foolishwren | 110. [Action for NIGHTMARE EVENT, backdated]

Current Mood: awake
Current Location: Nightmare Castle

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110. [Action for NIGHTMARE EVENT, backdated]

The low moan of the wind was practically alive in these drafty stone corridors, and the sound of her boots on the floor seemed almost deafening.

And it was cold.

Those were a few of the many differences between this and the Otherworld, which had been cramped and often grotesquely warm, with her footfalls echoing only dully on the dusty (or sometimes meaty) floors.

It wasn't really a question of which she liked better, because frankly, she didn't like EITHER.

But the similarities were, weirdly, more comforting than the differences.

She stopped as a non-windy sound drifted towards her from down the hallway, her steadily-bouncing flashlight beam stilling.

That was something that was similar. The light by her collar (not in her pocket this time-- but close enough) and the knife in her hand and the familiar buzz of adrenaline to sharpen her senses and mind.

And the creatures, whose eyes were now visible, gleaming in the gloom ahead.

They were perhaps, the most familiar of all, even though it had been years since she'd seen a real one and not one of the magical creatures inhabiting her new home. Magical creatures that she, in fact, was LOOKING for now.

But these weren't Pokemon.

And they could be killed.

Her grip tightened on the knife and she started forward once again.

[OOC: This is a catch-all log for all the nighttime adventures Heather had in the Nightmare Castle, whether it's fighting monsters or finding her Pokemon. Open to all, feel free to start any scenario you want. Doesn't have to be connected to the prose above!]

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What the hell was that. It looked like someone took one of Soundwave's drones and mashed it together with a lot of organic... stuff. Meat. Whatever they called it.

"Dibs? What is dibs?"

It was all he managed to get out before the girl took off. And, fire poker or no, he couldn't just let her do this alone. Not when it was -- whatever that was.

He followed, rolling pin raised. It probably looked ridiculous, but it wasn't as if he had a choice.

No time to explain human slang now!

She was already swinging the poker back-- he probably couldn't see it from behind, but there was a giant grin on her face. A positively maniacal one, actually.

"Oh yeah, come to papa!"

The thing came to papa.

And with one vicious swing, the hook of the poker buried itself in the creature's head.

He was about to tell her she was not a parent, and certainly not one of the paternal nature. But he'd rather raise his own weapon to strike, instead. Wood probably won't help against metal but, the fleshy parts are another matter.

She gets the hook buried in the creature, and he swings his pin. Both hands, in an overhand strike, for the neck.

Well, it sounded better than 'come to me', which sounds vaguely seductive, and that really isn't what you want to go for when you're fighting monsters, you know?

The creature, reeling in panic (if a monster can panic) at the sudden turning of the tables, tried to pull away.

Its neck was pulled taught by the poker and snapped under the rolling pin.

It crumpled.

It might have crumbled. But that wasn't going to stop him from lifting his foot and stomping on the creature's broken neck. Just to be sure.

You never left anything up to chance. Not in these situations. He didn't stop stomping it until pale fluid -- mingled human and Cybertronian alike, splattered, and bones and metal broke with sickening, wet crunching sounds under his heavy boot.

Maybe it was too cautious. But he really doubted he was going to be the only one stomping it flat. Heather could manage the head and skull -- he trusted the girl to handle it.

Anyone willing to ram a fire poker into a head, well. How could you not?

She watched him break the thing's spine with his boot and nodded in solemn approval-- without even realizing it.

You always had to make sure it was dead. Things had a weird way of getting back up when you didn't.

"Good," was all she said.

She didn't need to add her own boot-- he was a good four times bigger than she was and she didn't doubt that his weight was enough to crush the remaining life out of it.

But what she did do was pull the poker from where it had landed, judge her shot for a moment, and then plunge the sharp end straight into the skull. Just for insurance.

He stepped back as she drove the poker through its head. She had good aim. As scrappy as he knew she was, it was sort of a pleasant surprise. Attacking monsters was one thing, knowing precisely how to hit them, and where, was another.

And she was good at it. Like she'd always implied. Good.

He nodded to her.

"Good," he agreed, and kicked the body once more, to clear it out of the hall.

She had come a long way since encountering that first creature in the mall and bringing it down with shakily-fired bullets.

"That's ONE horrible abomination that won't be getting up again," she said with a grin that had traces of a sneer in it.

Wiping the poker off distractedly on a partially-rotted curtain, she nodded to him.

"We keep going in this direction?"

"Good. Good work."

He paused long enough to reach out and clasp her on the shoulder. He meant it -- every word. She'd done well. More than just "well". Not that eve ever really expected her to run from a fight, or balk at the sight of a monster.

Even so... seeing it in action.

It made him oddly proud.

"Yeah. Might as well follow the creatures... maybe they are guarding something."

"Good idea." Standing up straight, she glimmered her flashlight a ways down the hallway. "... If there's anything I've learned, it's that when you encounter monsters, you're usually going in the right direction."

Even if it didn't always seem that way at first.

Without further ado, she began to walk.

She had a flashlight. How convenient was that. He gives the light something of an envious stare, before nodding in agreement.

"And the bigger they get, the closer you get."

"Amen."

She tucked the light (which she carried everywhere-- in a pocket or even tucked into a belt-loop on her pants if she had to. You never knew when the world was going to suddenly go dark) into her breast-pocket an adjusted it so that it would shine ahead of them.

He wasn't far behind her. Not close enough to be in the way, should she need to swing, but close enough to cover her, in case she didn't see the enemy coming. He'd had centuries worth of experience over this kind of thing, and damn if he wasn't going to use it.

"You think anyone found an exit yet?"

"... Probably not. I like to think that if they had, they'dve found a way to let people know."

But then again, people were selfish. Who knows. Maybe they WOULD slip off into the night. She was already a little irritated that people had split up so thoroughly, even though she knew she was just as guilty as the rest of them. She was used to being alone in places like this, and in the end it WAS a little easier to make her way without having to think about a pack of frightened, panicky people who couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag behind her.

Still... none of them HAD to go alone. Maybe it WOULD have been better if they'd all gone together.

He just grunted. He shared her sentiment. Part of him liked to think they'd look out for each other. If for nothing else then to summon backup against whatever managed to bring them here.

Heather might have been used to being alone, but he was used to being the backup. Protecting something, in situations like this, was second nature to him. Her being prepared to fight was a bonus.

"Hopefully," was all he said, marching grimly through the dark hallways.

Backup was something that Heather'd had only while her father was alive.

Sadly, when the time came that she needed it in the literal rather than the abstract, he was dead.

So this was nice.

Now she had a lot of backup.

... The trouble was she didn't always know how to handle that.

"So you seen any monsters that aren't just blobs of flesh yet?"

He would never dream of replacing someone's parent. In any sense of the word. Not now, not in battle. Not even as a joke.

But it is nice to have something to look after again. He'll say that much.

Her question earns a sharp look.

"They look like blobs of flesh to you...?"

She looks up at him, a brow quirked.

"Yeah. ... They look kinda like the things from home, actually. ... You've seen 'em. You know what they're like."

Then, suddenly looking a little pale, she asks, "... Why? Do they look different to you?"

"You mean the one that blew up, or the one I hit with the other one?"

How sad is that, it's a legitimate question? Either one would be a bad sign, in his opinion. He can't exactly hit them like he did.

Her expression isn't what he wants to see. Even though this conversation is... odd, since what else would they look like? He blinks at her.

"Yeah... like... hn."

How does he even describe this? "As if a human being were made of metal. And flesh. All mixed."

SHE MEANS ANY OF THEM, IRONHIDE.

She stares at him for a moment, face ghostly in the light of the flashlight.

"... That's not what they look like to me."

We know, Heather. You just TOLD him what they looked like to you.

BE MORE SPECIFIC, HEATHER.

He stares back, his good eye narrowed and concerned. Lines etched a little deeper into his skin.

"... right, so... That is unusual."

But, then again, so is this whole thing. His tone is calm, hopefully said calm is contagious. Look, Heather, he's not worried about it.

"... So... collective hallucination?"

She hated to resort to thinking of things like that. Monsters were REAL. She knew it!

But man, two people looking at the same thing and seeing entirely different creatures was... unsettling.

"... Maybe. Or maybe this is like the time we were in your dream."

He had one of his own, after all. It wasn't something he really wanted to remember. But... at the same time, it would explain why they were seeing different things.

Hopefully.

"... I dunno. I don't like it, whatever it is," Heather muttered darkly to herself, turning her eyes ahead again and trudging onward.

"Makes two of us," he grunted.

His good eye swept over the dimness. They had to find an exit eventually, right? A house couldn't have no exit.

And if all else failed, he'd just make one. Through a window.

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