Fantasy F.E.A.R Club IC

[seasonedcat]

today was the day, 1 day from when a voice you never heard before filled your head while you slept. A location, time and date, today was the date and where you stood now was the location. An old park, overgrown from lack of use. Outside of the city's limits you had snuck out, the night hung over your head, avatars no doubt lurking somewhere near as they always seemed to be. The dirty entrance to the sign was covered in overgrown vines, the large fountain at the center of the park was the same, growth cracking through the stone and reclaiming it.

outside the city limits light no longer lit every inch of the streets, you could for the first time for some of you, see the stars over your head, the towering buildings lay empty and destroyed. The sky was clear tonight and the air was a fair temperature, it was late summer now and the air still claimed some of the warmth from the summer season. Similar growth that covered the park also covered the ground and buildings, grass grew through cement and signs, trying to retake what had once been theirs.

you weren't exactly sure why you were here. Maybe some of you had nowhere else to go, maybe others wanted to figure out what was happening, maybe you just wanted to be rid of what was happening to you. Either way, each of you made your way to the same place, an empty park in the middle of the night. Maybe you were regretting your choices now that you were in the dark streets alone, or maybe you were just hoping that an avatar wouldn't jump you. Either way its too late to turn back now, you wonder what awaits for you.
Juju Solirus jmann Tapfic Gravitational Force BittyBobcat Sleepless_Dreamer ScatheAriiasqDrayceon Squad141

 

[Tapfic]

Lilac
Location: Outside park
seasonedcat Juju jmann Gravitational Force BittyBobcat Sleepless_Dreamer ScatheAriiasqDrayceon Squad141

The axe handle was too long to fit completely into the bulky pack- though even if it had been compact enough; she would not have packed it away.

Florescent light reflected from skin, giving it an unnatural pallor and pooling in the depths of cold eyes. Like a ghost in the night- she stepped forward.
Further from the city, deeper into the wastelands. A setting that made up the bulk of her mother's bedtime stories- old recollections from days that had passed before Ly was born. Stories little her wished had been embellished. She could never manage to convince herself they were.

Now these wastes were a pleasant mystery. They held danger around every corner, gave the promise of an early grave that marched closer with every step, and filled her veins with addictive adrenaline. A place that might quell the frustrations that bubbled like hot tar in her cold body.

Lilac's steps were silent, but easy. Daring something she couldn't see to make the first move as she pushed on. Her muscles braced, fingers twitching to grab for her weapon, ready to swivel around, to lunge forward. Swing. Chop. To kill- or die trying.

The dim glow of the flashlight Ly clutched caught movement. She flicked it off and reached for her bag in a single moment, steeling herself as she turned.

A slow back and fourth motion met her cold gaze. The rocking of an old swing set pushed by the wind- rusted joints groaning with every sad movement as it politely asked to be put out of its misery. A tinge of disappointment tugged at the corner of Lilac's almost frown, given the lack of a target; before lightening into something more... Curious.

The girl didn't bother flicking the flashlight back on ( the starlight was enough to sustain her for now ) as she turned.

With ginger steps, Ly's new path led her to the assorted playground equipment. With wide eyes and straight lips, she inspected the swing- pushing it back and forth as it squeaked for her to stop. Finally she tugged on the old rusted chain. If it was sturdy enough she might-

It snapped in two. Its old rusted metal crumbled at the tug as though the lack of significant movement had been the only thing keeping it together the past hundred years.

Oh well.

 

[Sleepless_Dreamer]

Mari had been seriously questioning whether or not she'd show. She had a tendency to flake on a lot of things. Outings, get-togethers... sparse as they were nowadays, the young woman's social anxiety usually had her avoiding them. She would've looked to avoid this if she thought she actually had a choice in the matter. But every time she started to back out, that incessant, nagging feeling would scratch at the back of her mind.

You should go. It would say. Go. Go. Go.

Dios mio, was it annoying. But also creepy, with the potential to become downright unsettling if it went on. That seemed to be the way things worked with DIG. Relent, or go insane. Not exactly the best options.

Tonight, she relented. Her sleeveless white crop top was covered with an old denim jacket, the color of which matched her dark, high-waisted jeans. Her thick curls were still pulled up in a sloppy bun, blue kerchief wrapped around her head to try and keep some wayward strands in place. She still smelled like onions from her shift at the food truck. Maybe she'd get lucky and the scent would ward off the threats undoubtedly lurking in the shadows that seemed to be everywhere, all at once.

Mariella approached her destination. For some reason, the scene didn't frighten her. She'd walked through many a nightmare like this before. The dark, the depraved... it was almost-normal to her at this point. Her fears were much more... specific. Being alone at night was actually more comforting to her than walking amongst a crowd in broad daylight. Each crunch of dried grass and broken pavement beneath her sneakers was oddly familiar. Like she'd done this a thousand times. In a sense, she had. Mari only had the dream once, but she replayed it in her mind on countless occasions.

On none of those occasions was there a woman with purple hair and an axe in her backpack.

The sight gave Mari pause. She stopped a few yards outside of the playground, silently cursing DIG for luring her into what was surely a trap.

You puta madre... she thought.

But then a rush of... something swelled in her chest. Adrenaline. Anxiety, maybe. It had Mari taking a sudden breath as she felt DIG stir.

Go. Go. Go.

Mariella lifted a hand and took a few steps forward. "Hola." She called, her greeting... experimental. She really hoped she wasn't going to end up chop suey for this.

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

A flickering whiteness slipped between felled trees and broken buildings, moving quickly—quietly, yet leaving gems of red where it brushed too close as it clambered over long-quiet automobiles and silent buildings. It paused only occasionally, head jerking in miniscule increments as it moved on instinct, following the quiet siren-song that only it could hear.

It stopped on a stout building, nicking its wrist on a jagged, broken vent. For a moment, it paused, gilded with moonlight. A sharp breath.

"Quiet." It—he—hissed into the night, head snapping up with lips pulled back in a mockery of a grin. A grimace that looked a fair more disgusted than angry. The words, however, had little heat to them, blooming into the air with a shaky rhythm of hesitance and fear.

Mould's influence pulled again.

Jet straightened from where the sharp sting of red had kept one arm tucked close to his chest, briefly checking the bandage on woven along between his fingers and up the length of his forearm. Tied to standard though they were, the red seeping into the white prickled at his skin. He scowled, the sharp words of a surgeon at least a decade his senior trailing down his spine. He should be following orders. Getting rest on his one off day.

But...

Mould was dangerous. That, he knew. Dangerous even to him when left untouched. He needed to do something about it. He couldn't hurt anyone.

Again, his body urged him to moved. This time, Jet leaned into it, picking his way almost silently across the roof of what probably used to be a supermarket, where his eyes and ears found movement and sound easier. Where it felt less like a death trap and more like traversing the quiet hallways of a hospital at night. If he tried hard enough, he could even convince himself he smelled antiseptic.

Of course, the feeling only lasted so long as the roof did; until he had to slink his way carefully—careful. Always careful. Slow. Quiet—down the ladder that felt too much like that of his old college.

He hit the ground with little grace, but absolute silence.

Mould's influence pulled again—stronger. Excited. Almost as it was the day he spent his break time bandaging his arm. He was close. He knew he was, a new cut in his wrist dripping blood just as he remembered—however foggily—from the accursed "dream".

He tuned back into himself as the ground changed under his shoes, the sliding of glass replaced with overgrown grass that brushed his pants and pricked at his legs through his socks. It reached almost to his waist.

The hum of (a) voice(s) caught his ears just as he caught the silhouette of something vaguely humanoid. His nose wrinkled. People.

The siren's song that had drawn him from the city's gates picked up once more, the rhythm brushing a phantom hand against his cheek. His head jerked to the side, prompting a sharp twitch from his shoulder. A tiny shudder.

His better judgement cried, but the smarting of his arm pushed him forward; out from the shadow of a playground and into the open, finally catching a glance at the people that his mind hailed as doom. The melody that had been running through his brain on loop for the past three days, however, quieted into a low buzz.

Death by one or another; he'd take the one with the fewest losses.

 

[BittyBobcat]

Gray
Location: Park
The shattered remmenants of windows glinted in the moonlight as he walked down the desolate streets, each time seemingly perfectly spaced so that he had to glance twice before registering that they weren't a pair of gleaming eyes staring at him from within the gaping holes left in buildings where glass—however transparent and flimsy it was—should've left a barrier between him and the shadows that looked all to similar to the few creatures he could've sworn were about to climb through his computer screen when he had first seen them. He had the foresight to bring a flashlight, of course, but the trip out was enough to teach him that he would rather see not-too-terrifically everywhere than extremely well in one spot. Otherwise he would spend the whole night whirling around and swinging the beam about, searching for the source of some noise that was either imagined or trying to kill him.

Somewhere, a few months back in some presumably fictional story from before the world came crashing down in on itself if he remembered correctly, he read the phrase "heart beating like a jackrabbit's," and thought it was a bit of an exaggeration. After all—if the small collection of facts he'd gathered on metabolism were correct—smaller animals' hearts beat faster than larger ones, and rabbits were a lot smaller than humans, but now he couldn't say it would be far off to describe himself. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if he keeled over right then and there just from the stress of it all. Maybe it would be better if he did, avatar-waiting-to-go-off-the-deep-end and all that.

No. No, he was here to check if that wasn’t the case. He couldn’t die until then, he reminded himself, so—skittish as he was—being scared of whatever wandered the dark that he was sure would eat him (or worse) was a good thing. It would keep him alive. Hopefully.

The crash and rattle of something falling met his ears. He flinched backward, though he hadn’t quite pinned where the sound was coming from. The thought of a swing and disappointment flicked dimly through his mind.

For a moment, he stood stock still in the darkness silently praying that no one spotted him. A dark patch lay in front of him where there was little glass to set an array of flickering light out for him. Slowly, shapes formed out of it. Something tall that poked out at odd angles. A set of bars here, a climbing net there. A playground?

A glint of unrusted metal stuck out among the broken down area. Sharp. An axe. The recognition came without any proper view to convey it, but he was beginning to get used to the sensation of Knowing and this wasn’t the time to worry about it anyway. He knew there were people and he knew at least one was armed and that was what mattered.

Gray debated leaving right then. He could do it. Turn tail and run away. It would be safer… until someone found out about him, at least. It would certainly be easier. The tight ache of anxiety in his chest was a testament to that.

And yet, still, he found himself walking forward. Step by step, a constricting curiosity wrapping around his legs and dragging them forward. He had to know why he was led here. He had to Know who those people were. Had they been called too? He was certain they were.

Gray followed at the behest of the mystery that loomed like the net of stars above them. He couldn’t see the stars in the city, but here? Perhaps makings of the trap would become clear.

He stopped a couple yards away, hovering far enough that the axe might not reach him. His arms tucked close to his chest, hands meeting in the middle to fiddle with the flashlight he still hadn’t turned on quite yet. Just in case he needed to shine it in their eyes and make a break for it.

His throat felt dry and his voice came as a whisper that tentatively peaked above the silence of the nighttime air. “Um, hello…?”

 

[Gravitational Force]

It's so hard being the most important person in the universe, the one being around whom all of existence revolves.

But destiny called and Isaac had decided to answer.

Enough of that BS anyway, let's get this show on the road!

The crowbar strapped to Isaac's waist was a comforting weight. A multi-purpose tool, it could pry things open, bash things open, be used as a weapon, or if Isaac had an itch he couldn't scratch it extended his reach.

The Madhouse offered the power to redefine reality. Lie to others, lie to yourself, lie to existence and make it become truth. The real power wasn't in resisting, it was in ensuring you didn't lose the parts of yourself you valued along the way. Life's just so much more fun when your imagination is the only limit on what you can do.

Light dances across a puddle and Isaac's no longer where he was standing. Then Isaac is standing next to himself long enough to do a twirl and dancing forwards again as his double is dipped and finished. It's a f-king riot, you can't help but laugh!

Isaac appears in the middle of the group for a moment, then there's a flicker and he's off to the side. His grin seems to be so wide it's coming off the sides of his face.

"You all felt it too? Lovely, lovely!"

His shadow stretches behind him at an odd angle and anyone paying close attention would see it seems to be laughing.

 

[jmann]

Deonte Brookes
“Watchdog”

The B-Train hissed its brakes, slowly pulling to a stop. The two clicks as the train switched rails told Deonte Brookes he was pulling into Malton. He left the train in his hoodie, his classic letterman jacket stuffed into his duffel bag. There was no room for fashion here, not if you wanted to keep those clothes. The streets of Malton were dishevelled and crowded. Dozens of people filtered through the muddy streets or filled the balconies above. Gang iconography covered the walls and was tattooed on half the people Deonte walked past. A golden eye was once spray-painted onto the wall at the end of the street, and in no time the gangs had covered it in dicks and hate symbols.

Every part of him screamed to turn back but another force pushed him on. The only reasons a man would willingly come through Malton were drugs or, like Deonte, desperation. Three nights of nightmares drove him to the very edge of the city, where racists and murderers were one and the same. Deonte had come here for one reason only: the holes. The guards had left Malton so dishevelled that the Wall was in serious need of repairs. It was easy enough for Deonte to slip through undisturbed into the wasteland of the outer city. He had left the city twice before, and it was never easy seeing the rundown landscape where families once roamed. It had always put Deonte on edge to see the buildings long since l reclaimed by nature. It was like nature itself was fighting back against civilisation. The little voice in his head urged him to turn back. Leaving the city wasn’t safe, it never was. But there was always a way of silencing the little voice of fear.

Deonte climbed through the collapsed doorway of an old store and unpacked his bag. Inside were yellow cargo pants, black gloves, a yellow plated mask that echoed his voice, and a pair of steampunk goggles with yellow LEDs wrapped around the rim. Deonte changed into his costume and pulled out the last item, an aluminium bat spray-painted black and gold. With this, he adopted his mantle: Watchdog. A symbol of hope for people to count on when nobody else would help.

Feeling slightly more confident, Watchdog prowled the abandoned streets, following his senses until he encountered a ruined playground with two figures standing in the middle. One by one more figures came into view, crowding around an old swing set. A voice suddenly shattered the eerie silence. “Lovely, lovely!” the shock sent Watchdog to a crouch behind a burnt-out car. There was no telling what was out here and someone was shouting? The pull was strong here, it was exactly where he was supposed to go. If he was going fight an avatar out here, at least there would be others to help.

Watchdog ran into the playground and vaulted up a child's slide. In only a moment he stood atop the playground, scanning the landscape like a lighthouse.
“Shut up, you’re gonna get us killed,” Watchdog hissed, his voice slightly distorted by the metal guard, “you know how many Avatars are out here?”

 

[Squad141]

Clu looked back at himself through the reflection in the full body hanging mirror of the dim dressing room and blinked. Oh, he must have zoned out again. Probably because of the... message? Direction? The entity that had attached itself to him was pulling, literally and metaphorically, in a direction he had scouted a bit earlier before it got dark out. Clu had no idea what the importance of the place was, or what the entity wanted, but one thing was for certain: A place so open, so free from the city, was perfect for one of his bigger pieces. And even if it was a trap, he had confidence he could outrun them in one of the four directions he had mapped out earlier.

Taking off his glasses, Clu began his transformation to his evening persona. Taking out the breathable black strips of fabric, he began wrapping them around his head tightly and precisely, having done it hundreds of times before. By the time the fabric reached his collarbone, his headshot could have been confused with a charcoal mummy. With the addition of his glasses over the wrappings and flipping up of his hood, he now more resembled an emo variation of The Invisible Man. Perfect.

Sliding back the moth-eaten curtains, Clu made his way through the disordered retail store, exiting into the main lobby of the abandoned mall, AKA his main hideout. Zipping up his bag full of art supplies and strapping it securely around his torso, Clu set off. Exiting the mall through the shattered glass ceiling and letting the wind blow against him. After a minute, he crouched back down, and descended the side of the mall from the various leftover machines and platforms from another abandoned construction site.

It took about twenty minutes to get near the borders, and though Clu knew he could make it there quicker, he knew better to be too confident. While he had mapped out some paths to get there routinely, he didn't know what obstacles would be there. Carrying a bag of art supplies and wearing his disguise was always a burden, but criminals, Avatars, and shady people in general could always pop up out of the blue, not to mention any Soldiers who recognized Clu or his work as Fisheye. Luckily, sticking to the low building's ceilings and fire escapes was a clever tactic to avoid any confrontation from below as the stars above became clearer and clearer.

The playground was not empty anymore, but that was to be expected. The participants, thankfully, didn't seem like outright villains. They seemed a bit nervous, weary of the ones beside them, just like Clu himself. Idling, he walked a bit closer, realizing that he was right next to another person in a mask reprimanding some smiling man (that did seem very villain-esque) about attracting too much attention.

Clu, now Fisheye, did not say anything yet. He'd rather not until things started to make sense.

 

[Juju]

Ginny 'Gin' Barlowe

Interaction: N/A || Mention: ScatheAriiasqDrayceon (blood trail and Jet) jmann (Watchdog) Gravitational Force (Isaac) Tapfic (Lilac)
​

For humanity's great line of defense against the spooks, it was surprising just how many gaps there were in the city's walls. Not physical of course, inspections were mostly on point, depending on who was in charge. The real holes were the vulnerabilities unknown to the majority of the population. Shifts of the guards, blind spots, a tunnel made under an abandoned candy store. The insidious decay of ignorance.

Gin had used them all in her line of work. Previous line of work, she reminded herself. Thinking of it, she was unsure of just how long it had been since she 'quit'. A month? It seemed like a lifetime ago. What was it like to think that locked doors were enough? To not see that thing around every corner, smiling and patient.

A week ago Gin would have never have thought of venturing this far beyond the walls of the city, even without that thing breathing down her neck. A week ago she had not been this desperate. Each sighting of the monster had been closer and closer, ever so slowly. It wanted to be seen, to play with her dread before it went in for the kill. When she received that dream, she had nothing left to lose. She almost half hoped going out into the dark beyond the city lights would catch it by surprise, throw it off her trail, but she knew better than that. It had her scent.

Speaking of which, the further Gin walked away from the city the clearer the air got. No longer did it reek of sewage and human skin. It was chill with the night, crisp and clear. She could smell the dry blades of grass between the asphalt, still warm from the setted sun. It was also quieter, but that only put her on high alert. She avoided the rich smelling asphalt and stuck to the shadows, moving between buildings only when she was absolutely sure no monster was watching her.

It was as Gin ducked into an old supermarket, that she found the first sign of what was to come. She had no idea where the park would be, yet had instinctively been drawn here. Her stomach dropped when she discovered why. Droplets of red were scattered across the dingy linoleum tiles, concentrated in a spot under a ladder. Shaken off by a landing, no doubt. She peered down at it suspiciously, hating how she knew by the smell that it was fresh.

"Shit..." she muttered under her breath, not sure if it was the blood that scared her or how she identified it as human.

Gin's eyes followed the tiny trail of blood and soon enough her feet did too. It took longer than she hoped, thanks to the broken glass she had to avoid, but eventually the trail lead her towards a park. The park. It should be deserted, but right now she could see a meeting of people. Gin crouched behind the overgrown bushes and crept her way to a better view point.

'Just my luck to run into a goddamn gang', she thought, frowning from under her cover.

She was downwind, and could easily recognize one of the men as the source of the blood trail. He seemed sickly, and far too thin to be living. Still, his height could be an advantage if she wasn't careful. There was a girl too, her eyes as sharp as the axe poorly hidden in her backpack. Strangely enough the two of them did not seem to know each other, yet that axe had not been drawn.

She could have passed it off as a new client, until more people began to show up with equal amounts of familiarity. If this was not a gang then why would these people go beyond the walls? It clicked the moment she saw the duplicating man. She flinched at his laugh and grit her teeth, sharp canines glinting in the moonlight. Avatars?! Her eyes were wide and frantic, her heart beating like the wings of a trapped bird. She looked over her shoulders, scanning each and every shadow. Did they know she was here? Did it know?

Gin did her best to control her breathing, sure that any of them would hear her if she didn't. She thought of running, until one of the men cautioned about 'alerting avatars'. For a moment confusion overpowered the fear. If they were not avatars, or a gang, then there was only one other possibility. 'They could be like me. They could have had that dream...'

She froze as the same man climbed atop a slide and surveyed the edges of the park, yellow eyes wide and breath still.

 

[Solirus]

Thomas​

He felt it, an impulse, a feeling that he'd felt many times before when staring directly at a jump, one which could lead to death should the movements be anything but perfect. It was what gave him purpose, what made him alive, to commit actions which placed his well being or life in peril, it fueled him. But such impulses had withered when he experienced a dream, one unlike any other for when he awoke it seemed he had been blessed with abilities and powers. Such powers rid him of perils he lived for, he could fly and while nauseating it could save him should he fall.

This impulse however was new, it didn't desire to be in danger but instead pulled him and guided him somewhere, far from the reaches of the city. Thomas had previously escaped the walls due to the thrill and danger but now he wouldn't wander aimlessly and instead followed the pull.

Thomas made his way from building to building, wearing only normally clothing with a dark hoodie. These powers had seemingly granted him an endless pocket able to store and pull out anything he wanted, but only doing so inconsistently never knowing if it was his technique or his mentality that was failing him.

The pull grew stronger and Thomas's movements grew careful and slower until eventually he heard the voices of people if only faintly. Peeking out of the upper level of the building he was in Thomas hopped off, slowing his descent with his flight. Quickly he dashed to hide himself but the pull still remained eventually forcing himself to walk and reveal himself yet not uttering a word, observing the individuals around him.

Infront he saw many individuals but he focused on those that stood out, mainly the crazy one who seemed to show off, the masked man who quickly move to attempt to shut up the crazy one, and the one with the axe. Thomas was particularly fixated on the axe, placing his hands on his pockets he tried to reach out for a knife he'd place in his deep pockets but unable to even feel the handle of it.

 

[seasonedcat]

The smoke lulled from the tip of his cigarette like a hammock in the wind as he glanced down at the new Unbounds that gathered. From his spot he could see them all, wisps in the dark, two hid from the others, separated from the pack. It would be annoying to deal with them now, but their level of distrust was something that would keep them alive longer then the rest.

the room he was in was dark, as dark as the world around him, even the small amount of moonlight from the broken window he stood next to didn't stop the shake in his hands and the thump of his heart. His body was tense, he could feel shadows gripping at his flesh, scratching it, tearing it, his scars ached, he ached. But he just stood there, stoic as ever, taking a particularly large intake of smoke from his cancer stick. It burned his lungs, tearing at his alveolus, he could feel them screaming for air as he held it in. His flesh sacks itched and screamed for release but he just continued to hold it even as the cells inside them fizzled out. Maybe if he was lucky this habit would kill him one day.

he let out a sigh at that, the smoke fleeing out of his lungs as they shoved it out desperate for his next intake of air. His years of this nasty habit allowed him to quell the itch in his throat and kill the developing cough. He still had work to do, no matter how much he bled, how exhausted he become, if his limbs fell off, he had to keep going. His gaze turned from the people bellow to the cigarette in his hand, watching as the ambers fell to ash at his feet, the fire nicking at his fingers, burning them with white hot pain. He just watched it happen, a stone face until it fell from his grip, the handle becoming ash that crumbled under his light hold.

as the final particle of ash fell from his burnt fingers he pushed himself up, that was the que. With an expert swiftness he pulled his mask up over her face, concealing the scars that lined his skin and most of his identity. Unlike his normal mask however, this was a gas mask. Without moving more Night descended down into the shadow bellow him, entering a world similar to water. The air was thin in there and the light was nonexistent except for the movements he could make out above him from having to see in the dark for so long. He kept his eyes up at the small residues of light that just barely penetrated the shadows, knowing it was better then looking anywhere else. He knew that if he looked at the shadows he would see familiar faces that would make the already building panic worse.

he jumped between shadows, and if anyone had noticed the strange shadow of Isaac the figure in the shadow's laugh would die as it seemingly choked, gripping its throat before it then became a normal shadow. His hand clutched inside his pocket where a canister sat calmly. Gripping it in his pocket he let out a light breath before he moved swiftly. The canister opened and hid among the shadows that seemingly concealed it for a moment as gas poured out, by the time they would notice the hissing sound and find where it was coming from it would be too late. Without wasting any time he gripped the shadows behind the girl who lurked on the edge. The shadows moved behind her, grabbing her and pulling her into range of the gas before dissipating.

he shook from the effort from that but didn't have much more time while they were distracted by the sudden intro to the girl. Jumping between the shadow quickly he appeared behind Watchdog his hand coming from a shadow of folds in his sweater as it grabbed the mask on his face, his voice muttering just behind the other simple words, "that just won't do." in a deep voice as he tore it from his face before giving him a light shove sending him sliding down the slide.

the fabric that wrapped around Clu's face would do little to stop the onslaught of chemicals that entered his system from the clear gas. It would only take seconds for all of the group to be affected. It didn't take them long to all tumble to the ground unconscious as Night came into form before them, maybe being caught in the last glimpses before unconsciousness.

as the world faded to black for the others however, it was soon replaced by another world, as if it formed around them. Their hearts would race, grips of fear seemingly grabbing them from every angle. For each Unbounded it was different, but there was one common thread between them all. They were afraid.
--

Spoiler: Jet

you can feel the chain around your throat, around your wrists and your ankles. You can smell your own sweat, your own blood, you are shaking you are soaked in ice cold water. As you open your eyes you see yourself in a circus. Distorted laughing faces look down at your naked body. Chains are latched onto your limbs, your skin raw and bleeding from its harsh pull as a ring leader pulls at your chains harshly and leads you to the front.

the crowd laughs, screams, pure joy at the sight of you suffering. Another pail of cold water falls onto you chilling you further as the crowd goes crazy. The thing that drags your attention however is the cattle gun that sits at a table in front of you. Your chains are brought to a pole that stands in the dark dirt ground, the ring leader latches you onto it, then going forward to speak to the crowd, marveling at the cattle gun before you.

the only issue is that you can't understand anything he is saying he speaks to the crowd as they cry out in joy at whatever he is saying. No matter how hard you strain your ears, no matter how hard you focus you can't understand what he is saying. All you can feel, all you can seem to focus on is the cattle gun before you. You can feel panic overflowing you.

you may not be able to understand what they are saying but you know what is coming. They are going to kill you, drive the needle through your skull. They are then going to tear you apart, rip your meat from your bones to enjoy, drink your blood like its juice, boil your bones for soup. You know what is coming, you know they will enjoy you. You are scared, another bucket of water is doused on you. They are going to play with you before you go, you are going to be eaten. But the thing that scares you the most, is that you can't do anything to stop it.

Spoiler: Mari

your eyes fly open, you are surrounded by your crying family. They hold themselves in the small dirty church you can recognize from being somewhere near your house. You are comfy, far too comfy and it soon occurs to you that you are sitting inside a coffin.

your family cries together, speaking about how much they will miss you, that they can't believe that you are gone. The only thing is, you aren't gone. You are right here, you can feel yourself breathing, you can feel the coffin you sit in, you can smell the scent of human sweat from the hot day and the zero air-conditioning in the church. Your eyes are open, but you can't move. Your body is frozen in a peaceful state.

no matter how you struggle or try to thrash you can't move, you can't even open your mouth to scream. As your family cries the world around you begins to move. Just out of sight from your immobile head someone begins to move your coffin. It then occurs to you what happens next. You are going to be buried.

the realization makes your heart begin to race, your family gives you one last look before they shut the coffin. You can feel it begin to move again, dragging you to your eternal tomb. You can't move you can't do anything. Its even hotter inside the coffin, you can feel sweat dripping down your body, sticking your fancy clothes to you. But you can't move. They are going to bury you. You are going to suffocate slowly under the earth.

they are going to bury you.

Spoiler: Loralai

you awake to the sound of a loud noise, something you can't ever remember hearing but for some reason you know it as a bomb. You are suddenly thrown out of bed by your mother, her face covered in tears as she grips you tightly, pulling you to lead you to somewhere,

"Ly come quick, they are attacking again we have to get to the bunker, we have to!" she drags you down the steps of a home you don't know if you know but still clicks as your home. Your bare feet patter on the steps as you rush downstairs following your mother as if in a daze.

your mother rushes you outside and the the sight makes you shake. Outside your house bodies lay in the street. Ash falls from the sky, a building just at the end of the block lay destroyed, your English teacher had lived there. You can hear planes flying overhead, you can see bodies in the street, mothers crying over their children's body.

for some reason this makes you want to break down and cry. Somehow you feel like you know them all, this was your home and now they are all dead. Your mother tries to pull you from your stupor frantically. She is crying, sobbing, begging you to move.

but you just want to cry, you want to give up. Everything around you is gone. Everyone is dying. And for what. That makes something clench in your chest. For what reason was this all happening? Why was there so much violence? You know that it has no reason. The people dead will be forgotten, everyone around you will never be remembered by the world. All this suffering, all this destruction, it was pointless. Someone ordered you dead for no reason, offended by your existence or just upset over poorly cooked meat maybe, you didn't know. Was there ever a reason for war?

your throat is tight, you can hear the sounds of soldiers' footsteps and you know they aren't hear to save you. All this violence is pointless, all of it is.

Spoiler: Deonte

when you open your eyes for a moment you wonder if they are still closed. You can't see anything around you, nothing at all can penetrate the darkness that consumes you. You don't know where you are, nor how you got here, you can't see anything around you to recognize even if you had lived in this place your whole life.

you hear movement around you. You turn towards it but can't see anything. You can feel cold sweat dripping down your back, your throat dry. You know someone else is here. If you strain your ears you can just about hear their breathing. You can feel their eyes on you, watching you, and it makes you want to shake.

as you try to see through the darkness you think you can see shapes form and disappear amidst the shadows. Figures mould and bend around you and taunt you as you can feel the eyes from everywhere. No matter where you moved you came in contact with nothing. The ground is smooth and cold and offers no comfort.

you can't see, you don't know where you are. But you do know someone is watching you, you can feel their eyes as if they are laughing at you, toying with you. The air is cold and you can't smell anything as if you were in a void of nothing. Your eyes can't see anything, you can't feel anything, but you know someone or something is there.

Spoiler: Thomas

you can hear the sound of helicopter wings far before you manage to pry your eyes open. If you try to move your hands you suddenly could become aware that you are in a straightjacket, or maybe you noticed when you look around and see yourself in a dingy helicopter.

duct tape holds some parts of it together, and you can feel it rattle and shake as it flies through the sky. A man with a face you can't seem to understand stares at you with a wide smile. He just sits there, no ear protection on, wearing clothing of no interest, but he is just sitting there.

you can also notice that the helicopter is really high up. Like really, really high up. You can't even see the ground if you look through one of the holes in the floor. You can see yourself far above the clouds, the air is thin and makes it hard to breathe. The only thing is that while you know you are high up, even if you look up or down all you see is the pure blue of the sky.

how far were you up? How long would you fall? At that though you then realize that while the smiling man has a parachute, you do not. You then realize that they intend to let you free fall into the abyss. The though makes your chest tighten.

you once took comfort in heights, in doing things that seemed unimaginable, but even here you did not feel safe. You knew if you hit the ground you wouldn't make it. And you knew that you did not have your powers to save you, you could feel an emptiness deep inside you where you once could grasp it from. You were going to fall. No one was going to save you. You couldn't see the ground, how many days would it take you to final become a splat on the ground? You don't know but it makes your heart race. You are going to fall and nothing is there to catch you.

Spoiler: Ginny

a sweet scent fills your nose mixed with the scent of floral tea. As you open your eyes you find yourself sitting at a fancy tea party. Or well a table set for a tea party, but you are the only one there. You are dressed in an extravert dress, ruffles flow down to the dirt bellow you, a mix of pure white and blue. A bonnet sits on your head, your black hair styled into beautiful curls, your feet held in a pair of little heels.

your nails are painted and you can feel the familiar pressure of makeup on your face. You feel like a doll, dressed up for some little girls tea party. The only thing is instead of a room around you, you are in a dark forest. The fancy china and expertly made scones are out of place in the dirty woods, your dress' white frills dancing on dirt as if wanting to get ruined.

but as you sit there you then hear the sound of a twig snap behind you. You feel yourself perk up, tensing, your ears twitching at the noise. You feel a familiar panic grip you. Someone is behind you. As you turn you can't see through the darkness in the woods, but you know someone is there. You can just barely hear their breathing, see some of the underbrush moving from their weight.

they are coming, they are hunting you. Your heart goes wild, you need to run. You need to flee. You are their prey and you know that if you do not move instantly that its jaws will be around your throat, tearing it from your body before tearing into your delicate flesh.

you need to run.

Spoiler: Gray

you could feel the tight rope scratching your skin. It burrowed into your flesh, just barely lose enough to not slice into your skin. The chair you sit in digs into your back just as much as the rope, your constrictions pushing you into the rough wood. The room you are in is dingy and cold, a basement of some sort, the cracking walls drip water from them, the smell of mold invades your nose.

something that catches your attention is the table in front of you. The blinking red of recording from a camera sits before you, another light coming from a laptop as you can see a comment section flowing with words too fast to read with a black screen above it. It is then that the black screen begins to take to life. You can feel yourself freeze up as every single secret you have ever had in your life was playing on your screen. It also occurs to you just how many people were watching this.

everyone you know is no doubt seeing this. Your parents, your siblings, all of them. You can't read what they are saying, just out of range, that sends something through you of pure rich panic. How were they reacting? What were they saying? You couldn't tell you couldn't breathe. You knew everyone was seeing this, everyone was watching you helplessly and laughing at you. Everything you ever held tight everything you ever kept secret was now on display and you knew they were laughing.

no matter how you struggled you couldn't free yourself. In fact, it felt as if the ropes were tightening around you. You could feel their eyes on you, feel the sham, the humiliation. It rocked you to the core, made you feel helpless as you couldn't even move. Your skin could break and tear but the ropes wouldn't loosen, all you could do was sit in your own shame.

Spoiler: Isaac

the ground under you was smooth and cold, and as you opened your eyes you found yourself amidst a room full of many different types of mirrors. Stuck at all angles of the walls and doors, each displaying an image of you when you got near it. Doors also lined the walls, covered with mirrors, the only way you could tell they were doors was the shinny, reflective doorknob that pushed past the layer of mirrors.

the only thing was that each mirror you looked different. Something was wrong in each image of you, distorted in a way you couldn't tell. But what made it worse was that you couldn't tell which one was actually you. No matter how hard you wracked your brain you couldn't figure it out. What did you look like again? Each one felt right but wrong at the same time. Each one different but still you.

a feeling of panic took a hold of you then as a voice filled your head, was it your voice? You couldn't remember how you even sounded. The voice told you to go through the door with the mirror that was you. You had no idea which one that was though. All of them looked the same, all of them felt like you. It made you shiver, how were you supposed to know which one was you. Even the floor and the ceiling were mirrors, not even they looked like you. You felt like you were going crazy, what type of person didn't know what they looked like?

Spoiler: Clu

there was a knock at your door. You jolted at the sudden noise, now seeing yourself amidst a room full of mannequins, each posed in a different direction, but all looking at you. You sat in the middle of them, the only thing was you were posed too. Your body didn't budge as you stood and you could only blink back at them, the only thing willing to move was your neck. A voice called from the other side of the door asking for you to open it. The voice made you shiver, the voice didn't sound right. It sounded as if it were a recording, played back to you. It sounded not human.

if you turned to face the door with your neck or found yourself blinking you soon became acutely aware of the fact that the mannequins had moved. Just millimeters or barely so but you could feel it. They moved so little that with each blink it felt as if they had always been in that position, but you knew otherwise. With each blink no matter how hard you tried to keep them open they moved, growing closer and closer.

even though their faces were smooth and blank, no futures glossing them, you could feel a wicked stare on them. The voice outside the door continued to prod, knocking louder as it called for you to open. Nothing in this room was right, they weren't human yet they moved so similar to them as they stalked towards you inch by inch. But you couldn't move, you were the same as them, a mannequin with a fancy suit displayed on you and yet they all walked towards you with a look that made you feel as if you were about to get attacked. But mannequins don't even have eyes, how can they give you any sort of look?

a window sat at the other end of the plain room you were in, but as the mannequins slow etched away from blocking it you could now see it. Long fingers, far too long to be from a human curled around the open window, slowly, finger by finger. Its nails were long like its fingers, dirty and chipped. The pure amount of filth on it stood out from its white skin. It was going to enter the room, and you knew that it wouldn't be a person, a human, when it did.

Juju BittyBobcat Tapfic Squad141 Solirus jmann Gravitational Force ScatheAriiasqDrayceon Sleepless_Dreamer

 

[Tapfic]

Lilac
Location: Outside park

"Hola,"

A muscle in Ly's hand twitched. She wanted her axe.
From the darkness a woman stepped carefully, a stranger wandering the dark of the night. It looked nervous, and dreadfully under prepared for the dangers outside- alarm bells sounded in the back of Lilac's mind.
An avatar disguised as a pretty woman? Far from unheard of. Maybe The Guest, or Mould; but either way the solution remained the same.
A muscle in her hand twitched for the weight of her axe.

" Um, hello...?"

A pitifully thin man joined them- and Ly paused her line of action. Confusion barely touching the corners of her lips before a third; undoubtedly more annoying presence made itself known with an over-the-top show of power that etched an immediate dislike into her. And then it spoke.

"You all felt it too? Lovely, lovely!"

The obnoxious voice grated on her ears, and made grey eyes narrow.

" Shut up, " Ly grumbled the words under her breath as another joined the group- a thing in a mask; it expressed a similar sentiment; though it's words were more sensible of a warning than what Lilac had provided.

It wasn't difficult to put two and two together after the brief, unpleasant interaction. The things-the people that gathered around were not Avatars, yet. Each was another of the almost-avatars; drawn to this place by some tug against their psyche just as she had been.

She felt the gaze of the crowd- as it passed over and landed on her; and the subtle uptick of her heart.
She didn't like this.
Too many people, too many chances. Lilac worked alone; and away from people. Especially ones that could loose what little bits kept them human- kept them afraid- at any given moment.

Lilac turned to leave just as the commotion began.
The sudden appearance of a girl- something ripped off the warning man's mask- and a thick haze that spread across the park, and her senses.

Even with her muddied mind and half lidded vision, it only took a moment for her hand to find the hilt of her weapon and tear it free.
Unfortunately, it only took a moment and a half for whatever drug her lungs had inhaled to send her falling like a puppet with severed strings.

Location: Dream scape

" You awake to the sound of a loud noise, something you can't ever remember hearing but for some reason you know it as a bomb. You are suddenly thrown out of bed by your mother, her face covered in tears as she grips you tightly, pulling you to lead you to somewhere,

"Ly come quick, they are attacking again we have to get to the bunker, we have to!" she drags you down the steps of a home you don't know if you know but still clicks as your home. Your bare feet patter on the steps as you rush downstairs following your mother as if in a daze.

your mother rushes you outside and the the sight makes you shake. Outside your house bodies lay in the street. Ash falls from the sky, a building just at the end of the block lay destroyed, your English teacher had lived there. You can hear planes flying overhead, you can see bodies in the street, mothers crying over their children's body.

for some reason this makes you want to break down and cry. Somehow you feel like you know them all, this was your home and now they are all dead. Your mother tries to pull you from your stupor frantically. She is crying, sobbing, begging you to move.

but you just want to cry, you want to give up. Everything around you is gone. Everyone is dying. And for what. That makes something clench in your chest. For what reason was this all happening? Why was there so much violence? You know that it has no reason. The people dead will be forgotten, everyone around you will never be remembered by the world. All this suffering, all this destruction, it was pointless. Someone ordered you dead for no reason, offended by your existence or just upset over poorly cooked meat maybe, you didn't know. Was there ever a reason for war?

Your throat is tight, you can hear the sounds of soldiers' footsteps and you know they aren't hear to save you. All this violence is pointless, all of it is."

It was pointless and cruel.
It was hot, and loud, and burned like hell.
It made her grit her teeth, dirty nails digging into her palms until the top layer of skin broke under the pressure, as the adrenaline pumping through her veins boiled her blood. Pain turned to rage as quickly as it had once been fear.

If they wanted violence, Loralai was going to give them violence. Better yet, Loralai Alice was going to give them a reason for it. When the monsters crumpled like porcelain martyrs at her feet, she was going to let them spend the very last moments of their disgusting lives begging for a mercy they never gave, and then she was going to cleave their heads from their shoulders.

" Ly, please, please we have to go-" Her mothers hands tugged helplessly against her arm.
The words echoed, and Lilac remembered her name.

Her mother never called her by it, obviously she couldn't have- it wouldn't make any sense for her to.
Not when had stolen that name from the woman when she died however many years ago.
It wasn't her mothers given name. No- Lilac couldn't remember that.
It was what she went by in her days hunting. The name of the heroine in those old stories; who carried a red axe and relished the taste of fear.

No words were spoken when she turned, it's not as though whoever this thing pretending to be her mother would appreciate an explanation.

Lilac needed her axe. When she had it, she would show these monsters the violence they had earned.

 

[Squad141]

Of course, his fabric-mask-thing wouldn't work against gas. It was only made to really keep Clu's identity safe, and keep things from getting on his eyes. But gas, he had never considered that. Maybe, when he got back home, he could try and figure that out....

Clu hit the ground face first. Luckily, his head slipped slightly to the right, keeping his glasses from breaking.

~

Clu now felt very different.
Perhaps it was the obvious fact that he was in a situation that many would call impossible.
Perhaps it was because he could not move.
Perhaps it was because the slow movement of the mannequins around him lulled up an old childish fear of his about being left alone in a department store by his dad for a few minutes.

No.
The knocking on the door. The voice.
These things that were so specific to him. If he could see better, Clu would bet that the room even resembled one of the retail stores in his hideout.
The voice and the knocking on the door. Was this a dream? It had to be.
Clu had read up on Avatars and Entities. Oh no. Had he succumbed, somehow? Was this what an Avatar experienced the entire time, after breaking? After losing control?

Clu stood for a second, silent. The knocking stopped, and the fingers appeared. Long fingers, with dirty nails as long and thin as the fingers themselves. With such pale skin, in such a state, Clu remembered a story his mother had told as a child.
It was about a witch that gobbled children up for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and even dessert. A pale witch with a pretty face and pretty clothes, but cursed with nasty hands.
Clu wondered why his mother owned that book. He had never thought about it until now.

...

Clu began thinking harder.
If he was in some state of control loss, what could he do? He had to do something. Eventually, he wouldn't be afraid anymore. Eventually, the thing would have to come in and make him scared even more. If Clu thought about it...
Maybe this was his chance?
There were only two possibilities, Clu thought, maybe three.

1. This is A Guest at work. I have succumbed and become an Avatar and am now probably going around making people scared about who they are and were.
2. This a dream. The gas knocked me out and I am dreaming, and eventually I will wake up.
3. This is an active battleground with A Guest. Maybe battleground isn't the right word, but a place to see if he could keep it at bay.

Only the second guaranteed his and other's safety. It was the one he wanted the most. It was the one that, like he had in the past, he wished for the most.

Clu stood, unmoving. Clu waited, and hoped.

 

[Gravitational Force]

the ground under you was smooth and cold, and as you opened your eyes you found yourself amidst a room full of many different types of mirrors. Stuck at all angles of the walls and doors, each displaying an image of you when you got near it. Doors also lined the walls, covered with mirrors, the only way you could tell they were doors was the shinny, reflective doorknob that pushed past the layer of mirrors.

the only thing was that each mirror you looked different. Something was wrong in each image of you, distorted in a way you couldn't tell. But what made it worse was that you couldn't tell which one was actually you. No matter how hard you wracked your brain you couldn't figure it out. What did you look like again? Each one felt right but wrong at the same time. Each one different but still you.

a feeling of panic took a hold of you then as a voice filled your head, was it your voice? You couldn't remember how you even sounded. The voice told you to go through the door with the mirror that was you. You had no idea which one that was though. All of them looked the same, all of them felt like you. It made you shiver, how were you supposed to know which one was you. Even the floor and the ceiling were mirrors, not even they looked like you. You felt like you were going crazy, what type of person didn't know what they looked like?

Well, that sucked. Someone spoiled his entrance and after breathing in whatever that gas was he was either hallucinating or some weird shit was going down. Or both.

Isaac looked around. Well, it wasn't like he was in the habit of memorizing his own appearance. He took a deep breath, stamped his feet, and shrugged.

"Sanity is relative. And who the f-k gave you the authority to tell ME what to do? Hell, if you want crazy I'll give you crazy. Any reflective surface can be a mirror."

Isaac started smashing the mirrors. Finally he managed to peel off enough of one that the door it was attached to had nothing else on it. Then Isaac picked up a shard of mirror and cut his hand. Smearing the blood on the smooth surface, he kept on spreading it until he could see himself reflected in the red liquid.

"I make my own reality. I reject your choices and substitute my own. Dream logic for the motherf-king win."

Then he opened the door and stepped through it, finding himself back in the clearing. His hand was bleeding and he quickly moved to staunch the flow.

Hmm, had him cutting himself freed him from a hallucination or did what he did actually work? Well, those questions could be answered later. Or he'd make his own.

Either way he'd best check on the rest of the group and if need be riffle through their belongings to see if they had anything worth looting.

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Jet's head jerked, eyes unmoving in his sockets as his torso followed, blue shining brighter as a streak of silver light flashed around his iris. A hiss seeped from the back of his throat, whistling quietly in tune with the wind. The quieter arrival bothered him less than the loud—loud. Loud. Too loud. Can't hear—weird one. That one reminded him of the patients they had to put down for lack of funding... if more fake.

A dribble of red splashing on a stone by his foot reminded him of himself. His head twitched to the side in an abrupt tick as he raised his arm to his face. Jet grimaced at the jagged edge slowly leaking red down his hand ignoring—for the most part—the other arrivals. He kept tabs on them, yes, but he hardly needed to participate in the rounds of telling the loud one to be quieter.

No, instead, he wrinkled his nose and brought his wrist up to his mouth, licking the lazily flowing blood and proceeding to spit out the layer of grime that had the wound had acquired from the metal box he'd scratched himself on.

He'd still need to disinfect it—if he lived—but seeing as he lacked clean water to rinse it with, that'd do.

Of course, with Jet's luck, something had to go wrong.

He heard the hissing when it started, pressurized air bleeding from a too-small hole all too familiar to him. He tensed, but didn't hold his breath. It was far too late, the sickly sweet of sedative already filling his lungs. Instead, he took the shortest, shallowest breath he could, kneeling (read; half-collapsing) so he didn't fall over as he saw others doing.

The world faded with a mocking voice and the harsh burn of a his own stuttering heart fighting against unconsciousness.

---

The burn was the first thing Jet felt, like hot wax weaving through his ribs and burning flesh black. His breaths stuttered against the rhythm of his body, interrupted often by the pulse of an oxygen-starved heart. He choked, coughing against the irregularity. Panic burned at his throat, but he was too used to swallowing the feeling of shuddering breaths and shaking limbs to focus on that. Especially mid-episode.

Pills.

Where are his pills?

Jet only realized his little... situation when he tried to move his hands and was met with the jingle of chains and resistance. A vague question buzzed up his skin, but there was a far more important question.

What happened to his clothes?

Something cold—pleasant. Cool—and wet—panic, panic, panic, panic—doused him, splashing against bare skin and dribbling in rivulets down his chest. Jet hissed, jerking sharply. The chain around his neck—restrained. Choking. Suffocating. Panic, panic, panic—dug red lines crisscrossing his flesh. His flesh, which the notion of someone else eating dislodged something in the back of his mind.

As fear—hot. Too hot. Burning. Hurting—crashed against his sternum in sharp waves of knives, he bit back.

Focus. Calm. Breathe.

Jet sucked in a breath.

Dirt. It tasted like dirt. Grass. Sedative.

The swirling, laughing notion of sweet smells and deep voices prickled along the nape of his neck, giggling at his foolishness. He was asleep. High to the clouds above on whatever kind of sedative mystery-shadow hit him with.

His expression soured, and beyond the fear and chill, he glared at the circus presenter that he only now registered, remembering the taste of blood in his mouth and the bitter of ancient plant grime.

The presenter was speaking again. This time, as another wave of "they are going to eat me" washed over him, Jet spoke up.

"TSE." The acronym fell from his mouth in a shaky, uneven rhythm in time with his heart. "Prion disease."

I'm high, his mind chuckled, clearing the panic-paralysis of its own accord. This is far from real.

Even still, his voice steadied as he spoke, falling into a practiced attitude that had him straightening as much as he could, voice taking on a certain soft quality. "As a doctor, I cannot recommend you eat me—anyone, really. It's unsafe, and ten years down the line, you'll likely experience the symptoms of kuru as your prions fold themselves over. In simple terms, you will lose brain function and that's something I'm supposed to be preventing, no?"

The remaining fear faded like a misty fog on a morning day.

"First you'll experience tremors; unsteady coordination. Then you'll lose your ability to stand or walk. Finally, you will cease being able to feed yourselves and die in a vegetative state." Textbook quotes ran like a water in a gutter. "There is no known treatment. You will be put down and disposed of with the first hospital visit."

Jet looked all about the circus, eyes tracing the stands. "Two bad options. I'm afraid if you continue as you are, I will be unable to help you."

His smile ran red with his own blood. "Do take your time making your decision. It's a big one, after all."

 

[Sleepless_Dreamer]

With the arrival of more strangers, the anxious feeling inside of Mari rose. It was an interesting concoction, her own anxiousness mixed with the constant frequency that was DIG. It had her unable to properly identify what she was feeling and, more importantly, why. There was a strange flavor in the air, too. A mix of intentions and energy and power that felt like it could snap the world at any given moment. Perhaps they were all ingredients to some deadly, cosmic bomb. Or perhaps Mari's imagination was beginning to run wild.

Perhaps this was a mistake.

There wasn't much time to react to that thought. A metallic clang had the young woman turning her attention to the side. Hisssss. Eyes widened when she saw the gas. She didn't know what it was, but instinct told her it was bad; dangerous. And it was spreading fast. Mari liked to believe she got a hand up to cover her face. She liked to believe she at least started to run. But in reality, she'd taken all of two, clumsy steps before she hit the ground. She landed on her belly, cheek scraping against the pavement. The last thing she remembered was the sting of asphalt on her skin. Then...

Shit.

A dream?

Her skin was hot. Every part of her was humid and uncomfortable. There was a familiarity to it that she couldn't quite place at first. The sobs of her family sounded just like she remembered them. That day. Her funeral. It was not a sudden death. They'd all had time to prepare, even her, and yet...

But no. She wasn't dead. She could still feel, still hear and smell. She could even taste coppery panic on her tongue. Mari began to realize that this wasn't her funeral. At first, she thought it was her father's and she was somehow... putting herself in his shoes. But her father was never buried. They couldn't afford that. He'd been cremated, and Mari didn't even know where his ashes were.

Thump.

The first pile of dirt hit the closed lid of the coffin.

Thump. Thump.

NO. A panicked voice that was not her own raced through her mind. NO.NO.NO.NO.

DIG. It wanted out. Mari managed to look down and see fingertips bloody; nails broken. Thump. Thump. She looked up. The cloth lining of the coffin lid was torn. White fabric was turned pink from the blood.

DIG.DIG.DIG. There was desperation. Desperation to survive. DIG had failed once. Mari would not let them fail again. She took a deep breath. Oxygen filled the coffin and her lungs, invigorating her with renewed strength. She was getting out of here. For herself. And for DIG.

 

[BittyBobcat]

Gray
Location: ???
Gray took another fraction of a step back with every person that arrived, casting nervous glances across the small crowd all the while. He hadn't known what he was signing up for by coming here, but he never imagined this many people. Or any people at all, really. He half expected there to be some kind of eldritch horror that would drag him into the depths of insanity with a single look, if he was being honest. Taking the chance was better than giving into the probably-inevitable turn to murderous evil and whatever else avatars got up to, of course, but that did nothing to make his heart slow its panicked beating.

He said nothing, electing to wait until the others had stopped scolding the loud one that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and got around to explaining if they were there for the same reason he was or not. In fact, he might've stayed silent once they actually started properly conversing as well if they ever got the chance too.

Instead, like most of the others, Gray took notice of the hissing noise. He even had the caution to flinch away from the direction he thought it was coming from, images of snakes and crocodiles filling his mind. It didn't do him any good. None of it really registered until his legs gave out. He had just enough warning to clumsily brace his arms in front of himself to try and soften his fall, but the only thing it accomplished was sending an aching pain up his wrist when he hit the ground.

The world flickered. It took a fair few more seconds than it should have to realize that was his eyelids. He forced them open, succeeding in staying awake for one last wavering moment that allowed him to watch the strange gas-masked figure—well, formerly gas-masked figure—be shoved down the slide he stood on. Some groggy, half-lidded part of him wanted to reach toward the mind of whatever, whoever, shoved him. He found himself giving a quiet laugh at it. Even if he was awake enough to attempt, how would he have the skill to do that? What would he manage to see?

His eyes slid shut.

Nothing.

---

Even with his limbs pressed firmly into the splintering wood of the chair, Gray's throat somehow managed to feel tighter than any other part of him. He swallowed, trying to quell the tense air that seemed to fill it so deeply that he might've been drowning, but it did no good. Nothing could do any good when, before his very eyes, every intimate moment of his life played onscreen for all the world to see. Every whispered word, every lingering silence. Private thoughts no one should have any access to were laid bare.

It occurred to him—watching the steady stream of lies, secrets, and scenes of former ignorant bliss—that they were moving chronologically. The first time he could remember lying to his parents, the first less-than-impressive grade he'd ever gotten, his pitiful attempt at defending himself and the sickening snap of his arm that followed. Each moment a little older, each second another step closer to what scraped the largest claws of dread in his stomach.

He forced a slow, laborous breath.

The situation was bad. Very bad. There was no denying that. But there could be worse, right?

"You're not dying," Gray muttered. If his throbbing heartbeat was anything to go by, he wasn't quite convinced, but he kept speaking anyway. "You're not dying, you're not in harm's way..." the dank stench of the basement gripped his nose, "except for some weird fungal infection, maybe, but we can figure that out later." Even as he spoke, it struck him as odd. The most he ever talked at home was to the cat; voicing his thoughts was never something he found necessary for problem-solving. The words gave him a sense of direction, though, and as long as they still flowed from his mouth, he was still making progress.

"Right. Okay. Okay, just have to... to get out of the chair. Somehow." He struggled in the seat, pulling with all his (admittedly small amount of) strength and accomplishing nothing more staining the undersides of the ropes red. Perhaps it was simply his mind playing tricks on him, but he could've sworn they got tighter. "Fine," he panted, less out of exhaustion and more as a result of the way his lungs seemed to squeeze under their bindings. "Fine, there's still plenty of time anyway." Someone would find him. With however many people were watching this, someone had to find him. It would be embarrassing. He would have a lot of explaining to do—much of which even he didn't have a full understanding of—but they would find him and he would be fine because they would find him before he started showing up.

As if the thought summoned him, a stomach-wrenchingly familiar voice met his ears.

"I'm your boyfriend, I've got a right to know what's going on with you."

He knew hyperventilating didn't help anything. It was a scientific fact that it reduced blood supply to the brain and—fucking hell, what kind of idiot had to look up how to stop hyperventilating? Why wasn't he stopping now?

His own traitorous voice came next from some unseen sound system in the room. "I'm really not supposed to—"

"Nobody will know."

"No." He couldn't bring himself to look at the screen, but he knew what he would see if he did and the image burned itself into his brain with no need for a refresher. "No, you don't have this footage." His eyes trailed along the basement ceiling, cracked and molded. "This isn't... this doesn't make sense. It would be a logistical nightmare to get the stuff to record this in the first place, and then actually doing it without being noticed..." He watched a drop of water make its slow way through the cracks above before feeding into a small bulge that eventually fell to the ground with a quiet drip.

His next words caught in his throat, but he forced them through with a wince. "This isn't real." It felt real. Horribly, humiliatingly real. But it wasn't. "It couldn't be."

And that meant something else was terribly wrong. He was caught in some... strange fear scape after running into something he shouldn't have online or beyond the city's walls. Or he was going insane. Or dreaming. Or a whole host of other options he had no way to pick from.

He forced another slow breath and closed his eyes, doing his best to block out the voices still coming from the screen.

"Nothing to do but wait." What for, he didn't know.

 

[Juju]

Ginny "Gin" Barlowe

seasonedcat​

Gin heard the hiss almost immediately, her senses already heightened from the rush of adrenaline pumping from her frantic heart. Even then, she was still too slow to detect the real threat. She couldn't see who it was, nor did she even have the time to defend herself before she was shoved into the clearing. She hated how she cried in fear, but it was all she could do. One mistake. That was all it took.

A wolf only has to be lucky once.

"No!" She growled, forgetting the others as she tried to crawl away from the gas that stung at her lungs.

Her nails dug into the grass, her strength fading along with her vision. She had tears in her eyes, though they weren't from the fumes.

'Stay awake!' she mentally screamed at herself, feeling her head swim, 'Fight it! Don't sleep. Don't... sleep..'

♥♥♥ 𝓉𝑒𝒶 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 ♥♥♥​

When Ginny awoke she didn't remember the gas, or the fear. The only thing she felt was confusion. She did not know how she had got to where she was or why, but like a dream her mind simply accepted it. There was a certain oblivious curiosity as she looked around at her pretty little table stacked with pretty little things. A fine ceramic cup was in front of her, still steaming and fragrant. Rose petals and black tea, unsweetened. She knew enough about tea, having turned to it during her more serious attempts at sobriety, to know that. Her unwanted senses did the rest.

The makeup and nails were familiar enough. She assumed it was part of her nightly job, or leftover from passing out after a long night of work. It was readily accepted in her mind, though not one that bore any happy thoughts. She did not remember that in the past few weeks she had hardly put on anything more than a pathetic attempt to hide the dark circles under her eyes. In fact, she did not even remember those sleepless nights.

It was funny that out of all things, what struck Ginny first was her dress. It was luxurious. More importantly, expensive. She felt a tremor of fear as she ran a hand over the folds. There was no way she could afford this. When did she buy this? Was she that drunk?! She stood up and noticed how the hem was collecting a dark film of dirt. There was a sort of tragedy at seeing something so beautiful become tarnished, an unspoken sin. There was also another, silly, fear. If she ruined it, would she have to pay for it? She most certainly did not have the money for that.

The snap of a twig sharpened all her thoughts to a point. She froze like a deer in front of the rifle and stared out into the oppressive gloom, every ounce of her being straining for signs of what she knew was out there. A hunter, a monster, a set of teeth. All at once she became vaguely aware of the cloth surrounding her, the heels under her. How funny it was that the precious clothing was as worthless to her now as the dead leaves of the clearing.

Gin did not need to think twice. She ran.

With expertise, she kicked off her heels and took off at a desperate sprint. She held up the exquisite folds of her dress, cursing them. If it was not for the corset, she would have ripped it off too. It made her chest smaller than it should be, pressing her ribs and stomach into a dainty form. It hurt, like the rough branches and rocks digging into her now bare feet. Mud and rotten leaves were caked into her toes, and probably whatever cuts she had sustained, but she hardly felt it. Her lungs burned and her legs did too, but she forced herself to keep up the breakneck pace.

She would have looked over her shoulder, but it would have slowed her down. That moment's distraction could be all that it took for the thing to pounce. She could trip, or expose her neck to the thing she was absolutely sure was right behind her. At some point her bonnet had fallen off, leaving her coiled hair to fall loosely whichever way her steps tossed it.

 

[Solirus]

Thomas
"Is this a weird reference to spy movies?"

seasonedcat
​

Thomas was quick to react to the hissing sound, reaching as far as ever into his pockets trying to pull anything to cover his mouth. Yet again however his fingers could find nothing and the gas quickly took effect.

The sound of the blades cutting through the air and the rattling of the helicopter woke him up to the dream. The man in front was of greatest surprise noticing them last and causing them to slightly flinch. At first Thomas thought he'd been kidnapped by some authority and to be thrown off from a great height as a sort of irony. His body swelled with fear yet his mind remained calm, like an argument on how they should feel.

Trying to move Thomas found it weird and floaty like trying to maneuver underwater. As fast as they could they took a peak outside, no bottom to this endless blue and no sun, only an omnipresent light. Returning his head quickly he took a very slow breath, realizing he was also wearing that shirt given to the insane. He wasn't insane was he? Perhaps it was more for the body that didn't seem to want to agree with his thoughts.

An idea popped into his head, from the constant blabbering of his past friend whom liked to call themselves the "brains of the group". It was about how at a certain height it didn't matter how much they fell since one would just hit terminal velocity, which the brains would also explain the statistic of less cats dying from falls off a building if they were on higher floors than lower floors. Thomas had the idea to say this to the smiling fellow, but nothing really came out of his mouth, like trying to say something while your mouth was full.

After failing to speak Thomas tried to rid himself of the shirt thing but simply it didn't come off. His next idea was to take the man's parachute, but fighting them while his hands were restrained would end poorly, just lacking one arm in a fight was enough to make it nearly impossible. Simply stealing the parachute was pointless as even if he could steal it, he wouldn't be able to wear the parachute or activate it, not that it mattered much anyway.

In a sigh Thomas stood up from his seat slowly walking towards the exit of the helicopter and sitting down his legs hanging off the craft and the wind blowing his face. Finally taking a deep breath with the little air offered he spoke and looked at the man, "Hey, care to give me a little push? I haven't fallen before from heights and I'm a little anxious"

 

[jmann]

Watchdog
“Deonte Brookes”

Watchdog swore loudly as the hand reached from his collar and grabbed onto his face, tearing his mask off.

"Hey! Gimme that!" but the arm was too quick in taking his mask and retreating into the shadow of his jacket. Watchdog tried grabbing the arm, but it was too quick for him to do anything more than tear the sleeve.

It was only after that he noticed the hissing noise. It was coming from a vibrating canister on the ground. A chemical attack.
Watchdog knew he only had a few seconds.
He jumped over the play equipment and leapt over the sandpit, slamming down on top of the canister. The sudden gas instantly filled his lungs, and the world quickly faded away, Watchdog still wrapped around the canister as tightly as possible.

When Watchdog awoke in the infinite abyss, Watchdog didn’t know how to react. The sheer nothingness was overwhelming, but not unwelcome. He could have gotten lost in vast freedom beyond light and sound but another sense took over. Someone was watching. They were invisible in the darkness but made their presence obvious. He didn’t mind the watching, nor the darkness. But the judgement cut him deep. There was hate and bitterness in the invisible eyes stalking him, feelings he couldn’t stand being directed at him.

The darkness was just like his dreams. The ones that he desperately tried to awake from but couldn’t. The ones where the shadows clawed at his feet like they were hungry.

“Are you…” he called into the void, “are you the thing in my dreams? I went where you told me.”

 

[seasonedcat]

Lilac- Tapfic
the desire for violence burned deep inside her, seemingly with every breath growing stronger; and as the desire for violence grew it felt as if the reason for that violence shrank in comparison. None of them needed a reason, so why should you? A fire burned inside you, scorching your skin as it begged to be set free. It was against your skin, and there was only one release for it.

a red axe caught your eye, impaled in someone's skull, just a few meters from you. Your fingers itched to get a hold of it, your mother who was once begging you to come with her fell silent, an empty look on her face as 5 soldiers surrounded you two, the axe was still in reach and as if someone was pushing you towards it you could feel the fire burn brighter. You could feel a desire to destroy everything, it was up to you if the reason for this destruction remained.
--
Clu- Squad141
there was little you could do as your body stood immobile, refusing to move. The voice outside grew static, the voice it was trying to replicate seemed to be breaking under the strain of its desperate pleas to enter the room. The mannequins seemed to still move towards you with each blink and as it did the creature in the window slowly raised until its face was visible.

long, uneven teeth jutted out at awkward angles in its mouth that was wider than it should be. A broken smile sat on its face as if it couldn't move its muscles in any other way. Its eyes sat too far away from each other, no eye lids holding the pure black pupils that seemed to be bulging. Its nose was too long and far too flat as if pushed against its face. As you saw its face you could feel your body no longer holding its form. You could move, far more stiff due to it being mannequin joints instead of your usual ones, but still it was better than nothing. Nothing here was human, the question was if you even were...
--
Isaac- Gravitational Force
as Isaac began to rifle through the belongs of others he found that their pockets held the exact same things that his held, in fact as it soon became clear, the knocked out people he was looting were actually himself, each in the different outfits he could vaguely remember the others wearing. The thing was while he could remember the others wearing the outfits, he couldn't remember if he had been wearing one of the outfits.

if he were to look down on himself to check to see if his outfit matched one of the bodies his outfit would change with each blink and he would find himself feeling unsure which change had been a part of his imagination. Even each body looked different, the same as the mirrors, he couldn't tell which one was him, which one was real. Was the one he had seen in his own blood even the real him? How could someone not recognize themselves? Was he crazy? Had he even ever existed in the first place.
--
Jet- ScatheAriiasqDrayceon
as Jet spoke to the crowd their expressions seemed to not changes as if he had been barking at them in a language they couldn't understand. They continued to laugh and cheer, their voices displaying a language back to him he could not recognize nor understand. Just as he smiled a leg kicked the back of his knees, sending him falling down to his knees or face depending on if he was able to catch himself. Seemingly real pain flowing through your legs as they did so, could dreams even hurt you?

the crowd cheered louder, joy flowing through them at his own suffering. The man from earlier now held the cattle gun as he stared down at Jet with a sickening smile, one that felt as if it stretched upwards forever. They didn't care for your logic, nor your words. To them you were just meat. Their teeth would tear through your flesh and they wouldn't care for your screams. You were just flesh for them to enjoy, just a sac of meat that to them held no emotions or thoughts. Flesh for them to mould into their desires. But they were just flesh too, they were the same as you, so why were you sat in front of them about to be a meal?
--
Mari- Sleepless_Dreamer
her desire, her care towards DIG seemed to shock the world around her, to not let it get buried again. The shoveling of dirt seemed to freeze for a moment, and her digging seemed to get somewhere as the coffin cracked as if not prepared for her thoughts as well. As it did so dirt fell on her face and into her mouth, but even still the moment of surprise from those burring her allowed her the brief glimpse of the sun through the dirt that covered her.

as soon as that moment came the world around her became unpaused, the dirt continued to be thrown on her, but Mari had a head start through the filth and rocks. Despite her frantic digging those above her didn't seem to notice, her family still looking down at her as if she were not fighting for her life. But through Mari's desperation a string of hope had formed that seemed to aid her as the coffin fell under her hands.
--
Gray- BittyBobcat
as his eyes slid closed another sound filled his ears over the sound of his own secrets. Laughter, sounds of disgust, chatter of hundreds of voices. Everyone's reactions filled your ears, invading your thoughts as they came from all around you. If you had opened your eyes you would be able to see while your secrets were still displayed, you could also see other videos of peoples faces, those reacting to it. Some stood out more than others, the voice of your parents, anyone close to you, anyone who mattered to you, or opinions did.

maybe if you spoke, opened your mouth and started spilling out their secrets they wouldn't be laughing. If instead of being the one they were laughing at, made them the ones trapped. All you had to do was speak, you could trap them all beneath you. Those thoughts seemed to eat away at any morals you had, making them seem less important to you, maybe you could trap them all...
--
Ginny- Juju
as she ran she could hear the sound of feet crashing behind her, large and heavy from something far stronger and bigger than her. A moment of hesitation would cause it to be upon her. She felt as if she could feel its hot, sticky breath against her skin, she needed to be faster, she needed to get away from it. As she ran she came across a cabin, the door slightly open, easy to reach in time to close and lock it behind her. If she would offer a look back or out the window she would be able to make out the outline of a creature, bright red eyes, far too dark to make out clearly in the night time.

if she would enter she would see weapons at different parts of the house. Weapons perfect for tearing through the flesh of a creature. She could grab one, she could become a hunter. She could hear more twigs crack outside. The thing was waiting for her, she could only stay inside for so long, would she chose to stay and hide as prey? Or go back out and make that thing the hunted?
--
Thomas- Solirus
as Thomas stood on the edge the man behind him didn't hesitate to do as he asked, not needing the permission in the first place to send the other tumbling down into the blue that seemed to stretch on forever. As the feeling of falling filled him he could turn back and see the helicopter slowly getting smaller, the smiling face of the man getting smaller and smaller as wind ripped around him.

how long would he fall? Would he ever see the ground again or would he just keep falling forever? Blue surrounded you, the light of the sun high in the sky and not moving as you continued to fall. Even if you did manage to see the ground again, it wouldn't be long until you splatted on the ground. You were encased in the vast sky without a way out.
--
Deonte- jmann
his voice seemed to be suffocated in the darkness, no one responded to his words, their eyes continuing to watch him with hate as he called out. He could feel more eyes watching him and no matter how hard he stared or if he tried to grasp in front of him could he find them. They were just out of reach, in the darkness like him, but unlike Deonte they were far from lost in it.

the thing stalked him and for a moment it clicked in his head that he was in danger. As that clicked he felt something shred through his back. A large slash sending pain through his body. He couldn't find them among the dark as shallow cuts began to tear through his skin at random points, some deeper than others as pain gripped him. The eyes continued to watch him, there just like him but he couldn't see them.

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Jet blinked placidly at the watching crowd, ignoring the hairs rising on the back of his neck. If he could be yelled at—screamed at for hours by the people whose lives were ruined by the news he shared, he could stomach a single dream filling him with false-felt horror. He narrowed his eyes, taking another long, deep breath.

Earth. Soil. Fresh rain.

He let himself fall at the sharp pain in the back of his knees, hitting the ground with a faint wheeze.

Jet closed his eyes and let the dream play, twisting the notion of being eaten between fingers of thought as he laid there, doing his best to ignore the unnecessary firing of his nerves just as he ignored the pounding headache he got whenever he got too close to an open bottle of gin or wine.

Instead, he let himself fall into vague memories.

Braided silver hair. A chaste kiss. A voice far deeper than his own that Jet more felt than heard.

It seemed, though, that the Dream, as it was, refused him his escape. He grasped at the memories as they slid through his fingers, evaporating from view and forcing his attention back on the hellish landscape of anesthesia-induced dreaming.

He screwed up his face, wrinkling his nose in more irritation than anything. Annoyance. That's what he felt.

He glared at the dream-man, something twisting sharply in his gut. Kill or let others be killed later. Jet rolled over, ignoring the sting of the chains as they dug into his ribs. My own morals are not above others' lives. An awkward wiggle allowed him to slip an arm back under himself. And the longer I sleep like this, the more lives could be trickling away.

Words rolled from his tongue, fast as a river and tart as the copper taste of his own blood. "Once was warning enough. You've tried my patience."

As well as he could, Jet managed to work his hands under the rest of his body. He looked up at the circus director, hissing a sound that was more a snarl than a word. "Let. Me. Leave."

As the dream so helpfully pointed out, these people were the same as him, sans the chains (and with clothes). And just because some demented part of his brain had cooked up this fear fest didn't mean Jet had to sit back as his heart stuttered around in heart-attack range.

Jet curled his spine back. Even kneeling, he was tall. Within lunging distance of this dumb illusion's face.

And that's exactly what Jet did.

Clumsy, and fumbling between chains, Jet launched himself at the circus director, eyes set on the not-quite-a-man's neck, and teeth bared in a definitely-dangerous open-mouthed snarl.

 

[Sleepless_Dreamer]

The sight of the sun and the dirt falling created equal and opposite reactions. Her eyes could see, but with that opening sensation also came the very closed feeling of dirt in her mouth. It choked her airways, but she could not cough it out because more dirt was falling in. They were still burying her, even with the crack in the coffin. They were looking her right in the eye and burying her.

If she could see them, why couldn't they see her?

The repetition continued. The earth was thrown onto the coffin. Gravity pulled it downwards. The thumps slowed, but the dirt was hitting faster. Mari suddenly realized the sounds were not of the soil hitting the coffin, but of her heart. Slowing. She really was dying this time. She needed to think. She needed to-

BREATHE.

Air. Puta madre, I need air.

That realization had her remembering what she could do. What DIG could do. Perhaps this exact moment was when DIG realized it themself. Perhaps it was sheer desperation that birthed their powers. Mari certainly felt desperate now. But she also felt hopeful as she closed her eyes and pushed with all her might. The coffin rattled. The dirt shook loose and pooled beneath her. A taste of breath filled her lungs.

As the rest of the dirt collapsed in on her, she knew what she had to do.

The gravesite went still.

Then, each granule of dirt seemed to vibrate. They rattled and lifted before swirling downward, as if being sucked into some kind of drain. A swirling hole began to open. Mariella's dirt-caked fingers suddenly thrust out from the hole. They curled forward, gripped the earth; felt its power. She began to claw her way to the surface.

 

[Tapfic]

Lilac
Dreamscape

It took less than a moment for the smooth handle to meet Ly's rough hands. Less than a tug for the blade to pry free from the skull. It gave way so easily, as if the weapon had been waiting for Ly to grasp it for years- waiting for her to swing.

The soldier nearest to the woman who was not her mother fell limp to the ground, blood dripping into the soil beneath it as the metal head of the axe caved its chest inwards; thrown with deadly accuracy.

" Beg, " She whispered the command, and it fell gently from her lips. A burning rage pulsed in the back of her mind, yet not warm enough to melt the ice in her eyes nor her words.

Lilac lunged forward as the remaining soldiers took aim. Grabbing hold of one barrel- she shoved it under the holder's chin and knocked the trigger down before it could react. The acrid smell of blood mingled with gunpowder and ash- but the spatter was angled drastically away from her; allowing the girl to escape with minimal spray meeting her skin.
She pushed the fresh corpse into one of it's allies- sending the other stumbling as it struggled to knock its friend away. It was only a second's slip, but the stumble was enough for Lilac to grab hold of the axe that lay embedded beside her and liberate it from the cage that held it. Hot blood painted the skin of her leg when she pulled the blade free from the thing's chest, and sent a wave of nausea up from her stomach to the back of her throat.

Lilac swallowed, and swiped the dripping wedge through the stumbling soldier's throat. It convulsed for a moment, before dropping its gun in an desperate attempt to stop the blood from gushing out of his neck.

Maybe the girl should have been more empathetic; if only to let her understand how things that devoted themselves so wholly to death, could seem to love life so dearly when it was their turn.
A bullet from one of the remaining gunmen met Lilac's shoulder, only inches from her heart. She still didn't understand.

The axe flew at the last gunman's face, and embedded in the dirt behind when it ducked out of the way. Lilac yanked her head to the side. A bullet nicked her ear. Annoying.

A gun felt unfamiliar in her hands when she yanked it away from the soldier still bleeding from its neck. One bullet for a soldier, scrambling to run away. One for each of the last soldier's kneecaps.
She didn't miss this time.

"Beg," Lilac stepped over a body, towards the soldier left lying in the dirt- trying to crawl back and shakily aim its gun at the same time. Its finger pulled at the trigger, so she kicked its wrist down. Wedging the helpless appendage under her boot, it struggled to pull her away for a moment; before Lilac yanked her axe from the dirt and swung. Severing the hand from its arm.

The blood was starting to get to her. Making her head spin and her throat ache as bile forced its way up.

" Beg worm," But the soldier said nothing through its pained groans, so Lilac grit her teeth and put a bullet through its skull.

The smell was oppressive, but the violence was addictive.

Why had she done it? She struggled to remember.

Lilac lifted her head, and met the blank stare of her mother. Or whoever it was that wore her face.

It would have been so much easier to find an answer in those familiar eyes. She wished so deeply that she had done it to protect her, but there was no point in lying to herself. That face sparked nothing but feelings of cold resent now.
It wasn't to survive. If she wanted she could have run.

Why then?

She knew the answer, she could feel it- but the word slipped from her mind.

The woman who was not her mother said nothing. Providing no comfort nor direction.

Was there a reason?

The smell of iron filled her lungs until she was drowning.

Lilac lifted her axe, and the woman stepped backwards. Fear etched into the lines of her face.

What? No. Lilac wouldn't kill her- there was no point.

This person pretending to be her mother didn't deserve to die. Her death wouldn't give Lilac anything but a sick feeling in her stomach. There was no wrong that deserved punishment.

Punishment, huh?
Was it for justice then?

No.
That was wrong. She remembered now.

" Run. Find somewhere to hide," Lilac pointed her axe into the distance as she instructed the woman.

Lilac had a reason, and it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Revenge.

 

[BittyBobcat]

Gray
Location: ??? | CW: Hella self deprication and also vague mentions of a person and a dog dying I guess. Because I think that might be a bit more intense and unexpected than what I've written before? Idk, I just wanted to be safe with this.
"Shut up." It was a small, whispered statement closer to the desperate casting of a private wish to the wind than a command. In fact, it—like most things said by Gray—lacked any force whatsoever. Where his tone perhaps would've held that instead lay an exhausted acceptance that had long since wrapped around his hopes and wants like a security blanket pulled tight in strangulation.

A chorus of vitriol met his spineless request (coward, idiot, failure) and the voices continued with renewed vigor (clingy, pathetic, worthless). His head hurt with the sheer volume of it all (weakling, deadweight, traitor).

His eyes cracked open, searching for a distraction. Once again he found himself tracing the path of a water droplet as it made its painstaking way along the rest of the vein it lay on before it joined the puddle below.

What a waste of money. Time. Effort.

He listened carefully, hoping to catch the quiet splash that announced the ripples that travelled across the puddle until they died at its edges. No sound made it through the cyclone of voices in his mind.

It really is a shame you never joined up. Maybe then you would've died before making this mess.

A headache pounded at the edges of his consciousness. The ropes constricted just as tightly as before. Somehow, neither of these things bothered him. The scarcely registered beyond the words swirling about so fast that he could scarcely hold one long enough to hear its form before another took its place.

I thought you lost it. Now I get it. You were always like this. Confused. Stupid. Weak. It's a real shame I didn't realize that from the start.

It was no longer fear that curled around his chest. What had long ago seeped into his bones, his marrow, was never the fear that lay before the fact. It was the silence afterward. It was the mouth that never opened after a raging lecture. It was the absence of a scream when an arm broke. It was the emptiness of an apartment as night turned to day with no change to indicate it beyond a clock hand moving slowly along its permanent and predetermined course.

It had been with him for as long as he remembered and it burned. It thrashed. It crawled. It sat like an egg sac in his throat threatening to burst as that tiny part of himself that resolutely attempted to spark his drenched kindling for fury finally made a flicker.

For one single, foreign moment, Gray wanted to hurt them. To watch them suffocate in air. To see in their eyes the realization that the laughter they hid behind had now turned, and aimed, and fired on them. To know that they struggled beneath that weight just as he had and be crushed even more violently. Perhaps then, he thought, then they would understand. Then he could finally smile in a way that wasn't for the sake of being polite. Then he might live without the webs that tied his current day to his next and onward and onward until they blurred together into an unrecognizable heap.

And then, as naturally as breathing, he doused the flame.

He was not a vengeful man. He didn't have it in him. The part of him that he knew was his own even among the clawing disgust and insult that ripped into his head and painted its venom across everything it could find told him as much. He was not a vengeful man because there was no wrong to be vengeful over. They were right. They weren't real. They weren't themselves, and yet somehow they were still right.

With an effort of will that he hadn't known he could muster, Gray lowered his gaze and watched the screens with the stillness of a cut bled dry.

"You wanted secrets." It wasn't a question. He knew that urge sitting on the edge of his tongue well enough by now. "Fine." Because who was he if not the one who provided what was asked of him?

"I killed a dog when I was twelve because I wasn't following proper trigger discipline." Had they seen that already? Did it matter? More than anything else in the world, he wanted to keep what they didn't already know quiet, but that added no hesitance to the words flowing from his mouth. Why would it?

"I watched a women get murdered and I never checked the apartment number that flashed on-screen afterward because I was too scared of what I'd find." His throat ached as if it was trying to stop him since any semblence of rationality clearly wouldn't. He ignored it. "I still don't know if she was real or something one of the entities made up to horrify anyone that came across the video."

He felt his voice cracking before it actually did. "I woke up one morning knowing I had become the vessel of something that existed for the sheer purpose of causing fear and I wasn't surprised because if there is a single thing I can do right, it's making problems for anyone who has the misfortune of meeting me." When had he become so hoarse? He didn't know. He didn't care.

"I don't think anything that happens here can be worse than knowing I deserve it."

As with everything else, the voices pushed back against this. In fact, if he had to guess, Gray would say it was the loudest they had been yet. They clamoured over one another until not one person was seperable from any of the others.

Well, not quite.

One remained distinguishable. The very one that would sting the most.

They were always right about you, y'know. Babysitting you really did hold me back. And for what? A pathetic excuse for a human being that got more resources than me and Eli combined and still managed to ruin it. I should've believed them before. You're hopeless.

He gave a mirthless smile. There was an odd sort of relief in finally hearing her say it, even if it wasn't the real Ruby. Even if the real Ruby would never tell him to his face because she thought to spare his feelings. She wouldn't be so kind if she saw his truths. She shouldn't be.

I hate you.

"I know."