snowblindrpg | [log] The Hills Have Eyes [closed-ish]

Entry tags:

[log] The Hills Have Eyes [closed-ish]

Characters: Watson, Charles, Davesprite, Bucky, Zell, Sora, Kunsel, Homura, and Quark
Location Building 235 (Aquarium) and Building 130 (Pharmacy)
Date: Day 162 - 164
Summary: Eyes appear all around, static and paranoia return, friends arrive with fire, hopefully no one is getting attacked. Later, Bucky, Quark, and John discover evidence of Fiona's murder.
Warnings: References to character death.

[The aquarium has the feel of a small-town tourist attraction, the sort built to give people just stopping to fuel up on petrol a reason to stay for an hour or two. There are various aquariums inside that, according to plaques beside them, once showcased various Alaskan fish; they're empty now. The whole atmosphere is kind of eerie, with the water casting rippling patterns on the walls, ceilings, and floors, but there's hot water in the sinks for anyone who wants it.

What's probably unwanted by everyone is the eyes. They're on the walls, drawn in the frost on the windows, they're on the ceilings, and the static crawls its way over walls and people. The sense of being watched, of being followed, is strong.]

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[Charles' eyes narrow. He only hears the threat, but maybe that's because it's all he wants to hear. Maybe if he fights somebody, he'll feel better. Maybe he'll get back a little bit of the control he's pretty sure he's lost.

His fingers itch for the knives in his coat pockets, but if he so much as twitches toward one, he'll give away that he has them. He doesn't want to fight with this thing, but the hatchet's at least a visual block. It looks scary, a lotta people won't try anything as long as it's still in play.

And that is what he really wants, right? He doesn't actually want to fight anybody. That's dumb as shit.

Not that he thinks of himself as the smartest person on earth.]

That a threat?

[He tightens his grip on the handle. He's holding it with his right hand, and for once his stupid mistake is a good thing. Leaves his left hand- his dominant hand- free.]

No.

[The reply comes quickly.

He's trying so hard to be that better man. What he did to Watson shocked him to his core, disgusted him. He knows he can't make up for it, he's lost a friend and deservedly so, but he can try and make sure it never happens again. It's so so hard with the screams in his head and the static in his reality.

Is any of this even real at all?]

I don't want to hurt you.

[Which he will, if they fight.]

[What the fuck? One minute this guy's practically saying he's going to fight him, demanding he put down his weapon, and the next he's insisting he doesn't want to fight? And what's this "I don't want to hurt you" bullshit? As if he thinks that's a guarantee.

Dude's got one arm and looks sick (at least when Charles can see him through the static). The hell's he gonna do?]

Fine. If you're not gonna hurt me, and you don't wanna fight, then what's the problem? I always carry this. I'm not just gonna put it down, not when there's some thing in here that we can't see, putting eyes on shit. But I don't go attacking people without a reason, dude.

[God, he hates even listening to himself. He sounds so fucking nuts. He's breathing a little easier, just a little. But something's still bothering him.]

Did your arm come off because it's removable? Like a prosthetic?

[Only way he wouldn't be dead is if he lost it before he came here. Back when he might've had access to actual medical technology.]

[Part of what Charles says at first is lost in a burst of static, but he gets the important part. He doesn't go around attacking people without a reason. That's not comforting, because who knows what he considers a reason?

His eyes narrow at once when Charles asks such a specifically targeted question, pretty much giving away that he hit the nail on the head.]

No.

[That's not a lie. It came off because he had frostbite, it was removable because it was a prosthetic but that wasn't the reason. Semantics.]

I told you, it's none of your business.

[He should let it go, he knows that. He hates it when people needle him about his eye, so he should probably be respectful. What the hell's gotten into him, anyway?]

Fine, whatever dude. Sorry I asked.

[Don't think he didn't see that lie, though.]

Just kinda lookin' for a guy with a metal arm. You know, besides Rhys. Probably not you, though.

[And he will let it go, supposing Jay doesn't give anything away, here.

And if he does? God, what the hell is he doing?]

[His eyes instinctively dart to the left where, if Charles follows his eyeline, his backpack and metal arm are stashed. The arm is far more visible than the backpack, the glint of metal catching any light available and the splash of red for the Soviet star evident on the shoulder plating.

That just ramps his tension up by a significant amount, and his hand finally goes to his pocket to close around the shard of glass within, though he doesn't draw it out yet.]

What for?

[Of course he follows the line of sight. Of course he sees the metal arm. Blood rushes in his ears and he can feel his grip tightening again, even though it hurts.

Relax, relax, he has to relax. There are at least two people in Norfinbury with metal arms. Doesn't mean he's the guy.]

You know a guy named Charlie?

[If just asking about metal arms got him that good of a reaction, asking about Charlie is bound to tell him the truth. This guy's super bad at keeping secrets. Like the fact that he's reaching for something in his pocket.

Could be nothing. Could be a weapon. Charles' heart is pounding out of his chest.]

[He's usually better at hiding things, but he was never the spy that Natasha was trained to be, his skills were in combat and assassination. It doesn't matter what your face does when your victims are about to be dead.

It's almost a relief to be found.

He doesn't bother trying to deny it. He knows now that Charlie had been telling the truth, he's not HYDRA spy just a guy who's seen some movies, and that makes what Bucky did to him wrong. He's still nervous about what exactly he knows and he will be catching up with him at some point to find that out, but-- that's the future.]

You're here because of what I did to him.

[It's not a question. Flat, low.]

You're here for revenge? That's not a good idea.

[Son of a bitch doesn't even deny it. Motherfucker. So what now, huh? Do they duke this out? Do they scream at each other?]

I'm not here 'cause of you, don't flatter yourself. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

[Every instinct says go for the knives. But he can't, not yet. God, is he really considering this? Attacking a guy with one arm? Jay's right, it's not a good idea. Because this time he's not defending himself, this time he's the aggressor. If the network finds out, he might wind up on that stupid-ass list.

He needs to be careful, he needs to be smart. He needs to be the better person. He's not sure he's ever been either of those first things. He knows he's never been the third. "Coyote", they called him back home. Because coyotes are stupid as hell, they'll challenge shit they've got no business attacking, no chance of walking away from, especially when they're desperate. Brave, maybe, but also dumb. Really dumb.]

Why'd you attack him? What the fuck is wrong with you?

[Even with just one arm and a lot of pain, Bucky is frightened that if they fight it will be Charles who ends up on the floor bleeding. He knows what he's doing when it comes to fighting, it's almost exclusively what he's been aggressively trained for over the last seventy years.

His stance shifts very subtly to compensate for the lost limb, low and steady, a defensive posture ready to deal with an incoming attack.]

If he didn't tell you, I'm not going to.

[He doesn't know if this man is really a friend of Charlie's, and it would go too much into things he'd rather nobody knew about him.]

Back off.

[Friendly warning. Or not so friendly, as it happens.]

[Bucky is probably correct, but not from where Charles is standing. The other man glitches again, and Charles feels himself twitch. God, the guy could be doing anything between frames like that. If he doesn't act fast, he might get the jump on him.]

He told me. I just want your version.

[No offense to Charlie, but sometimes his stories are a little weird.]

I'll back off when you tell me. Or when you stop reaching for shit.

[He meant to keep that last part to himself, maybe. But Bucky's hand in his pocket bugs the hell out of him. Any second, he expects it to fly out with a knife. He attacked Charlie for what might've been no reason, so maybe that's just his thing?]

[It's incredibly ironic that he's now in the situation of refusing to give over information, when that's exactly why he ended up beating Watson half to death. He's not really in a position to appreciate that irony right now, however.

He plants his feet more firmly, though he does draw his hand out of his pocket. Empty, for now. He wants to avoid this fight, though he doesn't believe that's possible now.]

No.

[He's not going to tell him anything, especially not HYDRA related.]

If you're just here for shelter, stay away from me until morning and then move on.

[When the hand comes out, Charles can't help it- he takes a step forward, hatchet coming up a bit. But he stops. There's nothing in that hand. What the hell?

Somehow it's almost worse.]

Don't tell me what to do, asshole. I'll do whatever the hell I want. Besides, how do I know, even if I stay away from you, that you won't attack me in my sleep? Or when I wake up? Like you did to Charlie.

[If Jay won't answer, then he'll start talking for him.]

You think he's some kinda spy? That why you thought it was a good idea to beat the shit out of him after he just had surgery?

[Wrong move.

The hatchet comes up and Charles steps forwards, and it's clear as day that he's about to attack. He reacts on instinct, hand shooting back into his pocket and drawing the glass. It's a long shard, about half as long as his forearm, and it's stained a dull red colour with old blood. The leather of his glove helps to protect his palm somewhat from cutting himself, usually he would wield this with his metal hand, but it still digs in through the material.

He doesn't move beyond that, though, glass held ready at his side.]

He knew things about me that he shouldn't have.

[It's not an excuse, it's an explanation. And it's all the explanation he's giving.]

You don't want to do this.

[Maybe he would've backed down, but not now. Maybe he would've let him go with a stern talking-to like he did with Beckett (well, a stern talking-to and a hammer to the back of the head, but whatever). Doesn't seem like an option now. The glass shard comes out and Charles' eyes go wide.

His hand's shaking and it's so stupid. This is so stupid. What is he doing? Why was he so convinced this guy was out to get him even before he was? But now he is. The bloodstains on the glass only confirm it. Jesus, did he attack Charlie with this?]

Whose blood is that? What ever happened to "I don't want to hurt you"?

[His voice is a raw blend of fury and fear. He doesn't have time to hide it anymore, there's already a knife in play, or there might as well be. His left hand creeps up toward his coat pocket.]

I don't want to hurt you.

[It's immediate and there's the slightest undercurrent of weary desperation behind the words. He doesn't want to hurt this man at all, but he will defend himself if necessary. He thinks it will be necessary, but he's trying so hard to not make the first move.

Static engulfs Charles and knocks him out of view for a few seconds, enough for Bucky to raise the glass ready for an attack coming out of nowhere. But when he blinks back in, he's still in the same place.]

Walk away.

[This is his last chance, something tells him. But he can't take it. This guy attacked Charlie, his only real friend here. He might've attacked other people. He might attack more people. He might attack Charles at some point. He can't trust him, can't sleep knowing he's just here, in this building. With the thing and the screaming, and the static- God, none of this is helping, he can't think straight.]

You're not answering my fucking questions. [He's mostly yelling, using anger to cover the rising panic, and he hears the static in his own voice. Shit.] Whose blood is that?

[The shout is like nails on a chalkboard as it mingles with the screams, and all he can think is how hilarious it is that he's trying so hard not to fight with someone who isn't even real. All of this is in his head, a psychological response to trying to fight whatever programming they're putting in him, and he's losing.

He's losing.

His teeth bare in an almost snarl, and he takes a step backwards.]

I told you to walk away.

[Please, he doesn't want to do this.]

[There's really already enough screaming going on that these two shouldn't be adding to it. But they are and even with the state that Sora's in the different sounds are easily distinguished. These are slightly louder, echoing through the aquarium and it doesn't sound good.

Makeshift keyblade in hand, Sora leaves his belongings stashed away in the gift shop and goes to figure out what's going on, stumbling about the static-y forms of two people--one he knows and the other he doesn't.]

What's going on?

[He's frowning, grip tight on his keyblade made from junk he's found, glancing between the two trying to gauge who the problem is.]

Why are you fighting?

Both of you walk away.

[John can't help overhearing from the bathroom and is now standing in the entryway. Why are there more people here? He'd really rather not have more people. Sell and Kunsel had been enough. Now they've added Davesprite, that kid Sora, Charles. They're inviting an anomaly attack and this was exactly the situation John wanted to avoid.

When Charles and Sora see the doctor, of course, John is a complete mess with two black eyes, a swollen nose, and bruising around his neck as the most obvious injuries. He's also leaning on an umbrella cane and the door frame for support, though. John doesn't want to deal with any of this. The world is crackling static, the eyes are still watching him, and Zell's Vicodin only helps so much.]

Leave it, lad. [That's directed at Sora.] Good to see you, Charles. We can talk later about things. Jay, you need to rest. He's an ally and he'll put down the axe, I reckon, once he doesn't have some bloke looming at him.

Edited 2016-09-28 14:22 (UTC)

[There is really only enough screaming that can go on before it gets worrying, and the mark passed a while ago with the weird distant one that came with the static. But this? Yelling about blood from people here, in the building? Is not what anyone needs right now.]

[Whatever hesitation Davesprite may have had about jumping into the situation—there's static, he can't speak, he's unarmed—is swept away when he sees that guy with the bad hair rush off with something that could conceivably be used to attack people. (Why a weird key is a question for its own time.) His own things get left behind, even the wooden spoon he typically leaves strapped in the utility belt he found the other night, before he rushes after.]

[And god, the situation is terrible. Is that a shard of glass he sees Bucky holding? And a hatchet in the other guy's hand? He sees Watson trying to calm things, sees Sora wielding his junky amalgamation much as one would a warning weapon, and makes for the latter. He caws, squawks, motioning sharply back the way of the gift shop. Get back there, get out of danger, stop waving that thing around before Bucky attacks you too, are what he'd like to say if only he had the words to do it.]

[You don't tell me what to do, the words jump into his throat as a knee-jerk reaction, but they never get a chance to come out. Someone comes rushing in, someone shorter, but he can't make them out for the static until they get close. Sora? Jesus, there aren't supposed to be any kids involved. There isn't supposed to be anyone else involved. And yet they just keep coming.

Next is Watson. Charles doesn't recognize him either until the static blinks away for a moment- when did it get this bad?- and he sees- he sees signs of violence. Black eyes and bruised neck. Busted up nose. His eye only stops on Watson for an instant before it goes straight back to Bucky and that shard of glass.]

He's the son of a bitch who attacked Charlie, Watson. [He makes a noise like a strangled laugh.] But you already knew that, right? What happened to your face? [It's pretty clear he's already drawn his own conclusion.]

[When the bird kid shows up- Davesprite, Charles doesn't let his eye wander. He's only trying to stop Sora and, good. Somebody needs to. He doesn't belong in this.]

Nothing that can't heal up in time. [It's his leg that's the problem, Charles. And he's got Vicodin in him, so he moves forward slowly, more hopping than limping to try to get between Charles and Bucky.] There was a misunderstanding with the static. Like there is now, and like there was back then.

I'd rather me and Jay were the only ones injured here today, okay? What happened with Charlie got complicated. I don't want this to get complicated. I'll explain everything. But Jay, you need to get away from him. Go in the restroom if you need to. There's no one else in there.

[Just the eyes.]

[Oh no you don't, Watson.

With how badly Watson is hurt, and how much it was his fault, he's not about to let the doctor stand between him and danger or lie for him. Much steadier and faster on his feet, he just walks around Watson. He murmurs to him as he passes:]

Get the others well back.

[It makes his skin crawl that people keep showing up, people who jump in and out of reality and static, but he's still going to sort this out himself.]

He's lying to you, there was no misunderstanding. I knew what I was doing.

[Responsibility, he takes it now. But he's also taking a slightly dangerous tactic, hoping the fear of what he's done will prevent further violence.]

That should tell you what I'm capable of, you do not want to fight me. Neither of us want this so walk away.

[Watson sounds like a victim of domestic violence. It's fine, it'll heal, he's not a bad person. Everything was just a misunderstanding. Bullshit. Charles doesn't even want to know what this asshole's done to Watson to get him to cover for his ass so hard. He doesn't blame Watson, but he can't trust him, either.

Misunderstanding with the static? There was no fucking static when-

But Bucky does it for him. Jesus, he's still not even trying to hide it. On some level, Charles can respect that. Owning up to what you did. But on the other hand, it's too little, too late. The guy obviously goes to great lengths to keep himself a goddamn secret, along with whatever he's done. This doesn't make up for shit.]

You're ballsy as hell, aren't you? Maybe it's fine picking on people who just had surgery, or maybe when you've got two arms. You really think you can take me right now? Fucking bring it.

[Does he want this? No, not really. He doesn't like hurting people, he doesn't like being hurt. But at the same time, he really feels like he needs to punch something. Someone. He's scared out of his mind, not sure if he's alone, not sure if anything is even real, and that pisses him off. He wants a reason to be angry, to stay angry, to just let loose and do something really, really stupid.

Maybe if they leave a real mark on each other, he can be sure all of this is real.]

You don't want to hurt me, but you wanted to hurt Charlie? You wanted to hurt Watson? Which the fuck is it? Make up your goddamn mind.

[log] The Hills Have Eyes [closed-ish]

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Charles not Charlie gdi

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