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The music in Richard's headphones was loud--loud enough that he probably should turn it down for the sake of his hearing--and upbeat. He timed his footfalls for the beat of the bass, grinning a bit whenever there was a particularly nice drop. The temperature was nice--not too hot, nor too muggy--and there was light enough pedestrian traffic that he wasn't having to worry about dodging other people. Despite some of the recent stress in his life, he was... feeling pretty good, actually. At a point appropriate to the music, he pivoted on his heel, spun in place, then kept running.

Per his normal route, he made a turn toward the park, noting with a brief smile as he passed the street corner where he'd ended up intercepting and meeting Seren. He wondered idly if she'd like to come to the upcoming cookout they were having. He also wondered how she and Ignacio would take to each other. It'd be pretty cool if they ended up friends, too, honestly. He'd just have to let everyone know that she was a little shy, was all. He'd have to make sure Constantine stuck close to Lee, to keep an eye on him. Lee was a good dude, really, but he was... enthusiastic. About everything. He was like if someone took a golden retriever and turned it into a person.

So, yeah, some caution, there. He'd done alright with Ignacio, but...

Well, for the most part, anyway...

While enough of his mind remained attentive to where he was going so that he didn't run into anyone or anything, Richard quite quickly lost himself in thought.

Richard had no idea what was coming for him, quite immersed in his music and the endorphin rush of the run. It got him all sweaty, sure, but between that and the shower he'd take when he got home, he'd be out like a light in no time. That was part of the appeal of the late-night runs in the first place, when he couldn't sleep. Once he was home, he'd be down for probably the next few hours without a problem. Having the chance to run to fast music was pretty nice, too.

A flash of movement caught his eye and he turned, but didn't see anything at first. He hesitated, breaking his gait for only a moment, before deciding that it was best to just keep going if something was there. He hadn't seen anything yet, but now he was starting to get a bad feeling about things. Richard, after a moment, glanced down to turn off--or at least pause--his music. When he glanced up, that's when he saw... it. A squid, and a pretty big one, headed for him. Fully willing to act first and think later, Richard twisted to the side to try and avoid it, but he had noticed it late enough that it was already very close to him. His heart already beat fast in his chest from the run, and this didn't help matters at all.

Neither, certainly, did the sight of some... one? coming towards him, moving quickly, with... smoke following them? He noticed them when trying to find maybe a rock or something to throw at the squid. Richard's next words were not kind, and he paused for an admittedly frantic moment to try and find anything, even a trashcan lid, to protect himself with.

The adolescent voice gave Richard pause. Or, it would have, if 'get off me I can't breathe I can't. Breathe. wasn't still screaming through his mind. His heart had a sickening thud to it. He could still almost feel the monster on him. The trashcan lid had clattered uselessly off to the side somewhere when he'd dropped it to try and pry the squid monster off of him. There was no hope now of reaching it should he try to test the threat inherent in the other monster's words. Monster? There was the face of--if Richard had to guess--a teenager, but nothing about that form actually convinced him of any humanity. Was it a trick? Was the monster speaking to him actually a person, or really a monster?

Richard didn't know and, frankly, didn't have the focus necessary to ponder it for very long--if at all. He had tried to defend himself, but it had been only a second, and then it was all over. The monster was all over him, on his arms, his head, his neck and face. He couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe...! He'd tried to tear the monster off of him, his world narrowing down to specifically and only that end goal. He had failed, feeling his body consuming what oxygen was in his lungs and beginning to scream for more. It had caught up to him with seemingly no effort, his blood chilling in his body when he had realized--a second before it curled itself around his neck--that he had nowhere to run to. He had torn his mouth free just enough to suck in a lungful of air, but that was all.

Run or fight back, neither run nor fight back. How was he supposed to neither run nor fight back? Did this monster expect him to just... sit there? To just let it happen? He didn't know if there was anything he could do to stop it, but he struggled against the squid monster as much as he could while the other monster spoke his threats. Richard had nothing to fight back with, and he certainly couldn't run bound as he was, but he wasn't going to just give up. And, so, he struggled. Even when he had to keep stealing breaths, he attempted to tear the monster away from his head, away from his neck and his face. Dizzy from lack of air and the rush of blood filling his ears, Richard poured all of his efforts into just getting free.

Richard didn't hear his assailant tell the squid to let up, but he was glad for it nonetheless. He gasped, inhaling deeply and rapidly, only remembering after a moment that hyperventilation was a bad thing and he should maybe not do that. Should maybe stop himself from doing that. He wanted to try and get away, testing the hold of the rest of the monster on him. To his dismay, no other limbs let up in their hold on his limbs. The violet light caught his attention, Richard instinctively whipping his head around to see what it was. It took a moment for him to realise his tiredness, as if he hadn't slept well the previous night, as he caught sight of the... smoke? going from him to the orb.

He struggled more, at that.

Wishing uselessly that he hadn't dropped the trashcan lid, Richard strained at the hold on him. A twinge in his shoulders warned him that he was approaching his (rather considerable) limits of flexibility, and he knew he needed to change tactic or else risk dislocating his shoulders. He was prepared to do that if he had to, but the ache in the joints even after he stopped pulling in that direction warned him of what would be to come if he went that route. He looked around, hoping to find anything he could have any hope of reaching, but came up empty.

Empty.

He was starting to feel that way, shaking his head to try and clear the cotton balls starting to fill it. He was going from feeling like he hadn't slept well the previous night to feeling like he hadn't slept at all in almost a week. Richard kept pulling and struggling against the squid holding him, but he realized how difficult it was getting. Aside from the squid holding him, it felt like he had iron weights attached to his arms and legs, which ached as if he'd been resisting for hours and not just a couple minutes. It took a second for the thought to make it past the edges of fuzziness on his consciousness, edges that crept in closer and darker, but he realized then that he was getting weaker. Or, at least, his struggling was.

That bolstered his desire to fight back, but not his ability, and Richard could feel his legs going weak. His heartbeat thudded in his chest as Richard could, quite literally, feel the fight being drained out of him. His vision was swimming, so he couldn't quite focus on the monstrous kid he assumed was controlling the giant squid, but he tried to anyway.

'Ocean?'

Richard stared up at the sky from where he'd been released--indeed unceremoniously--to crumple haphazardly to the ground. The squid and its master had basically vanished as far as he could tell. There one moment, then just... gone. He struggled against the fringes of darkness on his vision as he rolled over to his hands and knees. He could still feel it on him, one hand absently touching his face as he gave his best effort to standing up. It didn't go well, Richard getting to his knees before falling backwards to sit on the ground.

His breathing was coming too fast, he realised then, distantly. For Richard, the tingling feeling in his face and hands and feet was only a removed curiosity, even though he knew what it meant. It meant he needed to slow his breathing down. It meant he was exhaling more carbon dioxide than his body was actually producing. Hyperventilating.

He was hyperventilating.

It took an extraordinary amount of effort to crawl off of the main pedestrian thoroughfare for the park. He was too unsteady to actually get to his feet, and it exhausted Richard all over again to drag himself to lean against a nearby park bench. By the time he felt the wood slats dig into his back, his vision was swimming again. His breathing was steadier, more or less, he noted, though still too fast and shallow to keep up for very long. It occurred to him that he should call someone, at the very least to come get him. He didn't feel injured. Nothing actually hurt in the way that would reflect an injury. But even sitting there, leaned against the bench with his eyes closed as he tried to finish evening out his breathing, he felt impossibly exhausted.

Richard intended to call Ignacio or one of his brothers. One of his hands reached shakily into his pocket for his phone, and he felt his fingertips brush the hard rubber of his phone case. He just... didn't have the energy to pull it out of his pocket. His fingers grasped it, ready to pull it out and dial. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying himself, struggling to focus what effort he had left in him into pulling the phone out of his pocket. He inhaled deeply, slowly, exhaling shakily, inhaling again, trying to get his arm to just... move...

As he slowly came awake sometime later, he became aware of several things at the same time. One, his left wrist hurt like hell due to his left hand contorted as if trying to get his phone out of his pocket. Two, he was crumpled against a park bench. Three, it was early morning. It was the sunlight angling in to hit his face just right, right across the eyes, that had actually awoken him. He squinted into the middle distance, blinking slowly as he tried to get his bearings. Why was he on the ground in the park...? Why, when he tried to get to his feet, did he feel so shaky? Trying to get to his feet took more effort than it ever had before, though he managed it after a minute or two of leaning his hands on the bench.

It was then that he finally dug his phone out of his pocket. Leaning against the bench with one hand, he thumbed through four missed calls and seven texts while he worked up the energy to start walking. One missed call was from his mom, another from his dad, two from Ignacio... A couple of texts from his parents wondering where he was, one from Lee responding to a question Richard had asked him... Three from Ignacio wanting to know where he was, why he was out so late... Why he wasn't home yet... Richard realized the timestamp meant that the last one had only been sent less than an hour previous, and it matched up with the second of the missed calls from Ignacio. Still trying to contextualize what his brain told him had happened, Richard hit redial in his contacts. He was going to have Ignacio come get him, not feeling steady enough to walk home on his own.

He wanted to pass out again just standing there...