(no subject)
Verse: Open
Word Count: 801
Note: Beta'd by the ever lovely mun of savagestime. First ever attempt at second person tense, and why yes, it is nonlinear and purposely disorganised.
It takes only a moment for you to have your gun in your hand.
----
"-the stuff of nightmares," you mutter as you move through the darkness. You had brought a light with you, but it has just been snuffed out as if it were a candle. You should have known better than to move on, yet you went on anyway. You tell yourself you're careful. You are thorough. You are alert and ready for whatever lurks in the shadows and the dark.
Even as there are footsteps, footsteps that aren't your own, you go onward, because you must. Nothing is physically forcing you, but it is there, in your head, luring. You don't have defenses for this sort of thing, you know that. A shiver goes down your spine as you hear a sound that is almost like claws on stone, though you know of no stone to be found here. You can find no walls nor ceiling. Only the floor, which is as smooth as glass.
----
The Doctor has gone on his way and left you to tend to your own work. You know how to reach him if you need to, but this area is your forte. You have presence and command, you can get people to listen to you when you need it.
"Now, then," you say calmly, "what precisely is the problem?"
They all clamor at once, each person barking out their own details in a haphazard way. These people, of course, are not soldiers - not like you are - but they are the closest thing to a fighting force this place has. As you try to sift through their words, you notice something in the crowd.
For only the briefest of time, there is a flash of claws and too many teeth.
----
You have only two seconds to pull the trigger. No more. No less.
One.
Two.
----
You had been chasing, but now you are chased. Your heart races, but you keep as even as you can. You're trained for this sort of thing and shan't tire easily. Even as it roars behind you, even as it slavers and hisses, roars and bellows. What you have found in the dark is a monstrosity, and it has found you. You don't know which way you are going, but you know you must keep from being caught. Run.
And you wonder if it can see in the dark.
----
"You there!" you shout at the crowd.
They gape at you for a minute, confused. Some point at themselves, miming 'me' with their mouths; perhaps if their jaws were lined with rows of jagged teeth you might not be alarmed. You might be at ease, but there is that something gnawing at you.
You always knew when something was amiss, didn't you?
Didn't you?
Didn't you?
Why, yes, you did.
----
You fire. God help you.
----
It runs and you give chase.
It runs through the streets and through the alleys. It runs without abandon. Yet you give chase, because you don't let things slip through your fingers. You take charge and take responsibility. This, if anything, could be something to help the Doctor figure out what exactly IS happening here.
It hops a fence and you hop it too.
It doesn't stop even as it runs out into a field, towards
----
You wish you had a lighter on you. Your eyes can't adjust; there is no light to be found in all of this place. If you weren't being pulled (weren't you chasing before? don't you remember?) forward by something, something sitting in your head, you'd have turned around to address the person behind you.
If it is a person, anyway.
(wait, weren't you chasing? weren't you chasing someone?)
You wave the thought off. It no longer seems important.
----
You hit your target.
But you aren't contented.
The light from the muzzle of the gun, from the gunpowder, from the minor explosion involved in propelling the bullet, illuminates your pursuer.
Your eyes cannot help but notice the many rows of wicked teeth in an all too wide and gaping mouth.
----
Shouldn't you be running about now?
----
something dark. A cave of some sort, you think. The person - or thing - you are pursuing has disappeared into the opening, and you hesitate. It looks dark in there, doesn't it? You know a few basics about lighting a makeshift torch without a lighter or a match (it's come in handy once or twice since you've begun your time travelling around space), and it doesn't take long before you've got a long, thick branch lit.
You steel yourself and enter, prepared for any sudden attacks. The light from your torch doesn't bounce off walls, nor does it illuminate them. It spreads only so far out into the dark before it fades away. There should be... walls here, you think. Something to keep the ceiling-
Oh. There is no ceiling. Fancy that.
"It's almost like a dream... or-"
----
You always did know when something was wrong, didn't you?
Word Count: 801
Note: Beta'd by the ever lovely mun of savagestime. First ever attempt at second person tense, and why yes, it is nonlinear and purposely disorganised.
It takes only a moment for you to have your gun in your hand.
----
"-the stuff of nightmares," you mutter as you move through the darkness. You had brought a light with you, but it has just been snuffed out as if it were a candle. You should have known better than to move on, yet you went on anyway. You tell yourself you're careful. You are thorough. You are alert and ready for whatever lurks in the shadows and the dark.
Even as there are footsteps, footsteps that aren't your own, you go onward, because you must. Nothing is physically forcing you, but it is there, in your head, luring. You don't have defenses for this sort of thing, you know that. A shiver goes down your spine as you hear a sound that is almost like claws on stone, though you know of no stone to be found here. You can find no walls nor ceiling. Only the floor, which is as smooth as glass.
----
The Doctor has gone on his way and left you to tend to your own work. You know how to reach him if you need to, but this area is your forte. You have presence and command, you can get people to listen to you when you need it.
"Now, then," you say calmly, "what precisely is the problem?"
They all clamor at once, each person barking out their own details in a haphazard way. These people, of course, are not soldiers - not like you are - but they are the closest thing to a fighting force this place has. As you try to sift through their words, you notice something in the crowd.
For only the briefest of time, there is a flash of claws and too many teeth.
----
You have only two seconds to pull the trigger. No more. No less.
One.
Two.
----
You had been chasing, but now you are chased. Your heart races, but you keep as even as you can. You're trained for this sort of thing and shan't tire easily. Even as it roars behind you, even as it slavers and hisses, roars and bellows. What you have found in the dark is a monstrosity, and it has found you. You don't know which way you are going, but you know you must keep from being caught. Run.
And you wonder if it can see in the dark.
----
"You there!" you shout at the crowd.
They gape at you for a minute, confused. Some point at themselves, miming 'me' with their mouths; perhaps if their jaws were lined with rows of jagged teeth you might not be alarmed. You might be at ease, but there is that something gnawing at you.
You always knew when something was amiss, didn't you?
Didn't you?
Didn't you?
Why, yes, you did.
----
You fire. God help you.
----
It runs and you give chase.
It runs through the streets and through the alleys. It runs without abandon. Yet you give chase, because you don't let things slip through your fingers. You take charge and take responsibility. This, if anything, could be something to help the Doctor figure out what exactly IS happening here.
It hops a fence and you hop it too.
It doesn't stop even as it runs out into a field, towards
----
You wish you had a lighter on you. Your eyes can't adjust; there is no light to be found in all of this place. If you weren't being pulled (weren't you chasing before? don't you remember?) forward by something, something sitting in your head, you'd have turned around to address the person behind you.
If it is a person, anyway.
(wait, weren't you chasing? weren't you chasing someone?)
You wave the thought off. It no longer seems important.
----
You hit your target.
But you aren't contented.
The light from the muzzle of the gun, from the gunpowder, from the minor explosion involved in propelling the bullet, illuminates your pursuer.
Your eyes cannot help but notice the many rows of wicked teeth in an all too wide and gaping mouth.
----
Shouldn't you be running about now?
----
something dark. A cave of some sort, you think. The person - or thing - you are pursuing has disappeared into the opening, and you hesitate. It looks dark in there, doesn't it? You know a few basics about lighting a makeshift torch without a lighter or a match (it's come in handy once or twice since you've begun your time travelling around space), and it doesn't take long before you've got a long, thick branch lit.
You steel yourself and enter, prepared for any sudden attacks. The light from your torch doesn't bounce off walls, nor does it illuminate them. It spreads only so far out into the dark before it fades away. There should be... walls here, you think. Something to keep the ceiling-
Oh. There is no ceiling. Fancy that.
"It's almost like a dream... or-"
----
You always did know when something was wrong, didn't you?