2007-07-03: Jackhammer


Kasey_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif

Summary: Wham, bam, thank you ma'am~

Date It Happened: July 3rd, 2007

Log Title Jackhammer

Location NYC - Central Park

Late afternoon, early evening? Some time before dinner because vomit + pain = not a pretty picture. Anyhow, college guys are out playing a game of football with some other guys, it's quite the game only the game hasn't yet begun if only because they have 3 players. Kasey is number 2 on Bob's team but poor Larry is on the team that only has one person so they are standing around with bewildered expressions on their faces. Kasey holds the football in his sweats and NYU sweat-shirt. "Dude. C'mon…seriously like, how didn't you think about this?"

After a solid ten hours of dogging his new employer's steps, Jack was finally ordered to get lost. Mr. Petrelli needs an occasional bit of privacy, after all.

There was nobody looking for a fight at Black & Bruised, so Jack took off on a destination-less jog to burn off some energy and aggression. He's dressed for mobility in black track pants, sneakers, and a close-fitting grey sleeveless shirt. Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Jog. Jog. Jog.

When he rounds a corner in the path and lays eyes on the mixmatched football lineup, his eyes sparkle mischeviously. Could it be? A chance to hit someone new? Grinning, he comes to a stop and crosses his arms over his chest. "'ey! Looks like you're a man down. I can pitch a ball pretty well if you need a fill-in."

Kasey glance towards the sound of a voice, then he does a double-take, eyebrows shooting up. The stranger gets a quick once over of curiosity and/or some confusion. "Uuuuh…" Bob however just snorts. "Dude, it's /football/ you don't pitch the ball!" Larry stands there looking stupid before Kasey finally offers a small smile and a quick chin-up. "C'mon dude, do you need like help with how to play the game or anything?"

"I think I'll be able to keep up," Jack replies easily, his grin stretching wider. He rolls his shoulders experimentally to loosen them and arches his back in a catlike stretch. Preparation complete. He winks, then jogs toward the far end of the pitch(field) to wait for the kick.

Bob is skeptical but quick to gesture towards Larry's side of the 'field'. Kasey just watches Jack curiously, arching an eyebrow and shrugging. He /sighs/ and then eyes the ball and then sighs again. They are going to make up ghetto rules of football, Kasey is just going to kick the ball so the hitting can commence.

From far down the improvised field, Jack meets Kasey's eyes squarely and winks a second time. The challenge is clearly implied. A moment later he regrets it, as he's forced to backpedal another fifteen yards to field the hefty kick. He waves off his team members, prepared to bogart the return in the name of taking the game's first hit. The ball bounces well out of his reach, forcing him to stoop and scramble well behind what would be considered the goal line. Grunting, he tucks it under his arm and breaks into a sprint. There's very little finesse, just a straight rush toward the other end at top speed.

…it's gaaaaaaaaaametime! Kasey shakes his hair out of his face, jawsetting as he watches Jack and then tracks his movements with his eyes. Other players? Might as well not even be there as he lowers a shoulder and rushes at the other man. There is a reason he got a scholarship, ya know, on a good day. He's also fast like a freak.

Jack stiff-arms the first tackler gleefully, then jukes around the second. Eyes alight, teeth gritted into a feral smile, he's lost in the game. It's going beautifully. He sets his feet to dodge around Kasey, but the other man is too fast. CRUNCH! Shoulder-blocked, Jack goes down in a heap with the ball clenched under his belly. He hauls himself to his feet and shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. "Ooooh. Nice hit, kiddo."

When everyone assembles, Jack lifts one forefinger and makes the universal sign for 'round 'em up.' There's brief whispering in the huddle and a bit of arguing, but when they break and form up again, Jack's in the QB position. After the hike he palms the ball into another player's stomach. Hand off? Nope, it's a fake. He's setting up for a throw.

Kasey's cheeks puff out in some exertion and redden some as she-he frowns when he's calling kiddo. There is a long pause as he glares after Jack and jogs back to his team, muttering and shrugging and clapping before turning to watch the new play, and while keen eyes catch it there is some scrambling on his end because Bob is an idiot. "BOB, it's a freakin' fake, doh…" He starts running, looking over his shoulder to intercept that pass if he can, but Bob is an idiot again and yelling something that has Kasey skidding to a stop and now he just looks pissed off. "Dude! Seriously, block the other guy!"

The ball spirals just over Kasey's shoulder and into the arms of Jack's intended target, though the catch is not extraordinarily graceful. His team member is almost immediately brought down, and the lines shift accordingly. When Jack is face to face with Kasey again there's no more winking or foofy smiling. The game is afoot, bitches. Still in the QB slot, he takes the hike and quickly turns it into a sneak. Rather than dodge around one side or the other, he heads straight up the middle where all the action is.

Kasey has this vein that pops out of the side of his head almost, or it starts to throb. His face is reddish-purple but it fades to a pale white as he step pivots to be on Jack like white on rice, dots on dice and…uh…well Nathan on politics or something. ANYHOW. He's moving to intercept Jack, fullbody tackle. RAWR.

Jack is tackled once again, but this time he doesn't go down so easy. Clinging to the ball for all he's worth, he turns sideways so Kasey ends up partially draped over his back. Then, like a fullback twice his weight, he bulls forward another few yards, determined to drag every bit he can out of this play.

Kasey rides Jack like a horse - okay, not a horse, but VERY CLOSE. He's clinging to the man's shirt and tugging and squirming, trying to drag the man down. It…doesn't look right, but this is football, very little does. Have you seen those pants?

Grunting and groaning with effort, Jack staggers forward a step. Then another. The squirming and bucking manboy on his back isn't making the process any easier. He sags forward, precariously close to overbalancing. That's about the time that one of Kasey's teammates clips Jack around the knees, sending all three of them down in a heap.

Kasey is down and people are touching him! Part are touching, people being too close and wagh! He's also made cuz Bob's elbow is in his left boob and then Jack is on his spleen…or something and he growls, reaching out to grab a hold of the closest person's clothing, unfortunately it's Jack and as he stumbles to his feet he's probably going to be hauling somebody with him and then growling again as, unless the person squirms away…he's being hauled/tossed towards Larry who is the only person standing. "I SAID no dogpiles!"

"WHOAWHUTWHOA!" Suddenly airborne, Jack at least has the presence of mind to retain his hold on the ball as he collides with Larry. They impact with a dull, meaty thud, Jack flying headlong into the other man's midsection. "Oooooohhhhh…" Jack groans when he hits the ground for the second time and rolls onto his back. He's only semi-conscious, but he holds the football aloft victoriously from his prone position. No fumble.

Beside him, Larry is reviewing his lunch at high speed on the grass. It's loud, and messy, and he looks very unhappy.

Bob looks kinda like this O_O and holds up hands in a warding gesture. Kasey looks like this -> -_o. Make of that what you will as his left eye twitches and he deep breathes. It's the groan and flash of football that yanks him back to his senses and he's just left there standing while staring at his hands like they've betrayed him. With Larry barfing, Kasey edges his way closer to the two, looking down to Jack and shakily offering a hand. "U-uh…Touchdown?" Is offered weakly, if not sheepishly. Insert nervous 'please don't sue, I'm broke and survive on ramen and pirated porn' smile here.

"Gaaahhhh," Jack groans eloquently. Down but not out, he takes Kasey's offered hand and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. He sways a bit unsteadily, but he's grinning wider than ever as he palms the ball into Kasey's gut. "Holy shit, man. You threw me! You picked me up and used me to frickin' take somebody out. It's the JACKHAMMER!" The experience of being used as a projectile seems to be sitting pretty well with him, all told. "Moniker's Jack, boy-o. What do they call you, other than Incredibly Dangerous?"

Kasey's mouth opens and closes like a trout on dryland pre-gutting and he just stares at Jack, reaching out to steady the man before nodding slowly. "Heh. Jackhammer um. I…well I didn't mean it, well I mean I meant to pick you up but the throwing really wasn't in the plans because ahaaaa who picks people up and throws them! I mean besides, Superman and uh the Hulk and that hot chick on Stargate…OH, and some of those alien babes on Star /Trek/ and then there is Wonder Woman with the uh-rope and um." He trails off the nervous babbling to grimace. "They don't call me that! I mean, that's like ID for short which could also mean Idiotic Dick and I talk alot when I'm nervous, but on the plus side I haven't peed on myself." A long pause before his eyes widen. "OH, Right, Um. Kasey. It's my name um, nice to mean you like, wow look at the time! Good game, you win!"

"Whut?" The torrent of talk is a little confusing for poor, headbumped Jack. "Kasey." He appears to have gotten the important part, at least. He lets out a whoosh of breath and leans forward to prop his hands on his knees. "Calm down, man. Just. Find me a bench before you take off. And explain to me how bein' turned into a cannonball means that I win." He straightens again and drags a hand through his hair. It's entirely possible that he'll later think it's strange that he was tossed around by a manboy, but for now he's just sore and befuddled.

"Ahhh…shut up Kasey. Okay." Kasey talks to himself before tentatively patting Jack on the back and if allowed, leading him to a bench. "Um. Well it would be like a massive foul on my part and you crossed the goal-line sorta when you skidded that little bit with Larry." He worries his bottom lip. "Look man, I gotta go um, so, are you going to be okay?" Jack's not in a coma, that usually mean Kasey isn't going to be arrested.

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