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ramenli rolled 1 100-sided dice:
20
Total: 20 (1-100)
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 Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2012 4:43 pm
Apparently the Men in White did not approve of the silent resistance that they were getting from their captives. But the way that the man said they would be doing this the fun way set Yin on edge. Two new figures were approaching and he just...he glanced toward Alexander. No, whatever happened if the zomboil was just behind him he had a chance of protecting him, along with the others. So in what was possibly a not-so-brilliant move Yin stepped up to the glass, staring outward as a strange hiss began to fill his ears. No, no wait. This was not...this was not a fair fight. The strange masked boil had done the same thing. Some sort of gas had filled his lungs and then he had taken advantage of that fact and it meant that Yin had no chance to fight back. He tried to remain standing, hands balling into loose fists before he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. -------------------------------- Waking up felt...odd. Groggily he began to wonder what was happening, maybe Princess Eva was hungry or...he opened his eyes slowly and blinked as he focused on something completely foreign. A wall in front of him. Then the events began sliding into place. Of waking up in a barren land and then being captured, to finding themselves in a room and now here. Yin quickly glanced about, taking in his surroundings. He was in a cylinder. Alone. But outside were those...shapes? He moved toward the wall of the cage, reaching out to place his hand on it so he could lean against the wall to see out better and it reacted, zapping him with a bolt of what felt like electricity. With a hiss of pain he drew his hand back, clutching it with his uninjured one. It tingled painfully as he cradled it against his chest and he backed away enough that he would not accidentally brush it again, still looking out, still trying to make out the voices and sights that were out there. And in those boxes...was that small figure there Mademoiselle Temes? Quickly he glanced at the other boxes, hoping to see a patch of white and to see if...Alexander...was he...was he alright? Despite the zap Yin began to edge toward the wall again, trying to get a better view when there was a large crackle overhead, forcing him to look up to try to figure out what was going on. Yin had been dissipated by lightning before. It had ripped him apart painfully on Thunder Road as he had tried to run to the top. That was nothing compared to this. For the briefest moment he remembered that Alexander and his teammates were beyond the wall, and that he had to be strong, to not show his pain and weakness. But the pain never let up. After a certain point he could not tell if the noises in the chamber were his own hoarse screams and shrieks or something from the source of the pain. The pain of touching the walls was completely forgotten in the onslaught. Something that seemed to be holding him together snapped and his form began to shift as the pain flooded his mind in waves of vengeful light. At first it was his normal shift, but with something gone horribly wrong. The bones in his leg began to break apart to form his lower sets of legs but then would try to reform. His chest could not decide if it needed to have ribs or become his thorax. His hands twisting into claws and yet not. And above all was the pain of the change, the pain as his bones turned to mush and solidified in the wrong ways or his exoskelton was trapped wrongly and then... His body started to condense again, trying to find a way to reform that felt right. It was a relief, and at this point he did not care what form his body took so long as the agony was over. So long as... He could see out the wall again. There were figures out there. Beings in white. Squares. Figures. In some dark corner of his mind something tried to cry out, did he not recognize that tall one at least? He stared blankly and then there was one final switch that turned on, illuminating that last corner as well. It did not hurt anymore. Nothing hurt anymore. What was pain? Why was it even worried about it? With a clatter the sickle fell, a simple tool with a serrated edge to its blade and green runes dimly illuminated, etched into the metal. A simple farmer's tool that had the gall to try to be something more. With the absence of the light that had been filling it came darkness. Nothingness. Except for the hunger. It was so hungry. It wanted to eat. Something to fuel it. It needed fed. Hungry.
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NeoSeussi rolled 1 100-sided dice:
42
Total: 42 (1-100)
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2012 4:44 pm
They had done it. They had stayed strong and they had all stayed silent, as though through some unspoken packed as they each gave each other a look, and then gave the hunters a hard cold stare in return. Alex had no ridiculous notions that they were going to come out of this okay. No, not with hunters staring right back at them, with not a hint of fear, not an ounce of compassion for their captors. Alex took two shambling steps towards Yin, who had been making his way around the room. He wanted to sit down with him, to be able to hold him and wait out this nightmare to it's conclusion. He knew it wasn't possible, that Yin wouldn't like it, but the urge was still their nonetheless.
One of the white cloaked figures was talking. As expected, they were not at all impressed with the groups resolute silence. Before Alex could take any more movements forward, a hissing sound began in the container, and his head darted up, and around. He didn't need to breathe, but the gas filled his nostrils anyways, entered into his lungs almost of it's own accord. He couldn't stop it, he felt dizzy. He was close to Yin, but the other boil had moved forward, away. Through the haze in his mind, he made one last attempt to move forward, to grab a hold of the sleeve of his shirt, to pull him back.
Instead, his fingers found mostly empty air. Mostly..but not quite. His fingers brushed against something sharp, Yin's arm spines. It sliced his fingertips open, the shallow yet precise cuts welling up with a thick and dark blood even as he toppled soundlessly to the ground. The faintest blur of green and brown was the last thing he could see before he blacked out completely.
---------------------------------------------------------------
He awakened in the same way he had fallen, with his brain shrouded in a haze. He shook his head, in an attempt to clear the cobwebs that had settled over his mind. What was happening..where was he? He felt disoriented, and it took him a moment to remember.
The empty desolation that he had 'woken' to with Yin at his side, the strangers, the nets, the electric jolts of pain. The holding cell, the hunters, the gas...
Alex scrambled shakily to his feet, his eyes still blurry. He reached up to wipe at them, to try and clear them, but felt something wet smear across his eyelids instead. He held his hand out in front of him, confused. Dark blood was slowly congealing on his fingertips, and his brain suddenly snapped back to that memory as well. Of Yin making his way forward, to be closest to the hunters when...
When the gas had hit.
Frantically, he looked around his cell. "Yin?" his voice was hoarse, as it got when he spent a length of time not talking. He could see other clear boxes, not far from his own. Inside them were..Yes, blue, that was Mort. Red for Taryn. He searched for green and brown, just a hint of it. There! No..that was Chuppi. So where was Yin??
Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned, slowly, towards the most horrifying sight he could imagine. Yin was there, yes, but he was in a transparent Cylinder. He was standing, cradling his hand. Alex moved forward, pressing his hands, one bloodied, one not, against the glass wall. "YIN!" He yelled, but the sound didn't seem to carry at all. In fact, it felt more like it had been reflected back to him. He..he couldn't hear him, could he? And Yin, he wasn't looking in Alex's direction. He couldn't see.
But Alex could hear them. He could hear the hunters as they spoke, as they told them what would happen if they didn't start telling the truth. Alex's lip curled back in a snarl. What truth were they supposed to tell? Something about a refuge camp that they knew nothing about??
Movement caught his attention now, and his gaze snapped back towards Yin.
He was..
They were...
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Alexander cried out, moving forward, throwing his body at the glass of the wall now, battering it with his shoulder, with his fists, smearing it with more blood. It was useless, he was useless. All he could do was watch, without being able to prevent the horror unfolding right there in front of him. "Noooo, please no." He gasped, as he backed away from the glass once more. He didn't want to see this. He couldn't possibly be watching this.
Something cold and wet was trailing down his face, down his cheeks. It was..strange. Not like anything he'd quite felt before. He watched his bonded, writhing in pain in that cylindrical cage, unable to stop it, unable to do anything. He watched him start to change, and his hands balled into fists at his side, and the tears, for that's what it was, continued to run down his cheeks trailing along his neck to wet the collar of his shirt with their watery red stain. His face below his eyes were streaked with bright red, and his body shuddered, convulsing as he curled up into himself, arms wrapped around his ribs, head bowed forward.
"Please no..not him please.." Was that Alex, whimpering like that? The sound was almost recognizable to his own ears. He forced himself to look back up, forced himself forward once more, though he leaned heavily against the glass wall once he made it there. He forced himself to watch, even while his body was wracked with shaking, and his voice was too choked back with emotions for him to even scream, though he wanted to. He wanted to scream until his lungs gave out and everyone in the room could hear his pain.
Then, more cold and numb inside then he ever believed it could ever be possible. He forced himself to see Yin to the end, until he was nothing more then a sickle, a weapon lying on the floor.
When the end came to Yin, or at least, to the Yin that Alex knew, something inside the zombie completely snapped. He felt devoid of reasonable thought or action. His eyes finally tore away from the cylindrical cage to land on the white coated figures beyond his own holding cell. Instead of answering their questions, he whispered, his voice still hoarse but deadly cold, "I'm going to kill every last one of you."
Probably not the answer they were looking for.
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bobaTJ rolled 1 100-sided dice:
60
Total: 60 (1-100)
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2012 5:23 pm
Oh no, that was not good, that was not good. Blackness overtook before Taryn could do any talking, and she awakened to see... horror. She threw herself at the glass, not seeing who else had made their way there, and shouted to Yin as he... contorted. Suffered. Flames and smoke licked from her mouth continually, and when the weapon finally clattered to the floor she turned to the hunters, teeth bared.
Alright they weren't getting anything from them. Screw these humans! They were killing her team! Her team! If they ever got out of here...
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Rown rolled 1 100-sided dice:
62
Total: 62 (1-100)
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2012 7:48 pm
Being silent probably was a bad idea in the long wrong but for what it was worth the chupacabra had been proud of her friends and their unified decision not to say a word to these hunters. Yes, hunters. Still thinking about them, just hearing that word, made her flesh crawl and tears start to well in the corner of her eyes. It was possible she could have screamed and made the people capturing them ill, all that type of good things, but before she could even think of making a sound. . . .she was zapped with the familiar feeling of being knocked cold.
When she came to everything was confusing, everyone was in cages around her except for.. . where was Yin? Chuppi looked through the faces and was relieved to see everyone there but again the question rose as the weremantis was no longer able to be counted in her sight. A thin and cold drop of panic ran down her back as her eyes turned to a large tube in the center of the room. Yin was inside there, the hunters were yelling, and before she could even think about doing anything - he was gone. Yin was gone.
In his place was a sickle, or something that could be considered a sickle, and the monster felt all the blood drain from her face in a state of cold panic. She started to scream, not caring about the others around her. Her fists pounded on the glass as she tried to get out, even to the point where she was throwing her weight against the wall in an effort to get it shattered.
"Yin! Yin! Yin!" His name was a chant as she pounded, not knowing what was going on. She was crying, she was screaming, but he wasn't going to come back was he? There was nothing left of Yin and the chupacabra dropped down, curling herself into a ball. She'd failed to protect him.
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medigel rolled 1 100-sided dice:
20
Total: 20 (1-100)
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2012 9:39 pm
((Edit: Oh you are so kidding me, Mort. STOP COMPLICATING IT. But looks like team is going with B) GOIN' DOWN FIGHTING!))
Buzzing is the worst sound to hear. It heralds light-headedness, dizziness, loss of hearing, and worst of all it usually foretells one's inevitable dip into the unconscious. Coupled with the mention of "fun" and more Hunters arriving on the scene -
zzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZ -
All Mort could think was "at least there wasn't fire this time" before he blacked out, his head ringing and buzzing worse than a beehive.
~ ~ ~
It was the darkness again, a sea of unknowing. It was somewhat a reprieve, as in his haze-dreams Mort had full control of his speech, his actions, and sometimes even the environment (however rare it was). But here, he was heavy, his mouth acting as if it was fully stitched, unable to make a sound. His limbs refused to move, his legs felt as if they were forced downwards, like he was re-experiencing the pain of gravity from the horseman again. And yet there wasn't pain to feel, no. Not until -
The darkness broke with a slit of color. Bright lights. A cold floor. An ache in his head that mirrored itself in the nooks and crannies of his body. The zomboil's eyes fluttered as he winced, slowly pushing himself up as his mind registered where he laid: the cage still. Had they been drugged? What was . . .
Groggy still, it took Mort a moment to realize something was wrong. The colors were wrong. There was Taryn's red, Chuppi's darkish green, Alex's pale white, and - where was the green and brown? Why was he only counting three?
He shifted his gaze forward, blearily blinking several times before recognizing the figure in the glass tube before them. But what was Yin doing over there, Mort's slow mind thought. Why wasn't he with them? Didn't Mort have to stitch his chest up some more? Why was -
The more Mort stared, the more he began to move the cogs of his brain. Process the environment. Hear the static-noise of the Hunter's threats come sharp as glass into his ears. See the stoic, determined look on the mantodae's face before it contorted with pain.
"One of you is next if you don't tell the truth."
Crack went the boil's bones, one by one. His body was convulsing in an almost comically, revolting way. Blood that came out in gushes was quickly sucked back in, like a bag of fruit punch trying to keep itself together. It was mesmerizing, to the point that when the final product was created it took Mort twice as long to recognize what he had just witnessed. The clatter the sickle made on the floor struck him into reality.
Worse was the vacuum of sound in his own personal glass hell. It throbbed against his ears like the drums beating the rhythm of their systematic destruction. That was what it would turn to, he reasoned. One by one, demoralizing them with punctuated deaths by conversion.
"If you don't speak the truth, you will be next."
And that was the last Mort saw of reason for the moment. A year one student, a student who he had been entrusted to help keep safe through these trials, had essentially died on his watch. And now the despicable human was wielding that new weapon with little care, continuing to threaten them from the safety of his gloating pedastle outside their reach.
Briefly the zomboil's eyes glowed as electricity built up within him, and without warning the zomboil began to slam his fists into the impenetrable glass casing, a small clap of thunder accompanying each crash. He was not going to sit and think because his brain could not, had not the capability. He was going to feast on Hunter brains or die trying.
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 12:35 am
So what happened next? Could they all just stay silent and challenge these people, all to go down like Yin had? Chuppi may have been curled into a ball but her eyes were always watching the two hunters, and her quills spread over her body like a protective barrier. She wanted to close her eyes and block her ears, preventing all the forms of emotional violence that was being pressed on her from entering her body. She didn't want it to be inflicted upon the group, she just wanted to go home. Home, like the fog voices had said.
Home.
The monster was weeping, her whole body aching from smashing against the wall. It had pointless, she had watched Yin get converted into a weapon, and the sudden painful thought came pushing itself into her mind as she listened to Alexander's threats. If....if Yin had been turned into a weapon, did that mean all of the weapons the hunters carried were once....their own kind? The thought was rich, powerful, and Chuppi felt her insides threaten to come up her throat at any minute. Her eyes were still watering with tears, the sobs shaking her shoulders, and she slowly pulled herself bit by bit from the ball as she listened to the threats that kept coming. Everyone around her was so eager to stay silent, the power of defiance to the very end.
Chuppi wasn't so sure she could do that - she wasn't so sure she could just keep biting her tongue and watch the others get turned into weapons before her very eyes. She hardly knew Yin or Alex, yet she would still mourn their loss. Taryn was something of a friend to her, she would certainly be terrified to see her go, but the thought of losing Mort? He had been there with her for so long, had cheered her up and bought her food. Had called her cute, had watched the fireflies with her. If Chuppi had thought that he could love her then she probably would admit she loved him, but she didn't and she wouldn't. Instead she would just have to take a stand and push her way forward, hoping her words would buy some time against the others.
"Mort, Taryn. As years two, protect Alex and do not let the harms come. Alex, stay with them if you will please. I will . . . . " Her words were shaky, like she wasn't even properly thinking about how to say them. Instead she simply appeared to be vomiting whatever came into her mouth and the whole time she shook like a leaf. It was always easy to be brave, always easy to act like she wasn't frightened, but she was fooling no one. "I will not allow them to hurt anyone, I have not been able to protect anymore. I will. . . "
She pushed to her feet and moved to the glass, her hands on it as she looked at the weapon that was once Yin. His voice calling her name with that silly title still rang in her ears, and she swallowed. "I will have them change me next. You should run while I make them fight."
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 10:17 am
In a moment, Taryn turned to face down the wall. She had barely realized that they had all been separated, each in their own tubes. It seemed as though they were all going to be turned so long as they didn't give information they didn't have. Chuppi was saying something, but even Yin's voice had been muffled by the thick glass. She figured it was safe to assume that the others wouldn't be able to hear her either, so she 'spoke' to them with dramatic mouth movements and gestures.
Be strong.
It was the second time she'd told her team this, and her eyes moved to Alex. Poor Alex... If Yin was gone, if he wasn't at home when they arrived again...? Then again, they might all lose themselves here. They might all become tools of the Hunters... but she refused to see her team go down without a fight.
Give them nothing.
Directed at Chuppi, who seemed somehow frantic. They wanted to see dramatic reactions, they were pushing for them, and she was giving them precisely what they wanted.
Fight. 'We are Halloween, we cannot die.'
She hoped prayed even, that that would strike some chord with those who had been present at the Haunted House. They would not feebly give in, they would not cry, they would not throw untrue information to try and escape. Weakness was not an option. Each one of them had to go down fighting so Halloween, so the Clans, so they and Professor Red could be proud of what they had done.
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 11:24 am
Alex had backed away from the glass once more. He felt cold, just..so incredibly cold. It was the worst feeling he could imagine. Something had been torn away from him, and left an empty void in it's place, one that that threatened to consume him. It was almost like the time his mom had told him to give up on Yin, to stop being friends with him and just give up. Only this was a thousand times worse. A million times worse. Yin was gone. He was gone.
The tears on his face were drying now, the red streaks beginning to flake away. He had to force himself to stop thinking about it, or give in to that void and give in to despair. He much preferred the cold feeling, the hatred welling up inside him every time he caught a glimpse or a flash of a white cloak out of the corner of his eye. They had taken the most important thing in his unlife away from him. They had taken him.
He meant what he said when he told them he was going to kill them all.
If this was just another horsemen trial, just another game...If they did wake up to find that they were all okay...Alex's hatred would still be there. That burning desire to destroy every last hunter he ever laid his eyes on again. He would tear them apart and feast on their corpses as he had wanted to from the first time he'd laid eyes on one. He would never be friends with them, never come to terms with them. They had earned his undying hatred, and that would last until the end of his unlife.
Slowly his pale gaze shifted towards the others. Right, there were still the others. He'd almost forgotten they were even still there, as he was caught up in his own misery and pain. Taryn appeared to be trying to say something, emphasizing her words with actions. He had missed most of it, the beginning of what she had to say. He caught the end though.
We cannot die?
No....He found no comfort in those words. They might not be able to die.
But they could still apparently be turned into weapons.
He looked through his glass prisons walls once again, staring through the blood streaked haze. One of the white coats was lifting the sickle out of the tube, and Alex growled in outrage. They weren't allowed to touch him. Even if it wasn't him anymore. They weren't allowed.
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 4:50 pm
The figure in the white cloak sighs and takes out an extremely plain looking eyephone, "Sorry ma'am, but I need you down in section B. Yes. Thank you. Yeah, I'd like to avoid him if possible. Thank you again." They pocketed the phone with a sigh and a small smile before remembering to glare at the captives. Several minutes later another a blonde woman walked in, causing the first to stand straighter and adjust their uniform. She glanced at the captives and smiled back at him, "You did the right thing, this bunch is definitely out odd the ordinary. They almost look... pre-war. You go ahead and take a break, I bet you haven't even had breakfast yet, have you?" "I'd rather stay and help you, ma'am, I know you had a date planned today with-" "Don't you worry about it," she cut him off, "this is more important." He ducked his head a bit, "Sorry...thank you, just give me a call if you need me." She turned to give the cages a smile that held no hint of kindness, "Oh, I don't think that will be necessary."The OOC Roll 1 d100 1-25: Weakness slams into your body as the door to your cage is opened. A red pendant is gently slipped over your head, and the sensation of compulsion overwhelms you. You find yourself answering question after questions until the pendant begins to sizzle and burn against your skin, seeing it, the woman sighs and says and odd phrase, destroying the pendant and you in a brief moment. Your death is quick and painless. 26-50: Weakness slams into your body as the door to your cage is opened. The woman leans over your body as the world fades to black. Next you're blinking up into a harsh set of lights, a scalpel gleaming overhead. Death is so terribly slow in coming. 51-75: Weakness slams into your body as the door to your cage is opened. The woman leans over your body, "Say ahhhhh," and places something in your mouth. After a moment she frowns, "That's a shame." She places a small round device on your chest. Your death is painful, but very brief. 76-100: The woman leaves the room and the door to your cage opens. Through intelligence, luck, or sheer desperation you escape the room. Running down the halls, you find your body slowly wearing down until suddenly, you collapse. The woman leans over you, smiling in approval, "You'll make a good partner." When next you awake, you're in the weaponization chamber, your FEAR slowly being pulled apart, the very core of your being adjusted and reordered to suit the needs of the hunters.
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NeoSeussi rolled 1 100-sided dice:
100
Total: 100 (1-100)
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 4:55 pm
Alex was too focused on what was happening to the weapon that had formerly been his bonded. He spent so much time watching, a dark rage twisting inside of him, that he didn't even notice the phone call, or the arrival of the new hunter, until she was speaking. Her voice demanded attention, as though she were somebody important. As much as he was loathe to break his gaze from what he was so firmly fixated on for a time, he just couldn't help himself. His pale grey eyes settled on the blonde woman, and he listened to what she had to say.
The conversation she had with the other hunter made little sense. Pre-war? What did that mean? He wouldn't get a chance to find out, it seemed, as the talk flitted elsewhere. Apparently some date the blonde woman had was important enough to discuss, albiet briefly, and Alex felt a lump, unbidden, rise in his throat.
I never got to take him on a single official date. Not one.
He quelled the ache in his chest, swiftly burying it beneath that black and jagged rage once more. So much easier to feel anger and hatred, then sadness and doubt. So much more..pleasant.
The conversation between the two hunters was short, fleeting really. The first hunter was leaving and the new blonde appeared to be staying behind. The look on her face as she looked at Alex may have at one point given him chills, but now it just fueled his anger, made him want to see them bleed more then ever.
And then she turned and lef the room, and his glass prison door just...swung open.
What..what was going on? Was this some kind of accident? Possibly some kind of glitch in the electrical system causing his door to short circuit and unlatch? Alex didn't know, but he also wasn't about to wait around to figure it out. He was moving forward, shambling out through that open door with out thinking. He turned and looked towards the others, Mort, Taryn, and Chuppi. Had there doors come open as well?
It appeared that they had not. Moving towards them, he eyed the glass cages. He couldn't see a latch, an opening, a lock..nothing. He couldn't see how they came open. He glanced towards Mort, his gaze steely, but somehow still full of regret as he made eye contact. "I...I can't.." He started, his voice gutteral and harsh, but Mort just nodded. His gaze moved towards Taryn.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, in that roughened voice, ragged from shouting, from sobbing. "I'll...I'll try and come back. I'll try and get you all free" She seemed to be urging him to go, to just save himself and not bother with the rest of them.
He alone knew that his words were a lie. If he was to leave this room now, without his team mates, he would not be returning. He would be going to destroy as many hunters as he could, if it meant his own, permanent death, he would take as many of the jack bastards down with him as he could. His gaze finally landed on Chuppi last, and he said "Stay strong..." Before he turned to leave, exiting through the same door that the other two hunters had gone.
He found himself in a deserted hallway. Turning to his right he began to make his way along, as quickly as his shuffling, clumsy gait would allow.
He was going to find them. He was going to kill them all.
He didn't know when exactly the weakness had hit him, it was just suddenly there. Perhaps it had been creeping up slowly on him this whole time but only now was he beginning to notice. It didn't matter anyways, he needed to press onwards. Rage drove him onwards. An unsatiable need for vengence, a hunger that was burning deep inside.
Rage would only get him so far
He hadn't seen a single hunter, hadn't even had a chance to do what he'd set out to do, when his weakened and fatigued body finally collapsed to the floor. He barely had the strength to remain conscious as he heard footsteps come towards him. Somebody was leaning down over him, he could smell it, that human smell. His lip curled back into a snarl but he barely had the energy to even growl out a warning before she was speaking to him. Something about being a great partner. Whatever that meant. He reached a trembling and clawed hand towards her, intent on tearing apart that hideous, smiling, wretched human face of hers. Zombies were resiliant, zombies could perservere. He was just about able to reach her but she took a step back in surprise, straightening so that he couldn't catch her. The last of his reserves were empty, and for the third time that day, Alex blacked out.
When he awoke it was to find himself in a familiar glass cylinder. The very one that he had gotten to witness Yin be destroyed in, reformed into nothing more then a tool. His body shook at the suddenly vivid memory, the pain still so fresh and deep. This was apparently how Alex was to meet his end as well.
He was somehow almost okay with that. At least like this, he had a chance of still being with Yin forever..right?
He attempted to push himself to his feet, staggering so that he instinctually reached out to steady himself on the glass wall. That was a mistake, as an electric jolt surged through him, causing him to stumble back and fall to his backside, stunned. He gazed out through the curved glass, the figures on the other side distorted and barely recognizable. The colors of his friends and team mates gave them away, but he barely had time to think when his world became nothing but pain.
So, this is how Yin had felt, as his FEAR was slowly and agonizingly torn apart and reformed. Any other pain Alex may have felt in his unlife paled in insignificance. His cries of torment were cut short, as fresh pain lanced through his body, again and again, over and over. To cry out would have required breath, and there was no way Alex could breathe at this point, so he writhed in silence, falling to his side, curled into a ball with teeth gritted, eyes clenched shut, flashes in hues of red beating a rythm in his skull. It lasted only a few moments.
It lasted an eternity.
Something eventually snapped, and he suddenly felt light, before a feeling of coagulation and density returned, but in a new shape. As this was happening, he was suddenly blinded by a brilliant white light that sheared through his mind and tore through his thoughts, ripping out his memories, leaving him a blank slate. The insatiable rage he had been feeling before transformed to another feeling he knew very well, a feeling of hunger, but almost stronger then any hunger he'd felt before.
Where Alex once lay, was instead a long and odd looking gun, resting on it's side. Where the stock should have been, there was a large, clear glass cannister, filled with what looked like a toxic green gas. Green runes glowed and pulsated softly along the forstock.
He had become a tool to be used by the one thing he had learned to hate most. The irony was that he was going to enjoy it.
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Rown rolled 1 100-sided dice:
7
Total: 7 (1-100)
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 5:07 pm
The door was opened, there were drums in the back of her head.
All the fight she'd been saving up, all the rage she'd been holding together in an effort to unleash it on those that dared cage her in, faded the moment she witness Alexander get turned into a gun. Part of her bitterly thought it was fitting that the lovebirds get turned into weapons together, forever to be in use by the hunters against those of their own kind. Would they even know they were being raised to attack creatures that were once known as friends? It didn't seem likely, or so she told herself, and Chuppi bit at her lip as she closed her eyes to get away from the sight. A sickle, a gun. No longer a weremantis, no longer a zombie. No more Halloween, only weapons.
The door was opened, there were drums in the back of her head.
A figure seemed to be reaching in towards Chuppi and she pressed herself against the back of the cage as best she could, unwilling to allow herself a chance to be caught and turned into a weapon herself. She wouldn't be a useful one, she tried saying, but her mouth refused to open even if her eyes did to take in the advancing figure. They drew closer despite her best efforts and the monster raised her hands to fend them off, her claws raking against jacket with a pointless motion. They weren't reaching for her, per say, as their hands held something in them that was quickly dropped over her neck. The chupacabra stared at it in puzzlement, her red eyes glancing down as her fingers gingerly touched it. A pendant? A red pendant? what was this -
The door was open, there were drums in the back of her head.
"Temes. I am a Chupacabra." Was that her voice? Why was she speaking?! Had she not sworn to be silent like the others, to keep their secrets safe until they either rested as weapons or did not rest at all? "I am a second year student, from Amityville." There was a buzz in her ears as what seemed to be questions continued to pour in. Even as her mind screamed to stop, screamed for her to quit speaking, her lips kept parting and words kept spilling over her lips like water from a fountain. The buzz continued, unrelenting. It poked at her mind, asking her questions to things that she answered. Asking her questions to things she didn't understand as well, things she made up answers for or simply replied with a statement of not knowing.
By the time she'd reached their current situation, the explanation of the Trials of Death, hot tears were spilling down her cheeks. Her mouth was coated with blood, the monster having bitten her tongue so many times in an effort to choke herself and die. The answers had not coming willingly, as her body showed, and when the buzzing finally stopped she thought she might have a reprieve, have a chance to have a few final words for herself.
The door was open, there were drums in the back of her head.
A heat, a burning heat. White hot and scalding, tearing into her flesh even though she was wearing clothing. The uniform that she had treasured, a sign that she was part of a group, was being ruined with each passing second. The chupacabra glanced down at the pendant and the hole it was creating, her mouth open and blood leaking down. She was done crying, her body unable to produce any more tears, and for the first time since she'd been placed in the cage she was at peace. She was dying, it was terrifying, but a thought reminded her of something that she had heard, something that everyone had said no matter what.
"Did you know?" Her words were harsh against her throat, blood finally filling her lungs with each gasp of air and pain against the burning of the pendant. "Halloween can and will never die." The smile she thought of wearing at the end of all this, at the end of the trials and her team's return to normalcy, finally spread over her lips. It hurt to move, the burning hurt so badly, but she forced her head to turn to look at Taryn and Mort. Forced her head to look at them so they could see her smile and the blood and know that she had tried. She had tried so hard for them, would they forgive her?
The door was open, there was silence in the back of her mind.
Her body exploded with a single word, her brain dead long before it even could think about what happened. Pieces of her flesh lined the cage but there had been no pain, nothing left to kill. No panic, no sorrow. Last regrets did not linger, final wishes were never made.
The monster had died knowing that she indeed was Halloween.
She would never die.
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bobaTJ rolled 1 100-sided dice:
75
Total: 75 (1-100)
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 5:31 pm
There was a brief stutter of excitement. For some reason, the women holding them captive had gone and a hydraulic sound drew all eyes toward Alex's capsule. It had opened. A moment more of anxious waiting, though, and the team would see that he was the only one. Still, one of them escaping was better than none.
When the zomboil's eyes met hers, she put a hand to the glass and shouted, "Go!"
If there was any hope for her team, she had to let it happen, regardless of how little she wanted to be weaponized. That was what a good leader did, they sacrificed themselves for the good of their team. She could only wait as the boil ran through the halls, and nearly collapsed when she saw him returned to his cylinder. The ghoul caught herself against the glass and made a small, pathetic sound.
What kind of leader lost her entire team?
Taryn's initial reaction was to turn away, to not have to see or hear the agony in the container nearby. It only lasted a moment before she steeled herself and turned, making herself as present as she could be for her companion's death. He seemed to be undergoing the same change that Yin had, and she watched him collapse only to see a gas-gun left where he had once been. her heart dropped into her stomach. It was worse to be turned into a tool than to die, she was certain.
The chimera could only wince when Chuppi was taken under control (or was it willful?) and shouted responses at the Hunter. When she was nothing but bits of brain matter splattered on the wall, it seemed as if it was her turn. The woman approached once more, opening Taryn's canister and trying to grabbing
"Say ahhhhh," she said, but Taryn whipped her head to the side. The face she was forced into might have been comical had it not been for the situation. For just a moment, her eyes met Mort's, and there was much emotion behind them; fear, loss, agony... but there was something else as well. There was determination. She pleaded with him silently.
Get out, Mort. For me, please get out.
It only lasted briefly, for the Hunter snapped Taryn's head back and placed something bitter upon her tongue. In that moment, the ghoul decided that she was going to go down like a true warrior. She just stared into the woman's eyes, jaw set, eyes narrowed. Screw you, lady, and all of your kind.
"That's a shame..."
What was meant to have happened, who knew? Regardless, Taryn's heart picked up the pace as a small round device was placed upon her chest. She showed none of her nervousness before she pitched forward out of her canister, dead in moments, blood seeping from a wound in her chest and from between her parted lips. At least she hadn't been weaponized. At least they had been merciful in their blind murder of teenagers.
Mort was all that remained.
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medigel rolled 1 100-sided dice:
78
Total: 78 (1-100)
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 6:48 pm
~ ~ ~ (Part 1: Reactions of a Dead Man)
There is nothing that can accurately describe the feeling of power Mort derive from pounding on the cage. The pain of bones fracturing? Nothing. The mostly coagulated blood drying on his hands? Nothing. The fact that forcing lightning through his hands and arms so often would bite him in the a**? Nothing. He was a god, he was the rebel, he was the ultimate protagonist who could achieve anything through sheer force of will. He was going to save his team, he was going to tear the Hunters apart, he was going to - he was gonna -
Why were his punches slowing down.
Invisible weights attached themselves to his arms, almost dragging him to the floor. Mort's legs were trembling - hell, his entire body was trembling. But the only thing Mort could think of for the longest time was why couldn't he keep going, what was stopping him, if he could just give it a bit more . . .
A hissing sound made his head jerk to the side. Alex's door was opening for some reason and . . . and the woman wasn't there anymore. They were left alone. The younger zomboil ambled over to their cages, searching for a means to also free them; but Fate was not so easy on the Badgers. Alex rasped something to them in his hoarse voice that Mort barely caught, but the intent was there in his expression. With his arms not responding and hanging at his sides like noodles, the best Mort could do in response was to nod soberly in return. Alex fled the scene after a final message to Taryn and Chuppi, leaving him to figure out how this had happened.
But perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised, Mort thought. Caelius had let him go after the rough interrogation with the Hunter ghoul, albeit in an unwarrantedly painful manner. And they had indeed threatened lives to get what they wanted, though the conversion had not been one of those options last time. Perhaps after Yin's conversion they had decided to let one go in an attempt to get the team to open up more. Mort still wouldn't talk either way, but perhaps some Hunters still had some sense of pity in their otherwise black hearts.
This notion was quickly stricken through the second he heard the door open, for he saw none other than the woman again, this time dragging Alex. In silent shock Mort watched as she tossed his friend into an identical glass tube across from them, staring as Alex staggered upwards only to be shocked back down into a defeated position on the floor - staring as that familiar figure was contorted and crushed into an unfamiliar weapon.
Two down. He couldn't believe it, couldn't - not first years -
Mort barely had time to react before another Hunter approached Chuppi. "N-No!" he cried, lurching towards the matching side of his cage as if sudden movement might deter them. But no, the human had breached the chupacabra's cage and with an outreached hand placed something about her regardless of his actions. He pressed his face against the glass, smudging his glasses and unable to care. They were asking her questions: her name, her species, where she had come from . . . And Chuppi answered every one, her mouth filling with blood as she fought an unknown force.
"Did you know? Halloween can and will never die." And a final bloody smile was all he could see before she was immolated before his very eyes. A meaty explosion that caused him to stagger back. Chuppi, little Temes who cried and wanted nothing more than to prove herself, who had tried her best and still felt it was worth nothing, was now nothing more than a mess to be cleaned up. Had he anything in his stomach, he would have possibly let it go.
What was going on?!
And yet the woman, calm as could be, next approached Taryn's cage at a saunter. Whatever she said, Mort couldn't hear. He was roaring his lungs out, crashing his heat against the glass in lieu of his hands' sudden retiring. No, Jack, don't do this, we hadn't done anything, not her too, please, ask me anything, take me, STOP THIS, TAKE ME, LEAVE THEM ALONE!!
Whether he had the coherence to say these thoughts in-between his shrieks would be unknown. Taryn's resistance amounted to nothing as she was forced to swallow a small object. The woman pursed her lips in a disappointed manner after several seconds and fetched a new foreign object to place on his friend, his leader. And yet Taryn kept a brave face, turning to him one last time to give him a look that conveyed too much and too title for his brain to comprehend, things he knew and didn't want to know: fear, torment, regret . . . But its meaning was simple:
Go. Get out. Survive for us.
Even in her final moments, Taryn lived up to her title as leader. Even with certain death, she gave her silent command with a stiff upper lip. She died with less grace than her actions warranted, seizing as blood poured out of her in violent rivers until the floor was stained the color of her fur.
And what more could Mort do than stare? Stare in horror, tremble in despair, obsess over the fact of his new plight. He was all alone now.
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Posted: Thu Mar 22, 2012 3:17 pm
~ ~ ~ (Part 2: A Bitter Pill)
Alone. Noun. Separate, isolated from others; solitary; solely; without aid or help. What an awful word to mean so much. It was accompanied in the dictionary by an example sentence: Zombies are rarely seen alone as they prefer to work in hordes.
And that was true. Traditional zombies like Alex and Mort were known to be slow, mentally and physically, and precluded from being alone on basic instinct. They worked best in groups, overwhelming enemies with their numbers and determination, driven by the fear their moans caused, the stench and plague they brought an incurable disease that none could withstand. A lone zombie, was easy to pick off. It was not intelligent, moved slowly and often noisily, and reacted hostilely as opposed to the needs of self-preservation.
Mortimer, no longer accompanied by any of the Badgers, was a lone zombie. And a lone zombie was a quickly dead one in even the best conditions.
Swallowing hard, Mortimer pressed his forehead against the cool cracked glass of his cage, closed his eyes, and stopped breathing. If he didn't breathe, he couldn't grieve. If he couldn't breathe, he could stave off the welling emotions within him. If he didn't breathe, he could think. Plan. Survive.
His mind tic'd off each click of every footstep the woman took as she left Taryn's corpse unceremoniously on the ground. Seven . . . thirteen . . . eighteen . . . twenty-two. With twenty-two steps and a slammed door, he was truly left alone, with one corpse, one meat-mess, and buckets of blood. She'd taken the Alex-weapon with her, presumably to shelve with the rest of the souls they had stolen. Would he be beside Yin even then, facing the future together in mutual darkness with hands held? Would the ghouls have gone to someplace better, unfettered by pain as they shrugged off the mortal coil and were released from this stress?
Anything was better than this cold, biting loneliness.
He tightened his eyes, reacting to impossible tears he couldn't conjure. His teeth clenched to prevent the sob. There was probably a camera watching him, and Mort didn't want to give those damn humans the sight of him breaking down - even as tempting as it was to do so. But it was hard, so very hard . . .
Think, Jackdamnit! You owe them so much more than sitting and crying . . . And you can't even do that.
Think, you stupid son of a witch, think!
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thus went his head against the deep scarring in the glass, embedding shards into his scalp and forehead with each hit. It did nothing to help him think, but by Jack did the waves of pain fell good. Physical pain to draw away from the mental and emotional anguish awaiting him the second he stopped.
"What are you doing, love?"
Thunk. Thunk . . . Mort paused, turning his head slowly in the direction of the voice.
Eris. Eris, in the cage, a hand on her hip with a surveying gaze and magnificent sorrel hair.
He was incapable of shock at this point. He was barely able to cogitate, let alone emote. The zomboil tried to say something to the apparition, but his voice was hoarse from all his screaming. His lips parted like a gaping fish.
"Falling to pieces just won't do, you know." A quirk of a smile, her Cheshire smile that enticed him so. "You owe your team more than that."
My team . . . Dead, converted, gone. Chuppi exploding, Taryn vomiting blood, Alex dragged like trash, Yin harvested like an animal -
She pursed her lips slightly, craning a brow at him. "This is the Trial of Death. Had you expected less than death itself to occur?"
I didn't know it would have happened like this. Not with them. Not with Hunters . . . As he shook with emotion, the heir strode over to him, lifting his chin up with her hand so that they could look at each other eye-to-eye. Mort could barely lift his gaze.
"Be prepared for anything. War comes without honor, Death less so even. The Hunters will be merciless, and so must you. Look at me," she firmly said, and Mort obeyed. "Your job is to survive and adapt to whatever conditions are presented. You must carry on, my sweet, whatever happens. Can you do that for me?"
And before Mort could answer, she was gone. Behind the place the memory once stood, the door to his cage had opened. Mort did not leap at this chance of escape, no: he walked with the weight of a guilty man, a student who had survived only because his friends had been sacrificed first. He prayed it would not be in vain.
~ ~ ~
Each step sent a dull ache up his leg, so tired was he of standing. The zomboil's arms swung uselessly with each step, the extent of his angry barrage clear: bone jutted out of flesh, blood caked knuckles, bruises had formed in charred patches, and continuously fingers twitched. He had very little feeling in them left, save for the gentle throb in his palms where the electricity had been concentrated most. It smelled of cooked meat. Bad cooked meat.
The halls were such a sterilized white that it hurt to look anywhere except at the shadows. Each corner he took was the same as the last, and worse was Mort knowing his energy was waning. But he pushed onward, knowing that if he stopped to rest he might very well spell out his own doom and, as a result, his team's fate would be permanently sealed. The halls echoed with the sounds of his shuffling, kept steady by an internal beat, an old Mother Goosebump rhyme Mama used to tell him:
Zombie Willie Winking runs through the town
A turn, a stumble. He steadied himself with a hand on the wall and kept going, smearing traces of blood. The exit had to be here somewhere . . .
Upstairs and downstairs, brains chowing down
Locked doors. Mort groaned and turned, barely mustering the energy to push his glasses back up before turning around to retrace his steps.
Tapping at the window, scratching at the lock
Four-way intersection. Had he been here before? It wasn't just his hands dragging him down now, no, now his whole body was beginning to feel like a massive fleshy weight. Just a few more steps, he told himself. Just . . .
Are all the children in their beds?
A few . . . more . . .
Is the shotgun cocked?
Exhaustion caught up to the zomboil at long last, and Mort stumbled into a crumpled position on the cold floor. The tumble jarred his whole body, but he was too drained to do anything about it. The ceiling was spinning, and he kept hearing footsteps, a distinct clicking he had tic'd off not so long ago.
Five . . . ten . . . fifteen steps . . . A rustle of clothes in his ear. A warm presence just above him, a smile in her voice.
"You'll do just fine as a partner."
~ ~ ~
Mortimer woke with a solid presence at his back. Was he lying down? The cot was obscenely hard, but he would not complain; indeed, he doubted he'd ever complain again. There was a soft hum in the background, perhaps a new machine Nurse Cricket had acquired. She'd probably need the extra help, given the extent of damage The Honey Badgers had taken during this trial.
A muffled voice was heard, like it was behind a wall. And then Mort's back suddenly felt like it was on fire.
In an instant he gave a scratchy yelp and pitched himself forward - much like Alex had experienced, he pressed his hands against the front of the tube to catch himself and was rewarded with another strong shock. He was not in Nurse Cricket's infirmary, nor at Amityville, but in one of the conversion tubes.
The humming grew louder.
It struck him. Conversion. Alone. Pain. A woman's voice. White halls. Alone. Death. Dying Alone. No-one was watching him. No-one could see him like this.
His feet began to tingle, as if ants were biting through his skin and straight to the bone. White hot fire ants who began to wriggle up his ankle to consume him. Mort realized they had just switched the machine on, and he didn't have a lot of time left. Time to let loose then.
It's all for nothing, a tiny voice of doubt said. You're wasting your time. Accept your fate: you failed them. Take the bitter pill and embrace darkness.
It was easy to. Just stop fighting.
But, Mort retorted with reckless, almost smug idiocy as his hands lit up with electricity, There's just one thing:
Honey Badgers don't give a s**t.
And so began the zomboil's final barrage of charged punches. Electricity against electricity, pain versus determination, mind versus body, Hunter versus student. It hurt worse than the Red-beast's blue fire, worse than Caelius's FEAR-taking scythe, worse than facing fire bare-foot. But, more importantly, it felt right to fight back. Hopeless odds or not, Mort was not going to sit and take it.
He didn't know when it was exactly that his punches stopped. One second it was a flurry, the next . . . his hands, now burnt scraps of bone and blood, were stuck to the glass: his charge had communed with the chamber's resulting in a magnetic field that pinned him within everlasting pain. It surged through him, subdued him in seconds, but his hands were still pressed to the glass almost rebelliously in their capture.
The agony in his feet had now transferred into his whole body. Everything was white and hot, even when he shut his eyes. But Mortimer did not regret his actions, however stupid. He had fought back, persevered through hell, and had not backed down.
It was worth it, he told himself as his throat began to fry and his hair began to disintegrate. There were things left unfinished still, but this was all worth it.
Bones cracked, reformed, and broke, jumbling into a mess. Internal organs were pierced, bile and blood spilling forth only to be sucked back in. The machine hummed louder still as the being that was once Mortimer was converted, condensed, and eventually completed. Where once stood a zombie now was a metallic gauntlet, styled like a skeletal hand, with wires and conduits that, after several seconds post-birth, lit up. It hummed to itself gently, wires and runic symbols glowing a soft green as it dozed, dreaming of darkness, and of feeding.
It knew no longer what pain was, nor that before it had been the greatest battle never witnessed.
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