Rude Awakening [Closed]
There is no time to think, no time to plan, no time to do anything but run. Fueled by blind terror the flight instinct drowns out all else. She must run, she must hide. To do anything else will mean certain death. Every step is torture. Agony courses through her body each time her feet hit the pavement beneath them. Her vision is starting to tunnel from lack of adequate airflow but she cannot stop to catch her breath. As an experienced hunter she knows what is happening. The beast is running her down. It is driving her towards an area of the ruined city where it can box her in, making the kill that much easier.
A harsh metallic scream echoes from one of the alleyways off to her right, sounding far closer than the last had been. She automatically turns left and stumbles down a rubble strewn street that spills her out into an industrial district. The smokestacks of a dozen abandoned factories reach into a sky choked with clouds the color of gun metal, their networks of rusty scaffolding and steam pipes glowing eerily in the weak light that manages to filter through. She takes in the new surroundings in at a glance as she struggles to keep up the pace, seeking a place to hide. Well past the point of total exhaustion her body is at its limits, and she doesn’t stand a chance against the monstrosity stalking her if it comes down to a fight.
Rounding the corner of a crumbling brick building she locates a narrow gap between a wall and an oil tank bolted next to it. Forcing her body into the too-small space as far as possible she hunches down and listens for the telltale sounds of the creature. An eternity passes in relative silence. The aging iron supports of the scaffolds groans occasionally. Wind whistles as it passes through holes in the metalwork. A low, guttural growl is the first indication that the beast is drawing nearer. Then the foot steps become audible, a shuffling gait punctuated by the protesting squeal of corroded joints and rattling armor.
Scarcely daring to take the much needed breaths required to keep her from blacking out she presses herself into the shadows of her hideaway as the creature pauses not ten feet from her. She can hear it taking in deep gulps of air, no doubt trying to pick up her scent. A few minutes later it moves on, keening in disappointment. It must not have been able to separate her scent from the rich, earthy smell of rotting steel and iron. Releasing a shaky breath she slowly relaxes against the cold brick behind her, closing her eyes and trying to restore some semblance of calm to her mind. Perhaps the danger has passed…
Eleven is roused from the dream by slight jostling and the brush of warm air across her cheek. Opening one eye drowsily she lifts her head from her pillow and glances around. The overhead lighting in the dormitory has been turned off to allow for sleep, but small orb-shaped lamps set high on the walls give off just enough light that she can make out most of the room. Pulling her arm free of the blankets she peers at her watch: midnight, far too late - or early - to be awake. Then why is she awake? The answer soon becomes apparent when an arm is carelessly tossed over her stomach and a warm body presses in closer to hers. She grumbles quietly when the realization dawns on her that she has been sharing the bed with Seven for the last few nights following her latest encounter with the giant robots in the Nexus. The physical closeness with her dominant has helped her sleep, holding off the worst of the nightmares that always seem to be a side effect of talking to her ‘old friends’.
Wrapped in a cocoon of body heat and blankets it does not take long for Eleven to settle again. Rolling onto her side to face the wall she sighs and curls into a loose fetal position with one arm shoved under her pillow. A few minutes later Seven unconsciously cuddles up to her back, seeking the warmth she had taken from him when she moved without ever waking up. Amusement briefly registers through the haze beginning to reclaim her mind, a faint smile stealing across her face before she drifts off. The dream, which had faded to nothingness while she was awake, returns with a vengeance, picking up where it left off as if the interruption had never happened.
Her heart leaps to her throat as a sound not unlike metal being dragged across a hard surface fills the otherwise quiet street. It travels up and down the wall behind her for a handful of minutes, interspersed with muffled thumps and clanking. Horror locks her muscles tight as a thought occurs to her. What if the creature hadn’t given up the chase? What if it had known where she was the whole time, and had been circling around to get at her from behind?
The wall explodes in a hailstorm of shattered bricks as the creature locates a weak spot in the masonry. Staggering from the hole, the top of its head bashed in from ramming through solid brick, the creature aims for the oil tank. A single swipe from a paw armed with wickedly curved talons knocks the large barrel clean off its foundation and sends it flying. Before she has time to react those same claws catch her in the side, ripping a gapping wound across her midsection. Her scream is lost in the primal screech of triumph that rises from the beast’s throat. It lunges forward, blood splattering its corroded armor as its teeth sink deep into her body. It pins her legs down beneath one large foot and begins to gnaw at her innards, feasting on her still living body, tearing out hunks of viscera and -
Eleven wakes with a scream, startling her roommates awake in the process. She catches a glimpse of the surprised expression on Seven’s face as she struggles free of the blankets and throws herself out of bed, running for the washroom. Dropping to the floor in front of the toilet she grips the sides of the bowl tightly as the contents of her stomach come up in a scalding rush. Once started the vomiting doesn’t stop until there is nothing but acid left. Persistent images of the gory disembowelment keep her dry heaving.
Gentle hands on her shoulders slowly pull her back. Having no strength to fight she falls back into the arms of her worried dominant, who moves her while their third dampens a hand towel for use as a cold compress. Seven cradles her against his chest, speaking low words of comfort that she doesn’t hear. He takes the cloth from Three when it is offered and holds it to her forehead.
“Are you alright?” He asks. When she shakes her head and whimpers he turns back to Three. “I’m going to take her down to the medical wing and get her checked out. Clean up here and try to get back to sleep.”
“Adamson isn’t going to be happy if there is something wrong with her,” Three grumbles irritably from somewhere on the other side of the small room. Seven snorts and stands up cautiously, hooking one arm behind Eleven’s knees and lifting her in a bridal carry. With that he heads for the door. Eleven thinks about arguing her right to walk down to medical on her own power, but the fact that her body is trembling tells her that now is not a good time to be stubborn. If there is anything less dignified than being carried it is falling flat on your face after refusing the help.
A harsh metallic scream echoes from one of the alleyways off to her right, sounding far closer than the last had been. She automatically turns left and stumbles down a rubble strewn street that spills her out into an industrial district. The smokestacks of a dozen abandoned factories reach into a sky choked with clouds the color of gun metal, their networks of rusty scaffolding and steam pipes glowing eerily in the weak light that manages to filter through. She takes in the new surroundings in at a glance as she struggles to keep up the pace, seeking a place to hide. Well past the point of total exhaustion her body is at its limits, and she doesn’t stand a chance against the monstrosity stalking her if it comes down to a fight.
Rounding the corner of a crumbling brick building she locates a narrow gap between a wall and an oil tank bolted next to it. Forcing her body into the too-small space as far as possible she hunches down and listens for the telltale sounds of the creature. An eternity passes in relative silence. The aging iron supports of the scaffolds groans occasionally. Wind whistles as it passes through holes in the metalwork. A low, guttural growl is the first indication that the beast is drawing nearer. Then the foot steps become audible, a shuffling gait punctuated by the protesting squeal of corroded joints and rattling armor.
Scarcely daring to take the much needed breaths required to keep her from blacking out she presses herself into the shadows of her hideaway as the creature pauses not ten feet from her. She can hear it taking in deep gulps of air, no doubt trying to pick up her scent. A few minutes later it moves on, keening in disappointment. It must not have been able to separate her scent from the rich, earthy smell of rotting steel and iron. Releasing a shaky breath she slowly relaxes against the cold brick behind her, closing her eyes and trying to restore some semblance of calm to her mind. Perhaps the danger has passed…
Eleven is roused from the dream by slight jostling and the brush of warm air across her cheek. Opening one eye drowsily she lifts her head from her pillow and glances around. The overhead lighting in the dormitory has been turned off to allow for sleep, but small orb-shaped lamps set high on the walls give off just enough light that she can make out most of the room. Pulling her arm free of the blankets she peers at her watch: midnight, far too late - or early - to be awake. Then why is she awake? The answer soon becomes apparent when an arm is carelessly tossed over her stomach and a warm body presses in closer to hers. She grumbles quietly when the realization dawns on her that she has been sharing the bed with Seven for the last few nights following her latest encounter with the giant robots in the Nexus. The physical closeness with her dominant has helped her sleep, holding off the worst of the nightmares that always seem to be a side effect of talking to her ‘old friends’.
Wrapped in a cocoon of body heat and blankets it does not take long for Eleven to settle again. Rolling onto her side to face the wall she sighs and curls into a loose fetal position with one arm shoved under her pillow. A few minutes later Seven unconsciously cuddles up to her back, seeking the warmth she had taken from him when she moved without ever waking up. Amusement briefly registers through the haze beginning to reclaim her mind, a faint smile stealing across her face before she drifts off. The dream, which had faded to nothingness while she was awake, returns with a vengeance, picking up where it left off as if the interruption had never happened.
Her heart leaps to her throat as a sound not unlike metal being dragged across a hard surface fills the otherwise quiet street. It travels up and down the wall behind her for a handful of minutes, interspersed with muffled thumps and clanking. Horror locks her muscles tight as a thought occurs to her. What if the creature hadn’t given up the chase? What if it had known where she was the whole time, and had been circling around to get at her from behind?
The wall explodes in a hailstorm of shattered bricks as the creature locates a weak spot in the masonry. Staggering from the hole, the top of its head bashed in from ramming through solid brick, the creature aims for the oil tank. A single swipe from a paw armed with wickedly curved talons knocks the large barrel clean off its foundation and sends it flying. Before she has time to react those same claws catch her in the side, ripping a gapping wound across her midsection. Her scream is lost in the primal screech of triumph that rises from the beast’s throat. It lunges forward, blood splattering its corroded armor as its teeth sink deep into her body. It pins her legs down beneath one large foot and begins to gnaw at her innards, feasting on her still living body, tearing out hunks of viscera and -
Eleven wakes with a scream, startling her roommates awake in the process. She catches a glimpse of the surprised expression on Seven’s face as she struggles free of the blankets and throws herself out of bed, running for the washroom. Dropping to the floor in front of the toilet she grips the sides of the bowl tightly as the contents of her stomach come up in a scalding rush. Once started the vomiting doesn’t stop until there is nothing but acid left. Persistent images of the gory disembowelment keep her dry heaving.
Gentle hands on her shoulders slowly pull her back. Having no strength to fight she falls back into the arms of her worried dominant, who moves her while their third dampens a hand towel for use as a cold compress. Seven cradles her against his chest, speaking low words of comfort that she doesn’t hear. He takes the cloth from Three when it is offered and holds it to her forehead.
“Are you alright?” He asks. When she shakes her head and whimpers he turns back to Three. “I’m going to take her down to the medical wing and get her checked out. Clean up here and try to get back to sleep.”
“Adamson isn’t going to be happy if there is something wrong with her,” Three grumbles irritably from somewhere on the other side of the small room. Seven snorts and stands up cautiously, hooking one arm behind Eleven’s knees and lifting her in a bridal carry. With that he heads for the door. Eleven thinks about arguing her right to walk down to medical on her own power, but the fact that her body is trembling tells her that now is not a good time to be stubborn. If there is anything less dignified than being carried it is falling flat on your face after refusing the help.