Friday, December 16th, The Midnight Channel

[thepull_mods]

Who: The Port's Latest Shadow Televisions Stars! And Thousands of Home Viewers!
When: Midnight, Thursday December 14th
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?

Comments

Warnings: Drug abuse

[caveatwalls]

Before the screen completely adjusts, the blare of an orchestra of chimes and discordant strings causes jagged edges in the snowy reception. It is calculated music, though, designed for making the ears bleed and the heart pound. When the violins pause in an uneasy lull, the screen turns to black. A lighter flares in the darkness, igniting the cherry tip of a cigarette

banana phone

[sittingtype]

Amy is going to have to enjoy the sound of the dial tone for a little while longer, because John is still preoccupied with Sherlock wanting to go out and confront his shadow when she tries to get in contact with the detective duo.

When he finally does pick up, sometime around the ninth or tenth ring, he sounds very distracted. "Uh.. hello?"

SO APPEALING

[remembered]

Well, it's a good thing Amy is used to waiting because she holds on through the multiple rings (though a few more and she would have hung up). His distracted tone when he answers tells her that Sherlock really must be trying to do something. Of course.

"John! Hi. Everything okay?" she asks quickly, getting straight to the point. She doesn't want to preoccupy him too long. "Sherlock won't answer his phone. He probably knows we've all seen that broadcast thing."

[remembered]

It's the third night of these broadcasts, so Amy knows what to expect. It's the same thing, though always different. She tries not to watch them, scared of who might appear next. But knowing if someone certain does, then she needs to see it. She needs to be there. But it's her shift tonight out on the baseball field, so she's not settled in front of the telly.

Curled up, knees pressed against her chest, she has her NV sitting beside her, strange music already leaking from its small speakers. Not even her sonic device was able to keep it muted -- she tried multiple times. She's curious, dangerously so, and in a way that will always put her in the right places and the wrong ones, too. She watches out of the corner of her eyes. Black, then a spark of light, and suddenly the screen is a face that she unfortunately recognizes. That makes it harder to watch. And even harder knowing it's part of him, in a way.

Before she can think clearly about the situation, and what her actions should be, she's already calling Sherlock. And when that

[caveatwalls]

As Amy predicts, Sherlock doesn't respond, but he does see both attempts to contact him. Why should she care? This wasn't her business. It wasn't anyone's, and he was livid.

He will stop it. He has to. The Shadow doesn't simply enrage him like the others might. It tempts him.

[girlyboywonder]

[ ...huh. well. that's interesting. about 30 seconds after it finishes: ]

What a twist.

[caveatwalls]

[He still doesn't want to talk to anyone. But Carrie deserved an explanation, didn't she?]

Don't.

[Not immediately. But a single word is better than none.]

[girlyboywonder]

I'm not.

Probably.

[caveatwalls]

[He doesn't reply, but if Carrie traces the signal, she'll find that a few hours after the broadcast, Sherlock is out on the street. Naturally, he thinks, she doesn't remember much about him, and this is nearly the first thing she sees.

It was time to go have some words with whatever this mimicry of himself was.

[girlyboywonder]

[ And oh, she does. It's not hard to set up a quick tracing program, designed to alert her if the signal ever starts broadcasting from somewhere new.

She's ghosting after him within ten minutes. There's no bright colors this time, just a tight-fitted plain black suit. ]

[caveatwalls]

[Sherlock doesn't get far out in the Darkness before his Shadow appears before him. It fills the air around him with a haze different from the Darkness fog, and when he breathes it in, Sherlock recognizes the teasing oncoming of a high, but it wasn't quite there. He almost feels his veins seize in anticipation. The Shadow gives him a haughty look, puffing on the cigarette while Darkness ebbs at the edges of its tattered clothes.]

Of course a fix is more important than friendship. I'm glad we can come to this understanding.

This isn't a matter of we. You're part of the Darkness, and I came out to take care of you. Not some... childish desire.

[His stomach is churning, though his face remained grave. Sherlock isn't sure if it was from the intensified withdrawl inside the haze or the Jungian discomfort that came with chastising himself.]

Is it. Who called them that, good old DI Greg? Darling Mikey? I don't have to listen to their cautionary tales anymore. I don't need people. I don't need doctors. You can't disagree with that.

[

[girlyboywonder]

[ Carrie isn't far behind. Enough to stay out of that strange, dark haze, but close enough to hear the voices. The only change in her face is a slight narrowing of her eyes, and she slips from one shadow to another for a better look.

It doesn't seem dangerous. But knowing this place, she doesn't doubt it is. What's stopping him from just killing it? ]

[caveatwalls]

[The need, both for the haze and to prove this thing wrong, is the only thing that makes Sherlock hesitate at pulling the trigger. He's too absorbed in this to notice Carrie approaching.]

There's exceptions to everything.

Excuses. Since when are we prone to excuses? How do you expect to stop Moriarty if you can't think like him?

[That snaps Sherlock out of it. He fires. He can stop Moriarty, he knows it, and he also knows he won't be him. He refuses to be.

Still, the bullets have no effect.]

Don't test me. You'll lose. I know, because we're never wrong, are we? I'm never wrong.

Wrong. You're not me--

['You're what I was.' He doesn't get to say that, as the Shadow seems to flicker out before him, becoming the black guise outlined by glowing red veins and launching forward.]

[girlyboywonder]

[ Well, her incendiaries have certainly been upgraded. She's pretty far away from just explosive slingshot pellets. There's just a fraction of a second of rapid ticks when the bat-shaped flake of metal hits the ground just in front of the dark thing, and then it's exploding. Not large enough to hurt Sherlock (discomfort and short-lived pain doesn't count as hurting), but it'd be enough to take out a man of his size at much closer range.

So, as far as she's concerned, it's time to see just what these shadows constitute as. Man, or other? She doesn't move from her half-shadowed lean under an eave, waiting to see. ]

[caveatwalls]

[Sherlock braces himself for the attack, activating his power. The Shadow passes through him the first time, but he isn't sure how long he can concentrate in the haze. He swerves himself around, just in time to see the bat symbol.

Cursing, Sherlock draws his coat up around his face, blocking the flash. The Shadow gives a strangled cry that's almost in his voice, the light just removing the Darkness and highlighting the glowing veins. It grows larger, possibly more agitated. Sherlock knows Batman doesn't often use flash bombs, not as much as someone else.]

Carr--[He bellows once the light subsides, but stops himself. She was touchy about that identity thing. That doesn't stop him from being angry.]

What are you doing here?

[He and the Shadow shout in unison, creating an eerie echo effect.]

[girlyboywonder]

[ Okay, that's weird. Whatever these things are, they're damn good at imitation. She steps forward from her partial cover, three more batarangs primed and ready to be thrown. She looks as hard and cold as Batman ever has, not an inch of warmth in her face. ]

You were taking too long to take care of it. I thought I'd lend a hand before someone got hurt.