Quark (
averytinyparticle) wrote in
snowblindrpg2016-01-24 07:01 pm
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Entry tags:
[log] M-M-M-M-Monster! [closed]
Characters: Steve Rogers and Quark
Location Northwestern Park and Convenience Store
Date: Starting Day 80 and possibly through the duration of the event.
Summary: Event post! Steve and Quark meet their monsters in the park and seek shelter.
Warnings: Grotesque monster horror descriptions and whatnot.
Location Northwestern Park and Convenience Store
Date: Starting Day 80 and possibly through the duration of the event.
Summary: Event post! Steve and Quark meet their monsters in the park and seek shelter.
Warnings: Grotesque monster horror descriptions and whatnot.
no subject
It isn't very long before Quark sees two figures approaching. At first, he wonders if it's someone from the clinic. But as they get closer, he realizes that they're people he doesn't recognize. He takes a small step back, closer to where Steve's getting started on his work.]
Um...Mr. Steve?
[His eyes widen. One of them...it's...it's his grandpa. He'd recognize that slicked back hair and silly tie anywhere! He can't contain his excitement!]
Grandpa! It's my Grandpa!
[He starts to sprint forward to meet them, but quickly loses his balance in the snow and falls forward on his hands and knees. This turns out to be a blessing in disguise, because when he looks up from where he's slipped, the figures are close enough for him to make out much, much more clearly. He sees the way his Grandpa's skin is tight and dark like leather, suctioned to the bones beneath, every vein and line straining outward. But that isn't as bad as the way his face appears to have been carved out, black caverns where his eyes and jaw and nose should all be. Just featureless, shriveled skin.
Quark stands shakily as the monster gets closer. He tries to call out to his Grandpa again, but the word freezes in the cold air.]
no subject
Quark—!
[He quickly finishes wrestling his packs onto his shoulders; Quark fell and got up again and is now just standing, staring—Steve hurries to catch up with him, pulling his fire poker out and holding it ready to swing. And then... he can see the two figures clearly also, a grotesque horror of an old man and—
...It looks like some fever-dream version of the Winter Soldier in full black armor and googles and mask, except it looks less like clothing, more organic; the body is black all the way down to a black, inhuman hand, fingers ending in sharp, wicked points; all the way up to his face—no breathing slits, no indication of a nose or a mouth at all, just a smooth black curve—and then the wide, black, glistening, almost insectile eyes—if they can be called eyes. Above that there is a pale-skinned forehead, pale like corpses are pale, and where the black and pale meet the join looks imperfect and scarred. There's hair on its head, but... not quite enough to look normal and healthy.
The left arm does appear to be metallic, although like the right arm the hand has long, sharp, pointed fingers, and the metal arm—impossibly—appears to be bleeding, red dripping from joins all over the arm but especially from the shoulder.
Steve has stumbled to a halt a few strides behind Quark, hesitating. He feels sick in his stomach, in his heart, in his soul. The name falls from his lips as if torn unwilling.]
...Bucky?
[It isn't Bucky. It isn't—Steve swears he sees it tilt its head—but it isn't Bucky and they're coming in fast and—there is no time.]
Quark! C'mon, we need to go, we need to go now.
no subject
[We can't just leave my Grandpa he wants to say, but the words stick in his throat as he stares at those gaping holes-for-eyes that seem to get bigger and bigger the closer he--no, the thing gets. Maybe it is his Grandpa, or...it was his Grandpa. But...it can't be him now, not anymore. It looks too different. And then the other monster, the one Steve called Bucky...that one looks even scarier.
There's a hint of reluctance, or maybe it's fear, in his movements as he backs up, quickly scooping up his own packs.]
Okay!
[But where are they going to go? And how can he stop staring?]
SAVE THE WEE CHILD, STEVE
There's shelter over this way, we gotta get there, c'mon buddy, we gotta move!
[HE WILL PICK HIM UP IF HE HAS TO.]
YOU'RE HIS ONLY HOPE!!!
Yeah you might want to pick up the child, Cap.]
no subject
All right, I gotcha—
[Steve scoops up Quark and swings him up to one hip, where he can hold on tight to the kid with one arm and Quark can put his legs around his waist if he wants to, for stability. Steve shifts Quark once, making sure he's got a good hold on him, and then puts his head down and runs, putting every ounce of his strength into pushing through the drifts of snow as fast as he can.
His lungs are burning, his legs are burning, he's got a stitch in his side and he doesn't feel like he's going fast enough. Since waking up in this snowy Godforsaken hell-scape he's missed the serum more than once—usually when he's freezing his ass off—but he's never missed it as much as he misses it right now. He keeps pushing, though—he can't afford to fail. He can't let Quark down.
A building appears through the blizzard, and Steve pushes harder. The convenience store; he's never been in there, and he hopes to God it's good shelter. They'll only have time for one try at this.
Steve practically collides with the building, turning his body so Quark is shielded from it. He hauls the door open and throws himself inside, turning to look at the door—it opens outwards, they can't wedge it, there isn't even a handle on the inside he could put his fireplace poker through.]
Damn it!
[He looks around frantically and spots an open door leading to another room—opening inward. He sprints towards it, snow-caked boots skidding slightly on the tile floor. He hears the monsters behind him, coming through the main door—and he's there. He practically tosses Quark to the ground—carefully, so he can probably land on his feet—and turns, slamming the door shut and bracing his shoulder against it. A moment later the monsters hit it with a BANG and the door jolts alarmingly. Steve digs his heels in and looks around frantically; he's not going to be able to hold it for long, he needs—]
Quark, a chair, bring me one of those chairs!
no subject
Got it!
[He bursts into action, dropping all his things and grabbing the closest chair all in the same movement. He can tell where Steve is going with this, so when Quark gets the chair to Steve, he already angles it so they can wedge the top beneath the doorknob. It's not until the door is safely jammed that Quark says anything else.]
Do...do you think it'll keep them out?
no subject
[Steve stays braced against the door, getting a feel for how often the monsters through themselves against it, how long the gaps are in between. And—God, it's like people have said, his head aches and he starts to feel nauseous; that chair better work because he can't keep this up. Once he's got the timing down, he waits for a gap before pulling back from the door and kicking at the chair to make sure the legs are good and properly wedged, and then he holds his breath. The monsters pummel the door—again, and again, and again—and the door shudders, but it holds. The chair stays firmly where it is. He lets out a long breath of relief.]
I think it'll hold. I think we're good.
[Steve drops his packs, taking quick stock of the room; there's a window, and he moves swiftly over to it, making sure it's latched and un-openable. There's another door; he goes swiftly over to it—a small bathroom. No other exits. He lets out another long breath.]
OK. I think we're safe here. If they start coming through that door somehow, we go right out the window, all right?
[Well, Quark will go out the window. It's a bit of a squeeze for Steve, and if the monsters break through he doubts he'll have the time. But Quark doesn't need to know that.]
no subject
This is going to be a really long night, isn't it?
Later on Day 80; in case we actually want to do those other threads we talked about, ffff
Steve should—do something, he doesn't know, something productive, or keep Quark distracted—but instead he's just sitting, leaned over in one of the two remaining chairs, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.]