Sunday, December 18th, The Midnight Channel
Who: The Port's Latest Shadow Televisions Stars! And Thousands of Home Viewers!
When: Midnight, Sunday, December 18th
Where: In front of your Television Sets or Streaming NV TV. (Digital Cable? You'll still get the analog effect.)
Summary: Full Plot Details Here
Warnings: Please Put 'em In the Subject Lines As Necessary, Kids?
( I try to stop the flow, double-clicking on the go, but it's no use; hey, I'm being consumed )
When: Midnight, Sunday, December 18th
Where: In front of your Television Sets or Streaming NV TV. (Digital Cable? You'll still get the analog effect.)
Summary: Full Plot Details Here
Warnings: Please Put 'em In the Subject Lines As Necessary, Kids?
( I try to stop the flow, double-clicking on the go, but it's no use; hey, I'm being consumed )
Still, she watches. Mesmerized.
The other Mary breaks off from happily humming her run-away song and takes a huge drag of her cigarette, tossing her head and making a noise that can't possibly be decent on public television. Watching this, her disgust turns to burning embarrassment that people are actually seeing this. The Other Mary looks at her cigarette like it can show her the way, and speaks.]
Man, there's nothing like a good smoke. It's funny, right? [Right into the camera, now.] It's always the impeccable fucking saints who do things like this. It shouldn't surprise you. [She grits her teeth and obviously presses the gas, as the car's engine roars off-screen and out the window the car is obviously speeding up.] Don't let it fool you. Anyone who fakes being an altruist or selfless little martyr probably has to drink to numb the urge to kill things. Most of them only defend the meek because otherwise we'd be Lorena Bobbitt.
[The false Mary's face twists in pain then hardens into something stern and vicious.] They'd deserve it.
They all deserve it.
[Then finally, finally, the broadcast ends, leaving Mary standing in the living room, alone. Seeing it all laid out: an ugly part of a recent (to her) fight with John, the banality of her old life- the sick disgust rising in her gut at seeing herself hurt her own baby boy. It's a brutal, ugly picture of her family and, in the end, of herself that she wants to kick and scream against, to shoot until it dies and never bothers her again.
It occurs to her: the last part of the broadcast was distinctly threatening. This thing, if it's acting like all the other broadcasts and the other incidences she's witnessed in the Darkness this week, could be outside somewhere, hurting people. She has to go.
That's the excuse she gives for charging out into the Darkness, armed to the teeth and thirsting for any chance to hurt something. No- to protect someone. To help somebody. Yes. She has to do something good with this, if this bloody violence is all her life is anymore.]
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There's really no off-season from Winchester duty. Just one of those things he's learned to accept. ]
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Bobby will probably find her near the Underground Mall.]
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-wait wait. Wait.]
...Bobby?
[Okay, finger off trigger. A little. She isn't entirely trusting that this is Bobby. What if it's one of those Darkness things?]
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He recognizes the kitchen immediately, and it just gets worse from there. Mary's rage, his own voice on the answering machine (and the message, he's sure he left it for her at least once), her screams, all of it's a punch in the gut (the quip about particularly). When she rears back and hits Dean, though, John's nearly sick.
The rest of the broadcast goes by in a blur, and John's left staring blankly at the bedroom tv. Eventually, the slam of the front door knocks him out of his daze. Shit, Mary's gone after the thing.
He practically leaps out of bed, dressing in record time. He charges after his wife only a few minutes later, fully intending on helping her tear the shadow bitch a new one.]
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By the time John gets there, Mary will be standing her ground against the thing, dressed exactly as it was in the broadcast. It's laughing at her cruelly.]
Look at you, you're even dressed like a hunter. Fuck, I miss that life. At least it meant something better than those soul-sucking-
Shut up. Okay? [For a living moment she sounds almost like Sam in her vehemence, or Dean or especially Samuel.] Just shut up and don't ever talk about my children again.
[It laughs and steps closer.] They're mine too.
No, they aren't. [Reaching for her weapon, stopping dead when the Shadow does the same damn thing, every inch as stealthy and capable as Mary herself.] Back off.
[Something changes in the Shadow's face: it twists a little darker, angrier, on the brittle edge of losing patience. This is clearly the end of a long argument; Mary is on the verge of tears.]
Backing off is what we're best at, isn't it? -Shut UP- You were sooooo happy when your parents were finally gone, weren't you?
[Mary screams and draws her gun lightning quick, only to find herself staring down the barrel of another identical weapon.]
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So, of course, he solves his problems by drawing his gun. He has a brief moment of confusion as to which Mary he should aim at, but he quickly rights himself.
Slowly, he situates himself right off to the side of the real Mary. He's got a clear shot, but doesn't move to shoot. Instead, he addresses the Shadow Mary.]
I'd drop that right now if I were you.
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What's the matter. Was it something I said? [Her expression twists into apparently heartbroken sadness, betrayal, rage] It was, wasn't it? You don't love me anymore.
[Then she's on him, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him hard against the nearest wall> When Mary levels her gun at them both the Shadow turns and suddenly has a knife to John's throat- the knife Mary herself always has on her.]
Don't come any closer. We're trying to have a MOMENT here. [It turns empty eyes back to him.] We never got any together, did we? You always had something else to do.
Well, I'm going to make you both listen.
[She makes to stab that dagger into John's arm to pin him to the wall.]
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He doesn't have much time to mull it over, because he's suddenly pinned to the wall. John doesn't waste what little breath he has on answering it. Instead, he immediately tries to pry her hand from around his neck.
The sight of the knife kicks him into overdrive. He brings up a knee to ram her in the stomach, and swings around the butt of his gun to smash her in the head.]
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Do us both a favor, John, and shut it.
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He's left without a choice, so he finally holds his hands up in surrender.]
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Concerned as hell, it's only fair Mary gets a response from Rochelle as well.]
you okay?
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A little.
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i had a feeling. jesus....you need a hand with anything?
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