Jamie Young (
land_lover) wrote in
shatterverse2008-07-16 02:14 pm
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It starts the usual way: A flash, a bang, a person standing, disoriented, near a long stretch of deserted road.
But this man falls to his knees-
(thousands of voices; screaming, crying in his head; anger and despair and everything in between, and he can’t fight, can’t ignore, can’t resist them; stop, stop, Goddess why won’t it STOP)
-and clutches his head, letting loose an agonized shout of surprise.
Then it's over, and it's like it never was.
Jamie lowers his hands, noticing in a detached manner that short strands of blond hair come away in his fingers, and sits back on his haunches, blinking. The last thing he remembers is laughing at a joke -- a bad one, with three tavern wenches and a statue -- and climbing a ladder to get at the apples high in an Olau tree. His shirt still smells like the orchard: sun and fruit and green, growing things. Had he fallen? Is this a fevered hallucination brought on by his broken body and healing magic gone wrong? Grace never could get the hang of it. She’s probably given him an extra thumb.
No. All’s right with that.
Digging his fingers into the earth beside the road, he watches it sift back to the ground. It's chunky and rough, but not dry. Even so, it's clearly not the smooth, dark soil of Olau. Jamie sniffs his hand, frowns and pulls himself to his feet. The road crests a hill to the west. Maybe there's something on the other side to explain what's happened; maybe not. Nothing to do, he supposes, but to start walking.
He'll get back to the pain (voices) in his head later. When the mood strikes.
But this man falls to his knees-
(thousands of voices; screaming, crying in his head; anger and despair and everything in between, and he can’t fight, can’t ignore, can’t resist them; stop, stop, Goddess why won’t it STOP)
-and clutches his head, letting loose an agonized shout of surprise.
Then it's over, and it's like it never was.
Jamie lowers his hands, noticing in a detached manner that short strands of blond hair come away in his fingers, and sits back on his haunches, blinking. The last thing he remembers is laughing at a joke -- a bad one, with three tavern wenches and a statue -- and climbing a ladder to get at the apples high in an Olau tree. His shirt still smells like the orchard: sun and fruit and green, growing things. Had he fallen? Is this a fevered hallucination brought on by his broken body and healing magic gone wrong? Grace never could get the hang of it. She’s probably given him an extra thumb.
No. All’s right with that.
Digging his fingers into the earth beside the road, he watches it sift back to the ground. It's chunky and rough, but not dry. Even so, it's clearly not the smooth, dark soil of Olau. Jamie sniffs his hand, frowns and pulls himself to his feet. The road crests a hill to the west. Maybe there's something on the other side to explain what's happened; maybe not. Nothing to do, he supposes, but to start walking.
He'll get back to the pain (voices) in his head later. When the mood strikes.
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Lurching to the right, he spins and fixes her with a confused look. What's she talking about?
Oh. Right. Monsters.
Giving himself a firm mental shake, he rapidly considers how, exactly, he could do what she's proposed. Whatever this thing is, it doesn't seem to be something he can control yet, something he can use for his own gain. But hadn't he done just that earlier? It had been defensive, sure, but he'd turned the tables on Ethan when he'd try to get in his head. The trick is to use what's already there.
Jamie smiles, a bit, and begins to imagine, to see, all of those images that had been crammed into his head when he saw the knife. Once they're there, he squeezes his eyes shut and throws them toward the only other beings in the barn who would recognize them, who had been there.
But this time they're experiencing it through the eyes of their victims.
There's a sick pleasure in it, but Jamie will have to worry about that later.
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Still struggling to activate the gun she chose, Eleanor, not for the first time in her life, curses her mother for never being around she's needed. With all her MiB training, she'd be able to turn this stupid thing on.
"Gah!" Eleanor cries, and throws the weapon down in frustration.
Of course, that's when a deep bass note sounds out from the gun and translucent strips along the receiver start to emit a soft blue light. A higher-pitched whine follows, and the glow quickly intensifies. Eleanor glares at it for a long second, then heaves it back up again. She may be unamused and none-the-wiser to its operation, but she's not going to leave it lying there.
"Okay. We're in business," she says, wrapping her finger around what she assumes is the trigger mechanism.
"DIE MOTHERFUCKERS!"
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Or where she should be, rather. She's curiously absent.
And so is the front wall of the barn. It's just gone, melted away like candle wax.
The creatures, however, are still very much in attendance, and advance on him with palpable menace.
"Eleanor..."
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That's where she lies now, wheezing, disoriented, and covered in hay. Though she's still clutching the enormous rifle, she's clearly not going to be able to take a second shot until she's recovered from the winding.
Jamie doesn't have that much time.
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"ELEANOR!"
When she doesn't move and only looks at him with wide, wild eyes, Jamie realizes that whether or not they continue to be ambulatory when this is over is entirely up to him. Luckily, he's been paying very close attention to Eleanor during their time together, and as a result, is more familiar with the concept of firearms that he would have been this time yesterday.
Eating up the distance between them with long, lanky strides, he yanks the weapon out of her hands and turns it on their enemies. After a few feeble attempts to get his fingers on the right spots, he picks up on the right combination and...
BAM!
Oh, it has one hell of a kick, but with his feet planted wide and his back strong and straight, he's ready for it. He yells with the effort, directing the blasts as he would line up a shot with a bow and arrow. The first is down before he has time to stop and think about it, and the second disappears in a waving mass of tentacles that had been seconds from ripping the weapon out of his hands.
Breathing hard, he lets it fall to the ground.
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Eventually, Eleanor catches enough breath to comment.
"Glory hog."
It's followed by a woozy half-smirk.
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"Is that your way of calling me a pig?"
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"No. Doofus. You saved the day. You're gonna look like the hero if this story is ever retold. And I'm gonna look like the inept comedy sidekick."
She hauls herself upright, onto legs that are still a bit shaky.
"That's okay though." A hand is placed on his shoulder to steady herself as she surveys the scene of their victory. Ashes wafting around in the breeze and a few scorched puddles of slime are the only remnants of the aliens. And the barn has no front wall anymore. "You did good," she assesses. "You deserve it."
She stands on her tip-toes and presses a dry-lipped kiss onto his cheek.
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"I'm not a hero," he tells her gruffly, "but I come from heroic stock. Mayhap I absorbed a few things."
He retrieves the weapon and smiles, offering it to her.
"I feel better about our chances with the trees."
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"I've got a feeling that we won't need to blast our way out now though. Unless there're more of those creatures still lurking around."
She gives him a grin. "Either way, I think we're set."
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"Eleanor," he starts, making a C'mon let's go! gesture, "remember when you asked me what the plan was beyond getting the fuck out of the house?"
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This feels like a set up, but she decides to hear him out.
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Beat.
"I apologize for my lack of foresight," he finishes. Reaching for her free hand, he slides his fingers through hers and kisses her knuckles, grinning all the while.
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Eleanor's eyes narrow. As his lips withdraw, she de-laces her fingers from his and clenches them into a fist.
"I'll break your jaw the next time you try something like that."
This time however, the follow through is just a gentle chin bump.
"You're forgiven," she chuckles, "even if you did conveniently forget about me blowing Ethan's brains out in your retelling." She shakes her head ruefully and settles herself into the bike's saddle once more. The alien weapon is handed off to Jamie and the engine is fired up.
"Like I said: glory hog."
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"Hmmm."
Adjusting his grip on the weapon, Jamie shakes his head and holds on.
"I like AJ better."
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"With more than just your charm and good looks."
She directs a lurid smirk at him as she putters them out of the barn and back to the spot where she dropped her pistol. From there the dirt road can plainly be seen stretching off through the forest, with no obstruction from the trees whatsoever.
After picking up her helmet from the carport, they try that route, and a few uneventful miles later they reach a paved highway once again. They may still be stuck in this fucked up world, but it feels like freedom (http://community.livejournal.com/shatterverse/181137.html?thread=14695057#t14695057)...