[ accidental video ; week 21, day 5 ] ☢ {{ тẘø ẘøя∂ṧ øḟ ℓαṫḯη
[ So it's like this:
The camera goes on like a rattling thing, all shaky and just maybe it's an earthquake, or maybe the Hitomi is tumbling out of someone's pocket. The latter makes a little more sense, and when it falls, hits a hard, flat surface, it's turned on a strange upside-down diagonal with a few specks of sand messing up the view. Definitely not high definition, this time around. Whatever it is, it's messy and -- ]
Holy shit that thing is huge!
[ It's a young man's voice (for those who might know him well or have heard him before, the voice belongs to one Peter Petrelli), and he sounds a cross between amazed, perplexed, and knee-knocking horrified, the gritty scratching of feet on hard sandy surface sounding just before Peter half-comes into view on screen, stumbling backwards and away from whatever it is that he has his neck craned up to look up at. ]
Yeah, I got that much! Now we just need to get rid of it!
[ Those who know him at all, though he hasn't made much of a wave or an appearance anywhere yet, will be able to tell that the second voice belongs to Sam Winchester. He doesn't sound pleased. ... Like at all. It's a combination of frustration because of this giant, scary thing and the fact that Peter seems entirely clueless as to how the hell to deal with it. Where have all the cowboys hunters gone? ]
You've really never dealt with something like this before, have you?
Not anything this big!
[ Really, Peter's seen a whole lot of fucked up things here and well, he's seen some pretty big creatures too (like gigantic talking female dragons, but somehow that dragon is friendly, like something out of an Arthurian made-for-television legend), but this? This is just on the level of Alien or Predator scary, complete with dinosaur-sized teeth and slimy-looking spiny vertebrae and Holy Mother of God, are those claws vibrating?
Eyes wide, Peter takes another step back and now he's in full view on the Hitomi. He blinks up at the thing, then steals a glance at Sam. ]
So, uh, how do we kill it?
[ Peter's almost half-tempted to see if maybe a nice big blast of electricity would do the trick, but somehow he gets the feeling that it might just really, really piss the thing off, suddenly reminded of that crazy insane zombie dude that just would not die, even after he was given a nice face-full of grade-A nuclear bomb. ]
[ Sam looks at Peter almost incredulously. He might actually not be able to believe what he's hearing right now. The hell if he knows! This is different than the usual things he hunts. But for starters... ]
I'd be willing to bet that shooting it might help. Worth a shot, right?
[ Because he's not really sure how else to go about this, and it's worth a shot, right? ]
[ The worst that can possibly happen is they'll just get torn to tiny shreds, or something. And then death will hopefully be instantaneous (for Sam at least; Peter's not sure, unless he somehow had his head torn off by that thing, if death could even happen at all -- he's leaning towards no). It's a good thing that the monster hasn't noticed them... yet, and that they're hunting it, and not the other way around.
Then it occurs to Peter that if Sam shoots the thing and it doesn't work, then that hideous creature will know exactly where they are and probably will proceed to turn the tables to make them into a nice meal. Or... at least, it would make Sam into a nice meal. Peter would probably be that unedible thing that's regurgitated. ]
Maybe I should distract it. You know, get its attention so it won't notice you.
[ Peter says, and clearly this is the best idea ever. ]
[ God, why is he just... being stupid? Peter, you're stupid. Bait? Really? First of all, that's usually Jo's job. Second of all ... that's usually... not... smart. Whatever. This thing needs killing, and it's better than being the bait himself. He's obviously the more seasoned hunter. Or... the... only seasoned hunter, as it were. ~SIGH~. ]
Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Go do whatever you're gonna do to get it going after you. Just don't get yourself killed.
[ Peter can't help but crack a half-grin at that. A hidden something glinting in his eyes. ]
Don't worry. [ He says, reaching out to pat Sam on the shoulder reassuringly. ] I don't die easily.
[ What the hell is that supposed to mean, anyway? Bro makes no sense. Sam just... is being Stone Cold Sam Winchester right now. ]
Sure you don't. Y'know? A lot of hunters say that right before they die.
Yeah, well I'm not a lot of hunters. I'm a Petrelli. We're pretty resilient.
[ Nothing like a body exploding and coming back together from a nuclear reaction inside of it to make that undeniable fact. Not that Sam would know that, but hey-- Peter gives him a half-smile that could be interpreted as a smirk and then circles around to the other side of where the monster is munching on some carcasses of... something or other, emerging from the treeline. ]
HEY! [ Calls up at it, getting its attention. It makes some kind of a cross between a growling and a strange screeching-skittery sound, and Peter? He's got a nice baseball-sized kind of rock in his hand, and a hell of an aim. ] Catch! [ The rock goes flying and hits the thing right in the middle of the eyes with a crack. Then plops to the ground.
For a moment, nothing happens.
And then the creature screeches-howls, lunging over the carcass, jaws wide as it bears down on Peter.
Oh, this is so not going to be fun.]
[ Muttered. ] Whatever you say, dude.
[ This guy is almost irritatingly confident. Not to the point that he's... Dean, but... It's annoying. He's not entirely thrilled about this whole hot mess. Good god. Peter Petrelli may as well be a really, really drunk blonde girl right about now. Sam cocks his gun, more than ready to fire -- ]
Peter! MOVE IT! [ But that thing sure is... eating... Peter. Sam opens fire on it, aiming for weak points - back of the head where it meets the neck, side... But it doesn't seem to be backing off. ]
[ Peter would respond, but holy shit, that hurts. He thinks at least one leg has probably just been bitten off and the pain is excruciating enough for him to see stars if it isn't for the fact that he's quite, very suddenly, immersed in the foulest, thickest, hottest most disgusting crush of (Oh my God, I'm in its mouth) tissue and slick muscle, tightening around him before it squeezes and the blackness closes in on all sides. And Peter thinks he might just be sick, the air squeezed all out of his lungs as he feels the crack and crunch of bone--
-- for a moment, everything is very dark.
And then Peter is swimming in warm, viscous pool of -- he's going to be sick. He's going to be very sick. He's going to--
Well, not explode. Exploding would probably kill Sam, so that would be a very, very bad idea. So Peter does the next best thing: he drives all the sharpness and overwhelming pain that's stabbing through him outwards in a huge burst of electricity. ]
Dammit -- [ There's a fucking leg ... on the ground ... Sam, for all his stomach and toughness, actually feels nauseous for a fraction of a second before he snaps back to reality and what needs to be done to... save Peter. If there's any saving him. He's being digested. That's usually not a savable thing. But based on what he's learned since arriving here, death doesn't really last as long as... permanently, contrary to all other forms of... well. Reality. But now Sam's pissed. This thing ate pretty much the only person he'd actually call a friend here. Or... a sort of friend. Sam doesn't have luck with those. They're usually evil or ... dead shortly after -- Wait. GREAT. Good. This is the part where Peter dies because he's Sam's friend, isn't it?
It's looming over him, all teeth and claws and rage and... this disgusting slime and... probably some of Peter's blood coming out of its mouth. Sam runs around it to face it directly, and fires several rounds right between its eyes. That seems to be more effective than anything else has thus far, but... there's something else happening. He doesn't see it at first, but when he backs up his foot hits the device and suddenly, just about everything is viewable to anyone checking things out on the network right now. Sam jumps back at the strange spasms and seizing that the creature is now seeming to succumb to, and stares in absolute horror as it... starts to fry. From the inside out. Fry. Like... a chip. A potato chip. A really, really burnt potato chip. It's sizzling, and the smell is absolutely rank. Again, he's staving off another bout of nausea. The stench is like nothing he's had to deal with before. And then it kind of ...
Explodes. It kind of explodes.
Well done, Sammy! But - if it exploded, that means that... Peter's probably dead. He doesn't count this as a full success. He wipes a speck of gruesome monsterflesh from his cheek with the back of his hand, swallowing and starting to look for some sign of Peter. And by sign... I mean body part. Possibly plural body parts. ]
[ But out of all that muck and smoke and chunks of steaming flesh, from what might as well be a downright jungle, Amazonian really, of monster-flesh and muscle and still-sizzling guts, rotting detritus and the bodies of not-so-lucky victims, emerges what appears to be some kind of strange creature covered in a thick goopy veil of blood-flecked green slime that drips over its humanoid-shaped body as it wriggles out from under the heavy weight of some kind of charred organ that might have once been a stomach. It plops onto the ground with all the aplomb of a slug, then lies flat for a moment before it makes a groan.
Slowly, one of its slime-covered appendages seems to rise, and then it appears to be making a wiping motion and revealing --
Peter Petrelli's face.
It had all come to a rather unclimatic stop, and Peter hadn't quite expected things to go the way they did. It's not like he woke up and said to himself, today's a great day for being eaten alive. And really, the business of being eaten alive wouldn't even be so bad if not for the stench. The pain goes away, as it always does, but just the rancid, foul stench of decay and rot and God knows what else is enough to lay a perfectly healthy and uninjured man flat on his back. Which is where Peter is at present. Covered with a thick layer of digestive slime, guts, and monster-blood.
On the bright side, he and Sam totally took down that thing from Alien. Fighting the good fight. Saving the world. One gigantic monster at a time.
Oh, and hey, look at that. His leg's grown back. Great. That saves him the trouble of having to reattach it. ]
[ ..............
....................................................
I know, I know - that's a lot of periods. But there's nothing else to accurately describe the way Sam feels right now. He's in awe and shock and... horrified and -- ... Peter's alive and he sure... has the same leg that's LAYING ON THE GROUND A FEW FEET AWAY. Sam feels a rush of relief for his friend but then an immediate rush of... thinking Peter is a demon, right afterward. He raises his gun again and... stares accusingly at the other man. ]
When were you planning to tell me what you are?
[ Because seriously Peter has just... left the category of normal human so that makes him a 'what' not a 'who'. Sorry, bro. ]
[ Peter just stares up at Sam from the ground, rather incredulously. He just got himself eaten by a monster to save Sam from what would have been an absolutely horrific death and this is how Sam repays him? With a gun in the face??? (Okay, so maybe that shouldn't be all too unexpected, seeing as Sam does hunt the dark and creepy things that go boo in the night, but come on, man. Have a little faith.)
Peter sighs, sitting up as he wipes more sheets of goo off of him, realizing that some of his ribs are still jutting out. He winces as he pushes them in, flesh stitching up over them and eating up the last remnants of pain. ]
You wouldn't believe me if I told you.
[ He's really not all too concerned about the gun because well. Unless Sam shoots him in a certain spot at the back of the head, it just won't take.
It's at that point that, as he looks down, he notices something metallic glinting and squints his eyes, reaching to pick it up. The feed goes out. ]
{{ooc; GREEN is Peter.
BLUE is Sam.}}
The camera goes on like a rattling thing, all shaky and just maybe it's an earthquake, or maybe the Hitomi is tumbling out of someone's pocket. The latter makes a little more sense, and when it falls, hits a hard, flat surface, it's turned on a strange upside-down diagonal with a few specks of sand messing up the view. Definitely not high definition, this time around. Whatever it is, it's messy and -- ]
Holy shit that thing is huge!
[ It's a young man's voice (for those who might know him well or have heard him before, the voice belongs to one Peter Petrelli), and he sounds a cross between amazed, perplexed, and knee-knocking horrified, the gritty scratching of feet on hard sandy surface sounding just before Peter half-comes into view on screen, stumbling backwards and away from whatever it is that he has his neck craned up to look up at. ]
Yeah, I got that much! Now we just need to get rid of it!
[ Those who know him at all, though he hasn't made much of a wave or an appearance anywhere yet, will be able to tell that the second voice belongs to Sam Winchester. He doesn't sound pleased. ... Like at all. It's a combination of frustration because of this giant, scary thing and the fact that Peter seems entirely clueless as to how the hell to deal with it. Where have all the cowboys hunters gone? ]
You've really never dealt with something like this before, have you?
Not anything this big!
[ Really, Peter's seen a whole lot of fucked up things here and well, he's seen some pretty big creatures too (like gigantic talking female dragons, but somehow that dragon is friendly, like something out of an Arthurian made-for-television legend), but this? This is just on the level of Alien or Predator scary, complete with dinosaur-sized teeth and slimy-looking spiny vertebrae and Holy Mother of God, are those claws vibrating?
Eyes wide, Peter takes another step back and now he's in full view on the Hitomi. He blinks up at the thing, then steals a glance at Sam. ]
So, uh, how do we kill it?
[ Peter's almost half-tempted to see if maybe a nice big blast of electricity would do the trick, but somehow he gets the feeling that it might just really, really piss the thing off, suddenly reminded of that crazy insane zombie dude that just would not die, even after he was given a nice face-full of grade-A nuclear bomb. ]
[ Sam looks at Peter almost incredulously. He might actually not be able to believe what he's hearing right now. The hell if he knows! This is different than the usual things he hunts. But for starters... ]
I'd be willing to bet that shooting it might help. Worth a shot, right?
[ Because he's not really sure how else to go about this, and it's worth a shot, right? ]
[ The worst that can possibly happen is they'll just get torn to tiny shreds, or something. And then death will hopefully be instantaneous (for Sam at least; Peter's not sure, unless he somehow had his head torn off by that thing, if death could even happen at all -- he's leaning towards no). It's a good thing that the monster hasn't noticed them... yet, and that they're hunting it, and not the other way around.
Then it occurs to Peter that if Sam shoots the thing and it doesn't work, then that hideous creature will know exactly where they are and probably will proceed to turn the tables to make them into a nice meal. Or... at least, it would make Sam into a nice meal. Peter would probably be that unedible thing that's regurgitated. ]
Maybe I should distract it. You know, get its attention so it won't notice you.
[ Peter says, and clearly this is the best idea ever. ]
[ God, why is he just... being stupid? Peter, you're stupid. Bait? Really? First of all, that's usually Jo's job. Second of all ... that's usually... not... smart. Whatever. This thing needs killing, and it's better than being the bait himself. He's obviously the more seasoned hunter. Or... the... only seasoned hunter, as it were. ~SIGH~. ]
Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Go do whatever you're gonna do to get it going after you. Just don't get yourself killed.
[ Peter can't help but crack a half-grin at that. A hidden something glinting in his eyes. ]
Don't worry. [ He says, reaching out to pat Sam on the shoulder reassuringly. ] I don't die easily.
[ What the hell is that supposed to mean, anyway? Bro makes no sense. Sam just... is being Stone Cold Sam Winchester right now. ]
Sure you don't. Y'know? A lot of hunters say that right before they die.
Yeah, well I'm not a lot of hunters. I'm a Petrelli. We're pretty resilient.
[ Nothing like a body exploding and coming back together from a nuclear reaction inside of it to make that undeniable fact. Not that Sam would know that, but hey-- Peter gives him a half-smile that could be interpreted as a smirk and then circles around to the other side of where the monster is munching on some carcasses of... something or other, emerging from the treeline. ]
HEY! [ Calls up at it, getting its attention. It makes some kind of a cross between a growling and a strange screeching-skittery sound, and Peter? He's got a nice baseball-sized kind of rock in his hand, and a hell of an aim. ] Catch! [ The rock goes flying and hits the thing right in the middle of the eyes with a crack. Then plops to the ground.
For a moment, nothing happens.
And then the creature screeches-howls, lunging over the carcass, jaws wide as it bears down on Peter.
Oh, this is so not going to be fun.]
[ Muttered. ] Whatever you say, dude.
[ This guy is almost irritatingly confident. Not to the point that he's... Dean, but... It's annoying. He's not entirely thrilled about this whole hot mess. Good god. Peter Petrelli may as well be a really, really drunk blonde girl right about now. Sam cocks his gun, more than ready to fire -- ]
Peter! MOVE IT! [ But that thing sure is... eating... Peter. Sam opens fire on it, aiming for weak points - back of the head where it meets the neck, side... But it doesn't seem to be backing off. ]
[ Peter would respond, but holy shit, that hurts. He thinks at least one leg has probably just been bitten off and the pain is excruciating enough for him to see stars if it isn't for the fact that he's quite, very suddenly, immersed in the foulest, thickest, hottest most disgusting crush of (Oh my God, I'm in its mouth) tissue and slick muscle, tightening around him before it squeezes and the blackness closes in on all sides. And Peter thinks he might just be sick, the air squeezed all out of his lungs as he feels the crack and crunch of bone--
-- for a moment, everything is very dark.
And then Peter is swimming in warm, viscous pool of -- he's going to be sick. He's going to be very sick. He's going to--
Well, not explode. Exploding would probably kill Sam, so that would be a very, very bad idea. So Peter does the next best thing: he drives all the sharpness and overwhelming pain that's stabbing through him outwards in a huge burst of electricity. ]
Dammit -- [ There's a fucking leg ... on the ground ... Sam, for all his stomach and toughness, actually feels nauseous for a fraction of a second before he snaps back to reality and what needs to be done to... save Peter. If there's any saving him. He's being digested. That's usually not a savable thing. But based on what he's learned since arriving here, death doesn't really last as long as... permanently, contrary to all other forms of... well. Reality. But now Sam's pissed. This thing ate pretty much the only person he'd actually call a friend here. Or... a sort of friend. Sam doesn't have luck with those. They're usually evil or ... dead shortly after -- Wait. GREAT. Good. This is the part where Peter dies because he's Sam's friend, isn't it?
It's looming over him, all teeth and claws and rage and... this disgusting slime and... probably some of Peter's blood coming out of its mouth. Sam runs around it to face it directly, and fires several rounds right between its eyes. That seems to be more effective than anything else has thus far, but... there's something else happening. He doesn't see it at first, but when he backs up his foot hits the device and suddenly, just about everything is viewable to anyone checking things out on the network right now. Sam jumps back at the strange spasms and seizing that the creature is now seeming to succumb to, and stares in absolute horror as it... starts to fry. From the inside out. Fry. Like... a chip. A potato chip. A really, really burnt potato chip. It's sizzling, and the smell is absolutely rank. Again, he's staving off another bout of nausea. The stench is like nothing he's had to deal with before. And then it kind of ...
Explodes. It kind of explodes.
Well done, Sammy! But - if it exploded, that means that... Peter's probably dead. He doesn't count this as a full success. He wipes a speck of gruesome monsterflesh from his cheek with the back of his hand, swallowing and starting to look for some sign of Peter. And by sign... I mean body part. Possibly plural body parts. ]
[ But out of all that muck and smoke and chunks of steaming flesh, from what might as well be a downright jungle, Amazonian really, of monster-flesh and muscle and still-sizzling guts, rotting detritus and the bodies of not-so-lucky victims, emerges what appears to be some kind of strange creature covered in a thick goopy veil of blood-flecked green slime that drips over its humanoid-shaped body as it wriggles out from under the heavy weight of some kind of charred organ that might have once been a stomach. It plops onto the ground with all the aplomb of a slug, then lies flat for a moment before it makes a groan.
Slowly, one of its slime-covered appendages seems to rise, and then it appears to be making a wiping motion and revealing --
Peter Petrelli's face.
It had all come to a rather unclimatic stop, and Peter hadn't quite expected things to go the way they did. It's not like he woke up and said to himself, today's a great day for being eaten alive. And really, the business of being eaten alive wouldn't even be so bad if not for the stench. The pain goes away, as it always does, but just the rancid, foul stench of decay and rot and God knows what else is enough to lay a perfectly healthy and uninjured man flat on his back. Which is where Peter is at present. Covered with a thick layer of digestive slime, guts, and monster-blood.
On the bright side, he and Sam totally took down that thing from Alien. Fighting the good fight. Saving the world. One gigantic monster at a time.
Oh, and hey, look at that. His leg's grown back. Great. That saves him the trouble of having to reattach it. ]
[ ..............
....................................................
I know, I know - that's a lot of periods. But there's nothing else to accurately describe the way Sam feels right now. He's in awe and shock and... horrified and -- ... Peter's alive and he sure... has the same leg that's LAYING ON THE GROUND A FEW FEET AWAY. Sam feels a rush of relief for his friend but then an immediate rush of... thinking Peter is a demon, right afterward. He raises his gun again and... stares accusingly at the other man. ]
When were you planning to tell me what you are?
[ Because seriously Peter has just... left the category of normal human so that makes him a 'what' not a 'who'. Sorry, bro. ]
[ Peter just stares up at Sam from the ground, rather incredulously. He just got himself eaten by a monster to save Sam from what would have been an absolutely horrific death and this is how Sam repays him? With a gun in the face??? (Okay, so maybe that shouldn't be all too unexpected, seeing as Sam does hunt the dark and creepy things that go boo in the night, but come on, man. Have a little faith.)
Peter sighs, sitting up as he wipes more sheets of goo off of him, realizing that some of his ribs are still jutting out. He winces as he pushes them in, flesh stitching up over them and eating up the last remnants of pain. ]
You wouldn't believe me if I told you.
[ He's really not all too concerned about the gun because well. Unless Sam shoots him in a certain spot at the back of the head, it just won't take.
It's at that point that, as he looks down, he notices something metallic glinting and squints his eyes, reaching to pick it up. The feed goes out. ]
{{ooc; GREEN is Peter.
BLUE is Sam.}}