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| Carnival of the Damned | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 24 2010, 01:50 AM (5,456 Views) | |
| -Korokage- | Nov 2 2012, 05:26 AM Post #151 |
Master
  ![]](http://z2.ifrm.com/static/1/pip_r.png)
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Marianne's face immediately took on a dark expression. She scooted back into the driver's seat so that Javon would actually be able to get in. Ethaniel decided that mediation, though not his strong suit, would be needed so he moved into the middle seat. "As if you don't know where we're going." He was trying to keep things snarky, but he knew that it would take more than that to keep things from boiling over. His seawater colored eyes looked over to Marianne. Her expression reminded him of a storm cloud, and he felt a bubble of worry. He breathed a sigh of relief when the mage put the vehicle in gear. "Let's get this done, I have kills to steal and days to save." Which was code for "I have no time for bullshit," which would make this a (hopefully) quiet ride. With that the van rejoined to river of traffic and proceeded at a ruched pace to their destination. ==>Soon The van lurched a little when it stopped in the parking space in front of the precinct. The trio stepped out and rushed to the front door. Ethaniel pulled it wide open... why did it look like everyone was on high alert? That's when he noticed it. An odd smell. It was weak but it was coming from deeper in the building. He took a few steps in and noted that the scent didn't really seem like a scent. He knew what this sensation was, but didn't know what it meant. He turned his head a few times and worked out where it was coming from and then proceeded to stride forward. "Wait, Ethaniel!" Her lighter steps followed his. He ignored the looks he was getting and marched straight for the holding cells. That's where the "scent" was coming from. He was sure of it. Two officers stepped in line beside him. One was short and dressed like Siren. The other he assumed wasn't important. "Jeff Dylan. You Siren's friend?" "Yup. Going to check out what was going on?" "Oh I have an idea." He pulled out a handgun, 9mm as far as the sharkman could tell, and cocked it. The door was opened. He noted Siren and a couple of officers having a stare down with someone, but the "smell" is what got him. He could hear Marianne's cry of frustration, which told him that she had a better grasp of what was going on than he did. "Damn it Siren, why didn't you keep her locked up? You know she's unstable, violent and one sandwich platter short of being out of her gourd." Jeff strode forward and aimed his weapon at the person everyone was looking at. "And I hope you realize that you're in a hell of a lot more trouble now than you were a second ago." That's when it donned on him. This... girl that had a smug smile was standing over what seemed like a ocean of blood. She killed their only lead. But... why didn't he smell blood? ((Keeping the stage open for everyone else.)) Edited by Korokage, Nov 2 2012, 05:26 AM.
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| -Aroxys- | Nov 4 2012, 04:51 AM Post #152 |
GALACTUS
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The magus wasn't exactly going to complain about getting on with this, and thus didn't. He wound up sitting in the passenger seat of the pedovan and didn't really say anything for the duration of the trip. Marianne's perplexing aura of worry was the primary reason for this, so he simply ran through the possible scenarios for when they actually got to the police station. --- Javon stepped out of the van and followed Ethaniel without a word, though he made a point of cloaking himself before the trio actually got into the police station proper. He wasn't sure what they were going to find inside, but given that not only was the shark man bothered, every cop in the place was on edge and one could understand why he wanted to stay out of view for now. The interaction between the shark man and the cop wasn't interesting to him so he disregarded that for now. The sight that lay before them seemed to justify his earlier caution... But then he looked at the 'blood' more closely. He stepped close to the puppeteer and chose to talk to her directly, employing the usual exception in the spell to do so. "Marianne, we've lost the bank robbers, but I doubt they're dead. I'm going to check around." His next stop was to walk up to his partner calmly and pull the same trick so that even if the shark man were to speak to him, no one else would see it. "Ethaniel, what do you make of this?" The magus wasn't willing to go revealing himself to a potentially dangerous foe, but the logical part of his mind was having trouble taking the scene before him at face value. He wanted to get closer to the cells that used to contain the bank robbers, the ones that looked like they had been liquified. While it may not have been obvious to the police force, it was clear to him that there was magic involved here. A lot of it. There was just one very, very big problem stopping him from investigating it properly. The girl with a swirling vortex of black around her standing smack in the middle of the 'blood'. The magus' stealth magic may be flawless, but there were environmental tells that would betray his presence, and for all his power over illusions granted by his Mystic Eyes he was still a squishy human. Proper investigation would have to wait until she was dealt with, assuming that was even necessary. For the time being he chose to move back over to Marianne. |
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| -Arem- | Nov 4 2012, 09:21 AM Post #153 |
Fabulous Homosexual
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Viper roared back to the police station, and at once, something was amiss. The atmosphere was rank of adrenalin, and a vehicle he didn't recognize was parked in front of the precinct. His Reaver arm began to itch; it was smelling new signatures of life, and it was thirsty for blood. Having a fruitless night had made it parched, and he was a couple steps away from primal fury, making him dangerous to be around. Looking at the front of the precinct, he noticed that the inside was busy and likely crowded. Viper cursed mentally. There was no fighting in there, and if he went into a fury, he'd slaughter everyone in the room in the name of collateral damage. No, he needed another way in. What was going on anyway? The weight of the cellphone rubbed against his leg. The last thing he wanted to do was called the cop to ask what was up with the cops, although the irony amused him. Still, he wasn't wanting to fight the apparent crowd, so he felt he had no choice. Reaching in, he pressed redial. (I'm keeping Viper back because there's a big enough crowd in the room. Until I get a good reply, he'll remain outside until something changes.) |
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| Psycho Werekitsune | Nov 4 2012, 04:54 PM Post #154 |
Part man...part beast...full psycho!
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"Wouldn't have made a difference, it's pretty clear that this precious little darling was fully capable of all this regardless of how tightly she would have been locked up." She turned back to Lynness after addressing Jeff, narrowing her eyes. The sympathy was rapidly draining from her; it was one thing to harm others in self defense, or by accident, but it was a whole other ballgame to slaughter all the inmates in a precinct jail. "Not very chatty anymore? Still waiting on an explanation of what I'm seeing and...smelling all around me." |
 EMBRACE THE NAKED!
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| -The Raging Zephyr- | Nov 22 2012, 09:02 AM Post #155 |
The Winds of Change
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“What the fuck, man? What the hell were you thinking?” Amidst the crowd of officers, their radios chattering while they fought off reporters and checked in with superiors, my partner scolded me. He was of African descent, his ancestors shipped off centuries ago to this continent, escaped their bondage, and found refuge between the borders of this country and its great northern neighbor. “Look, the Chief's got his hands full trying to cover for your ass now. Gotta blame it on ‘perceived threat’ and hope for the best, because this shit is not going to just blow over. You’ll be lucky if you can stay out of jail, never mind keeping your badge. Ramifications, man; what do you have to say for yourself?” “I’m sorry.” “You’re sorry. Great, that’ll help your case. Being sorry doesn’t excuse what you’ve done, and it won’t bring that kid back.” “It was those tricks of his. He did something to my mind, and those balls kept moving faster. He could have hurt someone, Josh. Those balls, and those mind tricks, I just couldn’t stop it, and he wouldn’t listen. It was like he was carrying a loaded gun, and he wouldn’t put it down! I did what I had to!” “Yeah. That’s the same tale everyone else is spinning too, you know. You better hope the court believes it too.” I leaned back in my seat and sighed. My name is Roderick Jameson, 15th Precinct. I transferred to this unit six months ago after spending a few years on the other side of the city. I moved so that my wife could be closer to her job, and so I could get to my night classes on less gas. I just shot a man with little provocation, and for reasons that nobody but myself could understand. I was also the only one who could understand that while my body was my own, my mind and soul were not. I was the same man I had been for twenty-four years, and yet I retained memories of millennia past; only the most recent chapter of a long history. As Roderick Jameson, I cannot affirm with any certainty why I pulled the trigger. I was frightened, and the man would not be commanded down; that is what I told everyone. The truth was that the voice ordered me to chamber that bullet and killed that man. No, not the voice in my head; that tongue and thought were my own, filtered through the true and the facade. It was the voice of a curious man who orated my commands but a day in passing, who was sure that his plans would not fall to folly. I merely relayed the same commands to Roderick, myself, when the time arrived. Before I had a chance to speak with my partner once more, we were interrupted by a mere child with a camera tethered to the shabbily-dressed man with a microphone in his hand. Both had apparently squeezed their way through the police barricade unimpeded, all in efforts to shove a microphone underneath my nose. “Excuse me, but this is area is off-limits to the press.” My partner stood up, attempting to shoo away the interlopers. “We’re channel 9. We just want a few words with the officer at the scene of the accident.” “Oh, that’s good. We just want you to mosey on out before I shove that camera straight up your—” I stood up, motioning to my partner to take a seat. “That’s okay, I don’t mind. Just one question won’t hurt.” “Officer Jameson, what was going through your mind when you reached for your gun and pulled the trigger?” Immediately, my partner sprang up from his seat, but I hushed him by making my statement. “You know, I thought he was going to kill someone with all those hard, metal objects in the air. You can’t trust a psychic, you know. I mean, I felt him in my head, influencing my thoughts, hypnotizing me with his demeanor and the way he tossed those marbles around. So, I drew my gun, and I told him to stop, and he just kept on going, and the next thing you know...” Everyone was staring at me. I realized I had been stammering, and the sweat was dripping off my nose and ears, and my shirt was sticking to my back. I think the way I was acting drew their eyes away from the hand I placed on my partner’s holster that I silently unsnapped. “I heard a voice in my head. It said to me, ‘The night shall fall upon you, with no visions to be divined. The sun shall set on the prophets, and their day will fall unto darkness.’ We all can’t see what comes next, can we?” I turned, made sure my face was captured in full by the camera’s eye. “Anna, tell our children that I love them. I’m sorry for all of this.” My partner shouted when he realized the gravity of the situation. He discovered in the brief moment until the end of my rapid motion that the weight on his hip had suddenly been removed, but his actions were in vain. He was far too late to prevent the hammer from locking on the automatic lodged between my teeth. As his hand touched mine in those final moments, I tasted sulfur on the tip of my tongue. “...so I devoured some nameless soul’s cadaver in the morgue and made my escape, securing garments that had been tossed in the rubbish to be burned to cover myself, and that is how I found myself before you now.” I stood in Micah’s office, dressed in a hastily thrown-together outfit consisting of a loose Hawaiian shirt and beige slacks. My thoughts and memories, as well as my body, had now become mixed with a middle-aged bartender of average height and build, recently divorced, attempting to make something of his ill-gained life by purchasing a small restaurant midtown. He had apparently met his doom crossing a busy intersection where a bus driver carelessly ignored his signal, thus sending the bartender careening down the street with surprisingly nothing more than a few broken ribs and a fatal concussion. Ironically, his last thoughts were that he would ‘soon be late.’ Yes, I would surmise that sixteen tons of moving steel would make anyone late. “If nothing else, I trust that the public disturbance stacked on top of the sudden vanishing of two corpses, one being a primary focal point, should distract the police long enough for you to make your own performance.” It truly was a three staged plan. First, to convince willing subjects to offer themselves for sacrifice, with expendable servants causing enough of a commotion to lead other hapless sheep to him. Then, to distract his primary antagonists by means of collapsing their own organization upon itself. After, he could finally muster up enough curious onlookers and unsuspecting fools to convene where he needed them to for his bloody ritual, with hopefully enough law enforcement and would-be heroes distracted by the previous events to not create calamity at the carnival. To think that all was going according to Micah’s plans. I crossed my arms as my thoughts drifted to the future. “What do you plan to do next, Micah?” I already knew what he had been scheming while I was away, though hearing it from him would assure myself of his delusions. “As you know, I, Musgallu, pledge myself to your whims.” Being a kind, old man was often a difficult job, even for someone as refined as Alexei. He served hand-cultivated tea to his guests, offered freshly-baked biscuits, and was willing to converse on a variety of topics ranging from trivial daily events to his experiences in the Himalayas as a young man. He was also rather fond of giving free divinations, if perhaps only because it was an informal arrangement to delve into one’s mind. While the extent of his powers weren’t common knowledge to most, the majority of the carnival’s workers acknowledged the gypsy as possessing some sort of spark. The benefits to being as secretive and mysterious as he was included nobody questioning his daily meditation routine. As it was, being a kind, old man was a difficult job. As the yogis had shown him, freeing one’s mind as the first step to enlightenment. It allowed the psychic influence of the world to buzz and vibrate in his mind as individual strings of information. This often lead Alexei to unintentionally eavesdrop on others in his alone time. While this did allow him to better understand his colleagues, he often found himself wishing that he knew less than he actually did. Such was the curse of a prescient mind. And so, caught in the thickets of his mindscape, two voices clearly spoke out to Alexei. He knew the voices well: One of the carnival’s pyros, as well as Mark, the magician that had volunteered himself as Micah’s right-hand man. But, there was distress in their tones, and it seemed that all of the pieces were falling into place without regard to what the players desired. But, what could he or anyone else do? You can’t fight fate, no matter how terrible... At once, Alexei awoke from his trance. While he was useless in terms of saving the day and ensuring everyone’s relative safety, he did believe that having a chat to relieve a troubled mind was often one of the most helpful remedies to one’s problems. So, he snipped some fresh tea leaves from the pots outside his trailer and collected them in a small plastic bag. He then took a few camellia flowers from his plants specially-bred for aroma and bundled them together. Yes, he knew which trailer to head to, but the issue was the timing. Unfortunately, knocking upon one’s door wasn’t usually a welcome gesture in this country, as odd as that might seem, so becoming an unwelcome guest by inviting himself in would likely just bring unresolved tension between him and the children. But, he was quite clever with reading minds, and had gotten quite good with occupying himself with fleeting thoughts. So, ducking between the the trailers, Alexei put a mental mask on himself, making any passerby see anything but him where he stood, and then spent his time listening to the conversation and juggling simple mathematics in his head. He would just have to wait until someone opened the door, where he would already have begun walking by the trailer, where he would hail whomever happened to be on their way out. "Hello, Mark, is Emilyn around?” he would ask, or perhaps “Ah, Emilyn! Have you seen your sister?” Of course, all with impeccable timing on his part given his ability to act ahead of anyone by knowing their actions before they ever did. Edited by The Raging Zephyr, Nov 22 2012, 07:11 PM.
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