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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_{[She'll get over it. There's just something kind of horrifying and amazing at the same time about watching a giant metal dude pick a living object up and then beat another one to death with it. Just... it warrants a moment's thought, you know?]

[Still, she gets up slowly-- mostly because watching that glob of monster slide off of him and plop onto the ground makes her want to laugh hysterically, and she's not sure if it's the nerves or her dark sense of humor behind that reaction. She settles for baring her teeth in a shaky grin.]}

You know... I was going to kill them...

S'not like I haven't fought those things before.

Took your time about it.

[He watches her stand, keeping very still. Experience has taught him that standing and not making sudden moves helps humans get over the fact that there is a looming, living hulk of metal and cannons nearby. Usually. Sometimes it just doesn't help anything and they panic anyway.]

Your weapon was too small. You need to aim for their joints, where you can sever the limbs, break the internal structure.

They will be helpless, then.

_{[An indignant snort.]

[She draws herself all the way up (and is, deep down, a little relieved that he's standing still), holding her arms and holding her head high, twiddling the wimpy gun between her fingers.]}

I'll have you know that the first one of those things I ever fought, I killed with this gun. It's sentimental.

Anyway, I was just trying to show you what I was talking about! I had the whole thing under control.

_{[... Although admittedly... taking on three Closers at once was a fight she'd normally run from... it was flirting with disaster a little more closely than Heather usually wanted to. So whether she had it under control or not, Ironhide'd had a MUCH easier time killing them than she would have, as little as she liked to admit it.]}

A sentimental weapon is no use if it does not do the job.

[He lifts an arm, and pats one of his cannons, fondly. Sort of like someone ruffling their kid's hair after said kid did something adorable. Instead of patting the gun that just blew a walking horror apart.]

I designed and built these myself. I have had them since before the war began... These... are sentimental. And functional.

[That said... Ironhide crouches down, to peer at her more closely. She seems unharmed. If not twitchy. But Sam was always sort of twitchy, so maybe that's normal for human young.]

Fine. You were right. This place is dangerous for humans.

Hmph. Does the job just fine. _{[She won't admit that maybe three of them would have been a little too much for it to handle... too proud. She, in turn, gives the HANDGUN a pat. It's okay, little wimpy gun. :( Heather still loves you. You were her first!]}

Anyway... You see what I mean, now?

_{[Folding her arms, she looks up at the towering robot with the slightest of frowns. SHE TOLD YOU SO.]} And for the record, those are far from the least dangerous things in this place.

[He shakes his head, slowly. The motion probably hides his amused expression. He's known 'bots attached to their weapons too. He can understand the sentiment, even if he doesn't really agree.]

Sort of. Thought they were sort of simple, though.

[Oh. Oh Heather. You shouldn't have done that. Ironhide's good optic suddenly brightens, and he leans down further.]

Oh? And what is the most dangerous?

_{[She takes an automatic step back when he leans down-- call it an ingrained reflex that sort of kicked in when she was in the mindset it took to survive in this place...]}

The most?

... Something that hopefully stayed dead when I killed it two years ago.

[His good optic blinks, and he tilts his head to the side.]

... Some things are best kept dead. Should probably keep away, just in case.

[This is Ironhide-speak for, "Okay, I won't push you on this."]

_{[She's grateful, inside. It didn't matter how easily he could tear apart the more plentiful residents of this place... God, even in the sickly, half-finished form it had been in, was something she was fairly sure would not... could not die by any hand but a human's. Perhaps not any but her own. That was just how some things worked... logic and rationality be damned. In the end, only the lambs could shed their wool and let the inner wolf out to kill the lion.]

[So she shakes her head.]}

Even if it were alive, I wouldn't take you to that place. It's not safe-- ...

_{[She trailed off before finishing that thought... but there's an unspoken 'Even for you' on the end of it... and it's in greater earnest than anything else she's said to him here.]}

[He studies her expression for a minute, like there's something he could see in it that words won't say. Which would probably be easier if he weren't Ironhide, and didn't have all the social grace of a charging rhino.]

[He moves a metal hand forward, one thick finger extended in a sort of 'chin up' gesture. But doesn't actually touch her.]

This is your dream. You lead on.

[Even Ironhide can catch an unsaid couple words like that. And, coming from him, the admission of leadership is a pretty Big Deal. Even if it's only for now.]

_{[The gesture gets a smile out of her, all the same. Dusting herself off one last time on principal (rolling across the ground in this place was about as hygienic as rolling around in a junkyard), she gives her head a jaunty toss, as if to dismiss that somber moment.]}

If we were anywhere near a highway, I'd say we oughta see how fast you can go in truck form. But this place is sorta car-unfriendly. ... That said, mind letting me up again?

Now that you've seen some of the friendly faces this place has to offer, I'm moooore than happy to leave the ground.

Top speed is 110 miles per hour. No more. I can get to 115 if I tried...

[He shrugs, keeping his hand where it is. Up you get, kiddo. He's waiting for you.]

... But then Ratchet might scrap me.

[The big 'bot sits still. Scanners are on alert, but so far, there's nothing else. Even if he would have liked to go another round.]

_{[No further invitation needed! She steps up into his hand. Man, what she wouldn't have given to be able to ride around like thirty feet off the ground when she was actually slogging through Silent Hill for real.]}

115? Daaamn.

I don't think I've ever been in a car that's gone past forty...

_{[That's not entirely true-- she went on some seriously reckless rides with her old crowd of do-no-gooders back in high school... but apart from that, her father had understandably switched into GRANDMA MODE while driving ever since his first fateful encounter with that town.]}

[As he lifts her up onto one big shoulder, he snorts. Does she really think that's fast?]

Had a kid once whose top speed was over four-hundred miles per hour. And he was proud of it. Little punk...

[He puts her down on black armor, waiting until she gets situated before marching off again.]

Your vehicles are inefficient, compared to us.

_{[Four HUNDRED? Hot dog. Having done most of her getting-around via subway or just by foot, Heather had never really had the opportunity to nurse her inner speed-demon... but that doesn't make it seem any less awesome.]

[She catches her balance once more when she's placed up there, throwing a hand out for balance. Ahh, MUCH safer up here. It was amazing, really-- how breath-takingly menacing all those nooks, crannies, and tight, sharp alleys felt when you were on the ground... Standing above it all gave off a sense of nigh-invulnerability. No chance of being snuck up on.]}

Well, yeah, I'd say so... pretty sure most of our trucks don't have cannons. ... Or the ability to talk.

You guys must be like... the Swiss Army Knives of cars. Times a hundred.

That you know of.

[Okay so maybe he's just teasing her. He has no idea if her world and his are even remotely connected. But it can't hurt to say so. At the very least, it would make her more wary of Decepticon attacks.]

[For all the good that would do.]

Swiss what now? I have no blades... prefer my cannons. Where to?

...Y'know, that's really not very reassuring...

_{[... Ironhide, if Heather ever goes back to her own world and winds up opening fire on a random parked car just because she was startled by its engine coming on unexpectedly, IT'S YOUR FAULT.]}

Anyway, Swiss-- it's a kind of knife that has some gadget on it for everything. Anyway, uhh...

_{[She stares out across the desolate park. No need to shade her eyes under this inky sky...]}

... Well, there's nothing in this place but abandoned themepark rides... and more monsters.

_{[... She can see the carousel from here... but she'd rather he not see that, whether or not it was going. Those horses stuck in her mind almost more than anything else from this place... poor things.]}

The entrance gate should be... er... that way. I think. _{[She points!]}

Yeah. I know. Supposed to be a warning.

[He'll proudly take the credit. Especially if she hits it somewhere potentially vital on a Decepticon. This is training. Ironhide-style.]

Still not me.

[He says nothing further on the subject, though, just nods his head. If there's nothing in this place worth looking at, or worth seeking out, there's no reason to stay here. That in mind, he simply picks himself up, and starts limp-marching in the direction she was pointing.]

_{[Be prepared to take the heat when she inadvertently pumps some poor little old lady's corvette full of lead, then.]}

All right, all right, I get it... still, jeez, like I don't have enough to be paranoid about already... Cultists and Cars. Sounds like a crappy thriller novel...

_{[The park is big, but it passes by relatively quickly, considering his massive stride. No need to skulk around in the shadows and scamper through open areas like Heather had always needed to before...]

[They reach the fancy arch over the entrance within five minutes-- but there's an interesting sight waiting for them. Lying more or less directly in the middle of their path is... what appears to be a naked obese human lying flat on its back on the ground.]

[Just.... chillin' like a villain. ... A gross, naked villain. ... With no face.]}

.... Oh, god. Those things.

[He glances sidelong at her. It's about the only way he can look at her, with the way she's riding. But still, it's a sidelong glance, before he turns his attention back to the park.]

You said nothing of cultists before... Going to explain that one?

[Oh Ironhide looks big, and slow, and dumb. ... Typically he is two out of three of those things. But the old timer is occasionally smarter than most would give him credit for.]

[He stops, though, catching sight of... whatever that was. The cannons on his arms begin to whirl slowly, charging. His voice is pitched low, more of a rumble in his chest than actual words.]

What is that? And how do I take it out?

_{[She, in turn, glances sidelong back. NOTHIN' GOT PAST HIM, HUH.]

[But, after all, she doesn't really HAVE any reason to hold back... he's seen the monsters. Killed the monsters. But god, the story is so damn long...]}

Depends.

Do you know much about cultists?

_{[She leans over a little bit, squinting down at the reclining Cancer with an expression of revulsion.]}

Those things die like anything else... they're just big, fuckin' ugly, and way faster than something that blubbery has any right to be.

S'probably playing dead.

_{[Or... or whatever it was they were doing when they just LAID there. She'd nearly fallen across one more times than she could count.]}

...

... Maybe you could, like... I dunno. Step on it.

[Not today it didn't. Maybe some other day. But today is not that day. In answer to her question, he shrugs his other shoulder.]

It has to do with human religion. I know this much.

[The rest just sort of filtered through one audio receptor and out the other. He keeps his gaze on the creature, though, his good optic narrowed as scans play over his visual field -- distance, mass, vital signs?]

What happens if I simply... perforate it?

[To punctuate the statement, he hefts his cannons, aiming them toward the fat... thing... blocking their path.]

Eh... more or less, yeah.

Anyway, this place has a cult. Goes back generations. Most people don't even know about it... and a big part of the few who do just think they're the local weirdos.

... And then the rest of us know that they're a hell of a lot more than that.

_{[All the while, the cancer is lying there, seemingly lifelessly-- but Ironhide's scans will pick up... something. It's not alive, not like your average human or varied vertebrate... but there's something there.]}

... Hmm.

_{[The suggestion gets a moment's thoughtful pause from Heather, before she comes out with a question.]}

D'you know what a zit is?

What are they?

[It's sort of an automatic question. The statement implies a lot of bad things about these people. Which automatically makes Ironhide's inherent good guy streak perk up and want to smash something.]

[The odd readouts make him scowl all the more, and lift his cannons into a better position.]

No. Never heard of it.

[A pause.]

Why?

It's-- ... _{[She hesitates.]} ... That's a long, long story. ... I guess we have the time. _{[... For a heavily-edited version. She's not entirely sure she wants to go into her own involvement unless he asks questions she can't avoid answering.]}

But first...

_{[She gestures to the pale mound of blubber sequestered in the middle of their path like a very confused sumo wrestler trying to get a tan. Both because it was the more immediate issue and because it gave her a little time to think.]}

A zit is like... actually, I don't wanna explain it, 'cause it's gross and I'm just not that dedicated to the metaphor. But I'm pretty sure if you blow that thing up... it ain't gonna be pretty. ... You might wanna take a step or two back.

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