Don't stand so close to me [OPEN]

"I want my…"

The unmistakable faltesso of Sting rings across the open room, the fully repaired and in pristine condition of a traditional japanese house. The building was a large space, capable of accommodating two small families. The historical buildings were all open, perfect for the slightly humid weather. The gentle wind swoops through the opened home of one Former pro-wrestler.

One Quincy named Irvine Bradford.

Granted, he doesn't go by that name openly. In another life of his, he was a Pro-wrestler, a heel of highest calibur and competed in the premier of pro-wrestling organisation in Japan for decades. Gained all the highest accolades bar one, but that's another tale soon to be explained. The 6'2 lightweight man found himself resting on the chair tilted on its rear ends. His bent, crossed legs resting on the small stool a few feets away.

"I want my MTV"

"Please don't stand so close to me!" he crooned as faltesso ringed yet again, his plastic sandal sway in beat. As the instrument began to build, he shifted his cowboy straw hat to cover his face. The sunshine was a pain, but it was nothing compared to the hard day work of doing nothing. At the sun at its highest, he had a few hours of rest before the temperature eased down for him to consider making his trip to the store to spend his jar full of money on beers.

It was when the riff of the distorted guitar bursted into life when he received a visitor or two into the pristine Japanese garden with tables lined up in the walkways, safe from the shade was full of historical trinkets, both worthless or expensive.

He noticed, but chose to remain idle as he was, listening to music and his hat protecting his face from the beating sun.

”The heat today is criminal”, the woman moaned as she entered the pavilion to escape the unrelenting rays of the sun. The first thing she did was slip out of her backpack and then attempt to strip her leather jacket off while holding the pack by a strap. With her camera in the pack she wasn’t about to risk setting it down unattended in case someone tried to snatch it. Having to chase down some fool thief in this heat was not going to be pretty. As it was, her t-shirt was quite drenched with sweat and her attempt to fan herself by grabbing the front of her shit and flapping it back and forth against her chest did little but unstick the shirt from her skin.

What she really needed was something cool to drink and a cool shower. Looking along the rows of tables she realized she had stumbled upon some sort of flea market and hoped to maybe find bottled water for sale at one of the tables. Even so, as she walked along gazing at the items, the shade provided a noticeable difference in temperature and a small respite from the worst the sun could inflict. No doubt she would wind up with a sunburn. Her complexion was so fair that she didn’t have to be out on a day like this for long before she was fried.

The weather forecast had said rain and this morning it had been cloudy, otherwise she would have dressed differently and put on sunscreen. Slipping her pack strap to her left shoulder, she draped the coat over her forearm and then fanned herself with her right hand. ”Shoo”, she breathed out and smiled noticing the merchant parked out like Jimmy Buffet on the beach and listening to Dire Straits. The song switched up to the Police and she realized they must be having a short segment on Sting or something.

She grinned and quipped in reply to the song lyric as she approached the table where the man was relaxing. ”On a day like today that is pretty good advice”, she said and waved her hand before her face. ”you wouldn’t happen to have any bottled water for sale, would you?”

Vance looked at his phone as he followed QF~30GL4.  He wasn't meaning to follow her, someone had posted something about an Emporium in the area and his GPS was just leading him there.  The fact that he had run into QF~30GL4 had been pure coincidence.  He had on his usual jacket and slacks for work, carried a large case with him, as well as a backpack and laptop bag.  Vance tried to carry his gear with himself as much as possible, after all he couldn't spontaneously manifest cheat codes whenever he needed them.  

The place was large, open and old.  The kind of thing some half sorry idiot made out of a house when they didn't understand how badly they were damaging history.  Vance kept his phone out as he walked into the open, literally from multiple directions, Emporium and basically began snapping pictures of everything with his reading monitor on.   After all, Vance had a different way of doing things.  He moved quickly, chuckling at some things and cackling at others at how shotty and cheap they all were.   Nothing here was even half of a Vance non-special.  Anything with trace amounts of power on it were simply garbage.

Vance kept going from item to item taking readings, ignoring the ones with none and snapping images and typing data on the ones that did.  He was going to have to get this guys business licence taken away for fraud or something.  Especially with how many favors the police owed him now after covering up not one but four of their messes.  When QF~30GL4 started talking he listened but didn't say anything, he still had to find out if he had to make her disappear for being such a wimp like all the other failed Quincy he kept running into.  If he ever got his hands on that spiritual poison, these people would probably be the first ones to go.

Bait (1) :: Ginto (5) :: Extra Shots (3) :: Pill (2) :: Phone (1) :: Laptop (1) :: SeeleX1 (2) :: Med (5)

The first visitor in a long while was a young woman, the short haired cutie stumbled into his humble abode and flea market. Irvine remained still, the music was getting real good, the guitar riff was about to take a step back as the lead vocalist, Mark Knopfler crooning through the old boombox that hasn't lost its golden years. He began to regret making his own inside joke. You see, the falsetto vocalist was none other than Sting himself and the melody was eerily similar to his own well known song. Amazing how the 80's works. Knopfler trying to get that five notes of The Police's song right just so he could drag him in to sing, 'I want my MTV

Man! MTV was great back then. Kids nowadays are missing a lot.

The building and the area itself feels like a time machine, even when Irvine pointed at the fridge on the walkway of his pristine and authentic home it looked as if it came from the ninety seventies. The big white block, a few inches bigger than the lady herself.

"Help yourself!" he spoke, not moving from the spot. His hat remained on his face, but he had also noticed another visitor, a strange looking goblin fellow with a camera,  "there's a few glass bottles of water, litre full, been in the fridge since this morning. There's a few bottles of beer, help yourself to those if good alcohol is your fancy."

These trinkets are by all standards normal antiques, there are a few brass cups, tools, there's even a few vases and plates of hidden histories, all of which lacks the history belonging to Quincy. After all, he is Irvine Bradford, a retired Wrestler living life in Karakura Town, away from the bustling celebrity life.

"Is the lanky fellow with you, lady?" He remained rooted to the spot, even with the hat covering his face, "I'm okay with him snapping photographs with his technological witchcraft," he hated modern technology. It made craft all so easy to digest, easy to process. He added, "If he is, tell him to tone it down with the cackling."

Glancing at the new comer and giving a slight nod of acknowledgment, Aine wiped her hair back from her sweaty forehead. Sweltering temperatures always made her long for home and she sure hoped this heat wasn’t going to last all season. While she waited for a reply, she slipped her jacket through the strap of her backpack and then let the bag hang from her left shoulder by one strap. Relief was soon in sight, however, as the salesman pointed toward a fridge like her father had in his ‘man cave’. She was hardly surprised at all to learn that in addition to bottles of water it also contained beer.

”Oh thank you”, she replied and moved over toward the fridge in search of the promised refreshment. Aine pulled open the door and the rush of air bathed her in coolness like a breath of fresh air. Lingering perhaps a little longer than it required her to find a bottle of water, her eyes scanned the shelves and spied the water behind all the beer. ”Thank you, water will be fine”, she said taking one of the glass liters out a bit delicately so as not to knock anything over. Shutting the door a bit reluctantly she asked, ”How much?” Aine inquired as she opened the bottle and took a drink. She didn’t really care if it was twice as expensive as it should have been, today it would be worth it.

Sighing in relief, she tilted her head a bit to the side at the question the man asked her next. Her eyebrows drew together slightly wondering who he was talking about; afterall she’d come here alone. Glancing at the man and seeing him taking pictures on his phone, she turned back to the elder salesman thinking, ’oh boy, here we go’. She knew Kens came in all shapes and sizes and she wasn’t in the mood to get in the middle of a situation. Reaching into her pants pocket, Quincy tossed a bill on the table and shook her head. ”Sorry, never seen the man before”, she said and walked over to the furthest table from the men sipping her water.

Even though she distanced herself from the threat of some potential confrontation, it might be worth recording. You never knew how crazy things could get and she was in the business of selling pictures. It took a bit of mild contorting, tucking the water bottle in her armpit as she rooted around in her jacket for the phone, but she was adept at looking like she was just texting friends instead of recording the impending encounter.

Vance kept snapping pictures.  Nothing had readings but it was fun to do anyway.  Just the usual residual stuff from years of supernatural and inter-dimensional energies being in this particular.  He yawned to himself and looked around at the different trinkets before looking over at the man when he was done talking to the woman.  "Hey, got anything with boats or marine stuff?"  He asked in a genuine tone.  Vance put his phone back in his pocket after snapping one last reading from QF~30GL4.

Vance grabbed a few small things to be polite.  He was nice to his customers and the man hadn't really complained so he didn't find a reason to argue since he didn't get any readings on anything.  He couldn't sense or anything like that either so he made due with just, doing what he could.  "Any tricks or anything else?"  He asked politely, mainly because he still had to deal with the woman at some point.  So he was trying to get more than just voice from her.  He still needed to know if she remembered anything from the attack.

Vance kept looking around after for anything else that caught his eye or anything marine related.  He reached up and scratched the back of his head with his hand nonchalantly as his bracelet rubbed against the back of his neck and yawned.  "Hmmm..."  He stated as he continued browsing the items.  Though the head scratch had been a bait for the woman.

Irvine's past as a wrestler was somewhat illustrious. Being a heel, it doesn't pay as much as he would as a face. The rule of being a heel was not to have any merchandise, after all: why would a villain have fans? He did win a few belts, but none was in comparison to the big one. One of which was found within the house of Irvine's, in the open lies the belt that was no longer in action. This particular competition had retired and its spirit lies on the waist height table with white cloth with rosary beads coiled around it and the worn celtic cross dangling at the heart of the belt. Its detail is obscure from sight as it was deeper into his house, but still in plain view for all to see.

"It doesn't cost anything," he spoke, finally springing himself into action. His foot firmly planted onto the ground, displaying the withered leg muscles, "I would encourage you to drink as much water as you feel; the sun is going to be harsh for a few more hours." He couldn't make out with the young lady, for starters she saw reason to remove her leather jacket and put it away in her bag. She must be passing by, he thought. He flashed a smile and tipped his hat over to the lady as she developed a distance between him and enjoying the cold embrace of water.

"Marine…?" He enquired. Collectable marine or 'ship stuff' as the lanky blonde gentleman was a little something out of his depth. Though he is running an emporium business, he mostly stuck with the retro tools, like washing machine, Iron, even televisions. All these tools, though old and lacking compared to modern technology, Irvine still believed that these old stars hadn't faded yet.

Irvine began to adjust his hat and mulled over it. "Hmm…oh!" He snapped his fingers and pointed at Vance casually, "I know a friend who was struggling to get rid of a vintage Sextant, a fine looking one. I told him that Sextants - no matter how old and how excellent of a condition - are mighty tough to sell. I got to admit, it's a beautiful looking tool. 19th century and all..."

He let out a soft sigh, a gust of wind rustled his opened shirt with a Orange and Blue Hawaiian decor. He lightly removed the cowboy straw hat and slid his hand over the slick hair back before gazing back, oozing a positive aura.

"If it models boats you're after, I could ask around. I know a handful of people who are wanting to part their boats with money. What specific era of ships are you after?" He spoke cooly, though he was rusty with his people skills, but years of promos and living in the kayfabe refused to let it fade away.

Aine couldn’t shake the growing feeling that the vendor was somehow familiar, especially after he had taken off the straw hat. The ensuing outburst between the men, of course, hadn’t manifested itself as she had feared and she felt it was just as well. Her financial situation wasn’t at all desperate and she opted to save her battery life in the meantime. As though her fake texting conversation had run its course, she turned off the video app and stuck the phone down into a side pocket of her bag. Again she took charge of her water bottle with the now free hand and sipped a bit of the refreshment.

The man was quite generous with his water, however, and considering the lack of customers he had chosen to charge it was likely to have been his only sale that day. She had to correct that thought as the blonde man asked about sea merchandise while gathering up a few trinkets. When he scratched his head she noticed a bit of jewelry upon his wrist and her eyes immediately honed in on the bauble that dangled from the bracelet. It was a Mariner’s cross or she was blind.

With the cap to the bottle clutched in the palm of the hand gripping her drink, she took another sip and hedged a bit closer. The vendor was talking about a sextant he could acquire for the man, and she assumed that would come with a bit of a finder’s fee. To be honest, she amended her initial assumption, this man might hook the customer up for free. She supposed that could work out for a good rapport and possible profits for the man down the line. But for flea markets that often moved about, return customers did not make up the bulk of the sales and that was a high risk bet at best.

The man dipped his hand down once more by the time she was close enough to get a good look at the bracelet and so she stood quite near before the table listening to the exchange before butting in to comment, ”That is a lovely bracelet you have there”, hoping to prompt him to show it off to her for a closer look. Even as she waited for the man’s reaction, her mind kept nudging her to recall where she had seen the vendor before. It was uncanny and would worm through her mind until she solved that riddle.

Vance listened to the man and scratched at his face as he looked at some of the older finds in the shop. It was pretty interesting, even if it didn't give Vance something other-worldly to play with. He had a knack for enjoying things that he thought needed to be enjoyed. Then the man spoke about a vintage sextant. "Era doesn't matter much, though usually pre-engine propulsion. Though if you have a Sextant, that sounds pretty awesome, can your friend get it over here?" Vance asked genuinely impressed. He reached out to grab an old iron that had one of the old copper link wire that Vance actually liked using in certain tools and took the box up to the man before going to look for anything else that would have had an old DC copper wiring he could take apart.

Vance heard the woman speak about his bracelet. So, he slid it off and handed it to her. As if it was just a random thing he wore for good luck. Though any Quincy could immediately feel the power humming off the intricate inlays of both Reishi and modern aircraft grade titanium. Specifically, it was a shield bracelet, Vance used it when he had problems dealing with projectiles. Then again Vance had problems dealing with a lot of things. The cross itself gave off a much softer thrum of power than the crafted gear itself. It was technically a Laden Hant, though it had no bonded master, after all Vance couldn't make it bond with himself. So he instead used it more like a channeling Foci than an actual Quincy spiritual weapon. Like every other piece of gear Vance used, it had a limited up-time because it could only use the reishi forced into it, rather than Vance collecting more.

"Like it, made it myself." Vance stated happily.