OOC: Eric A. Levine on June 15, 2007
Of all the places and locations he could have picked for a summer internship, why, oh WHY did he pick Washington DC? That question, of course, was easily answered - DC was the nation’s capital, as well as the city where his college was located. And that meant housing was free on campus, and he got incredible experience working as a Senate page. Still, Eric Levine mused, his arm draped over his face and two fans pointed at his bed, roaring full blast, I could have picked a dorm that had air conditioning.
He kicked off the covers and stared at the water stain on the ceiling. What had he done that day? Shuttled papers back and forth between senators? Oh, there’d been the cute girl in the cafeteria… although, like always, she made eyes at some intern from New York, leaving Eric to sit with some of the other guys. The humid mid-Atlantic summer air hung heavy over the day, and the streets were full of sluggishly moving people, fanning themselves if they weren’t inside, escaping the heat through the luxury of air conditioning in buildings and cars.
Eric shoved an impatient hand through his shoulder-length hair. His boss had ragged on him earlier that day about its length - and given his status, he probably SHOULD have cut it, but he didn’t want to. And he took good care of it, making sure it was neat. Why didn’t the girl at the cafeteria notice him? He knew he was fairly attractive - green eyes, auburn hair, a winning smile (or so his friends from high school had assured him). “Aargh,” he groaned to himself. “I should be sleeping.”
The sky rumbled in the distance, and Eric closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. Storms were good - even if rain was a pain in the neck, making trains late and ruining the nice shoes his mom had bought before he began his internship. So long as hurricanes or flooding didn’t happen, they were good. It was too early for hurricanes anyway. Cricket chirped in the night, and down the hall, Eric could hear the low drone of Guitar Hero - likely some of the other guys, denying sleep again. They were here for summer classes, though, not for the Nine to Five of a Capitol Hill internship, and didn’t have to worry about waking up at six to get ready and catch the train and get to work on time. He rolled over, and peered at the clock on his desk. 11:00 blinked back in neon green, and Eric sighed in exasperation, before draping his arm back over his eyes. The other arm dangled off the side of the bed.
When shouting woke him up at 1:00 am, Eric only frowned and rolled over, never noticing the yellow eyes glowing underneath his bed from between his suitcases and boxes of food.
The morning of June 15th, 2007, was like any other morning for him. He woke up at six, showered, and dressed, leaving the building and heading for the Metro at 7:30 sharp. On his way into the trains, he grabbed a coffee and a bagel, and purchased the morning paper. There were strange reports of black monsters invading nearly every major city in the world, of people vanishing without a trace. Still half-asleep, Eric didn’t know what to make of it, save that it read more like a tabloid issue. He simply adjusted his glasses, rubbed the corner of his eye, and kept reading. Engrossed in his food, and in the papers, he didn’t see how strangely empty the train was that morning.
In fact, aside from the weird articles in the paper, Eric didn’t find anything amiss with daily living until he exited the train at Capitol Hill and was met with chaos on all sides. He stood there, at the entrance of the station, coffee in one hand, paper in the other, and mouth agape. People ran willy-nilly through the streets, pursued by black, skittery monsters. He watched one woman (one of the senators’ interns, he noted with shocked detachment) collapse to the ground, the heel of her stiletto snapped. She tried desperately to get up, but the monsters swarmed in on her, clawing and grasping, ignoring her frightened screams. One black arm ripped downward, and there was only a brief spurt of blood and a brilliant flash of pinkish light, before the woman’s lifeless body lay in front of Eric, chest torn in two. He barely had time to recoil, before the woman vanished into a pool of darkness.
The monsters saw him now, and Eric abandoned his coffee to run. He ran, uncaring where his legs took him, grateful for his training in martial arts classes, grateful for his dedication to physical activity, because never in his life had he bet on running for his life. As often as he could, he glanced over his shoulder, and saw that no matter where he ran, monsters chased him. Eric saw one homeless man beating the monsters away with baseball bat - and when it seemed to work, Eric looked around for the most useable item he could find. He spied a trash can lid in an alley, and bolted to grab it before the creatures lurking in the shadows could swarm him.
As he dashed forward, his nice shoes already rubbing a blister into his heel, the glass front of the store in front of him burst as a huge monster crashed through, swinging its fists and breathing fire. Eric screamed in terror, and ducked under the smashing fists, trying to find his trash can lid, trying to find safety. He was unable to doge everything, though, and was rammed full in the face by the monster’s enormous hand. Eric went flying into the next building, and crashed through the glass door. He shook his head to clear his senses, but his face exploded with pain.
Tentatively, Eric put one hand up to his face, trying to see without his glasses (they were obviously broken), and saw red on his fingers. He removed the bent frames, and blinked. His eyes didn’t feel like there was any glass in them. Carefully, he explored his cheeks and forehead, and found that not only was he bleeding from a rather large gash on his forehead, there were shards of glass embedded in his cheeks. Eric grit his teeth and pulled the two pieces of glass out, fighting down a scream of agony as each one came out, slowly and raggedly. He had to seek medical attention. He had to get away from these monsters.
The thing from before was blasting fire at an oncoming car, and stopped the vehicle with its enormous girth. The front fender, then the hood, all gave way to the beast, crinkling up like a wet piece of toilet paper, the screaming, terrified driver helpless to prevent it from taking his heart. Somehow, Eric recognized that -these monsters stole hearts. If it hadn’t been so unbelievably terrifying and so REAL, he would have laughed. This was like being in some ridiculous movie! But it was real, it was so real, and now the large monster was coming for him.
It smashed through the front of the building with no effort at all, and behind him more of the smaller, shadow-like monsters, materialized.
Eric Levine was going to die here.
Eric Levine wasn’t going to die here. Not without a fight. He picked up the dismembered arm of a mannequin, and held it defiantly in front of him. Blood was gushing down his face, he couldn’t see very well, and he was surrounded. There was a blinding flash of white and red, and searing heat, and the last thing Eric Levine remembered was flailing that plastic arm wildly, thinking not me, not me, not me, I WILL NOT DIE HERE…
He kicked off the covers and stared at the water stain on the ceiling. What had he done that day? Shuttled papers back and forth between senators? Oh, there’d been the cute girl in the cafeteria… although, like always, she made eyes at some intern from New York, leaving Eric to sit with some of the other guys. The humid mid-Atlantic summer air hung heavy over the day, and the streets were full of sluggishly moving people, fanning themselves if they weren’t inside, escaping the heat through the luxury of air conditioning in buildings and cars.
Eric shoved an impatient hand through his shoulder-length hair. His boss had ragged on him earlier that day about its length - and given his status, he probably SHOULD have cut it, but he didn’t want to. And he took good care of it, making sure it was neat. Why didn’t the girl at the cafeteria notice him? He knew he was fairly attractive - green eyes, auburn hair, a winning smile (or so his friends from high school had assured him). “Aargh,” he groaned to himself. “I should be sleeping.”
The sky rumbled in the distance, and Eric closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. Storms were good - even if rain was a pain in the neck, making trains late and ruining the nice shoes his mom had bought before he began his internship. So long as hurricanes or flooding didn’t happen, they were good. It was too early for hurricanes anyway. Cricket chirped in the night, and down the hall, Eric could hear the low drone of Guitar Hero - likely some of the other guys, denying sleep again. They were here for summer classes, though, not for the Nine to Five of a Capitol Hill internship, and didn’t have to worry about waking up at six to get ready and catch the train and get to work on time. He rolled over, and peered at the clock on his desk. 11:00 blinked back in neon green, and Eric sighed in exasperation, before draping his arm back over his eyes. The other arm dangled off the side of the bed.
When shouting woke him up at 1:00 am, Eric only frowned and rolled over, never noticing the yellow eyes glowing underneath his bed from between his suitcases and boxes of food.
The morning of June 15th, 2007, was like any other morning for him. He woke up at six, showered, and dressed, leaving the building and heading for the Metro at 7:30 sharp. On his way into the trains, he grabbed a coffee and a bagel, and purchased the morning paper. There were strange reports of black monsters invading nearly every major city in the world, of people vanishing without a trace. Still half-asleep, Eric didn’t know what to make of it, save that it read more like a tabloid issue. He simply adjusted his glasses, rubbed the corner of his eye, and kept reading. Engrossed in his food, and in the papers, he didn’t see how strangely empty the train was that morning.
In fact, aside from the weird articles in the paper, Eric didn’t find anything amiss with daily living until he exited the train at Capitol Hill and was met with chaos on all sides. He stood there, at the entrance of the station, coffee in one hand, paper in the other, and mouth agape. People ran willy-nilly through the streets, pursued by black, skittery monsters. He watched one woman (one of the senators’ interns, he noted with shocked detachment) collapse to the ground, the heel of her stiletto snapped. She tried desperately to get up, but the monsters swarmed in on her, clawing and grasping, ignoring her frightened screams. One black arm ripped downward, and there was only a brief spurt of blood and a brilliant flash of pinkish light, before the woman’s lifeless body lay in front of Eric, chest torn in two. He barely had time to recoil, before the woman vanished into a pool of darkness.
The monsters saw him now, and Eric abandoned his coffee to run. He ran, uncaring where his legs took him, grateful for his training in martial arts classes, grateful for his dedication to physical activity, because never in his life had he bet on running for his life. As often as he could, he glanced over his shoulder, and saw that no matter where he ran, monsters chased him. Eric saw one homeless man beating the monsters away with baseball bat - and when it seemed to work, Eric looked around for the most useable item he could find. He spied a trash can lid in an alley, and bolted to grab it before the creatures lurking in the shadows could swarm him.
As he dashed forward, his nice shoes already rubbing a blister into his heel, the glass front of the store in front of him burst as a huge monster crashed through, swinging its fists and breathing fire. Eric screamed in terror, and ducked under the smashing fists, trying to find his trash can lid, trying to find safety. He was unable to doge everything, though, and was rammed full in the face by the monster’s enormous hand. Eric went flying into the next building, and crashed through the glass door. He shook his head to clear his senses, but his face exploded with pain.
Tentatively, Eric put one hand up to his face, trying to see without his glasses (they were obviously broken), and saw red on his fingers. He removed the bent frames, and blinked. His eyes didn’t feel like there was any glass in them. Carefully, he explored his cheeks and forehead, and found that not only was he bleeding from a rather large gash on his forehead, there were shards of glass embedded in his cheeks. Eric grit his teeth and pulled the two pieces of glass out, fighting down a scream of agony as each one came out, slowly and raggedly. He had to seek medical attention. He had to get away from these monsters.
The thing from before was blasting fire at an oncoming car, and stopped the vehicle with its enormous girth. The front fender, then the hood, all gave way to the beast, crinkling up like a wet piece of toilet paper, the screaming, terrified driver helpless to prevent it from taking his heart. Somehow, Eric recognized that -these monsters stole hearts. If it hadn’t been so unbelievably terrifying and so REAL, he would have laughed. This was like being in some ridiculous movie! But it was real, it was so real, and now the large monster was coming for him.
It smashed through the front of the building with no effort at all, and behind him more of the smaller, shadow-like monsters, materialized.
Eric Levine was going to die here.
Eric Levine wasn’t going to die here. Not without a fight. He picked up the dismembered arm of a mannequin, and held it defiantly in front of him. Blood was gushing down his face, he couldn’t see very well, and he was surrounded. There was a blinding flash of white and red, and searing heat, and the last thing Eric Levine remembered was flailing that plastic arm wildly, thinking not me, not me, not me, I WILL NOT DIE HERE…