Night 18: Hallway Near Waiting Room 2/Doctor's Offices

[dawning_dreams]

"Hell if I know," Cid growled back, not quite liking the demanding tone Brock was taking but at the same time likening it to his own mode of speech. "Didn't you hear the announcement on the intercom earlier? Fucker's insinuating some weird shit and I'm guessing the patients he mentioned are a part of it

Comments

[soulofdiscord]

Scholar Ling's reaction to what happened was quite a bit different than that of Chusa or of Cid Highwind. She didn't learn anything new about herself- for she remembered tearing men apart with as much savage glee and brutal efficiency. She didn't lose any part of herself- for Vincent's actions confirmed her philosophy, wrote out the Way in crimson in such a way that any could understand, and the boy only deserved the fate he received.

Rather, she learned about the others there. She learned from their reactions, from what they did, and in an instant, she knew how best to serve the Way.

The air suddenly seemed to be frigid, the Scholar's breath coming out as a cloud as she drew upon the frigid depths of her own soul. She changed her place in the world, to that of the cold arbiter of truth, and even if this world did not respect her place- yet- it could not help but to obey. Steam seemed to play off of her fingers as she gathered the cold into her hands, focusing it, giving it purpose...

...and then, with absolute and ruthless precision, she flung it at that creature's face, seeking to blind and slow, hoping to freeze solid, and the sharpened ice would slice like a blade should it hit.

She wanted to learn more: about this place, about these people, about the power that they wielded and the depths of their souls. There was much to learn here... and yet, there was also so very much to teach.

[perfect_meld]

Ooooooh, that was just as messy as they'd expected. Actually, even more so. Just like in the movies, but even better. Christmas had come and instead of a bike, they'd gotten a motorcyle. That was just how surprising but satisfying that had been. Getting shot in the foot seemed like a small price to pay for in admission to see this show.

What they hadn't expected was how loud it was, as bones shattered, and the chainsaw jammed. They saw it in clear detail, thick blood and tissue, and bits of guts flying. The kid had practically been cleaved in half, and now Kasady understood why some of those really crazy sonovabitches used chainsaws, despite the risk to themselves. The symbiote couldn't help licking their lips, partly with envy.

You humans and your weapons can be very.... artful, it sounded impressed. Savage, and sometimes primitive, but highly satisfying.

You said it, Kasady answered. That was something, coming from the symbiote. Like a compliment. The symbiote had some genetic memories of its world. The serial killer wasn't sure how the hell that really worked, but the symbiote was able to show him a few of their weapons and execution methods. Those had been foreign, but ingenious. All of them. So for the symbiote to be impressed?

Kasady couldn't help but feel a little proud of the human race. Sometimes they did things right.

Despite the agonizing pain in his foot, Kasady managed to pull himself up. Unlike the others, he didn't move to attack.

Instead, he began to applaud.

[strengthtolive]

He, too, could hear the sound coming closer. In a fevered hope, he thought that it was heading to just his imagination. He stopped trying to stop the man from pulling him, long enough to just turn his head to see what was happening. A blinding pain ripped through his shoulder, screaming across his mind and shattered his delusion.

Cloud had no time to wonder about the sudden shift of reality, nor what memories were replaying for him. Instead, he could only focus on the pain, the agony, the path that it was going as he watched the saw travel down his chest in horror.

No, it wasn't quite the pain, but the shock of dying, of knowing that he was dying. He thought he was screaming, he was sure of it. But, eventually, he stopped. The saw had ripped through one of his lungs, filling his mouth with blood and muffling any further cries.

His vision faded, blotted in black, filled it.

Nothing.

[blacksustenance]

Brock skidded to a halt as he saw the chainsaw arc through the air, buzzing angrily, and then promptly tore almost right fucking through the blond kid. A spray of red blood and gore erupted from the gaping wounds, sending a wet splash of crimson at those unfortunate to be closest to the kill. Brock found himself rooted to the spot for a moment as his eyes took in the fine, nitty gritty details of the kill. As kills went, it was clumsy. Brutal but clumsy. He supposed he should feel some pity for the blond kid, but he was dead before he hit the floor, and there was really no sense in feeling sorry for what was just a mangled hunk of still-warm flesh.

Fresh meat, the symbiote shivered despite itself. It yearned, pulling even though it knew they were both not starving.

The world suddenly turned from the threat with the chainsaw, from Cid and the others, to the pitiful, tempting, beautiful corpse just lying there, with the best parts still intact. Brock quivered, even though he knew that whatever Alex did meant that they didn't have to eat to keep the pangs away (yet), and only started when he heard someone clapping a few feet away.

It was that youngling symbiote with the red-haired host. The fucker was actually applauding the kill. Brock had half of a mind to cuff some sense and maturity into the idiot, but found that he had more pressing matters. There was another symbiote and if he was like they were, they'd soon realize that this was essentially a free meal, young or not.

Competition.

Brock wasted no time in heading for the corpse, feeling as if he was being pulled then moving of his own accord, aware of the symbiote practically salivating in anticipation.

[reduxvalentine]

As one laudably clapped and one dove desperately for the bloody corpse of its kill, it was almost too distracted to notice the sudden charge of two more.

Almost.

Shrieking in unfortunately unavoidable pain as metal struck it from all sides, many sensitive but a few devastatingly detrimental, it doubled over as suddenly the citrus sweet stench of deadly noxious fumes rose steadily from its body, permeating the thick air.

It paused in its wake of toxin, staggering as the bodies around it weakened and ceased their attacks. Its body was twitching, convulsing, wracked with pain and almost defeated even as the heavy poison settled through the hallway.

Vincent collapsed lifelessly to the floor, and everyone else only seconds after.

(end thread)