable.

"You...they-" As harsh as his skull was pounding, Stretch heard every last word his brother spoke, leaving them both in confusion with the outcome.

"They got your health to 0 HP...Paps, you should of died from that bullet."