INT. LIVING ROOM - MORNING
The camera flickers on to reveal an all-too familiar bearded face, still adjusting with the settings as he sets it up on a coffee table just opposite an old soviet-style couch. Once he's satisfied with the camera, Darren takes a few steps back before sitting down.
"Okaaaay, hey. It's been a while... Or, not, as you're probably watching all these one after the other, but... I digress" he says, clearing his throat. "There hasn't been much to update since the school incident. We've mostly just been keeping our heads down, trying to stay out of trouble. Heard a couple gunshots throughout the day. Worrying stuff..."
He coughs and glances down at his PDA. "I've been trying to conserve battery power since there's not much juice left, but I figured it'd be interesting to capture this..." he says, lifting the PDA to the camera to reveal the words on screen.
19/10/22 ANNOUNCEMENT AVAILABLE
PLAY RECORDING?
"Well, without further ado..." he says, before pressing a button.
Dr Sycamore's voice could then be heard, detailing the events of the past 24 hours with the banality one should expect of him. Darren listens quietly for the most part, bringing a hand to his mouth when news of Misha's passing dropped, trying to remain quiet but obviously disturbed by the unfortunate news.
He listens along, waiting until it stops before wiping his eyes. "Oh... God. Oh, poor Misha..." he chokes, covering his eyes before running his hand through his hair. "Well... God, yeah, so as you can..."
Darren stops. Pausing, thinking for a moment.
"The... Village..." he says quietly, turning to someone off-camera. "Did... Did he just say that the chimera was..."
He pauses again. Then slowly turns towards the nearby curtains. Steadily getting to his feet, he makes several cautious steps towards the window, peeling the curtain back ever so slightly to take a peek outside...
this might be the end of me (not clickbait)
Day 3 - Private
Moderator: SOTF U Staff
this might be the end of me (not clickbait)
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
How was Catarina supposed to live if this was all she was doing for it?
She'd stuck with Darren and Jarret for all this time becuase they'd reminded her of her sons, except older and more liberal. She'd taken them as the people to keep her safe because she thought there was a plan. Even their brief skirmish with the girl she'd framed yesterday showed they were good at planning, but what had they been doing? Wandering through an empty town, keeping their head town, listening to the occasional sound of violence that they knew to avoid. Throw in a coyote and a shitty truck and she might as well have been one of those illegals.
Catarina needed more than this. Even if she wasn't going to have a plan, she needed to feel like she was doing something. Not whatever this was. Not scurrying about like the rats that were too cowardly to abandon ship. And yet, all she could think of was that damn camera. As long as that camera existed, those other two were under the impression that they weren't going to live. No matter what they said, or did, or how they acted, they were treating this like a giant fucking will and testament to leave to the world, and Catarina was still too young to have one of those.
Her hands gripped the side of the basin in the filthy bathroom she'd been standing in. Her eyes cut to the mirror. They looked back at her, as though blaming her for not reapplying her eyeliner.
After a few moments, she released her grip, and strode back towards the dorm room she'd commandeered half of the beds of.
It was time to get a promise from the two of them, and that promise involved that fucking camera.
She'd stuck with Darren and Jarret for all this time becuase they'd reminded her of her sons, except older and more liberal. She'd taken them as the people to keep her safe because she thought there was a plan. Even their brief skirmish with the girl she'd framed yesterday showed they were good at planning, but what had they been doing? Wandering through an empty town, keeping their head town, listening to the occasional sound of violence that they knew to avoid. Throw in a coyote and a shitty truck and she might as well have been one of those illegals.
Catarina needed more than this. Even if she wasn't going to have a plan, she needed to feel like she was doing something. Not whatever this was. Not scurrying about like the rats that were too cowardly to abandon ship. And yet, all she could think of was that damn camera. As long as that camera existed, those other two were under the impression that they weren't going to live. No matter what they said, or did, or how they acted, they were treating this like a giant fucking will and testament to leave to the world, and Catarina was still too young to have one of those.
Her hands gripped the side of the basin in the filthy bathroom she'd been standing in. Her eyes cut to the mirror. They looked back at her, as though blaming her for not reapplying her eyeliner.
After a few moments, she released her grip, and strode back towards the dorm room she'd commandeered half of the beds of.
It was time to get a promise from the two of them, and that promise involved that fucking camera.
-
MethodicalSlacker
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Jarrett had learned their lesson, well and truly, and this morning they woke in advance of the announcements to take to their substances, first in a way akin to meal-prepping another few day's worth ahead of time (with an upped dosage per diem to account for recent revelations of cosmic horrors, extant and indescribable), and, secondly, a wake-n'-bake session that, accidentally, lasted through their reception of the fatal email-blast, which they received exactly one minute and thirty nine seconds into listening to this song.
♬Musical Youth - Pass the Dutchie♬
As music had been playing, Jarrett opted for the text version. Still from the other room they heard Darren's V.O.'d version, two tracks of audio commentary addressed to everything they had not seen happen in the last day or so. It came a good minute or so after they had read it, but the meaning of the news did not arrive until it was heard, repeated. Not that any of it had quite a lasting effect, emotionally—it just took longer, somehow, to process than yesterday's.
Because the day after, you can still pretend to be fine. You can somehow convince yourself that this isn't real, that the world is exactly the same as it was a week ago, and that you know the same things and no more. But the next day, you can't deny it anymore, both because you dreamed about it and because you did not wake up at home in bed afterwards.
They walked into the room at the same time. If Catarina had looked at Jarrett, they were unaware, because their eyes were on Darren's camera, pointed through a gap in the curtains, all Rear Window-like.
What they wanted to do was ask if it was out there.
But, as it tended to when Jarrett had not spoken in a moment, their breath caught in their throat, and they coughed into their sleeve instead.
♬Musical Youth - Pass the Dutchie♬
As music had been playing, Jarrett opted for the text version. Still from the other room they heard Darren's V.O.'d version, two tracks of audio commentary addressed to everything they had not seen happen in the last day or so. It came a good minute or so after they had read it, but the meaning of the news did not arrive until it was heard, repeated. Not that any of it had quite a lasting effect, emotionally—it just took longer, somehow, to process than yesterday's.
Because the day after, you can still pretend to be fine. You can somehow convince yourself that this isn't real, that the world is exactly the same as it was a week ago, and that you know the same things and no more. But the next day, you can't deny it anymore, both because you dreamed about it and because you did not wake up at home in bed afterwards.
They walked into the room at the same time. If Catarina had looked at Jarrett, they were unaware, because their eyes were on Darren's camera, pointed through a gap in the curtains, all Rear Window-like.
What they wanted to do was ask if it was out there.
But, as it tended to when Jarrett had not spoken in a moment, their breath caught in their throat, and they coughed into their sleeve instead.
- 
- There is a long silence as Darren stares outside, trying to peer through the snowstorm that was brewing. He eventually jolts as Jarret coughs, turning back to check in on his two travelling companions.
"Well, I don't see any sign of it..." he whispers, cold steam exhuming from his mouth as breathed heavily. "Might have wandered off... Hard to make much out though, all I can really see from here are a couple buildings, two statues, and..."
He pauses, realising there was something wrong with that sentence. His eyes widen, and face turns pale. Silently, he reaches out for his camera, lifting it up and bringing it closer to the window.
The view is shaky at first, steadying slightly as Darren aimed it outside. At first there is just a white blurr, the image slowly clearing up as the camera focuses in. In the center of the frame stood the iconic statue of Vladimir Lenin, standing tall above them and coated in a layer of snow.
Behind that statue, stood Something Else.
"Oh god..."
"Well, I don't see any sign of it..." he whispers, cold steam exhuming from his mouth as breathed heavily. "Might have wandered off... Hard to make much out though, all I can really see from here are a couple buildings, two statues, and..."
He pauses, realising there was something wrong with that sentence. His eyes widen, and face turns pale. Silently, he reaches out for his camera, lifting it up and bringing it closer to the window.
The view is shaky at first, steadying slightly as Darren aimed it outside. At first there is just a white blurr, the image slowly clearing up as the camera focuses in. In the center of the frame stood the iconic statue of Vladimir Lenin, standing tall above them and coated in a layer of snow.
Behind that statue, stood Something Else.
"Oh god..."
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
((continued from the armory))
Chimera peered out from behind the statue.
Representational art. A human. Missing an eye.
It could smell the flesh and metal of the aberrations it encountered earlier. They must have emerged from this figure days ago. Synthetic adaptations of its own being. Something told the Chimera their existence was a violation. If it found those constructs, it would have to destroy them. They could not coexist.
The scent of them was faint though, and it quickly caught a different scent on the wind. Its ears twitched, turning slightly to the sound of a sharp exhalation. Voices, barely audible, came shortly afterwards.
It shivered, and reached up to brush snow from its face, three sets of eyes blinking and focusing on one of the buildings ahead. There were humans inside. The Chimera felt a curious expectation - hope, it understood the feeling was called. A hope that they had kept their devices, and that they were active. The Participants had knowledge it could not simply consume. It had to be valuable.
With renewed purpose, it walked silently towards the dormitory.
Chimera peered out from behind the statue.
Representational art. A human. Missing an eye.
It could smell the flesh and metal of the aberrations it encountered earlier. They must have emerged from this figure days ago. Synthetic adaptations of its own being. Something told the Chimera their existence was a violation. If it found those constructs, it would have to destroy them. They could not coexist.
The scent of them was faint though, and it quickly caught a different scent on the wind. Its ears twitched, turning slightly to the sound of a sharp exhalation. Voices, barely audible, came shortly afterwards.
It shivered, and reached up to brush snow from its face, three sets of eyes blinking and focusing on one of the buildings ahead. There were humans inside. The Chimera felt a curious expectation - hope, it understood the feeling was called. A hope that they had kept their devices, and that they were active. The Participants had knowledge it could not simply consume. It had to be valuable.
With renewed purpose, it walked silently towards the dormitory.
Catarina entered the room at the same time as Jarrett. If Jarrett was looking at her, she wouldn't have known. Her eyes were focused on that camera, sitting in Darren's hand, getting some scenic shots of the frozen wasteland outside.
"Darren, sweetie, I think we need to talk."
If her interactions with that robber on Day 1 were any indication, Catarina was excellent at surprise attacks. The best, actually. So that needed to involve lulling him into a false sense of security. She was going to talk to him like a concerned parent, and when he least expected it, grab that fucking camera.
Her feet were still firmly yet daintily planted in place, though, so not yet. Soon. The soonest.
"Darren, sweetie, I think we need to talk."
If her interactions with that robber on Day 1 were any indication, Catarina was excellent at surprise attacks. The best, actually. So that needed to involve lulling him into a false sense of security. She was going to talk to him like a concerned parent, and when he least expected it, grab that fucking camera.
Her feet were still firmly yet daintily planted in place, though, so not yet. Soon. The soonest.
The camera struggled to focus on the thing through the window, Darren's hands shaking as his skin turned a ghostly shade of pale.
He couldn't help but think back to one of his earliest videos, where he spoke at length about the infamous wendigo whilst camping at Algonquin Provincial Park. The creature before his eyes fit that description eerily, standing probably around nine or ten feet on its hind legs, thick scales visible between tufts of white fur. It was different to the strange beast he saw tear his tutors apart, more bipedal and reptilian in nature, though no less terrifying to behold.
Closing the curtains slowly, Darren stepped back, staring blankly as he found himself shook to his core. It was Catarina who brought him back to reality, turning back to her and quietly lifting a finger to his lips, before glancing at Jarret with a knowing look.
"It's out there..." he whispers, gulping as he fumbled for the bone tucked into his belt. A bead of sweat ran down his brow, his chest heaving as he took a deep breath.
"Go... Head out back" he says quietly, withdrawing that bone as he turns towards the front door. "I'll try to buy you all some time, shake it off before meeting you back at the school..."
He glances down at the lit joint in Jarret's hand, gesturing for his friend to pass it over. He brings it up to his lips, taking a long deep toke for good luck, before letting the smoke exhale from his mouth as he hands it back.
"Go, NOW!" he demands, a bit louder than before, as he rushes for the front door and shoulders his way outside before running as fast as his legs could carry him.
((Darren Decker continued in End Transmission))
He couldn't help but think back to one of his earliest videos, where he spoke at length about the infamous wendigo whilst camping at Algonquin Provincial Park. The creature before his eyes fit that description eerily, standing probably around nine or ten feet on its hind legs, thick scales visible between tufts of white fur. It was different to the strange beast he saw tear his tutors apart, more bipedal and reptilian in nature, though no less terrifying to behold.
Closing the curtains slowly, Darren stepped back, staring blankly as he found himself shook to his core. It was Catarina who brought him back to reality, turning back to her and quietly lifting a finger to his lips, before glancing at Jarret with a knowing look.
"It's out there..." he whispers, gulping as he fumbled for the bone tucked into his belt. A bead of sweat ran down his brow, his chest heaving as he took a deep breath.
"Go... Head out back" he says quietly, withdrawing that bone as he turns towards the front door. "I'll try to buy you all some time, shake it off before meeting you back at the school..."
He glances down at the lit joint in Jarret's hand, gesturing for his friend to pass it over. He brings it up to his lips, taking a long deep toke for good luck, before letting the smoke exhale from his mouth as he hands it back.
"Go, NOW!" he demands, a bit louder than before, as he rushes for the front door and shoulders his way outside before running as fast as his legs could carry him.
((Darren Decker continued in End Transmission))
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
It couldn't help itself.
The instinct was buried too deep.
As the human fled, the Chimera changed course, breaking into a faster gait as it took off after him.
One was easier. One could tell it what it wanted to know.
((continued elsewhere))
The instinct was buried too deep.
As the human fled, the Chimera changed course, breaking into a faster gait as it took off after him.
One was easier. One could tell it what it wanted to know.
((continued elsewhere))
-
MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 250
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: Hanging Onto A Buoy For Dear Life
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- Contact:
They were in a daze, for the unspeakable had arrived, and in the path of its footsteps all meaningful language had wilted. Darren now, speaking about finding purchase on the clock, shivering, a rendez-vous, before the joint mysteriously left Jarrett's hand and then returned in a puff of smoke, exhaled by dust-cloud leaver as he exited with the eye.
"What..."
That was all they got to say before he was gone.
The last expression Jarrett saw on Darren's face was one of poorly disguised fear.
They looked over at Catarina, and wondered about what it was that she needed to say, what she'd likely never get the chance to express.
"I, uh..."
'Pass the Dutchie' ended. This did not snap Jarrett out of it, but it brought them closer to reality. They took the earbud out and stuffed it down their front pocket.
Then their feet started moving on their own—out of this room, into the other to gather their backpack, back into the main room, past Catarina and out into the hall, calmly and silently proceeding to the nearest fire exit stairwell, as they had been taught and drilled on since Kindergarten, to meet up with everybody when the fire department shut the alarm off and let them all back inside the school, which is where they were meeting anyways, but that was fine, the fire was somewhere else, the fire was in their hand, burning on the end of a blade of grass.
[Jarrett Bergman continued elsewhere.]
"What..."
That was all they got to say before he was gone.
The last expression Jarrett saw on Darren's face was one of poorly disguised fear.
They looked over at Catarina, and wondered about what it was that she needed to say, what she'd likely never get the chance to express.
"I, uh..."
'Pass the Dutchie' ended. This did not snap Jarrett out of it, but it brought them closer to reality. They took the earbud out and stuffed it down their front pocket.
Then their feet started moving on their own—out of this room, into the other to gather their backpack, back into the main room, past Catarina and out into the hall, calmly and silently proceeding to the nearest fire exit stairwell, as they had been taught and drilled on since Kindergarten, to meet up with everybody when the fire department shut the alarm off and let them all back inside the school, which is where they were meeting anyways, but that was fine, the fire was somewhere else, the fire was in their hand, burning on the end of a blade of grass.
[Jarrett Bergman continued elsewhere.]
...
Had she just been abandoned?
Catarina blinked as Darren ran, then double-blinked as Jarrett ran. Within moments, all after saying she needed to talk about something, she was alone. Catarina had travelled with them for two nights, stayed up late, talked with them, talked to them, talked at them, taken watch, kept her eyes out for hostile people and hostile not-people, and within the span of a minute, it was all gone.
She looked around the room of nothing. Only a few minutes ago, she'd left to compose herself in the bathroom.
She was there for several more minutes. The promised terror never arrived.
All she wanted was a promise from them. She'd seen how they treated that camera, how they'd talked about it to her, and she just wanted reassurance that they were trying. That it wasn't their will and testament, to be left to their families. That they hadn't given up, because she certainly hadn't, and wasn't going to let them drag her down to what she could have easily wrongly assumed was their level of hope.
But hey, guess she should have known better. That was what happened when you wanted for more in Catarina's world. She'd seen it before - young twenty-somethings asking their husbands for emotional support, or a trip to the doctors, or something outside of the life they'd signed up for. Suddenly, she was the ex-wife, and a team of lawyers circled her and ripped chunks from her bloated corpse. It never happened to Catarina, because she never wanted for anything besides a nice big house to live in.
She never expected Darren and Jarrett to be just the same as all of them.
But hey, that's just how they were. Men, or those gender neutrals with no pronouns who looked like men, they were all the same, she guessed. Her thoughts flashed to her boys back home. A cold shiver made its way through her bones as she thought about if Bernard and Joseph would ever abandon her like Darren and Jarrett just did. To her shock, she couldn't even think of a definitive answer to that.
In hindsight, it really was quite sad she'd thought of them as a team. But as she sat on the bed, thoughts going to the faint sounds of terror wafting through the air she wasn't sure were real, that was probably her fault for expecting normalcy and safety.
Not anymore, though.
It was time to think things through.
((Catarina Markovitz continued elsewhere))
Had she just been abandoned?
Catarina blinked as Darren ran, then double-blinked as Jarrett ran. Within moments, all after saying she needed to talk about something, she was alone. Catarina had travelled with them for two nights, stayed up late, talked with them, talked to them, talked at them, taken watch, kept her eyes out for hostile people and hostile not-people, and within the span of a minute, it was all gone.
She looked around the room of nothing. Only a few minutes ago, she'd left to compose herself in the bathroom.
She was there for several more minutes. The promised terror never arrived.
All she wanted was a promise from them. She'd seen how they treated that camera, how they'd talked about it to her, and she just wanted reassurance that they were trying. That it wasn't their will and testament, to be left to their families. That they hadn't given up, because she certainly hadn't, and wasn't going to let them drag her down to what she could have easily wrongly assumed was their level of hope.
But hey, guess she should have known better. That was what happened when you wanted for more in Catarina's world. She'd seen it before - young twenty-somethings asking their husbands for emotional support, or a trip to the doctors, or something outside of the life they'd signed up for. Suddenly, she was the ex-wife, and a team of lawyers circled her and ripped chunks from her bloated corpse. It never happened to Catarina, because she never wanted for anything besides a nice big house to live in.
She never expected Darren and Jarrett to be just the same as all of them.
But hey, that's just how they were. Men, or those gender neutrals with no pronouns who looked like men, they were all the same, she guessed. Her thoughts flashed to her boys back home. A cold shiver made its way through her bones as she thought about if Bernard and Joseph would ever abandon her like Darren and Jarrett just did. To her shock, she couldn't even think of a definitive answer to that.
In hindsight, it really was quite sad she'd thought of them as a team. But as she sat on the bed, thoughts going to the faint sounds of terror wafting through the air she wasn't sure were real, that was probably her fault for expecting normalcy and safety.
Not anymore, though.
It was time to think things through.
((Catarina Markovitz continued elsewhere))