foolishwren | 70. [DREAM/DREAM/DREAM/DREAM]

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70. [DREAM/DREAM/DREAM/DREAM]

_{[So while the rest of Johto alternately panics, cries, or rushes around trying to capture as many of the soulstealing insects as possible, there are dozens of souls floating around in that dream limbo, drifting in and out of each other's slumbering thoughts and visions. Whether it's nightmarish flashbacks or just those dreams where you're at school taking a really hard test, and then Dracula shows up, and then everybody's naked ... anything is possible when it comes to what people see in their sleep.]

[But what appears in the darkness in this particular spot in the spaceless, shifting mass of dreaming souls... is a door.]

[It's old, and covered with boards and bolts, rusted near-through in some places. The lock is broken-- mangled and half-melted and wrenched out of the keyhole. The only thing on it that doesn't look ancient is a scrap of torn notebook-paper that's taped up on it at roughly eye-level. It reads only a single phrase:]}

Fear of blood tends to create fear for the flesh.

_{[More importantly, though... the door is ajar. Through the gap come the scents of rust and metal-- and something organic, fleshy-- and a low, deep hum of industrial machinery. It's not a door that anyone in their right mind would want to go through. ... But for anyone who may have stumbled this far into the dreams of their fellow lost souls, either in flight from some other nightmare or just pure, wandering curiosity... there's just no other place to go but through the door.]}

_{[Go on. Open it. After all.... it's only a dream.]}

[ooc: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, GUYS. Thanks for being patient! If you commented on that planning post, there's something spooky planned for your character to do here so please feel free to tag or not tag as it pleases you!]

~*~

[ooc: This is the IC post for what was announced over here! Even if you didn't comment there, feel free to participate! I'm still happy to whip up Silent Hill scenarios for folks!]

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[Ironhide has gotten sick of roaming this weird landscape. It's annoying, and as much as he likes being himself again, he would much rather stop feeling like he's hallucinating every five minutes.]

[The door is new.]

[He could turn around and walk away, but... having neither blood nor flesh at the moment, what does he have to fear?]

Out of my way.

[The five-ton Autobot snorts, and shoves the door aside, stepping through it with cannons powered and ready.]

_{[There's little that a moldering door-- even a heavy one-- can do in the face of just being straight-up smashed.]

[The wood splinters under the force of Ironhide's push and the door even wrenches off of its frame partially, hanging askew as he steps through... and onto a floor of rusty metal grating that strains and groans under his incredible weight like an old man trying to pick up a boulder. It doesn't buckle, though... but it sinks dangerously in spots, enough to indicate that if he doesn't want to put a foot through the clearly-ancient grating and potentially disappear into the blackness below, it would do him well to walk carefully.]

[The landscape before him alternates between buzzing, flickering lights and deep shadows... Is it a town? If it is, the buildings are awfully small, picturesque and decorative... and there are towering, spindly structures barely visible in the distance, which stretches on and on, even to the view of somebody as tall as Ironhide... Whatever this place is, it seems abandoned. There's garbage scattered everywhere, overturned trash bins, and even the attractions that are still lit are empty. It's obvious right from the get-go that any human residents weren't just scared off by the autobot's forceful entrance; they've been gone a long time.]

[... But although there don't appear to be any people around (at least not at first glance), Lakeside Amusement Park is hardly devoid of life...]}

[He was fully determined to march forward through the doorway, and keep stomping his way through whatever was on the other side... but stops. Ironhide may be bull-headed, and may very well launch himself forward without thinking half the time. But even he doesn't want to fall through a metal grate into darkness.]

... Hmnf.

[His scanners come to life, combing the immediate area. But their radius seems dimmed, shortened. Ironhide shakes his head. Must have jammed something.]

[The big Autobot moves slowly, eying his surroundings with his good optic. In a way, he's reminded of the dying days of Cybertron. The rusted metal, the vast emptiness where there should have been life. With another grunt, he kicks at one of the trashcans, out of some odd sort of spite. Stupid world... mocking him.]

[And then he stops -- the low sounds catching his attention before the other unknown noises join in. He draws himself up, bringing his cannons online with a shake of his arms.]

Had enough of this. Show yourself! Get out here!

[... so what if he's barking orders at empty air? It feels productive.]

_{[The trashcan goes flying with a satisfying clank, soaring an impressive distance and then clattering out of sight once it meets the grated floor of the themepark once more. On its way there, something head-sized and plush-pink falls from it along with a small cascade of garbage, landing with a solid thump and rolling a short distance.]

[The shout echoes through the park, rattling the already-ramshackle structures. But nothing comes out at his command-- possibly because not even the the most vicious creature that lurks in shadows is probably dumb enough to rear its ugly head in front of something that's 29 feet tall.]

[As a matter of fact, the park falls silent after that, almost self-consciously-- no more far-off screeches or grunts-- just the groaning and shifting of old, out-of-shape metal shifting in its foundations.]

[... But in that new silence and stillness, there is movement... a far-off movement. It's tiny, but it's there-- a little pinprick of light flickering as it travels in the distance-- not that the distance will be hard for Ironhide to cover, as long as he goes carefully...]}

[Ironhide snorts, decisively. That should teach that trash can. Whatever it was the trash can needed to learn. He does step forward, though, to inspect the bits that rolled away, prodding them with a toe.]

[When nothing immediately launches itself at him, he stays put, looking around with an air of near-disappointment. Limping through a glowing forest after Cloud was almost better.]

... cowards.

[He probably should feel more uneasy than he does. But no. Millions of years of battle, violence and hardship sort of put a damper on fear. His scans and good optic continue to flick over the area, seeing nothing.]

[Until the movement registers. He goes still, focusing on its direction. Only when he's sure he has an idea of its location does Ironhide edge forward, picking his route with care.]

You going to come out where I can see you?

_{[The pink object rolls over to reveal a cartoony rabbit face when he prods it-- good morning, starshine! Robbie says hello! ... Or... Robbie's head, anyway. Who knows where the rest of him is. There's no life in those big, blank eyes, though...]

[He doesn't get an answer that time, either-- not from the lifeless fursuit head or the trundling, distant light-- at least not yet. But as he picks his way closer, its location becomes clear. Towards what could be the middle of the park ('could' being the best word because... really, who the hell knows? This place is huge...), there's a small square-- a somewhat cutesy version of what could be a real town. The picturesque little gift and sweet shops are clustered in a circle around a plaza (big enough for a giant robot to stand in if he's careful, conveniently enough), and inside one of them-- ... THERE'S the light! ... But even this close, it's small and moving about. Not one of the actual interior lights, definitely. There's something alive in there, and it's carrying a light with it.]

[.... Oh hey, look. An open skylight, conveniently placed in the roof of the building. How handy!]}

~*~

_{[The little glass cylinder pings a few times as Heather chucks it away from herself, biting her lip and clamping a hand down over the arm she'd just stuck it into, hard. She hates syringes. Under normal circumstances, she avoided using those precious few ampoules at all costs, but... a particularly close encounter with some of the park's nastier denizens had ensured that she'd really, really needed one. Gritting her teeth, she rubs the sore spot as she gets to her feet, kicking the needle further away from herself, where it rolls until it encounters one of the many piles of spilled and mostly-empty chocolate boxes. She's not sure what emptied them, but it amuses her to imagine, like, a Closer or something flailing around somewhere in the park as it rides out a massive sugar-high, so she'll just go with that.]}

Fffffssst.... god, I hate those things...

_{[She stuffs the other, unopened packets back into her pocket before turning to the radio she'd set down on the shop's counter, where it's been sitting and merrily spewing out hideous static for the past... twenty minutes or so. It had saved her life more than once by alerting her to the presence of various nasties, but around here, there were always monsters around, which really made the warning system sort of pointless.]}

Yeah, yeah, there's dogs and undead fat dudes and big spooky malfunctioning robot voices from that haunted house ride across the way out there, I know. Tell me something that's not a surprise.

_{[She switches it off. >8( Stupid radio.]}

[Ironhide studies the rabbit head. Then flicks it with a toe. Not important. It's not going to help him get out, or understand what's going on here. So he keeps on picking his way slowly through the area, stopping when he feels the floor start to give, and edging away.]

[Once he reaches the little square, he stops, sighting the light. His cannons whir to life, and the big Autobot advances, slowly. If it's inside, it's probably not an immediate danger. But it's best to be cautious.]

[At least it's not a very large building. He's big, but not even Prime could have peered through the top of a two-story building. When he's in position, peering through the hole... he flicks on his headlights. The hi-beams stray to his shoulders when he transforms, so he twitches on forward, angling it in.]

Show yourself.

_{[All things considered... Heather really should have been keeping an eye on that skylight. Any opening was a potential entrance for all manner of unpleasantness. But, well, she'd been through this place before, time and again, in her dreams, and the most populous beasts in this particular little patch of Hell were the split-faced dogs and the Closers. The former were ground-dwellers to begin with and the latter couldn't climb worth shit-- plus, nothing had ever happened to her in this little shop, which was why she'd sought refuge here to patch up and self-medicate.]

[So let's just say that when light blared down from above and what seemed to her to be the BIGGEST VOICE IN THE HISTORY OF EVER boomed out a command directly above her head... her heart came pretty close to imploding.]

[Later on, she would deny that such a shrill, squeaky noise ever came out of her-- but it would be a lie, because the first thing Heather Mason did was scream and whirl around in the spotlight like a terrified criminal, fumbling her handgun out of her pocket and aiming it straight upwards into the blinding light with arms that shake like leaves.]

[What was that. What was that. WHAT the everloving FUCK was THAT?!]}

KHAAAAAUGH SON of a--!!

_{[She starts firing. ... Not that... handgun bullets... will probably do anything...]}

[Being shot at was not what he expected. Neither was hearing that scream -- that... oddly familiar scream.]

[Regular handgun bullets do no more harm to his armored exterior than flies would. Still, they're irritating, and he lifts a hand to shield his face out of reflex, snarling something indignant in Cybertronian -- a language Epps always swore sounded like a whale had mated with a dial-up modem.]

Put that down!

[Because that's totally going to help. Still cursing, the old warrior flicks off the high-beams, letting regular old headlight... light... flood down into the hole.]

Autobot! Ironhide! Put your weapon away, you wretched--eugh!

[The last is an irritated, grumpy huff of a sound. As only Ironhide could ever deliver.]

_{[BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! OH GOD WHY IS MY GUN SO WIMPY]

[Being a good shooter-- and Heather is a good shooter, after being put to the test so ruthlessly two years before-- means next to nothing when the thing you're shooting at is BIGGER THAN GOD (literally. She's SEEN God.) and the bullets aren't even leaving dents. She pulls the trigger over and over, and it's at about the point where he starts with the Orca-on-Oldschool-Internet-Explorer noises that suddenly her faithful weapon just starts making clikclikclik noises when she tries to fire.]

[Shit.]

[Holding the gun up anyway (because disobeying that order in favor of keeping the ability to pistol-whip a face that's the size of the front of a schoolbus is so what's gonna keep her safe right now), Heather stumbles backwards hurriedly-- not that there's anywhere to go. She's like a mouse in a jar, with a pair of big bright cat eyes staring in at her from above-- or at least that's the comparison that her panicking senses spit out at her.]}

S-STAY BACK! I'll shoot your eyes out!

_{[Her shout is thin, shaky, and unimpressive next to his, but to her credit, there's a lot of fire in it-- not that it means much, considering her next big ~menacing~ move is to topple over backwards with a small cascade of cardboard boxes when she abruptly backs into one of the displays.]}

GOD DAMMIT!

Edited 2011-06-22 07:12 (UTC)

[Ironhide is about to start cursing in English. Although... it probably would help if he just backed off. Left the shouting girl alone and went off to find his own way out of here.]

[But... then he stops. That voice is familiar again.]

[Slowly, he leans forward, rising up on his feet as best he can, in order to see better. He has to angle his head, letting his good optic do most of the viewing. But it's in time to see the figure fall over.]

[Ironhide... blinks.]

... Heather?

[He thought she said she was familiar with guns. What in the world was she just trying to do?]

_{[While she is familiar... there's that good ol'-fashioned thing called panic. Otherwise known as Waster of Bullets and Destroyer of Common Sense.]

[When his face comes into better view, Heather's on her back amidst a jumble of brightly-colored souvenir containers, legs hooked over a crumpled cardboard cutout of one of the park's many mascots, eyes wide as saucers and whole torso heaving with the effort of getting enough air in to calm her heart, which is, as she'd put it, "totally spazzing out". And at the sound of that huge robotic voice speaking her name, she sucks in a wheezy breath and starts to scramble backwards-- ... only to stop.]

[The frightened, tooth-baring grimace that had been on her face before is replaced by a confused (and still pretty terrified) frown as the facts in front of her start to sink in. .... And then it clicks.]

[In the space of about three seconds, her face runs through a rather impressive array of emotions-- first bewilderment, then fear, then utter relief ... before finally settling on mad.]

[She opens her mouth a couple of times, decides 'Ironhide' has too many syllables, and just yelps--]}

YOU!

_{[Rolling onto her side limply, she lets her head meet the floor with an audible THUNK.]}

You almost gave me a HEART ATTACK! JEEZ! I thought you were-- ... DON'T DO THAT!

_{[EVER AGAIN. EVER AGAIN. Oh god, did she even have a heart anymore? Or had it just vibrated itself into antimatter by this point? Wheeze.]}

Edited 2011-06-22 07:39 (UTC)

[If her confusion had gone on any longer, Ironhide would have been tempted to jerk a thumb toward the massive scarring over his right optic. That, at least, tended to travel back and forth between forms well enough.]

[Fortunately, his estimate of her intelligence was right. She catches on quick enough... and he just waits, watching with a neutral expression. Hopefully it doesn't look too much like a scowl, but with his face? Who knows.]

Yeah. Me.

[He tilts his head at her when she rolls over. Was... that a normal reaction? Or was she having some sort of muscle spasm? All Spark, how was he supposed to know? Where was Ratchet when you needed his unnecessary explanations?]

[Then she's berating him. Good -- she's coherent enough to yell at him. Ironhide huffs out a wash of vaguely mechanical-scented air through his vents.]

How was I supposed to know it was you? Hmn? Just saw the light.

[There's a quiet whir of components as he allows the cannons to power down. But not fold away. Not yet.]

_{[She can put two and two together... after all, how many people out there know her name and claim to have once been giant robots? Not many. She sits up shakily after a moment or so, her shoulders heaving. Bringing a hand to her face for a second or two, she winces and breathes deeply before squinting upwards again. As relieved as she is, the scare he just gave her was monumental enough that she's still a little rattled. It'll be awhile before she completely loses that lightheaded 'all my bodily fluids have been replaced by adrenaline, now please excuse me while I vibrate out of the visible light spectrum' feeling.]}

YEAH, well-- ... I-- just-- this place is dangerous, okay? You don't-- just-- ... lean in on people like that when you're like, bigger than Jesus!

_{[She kicks a box of marshmallow rabbits off to the side and finally starts to pick herself up, reaching out for the aforementioned flashlight in the process, which had gotten dropped in all the flailing. She clicks it on and off a couple of times to make sure it's not broken.]}

I thought you were-- ... I don't even know what I thought you were.

_{[That inevitable sense of fatigue that always occurs after a surge of panic is starting to creep in, and Heather lets her arms hang limply as she looks up at the robotic face outside the skylight, her temper starting to drain away.]}

A UFO, maybe.

[He keeps watching her, partially concerned by what he's seeing, and partially confused. It's been a long, long time since he actually felt that kind of fear. He can't even remember it -- probably a facet of spending your whole life in combat, seeing the horrors of a brutal war firsthand. Or... maybe he's just too old and cranky to be scared anymore.]

[His head cants to one side, scanning through databanks. Then he looks around, taking in the sight of the decimated, rusting amusement park. The lifeless structures. And back to Heather.]

Yeah. This looks deadly.

[Your sarcasm is unhelpful, old man. He shifts in place, part of him wanting to reach down and offer her one huge, scarred hand, and the other part informing him that even if he was big enough to reach all the way in, his joints probably wouldn't let him bend that way.]

Was one. At one point. Landed in a pool. Hmn.

[He gives the area another wary look around. Despite his earlier words, he is still clearly on guard.]

What is all this?

_{[Fear is something that Heather, for better or for worse, is still all too familiar with. By the end of her journey through Silent Hill, she'd gotten jaded-- numb, even. The things that had once made her want to vomit had garnered only that bleak, twisted sense of amusement after awhile... just because that was the only way to stay sane. But afterwards... fear had started to creep back in, almost sheepishly-- like a guest who left the party early but had to come back later because it forgot to take its hat or something.]

[In a way, that had almost been a relief... that numbness may have been what allowed her to keep going without suffering a total mental breakdown, but it had also made her feel inhuman. Fear was very human. As much as she hated being afraid, that first post-Silent-Hill nightmare she'd woken up in drenched in sweat and spluttering from had been sort of like getting cancer tests back negative, except instead of 'Congratulations, it's not a tumor', it was 'Congratulations, you're still a person, not a broken emotionless automaton'.]

[... But that was quite awhile ago. Right now, the fact that her heart had been pumping so hard that her ribcage hurt was just annoying.]

[Huffing, she leans down to start picking up all the various odds and ends that spilled out of her pockets when she fell-- bullets, band-aids, more keys than anybody would know what to do with...]}

Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say... you're the size of a house. Some of us are a little more bite-sized and meaty than a walking junkyard... _{[Her voice gets a little lower in volume on those last couple of words, because as cheeky as Heather is, her survival instincts are shaking their heads and mouthing 'no' at the thought of mouthing off to something that could squish her like a gnat.]}

This is a themepark. What's it look like?

_{[She knows that's not what he meant, but ... how exactly does one explain something like... well, this? Hell, she's not even sure how he GOT here...]}

[Watching her pick the contents of her pockets is like watching Ratchet at his specimen tables. How can one person possibly need such an eclectic collection of... junk? The bullets made sense. Nothing else did.]

[Though, had he been more in-tune with his human comrades, he probably would have known what exactly he was looking at. And then understood.]

Watch it. This 'walking junkyard' can still take a few faceplates.

[Yes, that's right. Take a few faces. Optimus had to learn it from somewhere -- although Ironhide hasn't seen that part of his timeline, yet. He doesn't sound angry, though. He's too used to dealing with attitude. His most recent student was practically made of it. And so was Cliffjumper.]

Noticed that. A theme park where?

_{[Heather hadn't been a big fan of carrying loads of junk around in her pockets once, either! Her pocketknife and some cash, and she was good to go! ... Then Silent Hill had happened. No pockets? YOU LOST. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.]}

Hmph...

_{[Stuffing the mess of seemingly-random bits and pieces back into their respective holding places, Heather bites her lip briefly in indecision. ... But it doesn't last long. He was HERE and that meant she couldn't dance around the truth. At least not as much as she often did in Johto.]}

Maine. Rural. Way out in the boonies. An old historical town that hardly anybody except historians and honeymooners've heard of. S'called Silent Hill.

_{[... And then, after a brief pause, she adds--]}

My hometown.

[But why so many keys? He will admit, he eyes them. They look more like scrap metal, and it's been a while since he had the chance to restock his ammunition supply. Not to mention... heal up the gaping hole in his chest armor.]

[The name earns a blink, and a scowl. It's not in his databanks, and, if it was in rural Maine, it should be. Unless the maps he'd downloaded had been completely off.]

Yeah... never heard of it. Not in any of my databases.

[Her hometown? Her 'bad neighborhood'? Another slow look around -- and she really wasn't kidding. Their new prison was a true improvement, as far as he could tell.]

[Unfortunately, tact isn't something he has to spare. When he speaks again, it's direct, and blunt as a rusty spoon. As usual, pretty much.]

... Your hometown looks worse than mine.

[And Megatron had worked Metrotitan over good. Corpses hanging from the buildings and everything.]

_{[Hey, not everybody can just smash through doors like the Kool-Aid Man, okay? Sheesh! Heather's tough, but she's only human!]

[She waves a hand, slightly dismissively.]}

S'all right... honestly, I kinda figured that'd be the case. Your Earth is probably a little different than mine... seems to be the case with a lot of the worlds people are from... _{[And it's kind of a relief to hear that Silent Hill doesn't exist in every world... even the ones that shared most everything else.]

[The second comment actually makes her snort. It might be blunt, but hey, it's the truth! And it's not like there's any love lost between Heather and this place... well, from Heather's end, anyway.]}

That doesn't surprise me. S'not always like this... but then, far's I'm concerned, 'this' is the only thing that matters. _{[You couldn't pay Heather to venture back to even the normal Silent Hill, the one on the surface that most people saw, never knowing or feeling everything that lurked, just a thin layer of reality away... but then, she supposed she didn't HAVE to be paid... she seemed to get dragged back here in her dreams often enough, whether she wanted to be or not.]}

Look, I'm gonna come out of the building, all right? Don't-- uh, go anywhere.

Hmnf. Probably.

[Especially if the Autobots and Decepticons aren't brawling across Egypt in her world. Someone had to have heard about that little escapade, after all.]

[He frowns at her comment, looking around again. Personally, he doesn't see anything important. Unless the girl has a secret passion for rust that she never let on about. If that was so, he'd have to show her his right foot. That canine and its lubricants... eugh.]

What is so important about this place? Hmn?

[An empty desert was more important than this place, it seemed like. But at her request, he nods, and turns his attention back to their surroundings. Empty as it looked, he didn't want to let his guard down too much.]

_{[Well, it's not about passion so much as survival... if a restaurant gives you food poisoning, you're probably going to want to avoid it even if it's just fine for everybody else... which, as far as Heather can tell, is mostly true for Silent Hill... although you didn't have to know about the Otherworld to know that there was still something wrong with this place. People could still pick up on it...]

[She emerges from the doorway a few seconds later, picking her way down the narrow stairs with some difficulty-- it wasn't particularly obvious while she was flailing around in the store, but she's moving with a bit of a limp.]}

It's ... a really long story. ... And not a very nice one, m'fraid.

Unless you're a horror enthusiast.

[And by then, Ironhide has crouched down, kneeling by the stairs, despite protesting joints. The squeak and grind of them was probably audible for a good distance around them. He'd get them looked at... if there were anyone around to actually do that.]

[But it doesn't seem like she's fairing all that well either. He studies her, one knee to the ground, his elbow resting on the other. Both cannons are still unfolded, clearly on display.]

Stories from 'bad neighborhoods' rarely are. Probably heard a lot worse.

[He waves a hand toward her.]

What happened to you?

_{[Hooooooly shit is he huge. It takes every ounce of willpower in Heather's being not to instinctively shy away-- under normal circumstances, that probably wouldn't be the case, but here.... here, there's just no mode but survival-mode... and she's not used to seeing any friendly faces here. But NOPE. Ironhide is a friendly face! ... Or a-- ... well-meaning face. Yeah.]

[She wrinkles her nose as she makes it to the bottom of the steps, reaching out a hand to clasp the railing tightly as she hops down from the last one with a wince.]}

Well, no offense're anything, I mean... I have no idea what life was like back on the Planet of the Giant Metal People or wherever, so I guess I have no right to say 'you probably haven't', but .... you probably haven't.

_{[Of course, she could be a little biased...]}

I took a spill a little while ago, s'all. Was trying to end a conversation with a really annoying local and he didn't take it too kindly.

_{[She leans down to sort of... irritably pound a fist on the uncooperative leg, because... hitting yourself totally fixes injuries. Then she looks back up at the autobot, actually taking in the details now that he's not just a pair of headlights blaring down at her through the ceiling like somebody pointing a flashlight into a fishbowl.]}

... Holy crap, you really do have cannons.

[If she thinks he's huge, she should see some of the others. Decepticons especially tended to be massive. Then again... maybe he is a little big by some standards. At least, with his battle mask retracted, he just looks grumpy, rather than set-to-kill.]

[One of those heavy hands lowers, hanging around her height, in case the girl needs something to hold onto.]

... Remind me to tell you what Megatron's favorite thing to do to prisoners was. Cybertron was a planet of rust and death after he began the war.

[It's said with no small amount of bitterness, or anger. He rolls his shoulders, looking at her again, and nodding. It must not be that bad, if she's walking around -- but he's no doctor. He has no idea.]

[The mention of cannons though... that makes his optics light up. He straightens, holding up one arm and flexing his hand. Molten blue light flickers to life in the barrel of the massive gun.]

Yeah. I do. Shall I show you them?

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<insert noise of massive, graceless perspective shift somewhere in the middle of this tag>

... I heard nothing :|a

o good

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djfkds I'm sorry for this

XD Eh? Sorry for what?

For the cranky bluntness |D

PSHAAAAW I LOVE CRANKY BLUNTNESS, CARRY ON!

VERY WELL

:Db

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