snowblindrpg | [log] In which two idiots Scooby Doo their way to victory...? [closed]

"Cafeteria." He says it without missing a beat. Because, frankly, he knows at this point he's gotta salvage some kind of food or he may very well be in trouble later. Lancer might not be adverse to sharing, but he's not the sort to go depending on anyone if he can help it. Especially not someone he's only spoken with a few times prior. He frowns as he studies the building a bit longer. He's gotta wonder...

"Keep an eye out. Couple'a guys told me there's some kinda monsters in there. Like ghosts or something." But maybe they would get lucky... That doesn't stop him from glimpsing down at the kitchen knife in his hand. Sure, it's not going to actually do him any good if he gets cornered, but there's a certain comfort in at least feeling prepared. He still hasn't exactly found a way to jerry-rig it to his harness either without stabbing himself.

He starts forward toward that left building at a normal pace for now if not without careful glances.

He followed in Zack's wake, slightly more relaxed, though only slightly because the longer this being alive thing (he...thought) wound on the more he found he enjoyed not being dead. And it would be a damn shame to ruin things by getting careless and finding out he's one of the ones who didn't come back so easily.

"Who'd you hear that from?" He, too, had a knife in his hand. And he, too, was disgruntled with this turn of events because he sorely wanted to find a very large stick to fasten it to, but nothing good came to mind.

"Someone I talked to just the other day... I think their name they had was "LINK"?" It's not as hard of a name to remember as other's. He thought he got it right. "Him and someone else said something, too." So, that gave the notion a bit more credibility. Though credibility or not, he had learned enough running in blindly thinking he'd be fine gave whatever they were up against all the more of a blindside for it to indulge in. Something he wouldn't care about anyway if he were feeling one hundred percent, but if he were to be honest, he hadn't been feeling that since he had first woken up there. Why, he didn't know... Another mystery to solve there.

So far, so good. They reached the doors without incident, a small blessing in it of itself. Zack studied their surroundings one last time before he took the small flight of steps up to the double doors. He reached for the doorknob, carefully turning it to see if it was even unlocked. Finding it was, he glanced back to give Lancer a warning nod before standing more off to the side and turning it the rest of the way, effectively shielding himself behind the door yet in case something nasty had decided to hang right there as the welcoming committee.

He followed the other man's lead, sliding to the other side as Zack shielded himself with his side of the door, feeling...vaguely odd about the entire affair as Zack proceeded to open the door and a...great deal of fuck nothing roared out.

Lancer was aware that if this had been a month ago, he'd have been the thing lurking about school that people would run and hide from. It was strange realizing that he was very much on the other end once more.

As nothing continued to lunge from the door, Lancer said, "Link. Never talked to him." Which was for the best, because if it had been the source Lancer had in mind (Tim, Jay) then they'd have to have a discussion about how certain members of the Nofinbury refugees were good people with good hearts but incredible weenies in certain important respects, and so while they had good instincts they were, again, incredible weenies in certain important respects.

(Granted, he wouldn't have picked the word weenie, but the weenie intent would have been there.)

Lancer entered the building, wary despite himself as...when he had been the invisible stalker in the dark following non-mages around had been incredibly easy, and stabbing that one kid had also been incredibly easy. The point being that it would be a poor thing if he was killed just because he let down his guard for two seconds while entering a building when his personal experience as a not-exactly-human-entity indicated that it wouldn't be hard to stalk people.

Nothing circled them. "You probably want food, right? Cafeteria's that way."

In contrast, Zack's just... feeling pretty weird being in a school again. Never mind a school of this size. Sure, there'd been the tiny school house back in Gongaga. And then the military certainly wasn't without its courses either, especially for green cadets. And outside of that, at least as far as above plate went, a full school upside for the wealthy wasn't surprising. But otherwise, kids usually were raised through largely informal small schools... Certainly nothing like this. If people hadn't been so insistent that this place had food, he might have overlooked it. But the mention of a cafeteria several times over was more than enough reason for him to go through with things rather than disbelieve them now and possibly skip out of a big chance to fill his belly.

All the same, odd feelings about it aside, Zack steps in easily enough with Lancer. Already, the very feeling of the place kind of gives him the creeps, but he wouldn't be much of a SOLDIER if he ever let any dark, spooky building stop him. He rolls his shoulders before giving Lancer a nod.

He starts down the hallway with light steps and a curious glance here and there. Despite trying to keep from making too much noise though, it's hard to hide the echo of their footfalls when the place is just so wide and empty. He grips the handle of the kitchen knife tighter as he notes, "Lot'a people must of lived here to have a building this big."

But where had they gone then? All those kids who had to have gone there... suddenly vanishing... It makes his stomach turn to water when he thinks too far of the implications.

Their steps did echo, in a way which they didn't outside, when snow was everywhere muffling everything and at times it was tough to talk: you opened your mouth for five seconds and a fistful of snow flew into your face and your tongue felt like it was freezing. Inside, everything creaked, and where it didn't creak it squished from the soggy wood and mold.

He paused for a second to glance inside of a classroom, almost curiously...but it was empty.

"They found the bodies in a park. West of here. I saw them myself. Whoever killed these people dumped them in a mass grave and covered them in dirt afterwards."

And then he moved on from that classroom. Meanwhile, nothing intensified around them.

While Lancer continues on, Zack comes to a pause as that information sinks in. He doesn't know the people there and now knows he never will. But despite there being no personal attachment to this town to speak of, those facts sink into him like a heavy stone. A mass grave never makes for a good omen. It's cold, impersonal, and logically sound to those who've got a lot of bodies to bury and a need for technical efficiency. His free hand balls into a shaking fist, white-knuckled.

...But then he shakes his head suddenly, a hand coming up to scratch roughly through his spikes. A few rapid blinks later and he starts again. His pace has shifted, slower, as he chews on that. But his eyes haven't abandoned their focus on the hallway entirely. Even if in his vision he can't help but imagine the ghosts of kids hurrying on their way back to whatever classroom they need to go to.

"But why...?" His voice comes out more unsteady than he means to as he trails off, but he doesn't think he has to end that thought. The implication is more than obvious as to what he's asking.

Edited 2015-07-29 00:02 (UTC)

Now that...that was difficult, and that got Lancer to slow and stop as he stared at another classroom, also empty. Zack didn't need to finish that thought. The ending was apparent, the question was apparent, and Lancer considered and tossed aside pretending like he misunderstood in the same moment. They did enough evading on the network, and, besides, given how the snow had been coming down they didn't have the time to dance around it.

"It could be a lot of reasons." Deep breath in, held, exhaled in a sigh. Hopefully he hadn't misjudged Zack. "They could've seen something they weren't supposed to and were killed from spreading tales. Or...they did whatever they were brought here for and they-" (The way their captors didn't have a name was actually kind of annoying.) "-killed them afterwards. Or that might've been their purpose."

The last was delivered almost matter of factly, as he went from conjecture to things he knew about. "Their souls were harvested by whoever's keeping us here for whatever purpose they have in mind." Or something else, but...he looked over at Zack again, almost apologetically. "Who knows. So far, all we know is that they're dead and unlike the rest of us their bodies were left in a field."

Edited (Blah. Wrong icon.) 2015-07-29 00:28 (UTC)

Zack notices that pause. It's hard not to when his attention almost fully drawn to Lancer at that point. Maybe he hit a sore note, something the other man wouldn't dare touch on. It wouldn't be the first time the ex-SOLDIER's done something like that. But then Lancer cedes and Zack's left to listen to his guesswork. It doesn't change the way his brow slowly continues to furrow or the stiffness that's become his irregular gait. One scenario after another and one isn't anymore comforting than the other. It's either like the dirty work of Turks or experimentation which... makes a shiver run down his spine as he remembers waking up to that injection not long ago (that was not a bite, Link!)

Such wonderfully morbid things to consider. He snorts despite himself but evens out his stride again. "Well, that's comforting." There's a thickness to his voice. Uneasy and frustrated. He can't help but wonder if that's what their kidnappers intend in the end. Or if there's something even deeper and darker than it was with the last of the people unfortunately involved in all of this. But Zack hasn't forgotten one morbidly curious thing. Not really something he wants to bring up. But he's learned enough through past experience that the more information you have on hand, the more likely you have to prevent the worst of scenarios from happening. ...Well, hopefully. There are never guarantees.

"You said something about souls being... harvested."

Edited 2015-07-30 20:02 (UTC)

"I did." The way he said it was slightly drawled out. And here he shifted to something more...amused, but it was amused in the same way a cat was amused during a hunt, with the bird oh so oblivious over there.

But no.

The complication was that he liked Zack. (Not that it would stop him if it came down to a fight, but you warned people you got along with.) "I can tell you more, but I should warn you...the more I tell you about that, the more likely it is that I might be ordered to kill you later. I don't think it matters here, but...I can't guarantee anything. And," heh "...I'm not sure if you'll believe me, but it wouldn't be personal."

It was like he was just talking about weekend plans, besides the faint tinge of amusement (the prologue to a damn fun bar fight or something more murderous) and what, exactly, he said.

"So. What will it be. You still want me to talk about it? Or do you want to drop it?"

Years ago, Zack might have been gun-ho, 'lay it on me' immediately with no strings attached and no second thoughts lingering until it was too late to back up and think. But with his immersion with working alongside Turks and with this all but echoing that feeling they gave off, the former SOLDIER didn't answer right away, turning over those words in his head. It might not have been Turks, but he could parallel that scheme of things pretty easily with Lancer admitting that the more he knew, the worse off he would be.

But at this point, the worry of some organization Lancer was a part of suddenly cropping up and the man being forced to kill him was a far fetched one. After all, he had admitted on more than one occasion that no one would have been looking for him. ...Though that certainly threw off the Turk parallel a bit. Any missing Turk was a dangerous lot of information suddenly potentially up for grabs.

Zack grunts softly to himself at the thought before he slants his gaze back at Lancer and just in the way the dim light cast from the window in the classroom, something in his eyes seems to... glow?

"What? You think I can't hold my own if it comes to that?" There's a faint smile on his face that doesn't quite reach his eyes as he quips. But there's a certain seriousness to it underneath. Like hell he'd ever go down without a fight. Doesn't make him feel any better about the... soul thing. But. If he knows, he can maybe work to do something to prevent it in the future... right? Or... something.

Edited 2015-07-31 01:24 (UTC)

"No." The response was immediate. Slightly snorted. Slightly dismissive. Vaguely insulted. "Of course not."

But...Lancer took in the other man...the way that his reaction was, basically, challenge accepted. The glint in his eyes, the sense Lancer got that, if things were slightly different, this would be the point in which they'd go out back, grab wooden weapons, and start trying to bash in each other's faces. Little things like that.

(Another thing he hated about the town. Enough people who knew how to handle themselves in a fight. Not enough opportunity to actually fight.)

...and, to be fair, Lancer hadn't visited every last world. (Or even most worlds.) And so he didn't know what they could do. And so he shrugged. And amended it to a, "But I could be wrong. And either way it would be interesting." Real interesting.

Seriously. He'd have to keep an eye out for hockey sticks and wooden bats.

"But, I thought I'd be considerate and let you know what you might be getting into. It probably doesn't matter but -" He vaguely gestured. Business. And so he went back to business. "So, the soul thing. It's...how should I put it? Fuel. For magic."

For as edgy as Zack had felt lately, a friendly spar would admittedly be welcoming. But given the circumstances, it was also likely not the best idea in a school haunted with face-sucking apparitions or whatever they were. Things that couldn't be killed but could kill them. And that wasn't even adding to the matter of saving as much strength as possible with his thinning rations.

All the same, he rolled his shoulders and finally managed a truer grin if not a weak one. Interesting would be an understatement if he had been reading Lancer right. It didn't take much to figure him a fighter of his own caliber from the way he carried himself. But as it was, he left the consideration on the back burner just as the other man did, his smile falling... and his brows curving low with.

Fuel... Harvesting souls... He bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn't like where this is going already. "I take it this isn't done willingly." He did say harvest. In that tone, there's a silent question though. One he's not sure what he'll do if he knows the answer to it. If Lancer purposefully followed through, purposefully decided to use the souls of others as an ends to his means... to their end... It makes him bristle just thinking about it. That anyone would ever choose to...

"Not always. The ones who do agree know what they're getting into." But, given the boy... "Usually. A contract's involved."

It would be nice if they had chairs and alcohol, because this felt like the sort of discussion in which rum would be involved. Instead, he leaned against a wall...and then regretted it because the wall was a little less intact than it first looked. It held, but it was slightly squishy and soft in a way which a wood wall shouldn't be squishy or soft. Still. Leaning. It was either that or fiddling with his knife.

"I was a participant in a war- not the kind of war you're imagining. There was a woman who did it. She...I'll keep this simple so you get the idea. She set up a field and syphoned souls from the city we were in."

That would have perhaps made for the two of them then in less disturbing topics, albeit SOLDIER enhancements kind of nulled any kind of point if drunkenness was the main intention. It was more of a casual habit between old friends to kick back and try to forget what bad had happened that day or at least swallow it down a bit easier. In this instance though, Zack remained tightly alert and listening.

..If not, well. Doing a few rounds of squats to settle his nerves. Hey, it was pretty damned cold in the school, holy Shiva. But if Lancer found himself annoyed, he would also find himself equally relieved when Zack's reps were halted suddenly shortly thereafter at that new information. He gestures openly, bewildered. "So, some woman starts some kind of planned war and just decides to just... take all these people's souls for it?" Under contract, Lancer'd said. Meaning they had been crazy enough to agree to that on top of things. He supposes in a way though, it's really no different from joining SOLDIER in that sense, but...

"But why would anyone agree to be in something like that? What's the point?" There's something in all this that makes the idea very much distasteful... It might have a lot to do with the feeling that it's something so willingly done. When back home, he'd gone into the program to resolve wars that had been waged upon fierce disagreements and hatred that needed to be quelled by force. And that alone already dredged up more than enough reasons why doing something like that was just all the more disturbing...

Edited 2015-07-31 03:50 (UTC)

Squats? Annoyed, nothing, he crossed over to being more bemused at the choice in actions. Like he very much wanted to ask where Zack picked up that habit, but that line of inquiry could wait until later. It did earn him a slight shake of the head, though, especially when Zack proceeded to reach the wrong conclusion.

"Caster didn't start it. As for the point..."

How could he bottom line it to convey the minimum amount of details possible while getting the point across: the saga. "...there people who did start it wanted a relic that could grant any wish."

Simple enough, right? Almost cliche, really.

"The usual. People find an item of power and they'll do anything to keep it for themselves, even if it means staining the ground red with the blood of hundreds. And before you ask: we killed Caster."

An assumption on his part wasn't exactly anything new with Zack territory. The correction didn't seem to phase him. If anything, it only caught his attention further. Perhaps he hadn't been listening as well as he'd thought. He'd long lost count of the times Angeal had reprimanded him for it. -He actually wouldn't mind him being there to do that again, honestly.

Zack folded his arms all the same with a... raised brow at the end. "'The gift of the Goddess'" It was hardly a mutter but there all the same, followed by a short huff. But there was a drifting understanding underneath. Some desperate people did desperate things, even when it came as a great cost to others. His dealings with Genesis had taught him that much.

There was a slight nod at the mention of Caster's demise, something in his posture shifting with it. Less guarded. For Lancer to point that out without him asking, that was enough for Zack to cede that he likely hadn't agreed with her methods. But that still didn't answer everything he had running through his head now.

"So, then what?" And what relevance did it all have to their current situation, he wondered now. About the closest thing they'd all gotten to signing a contract was registering to their tablets. And somehow, Zack doubted that was relevant. Which meant... But despite the way his expression darkened at the latter thought, it wouldn't make sense either. If this "admin" was planning to harvest all their souls for power, none of them would still be standing. Their capture simply wouldn't be a thing.

"So, they- man, it really bothers me that we still don't have a name for those bastards." That thought got a moment's silence and a shake of his head, before moving back to what he was saying.

"They could be using-" Hey look, present tense. "Us for that, which is why we all pass out at the same time. They need a lot of power. They drain us, do whatever it is they're doing, and then wake us up again when they're done." It was at this point he pushed himself off of the wall (and it squished ever so slightly) and nodded his head in the direction of down the hall. Momentum is salvation. They could talk later, at leisure. "Or...more likely if this is what they're doing, they used the poor bastards that came before us as fuel to bring us here."

And his face darkened at the thought, a faint scowl appearing like vapor on a mirror before it dissipated to a more neutral expression, one which was still unhappy (it would be dirty business if that was what they were doing) but one that wasn't as bothered as he clearly was for a moment before.

That made two of them there. Having a name, a face, something to direct his aggravation at for being stuck there in that freezing cold town would be nice right about then. But the truth was, at least as far as he knew, no one knew who was behind the scenes. Not yet anyway.

Still, Zack listened as he took the cue to follow Lancer. Talking and walking. Good plan. They were wasting time standing there and the days had been getting rougher lately. That didn't stop the visibly wince when the other man mentioned the disturbingly effective shot system, nor the way Zack seemed to pause with a visible shudder... The moment fell quickly forgotten at Lancer's next theory. Zack's eyes widened and this time.. this time shock crossed them. Shock and pain. It was bad enough for all those people to have died in the first place. But to have died to bring them there on top of that.

He pushed his pace suddenly, his walk suddenly brisk as if he were trying to physically escape the thought in his head. Or maybe he was chasing it. "So, they use all those people and bring us here, why? Why the need for us instead if they already had all of them?" Despite trying to be practical, the urgency, the aggression suddenly in his voice couldn't be hidden. There was an answer there he could feel already, but it just made him feel sick. He'd been trained to protect the weak, the ones who couldn't protect themselves. The ones that were possibly...

Lancer made a noise, which, in the tried and true unspoken vernacular that stretched across languages and cultures...a universal noise which spoke to everyone no matter their creed or age...was known as shorthand for fuck if I know.

"That's a good question. Hell if I know." And he let Zack take the lead - it was a corridor with doors and few twisting passages, perfectly safe - just because he could tell the other guy needed to move. "Were you doing anything interesting before you got dragged here?"

Because, and he wasn't making any effort to hide it, he had been.

It was perhaps just as well that Lancer left the subject to drop. Zack was already formulating his own theory. But honestly, at that moment? He really didn't want its confirmation. So, his eyes darted instead around the passage as he tried to heighten all his focus back to the hallway, only ever slowing down long enough to glance through the windows of the doors before picking up his pace once more.

While slowing at yet another, Lancer's next question reached his ears. This time, he paused. But rather than like last time, he didn't look back. Nor did he answer. There was just a shake of his head as he started off once more. And when words finally did come, they were dismissive.

"Come on. We've killed enough time. The day's aren't gettin' any longer."

He snorted. It was an amused noise, as Zack's smooth evasion was pretty much him saying that why yes, yes he did, and it was complicated. "Sure," he drawled, as he glanced back an-

Why yes, that was a large thing that was heading towards them, wasn't it?

His first instinct was to reach for his knife, and his second instinct was to realize that they were both armed with a shitty weapon - two small knives (and knife fighting, while not an art entirely beyond his ken, wasn't exactly something that would fall within his skill set) - and were in a narrow corridor. Meanwhile, the thing bearing down upon them (when did it get behind them?) didn't seem to have...limitations.

He'd rhapsodize more about the thing behind them, the creature that was both familiar and yet not, but prolonged internal monologues wasn't exactly what they needed in this situation.

"Zack, move!" And he proceeded to try to do just that, at least until they could get somewhere more open.

Listen, man. Zack was about as smooth as a bull in a china sh-- yeah, okay, that was fairly graceless of him. Not that he seemed to care, regardless. He at least wasn't irritated with Lancer. Though perhaps he could have gone that way if the other man had decided to prod him further about it.

....Not that they would have the time for that if that sudden shout from Lancer was any indication. Zack didn't think twice to do just that if not first with a quick glance back--

"Oh hell!" Whatever that thing was, it was not friendly and already almost upon them (Why hadn't he heard it?) And this was way too close quarters for comfort. Clutching his knife tight, he darted forward down the hallway, not even bothering to keep his footwork light. More than likely, whatever else was in the building had already heard them shouting. Now, it was just a matter of racing those things to the their destination and getting out before they ended up surrounded. "Lancer, cafeteria!" He ran more off to the side, giving the other man to run ahead of him, to direct them.

He didn't need encouragement. Lancer might not be able to do a third of the things he could do but he still could run like hell, even if it burned: he had been wanting a fight and they were running from one, but all signs pointed to any attempts at a fight fight ending with the line and they both vanished mysteriously. So he outpaced Zack, picked up enough speed to get a lead - enough that he was in front, but not enough in which he was hauling ass away - and there was a heavy looking book on the ground, one which Lancer scooped up in one almost-graceful move with the intent of throwing it at the beast (which he did with a twist and if he had been armed with Gae Bolg this would have been the moment in which everything had been decided) and it...

Did absolutely nothing.

...it was as if he'd thrown air. The monster didn't even react. Lancer did, by resuming the running and sliding down the hall to the right, assuming that Zack was behind him, taking the time to make an angry gesture (helpless and annoyed) and demand, "Man, what the hell!" Because it may not have been a javelin he had been carrying, but he at least knew how to throw things, and things should have reacted to his throw. (It honestly was kind of offensive on a personal level. The things he could still do didn't accomplish a single damn thing, apparently.)

Ahead of them was the cafeteria, however. And then they could cut to the right and get out.

Zack couldn't help but be hopeful when Lancer had picked up that book and chucked it the creature behind them mercilessly (hey, the man seriously had a good arm!) But that faith died the moment it went through the damned thing. Lancer wasn't the only one feeling his stomach drop in protest of that throw gone failure just like that. The thing looked solid enough, too!

No time for getting mad and making mistakes though. That just gave Zack all the reason to look back ahead after a quick glance to check the distance between them and the thing chasing them. Good thing it was just a swift one or he would have missed that turn off. As it was, he was jumping to change his trajectory, pushing full swing down that hallway after the other man. He could see the larger doors now that implied a bigger room- the cafeteria? Guess he was going to find out soon enough. He put in some extra steam, gaining precious seconds more away from the creature behind them.

The two closed the distance in good time albeit it could have been nice to not be running for their lives and preserving that energy. Still, Zack was SOLDIER, if even ex. He slowed himself not far from the doors, peering cautiously in through the dim light. Damn it, his eyes felt like they'd gotten so bad since he'd woken up in Norfinbury, but he wasn't about to risk running right in. He could already make out a side kitchen on the side much the same as where they would serve the slop back at the old barracks. But even slop he could appreciate at this point with his stomach groaning in agreement.

But wait... He thought he saw...

It was a second monster, yes. One which was over by the counters. One which looked up as they ran in like two idiots.

In a different world, in a different lifetime, this would be the point in which they'd realize there was no more running. The music would pick up, speeding up to something with a steady rhythm and a relentless bass line, punctuated by a soaring electric guitar. This would be the point in which they'd take out their weapons, twirl them as they settled into an attack stance, and start bashing away. Maybe they'd meet someone else? A mage, who'd appear in a gust of magic and remove the boss' invulnerability, allowing them to strike at the two beasts' weak points, and then the three of them would defeat their enemies, get stronger, and go on to unravel the mysteries of the land they were in.

But they weren't in that world.

In the world they were in, they were armed with two small knives and the book had flown through the beast behind them. And that other one was between them and the exit. Which was why, after he snarled out an oath which is unprintable and angry, one which was quick but implied that that monster there could go pleasure itself with a stale corndog or perhaps a brillo pad, he shouted-

"Hey! Bastard!"

And he thr- there was nothing to be thrown near him (unless he wanted to throw the knife and no), so instead he waved his arms and moved quickly away from Zack - dashing to the left - in the hopes that the other guy would get the right idea, head right, get out, and then they could maybe regroup at the shack or something if they were both lucky.

Zack had always been an act now, think later type of guy. It was why he'd made First in the end where others who might have had much stronger intuition and logic failed due to their overthinking. But yet, he couldn't help by fall into that fault, himself, if just briefly. He had gone in unsure of what Lancer would do in the end there. If he would use him as a decoy and meat shield when things got serious and high risk and how he would have to deal with that accordingly and save his own skin if it had come down to that. But Zack was also about honor, about protecting his comrades, so the reality was even if that had been Lancer's plan, he would do the right thing. And yet, in that split second it took for Zack, himself, to decide on that, Lancer beat him to the punch.

His eyes went wide, apparent with their mako even more so by the lacking light, as the other man caught the attention of the beast in the cafeteria. Whether Lancer had pissed it off or not, he definitely had its attention now as it started toward him while he ran off and Zack's eyes followed if only in seconds of shock before- "Hey! You better not get yourself killed!" Dead serious, no pun intended. But Zack understood the chance he'd been given, understood that Lancer was capable, too. And in the meantime, he had a problem of his own anyway as the other monster caught up and set its sights on him.

"Come on!" He picked up a piece of rumble and chucked it at the thing for good measure when it seemed to sway between going after Lancer, too, or following him. That was all the more reason it needed to give chase his way and all the more reason for Zack to break into a run of his own. Right. Out of the school! Maybe lose the thing and meet up back at the shed!

"Of course not!" was what he wanted to say, but given the situation all he managed was a feral grin. Thing one was going after him. Thing two was going after Zack. Whoever got to the shack first could man the door for the other guy, and hopefully the things wouldn't follow them on the way out.

Easy enough. He bolted down from whence they came (and for the first time regretted actually having a body - it would be so much easier if he could just turn into a spirit) and visions of elaborate traps, sliding up stairs, hiding in a classroom and somehow losing the beast, and things of that ilk danced in his head.

...well, and besides, anything it could do he already dealt with. Probably.

Sup on Zack's end?

Easier said than done. For one, manning the door also meant Zack would have to either lose Thing Two or run circles around the school and hope he didn't either attract the attention of more things or that it didn't lose interest in him and go crawling back to help its buddy. This wasn't even accounting for whatever else was in the school, making Zack grit his teeth in frustration despite himself. He certainly gauged Lancer a good fighter, but it would have been better if they, you know. Could actually fight. There, he was playing some deadly form of tag where being "it" next likely meant death.

Still, he kept his pace even at first, purposefully drawing the thing to stay just out of his range but close. Not that the pace stayed that easy. Now, in the resistance of the snow, Zack had to work double time to keep himself on his feet and just as fast as he'd been in the building, itself. Unfortunately, Ex-SOLDIER or not, that didn't stop him from making mistakes. One slick step left him briefly grounded and that was all it was all it took. He had been pushing himself up when he felt the sudden nausea and he buckled over, emptying his stomach before he even realized what was happening.

What the--!? These things gave off some sort of scentless ailment, too? Zack didn't waste anymore time than that to think though, staggering back to his feet and doing double time just as his head started to pound slightly. Just out of the thing's grasp and going for the shed at a sloppy bolt. He'd made enough circles to kill enough time, he thought. Lancer should be on his way, he hoped.

Don't let him down, you crazy idiot!

He didn't! What are you, crazy? Sure, there was that one difficult part in which he discovered anew that the windows were impenetrable and he couldn't open one or break it open, as well as the vomiting moment he also experienced, as well as that business with the classroom (which, if it didn't work, would've meant that Lancer would've had to take the flight of stairs up and who knew what would've entailed...but it worked) and...anyway.

He got into the shed minutes before Zack loomed across the horizon (and Zack might've been able to see a blue blur hauling ass in front of him) and made that big dramatic wave of his arm known as hurry the fuck up, dumbass. He would've shouted but he was more focused on the fact that in a few seconds he'd probably have to drag Zack inside or focus on slamming the door shut and keeping it shut. Breath needed to be saved for that.

Even lacking in those heightened senses he so missed at this point, it wasn't hard to catch sight of some kind of movement not too far off in the snow. Especially considering how fast he was going, himself. That was definitely Lancer flagging him down. Good. He wasn't sure just how long he'd last at that run, even for as well trained as his body was.

There wasn't time for words, but there was all the more reason for him to keep the pace he'd started. He had no idea how well he'd made tracks from Thing Two and he wasn't about to look back and stumble in the process or something. It was home stretch time!

A home stretch that closed in seconds as Lancer'd predicted. Unfortunately, Zack didn't finish it as gracefully as he'd intended. He made it through that door, sure, but he hadn't accounted for the snow that had gathered on the soles of his boots and rather than stopping and turning back to help Lancer, he was slipping and on his back before he knew it with a grunt.

"We-"

Although the sight of Zack slipping and falling on his back was enough to derail the snark train, and almost, almost, enough to derail him from the more pressing and important slamming of the door before they both died. It happened quickly; the head turn, the slight noise (which he'd later unconvincingly deny if asked) that sounded suspiciously like a snerk, and then the half-turn towards the door, the one-two of oh shit what about that thing? and oh shit, there's a thing running towards us.

And then the door was closed. Quickly.

"Hey. You think it'll hold?" The fact he was saying this as he was trying to find something large to drag in front of the door should say what his thoughts on the matter were. And then, almost as an afterthought, "Welcome back."

Zack might have noticed that snerk if he wasn't more concerned with the fact that if they didn't move fast, they both were likely, you know. Going to die. No, instead, his attention was thrown back to the door that Lancer had at least been on top of with closing. Good. ...Not that he thought that alone would hold back those things either, but still. It was a start.

A start that would have to come to a finish soon if they planned on surviving. He's already scrambling back to his feet, acknowledging Lancer's greeting with a toothy smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes as they skate over the small shed and catch sight of- "Ah-hah!"

In the corner, he spots a big ol' trashcan, something he assumes likely once held more balls and whatnot but now only seems to have collected no more than a bit of debris and dust. But hey! If they can fill 'er up, it'll do! He zips on over to snag it and drag it back to the door. "Grab whatever you can and start pitchin'!"

It wouldn't have been the worst way to go.

But he followed suit, jamming the door shut with a large rolled up yoga mat and then shoving a bunch of junk into the trashcan to weigh it down. He didn't need to be told twice.

"Did you find anything?" Casual danger conversation to distract from the fact they were trying to barricade a door and hold it until curfew hit and the doors locked. (And yet, given how the book had wafted through its head...would it really do anything? But Zack didn't need to know that part.)

It might not have been the worst, but it definitely wasn't how he wanted to go.

Though at that point, Zack was less on the thinking spectrum and more on the running purely on instinct and adrenaline train. Stuff as many things in front of door. Hope it held until those things went away. Never mind that, yes, that book had sailed through the phantom creature. The door seemed to be stopping them. That was more than enough reason for Zack to continue to chuck as many things as he could find in the can, too.

Through gritted teeth as he lifts and bangs a weight into the can, too, he grunts, "You mean besides more snow? No, not really! Been a bit busy!" Thud. There went another weight into the bin. "You?"

"I tried to see if I could look around, but the other guy had different ideas. I had to ditch him in the cafeteria." In went more shit: a football, a baseball, and then he held the door for a couple of seconds when, if but briefly, the can seemed like it would give away and the door would fling open (it held) before resuming the stacking and the shoving and the chucking and the throwing.

"This shouldn't be working." But in went more things. "But I'm not complaining."

"That makes two of us!"

What followed that shout was the ka-thunk of a broken tennis racket being jammed in the can. A coffee tin full of split bean bags followed. Then part of a frame of what he guessed used to be a goal net. "Heh, this is great. All that trouble and nothin', huh?" The door shuddered again, but this time, the can seemed to hold. Just for good measure, Zack chucked in a few croquet balls. Then just... plopped over with his back to the door anyway. No matter how heavy that can was now, he wasn't about to risk moving too far from the door. It wasn't like they had much else to do anyway.

Casually, he added if not with a weak tease, "Looks like we're gonna be staying here again for the night."

"Least we've got walls." That door propping with Zack's back seemed like a good idea. He decided to join him. Leaned back. Felt it shudder, but hold.

"You still have that one book? Wicked Little...Secrets, was it?"

They wouldn't be sleeping much anyway, so...it seemed like a good time to follow through with that one dramatic reading threat.

Walls were a good thing. A very good thing. Likely the only thing keeping them alive right then...

"Huh?" That jarring might have distracted him for a moment. "Oh! Yeah, it's still in my pack."

Without further ado, Zack was unstrapping his backpack from himself and slipping it out from under him, being sure to be quick at that. The freezing grain of the door to his back instead of the insulated fabric wasn't exactly comfortable, but he'd dealt with worse. After quickly unzipping it, he rummaged through his meek collection of things until he finally yanked out the novel and held it up like a trophy with a grin of achievement. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

He shrugged, reaching for the book as he did so, grin wolfish- then annoyed because ow, that thump had bad timing. "We've got nothing better to do."

[log] In which two idiots Scooby Doo their way to victory...? [closed]

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1/3

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3/3, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnHmskwqCCQ

OH YEAH! YAKETY SAX TIME!!

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I'M NOT ACTUALLY WRITING WICKED LITTLE SECRETS