August 10, 2004
.08.10.04. - someone left the helicopter on [jim] *mp

[skid row - mersenne prime chapter 11]

(st)
Outside the Quick E-mart, Jim kicked a stone pebble, skipping it across the empty back lot of the building. Eventually it hit the brick exterior, and skipped off in another direction. "My life is a movie.. full circle." he mutters to himself.

A small distance away, the Grand Elder's packmate is disappearing across the Gauntlet. Fading from view. Jim doesn't look - isn't interested. He's still uncomfortable about the man, about the prospect of being sniffed at and inspected like some piece of meat. All the tests came out negative though. That's good, right?

(james)
negative - but why does James still have that hitchy feeling at the base of his back?
must have been too many scifi books lent with Frankenweiler mind-expansion encouragement
it's making him paranoid, now.... Jim's just a kid... right?
then again... he did see a five year old child take a turn for the gorehound worst an permanently damage his own packmate
and .......why can't he stomach that seemingly all-too-easy escape and sudden romp in the woods
even with the rabid pack of Garou chasing the boy and the spirit's terror
maybe Gaia simply smiled upon the boy intended for another day's glory
or.... there's something else that just isn't fitting together

(you're doubting your instincts, Jamey-boy, this virus glitch has you all fucked up and accusing shadows)

once the Theurge has been properly sent off
the lanky guttermutt pivots on a heel to head back to where the boy's waiting
watching. silent on the approach.

(jim)
Looking up at his approaching elder, Jim shifts his weight from side to side, anxiously. Jim has seen a visible change in the young claith since first encountering him in the shadows of this building. The Fostern's presence is soothing - Jim looks over his shoulder less, his body is a little more relaxed, and he's even stopped paying such close attention to the way he walks. Silent footsteps have been replaced by the quiet sound of rubber converse soles crunching on the gritty dirt of the street.

"So now what? We going to the Caern?" That's what it all adds up to. The Caern. The Caern means Garou, means safety, means a decent night of sleep.


(james)
for all the Rage sequested behind the monster's human mask
strange the guttermutt's soothing presence
maybe he learned too well the street-showman's front
cavalier confidence in the face of all that shall come
or maybe it's the Garou's calm acceptance of what Fate has irrevocably in store
(James accepted his Fate long ago... it's a question of faith that keeps him going)

"What's y'r rush?" question tipped on a raised brow and sidelong glance "Think i's safe?"

boy isn't that a loaded question
Elderman's careful observation of how the boy chooses to answer

perception+primal urge: 6D10 Dice Roll: 10; 1; 2; 1; 4; 7

(st)
"Yes!" the over-tired Ragabash replies. "I think after dodging a pack of Gaoru, a group of hunters, and surviving a science experiment gone beserk.. that yes, the Caern will be fucking safe!"

James had quelled the hunger-related stress. But there was still a lot here for a mere boy of maybe seventeen to swallow. Too much. Nobody is innocent in war.

"I wanna go home! I wanna go some place warm and safe.." he says, turning his back on James and slinking off to a brick wall of the Quick E-mart, planting his back there.


Nearby, the shadows shift subtly. Ears peek. Eyes glisten under the shining sliver of moon.

(james)
"Yeh?" in the face of explosive teenaged angst and understandable duress, James is cool. as. ice. "Safe f'r you I'll 'gree."

two or three long, lanky steps bring him up before the boy
hands casually draped into his pockets
head tipping as he watches the boy in a few minutes of silence
dreadlocks whispering their journey across cotton-covered shoulders towards the ground

"Go' th' Guardi'n's boys, res've th' city Fam'ly, 'n the mighty spirit a watch ov'r you.... keep yeh safe'n warm a nigh'." such nostalgia should inspire a warm curve fond on his lips - but the Fostern's earthen gaze is heavy and solid, unforgiving steel, locked on the young Ragabash "Said y'rself yeh live' through a fuck' up science projec' gone wrong. Yeh dunna wha' they did a you. Yeh dunna how you go' out. Worse yet.... yeh dunna what's followin' you 'n waitin' f'r you a lead it home. I wasn' askin' if yeh thought it w'z safe f'r you."

james per+alert 4D10 Dice Roll: 9; 10; 4; 4


(st)
"I told you already, I escaped!" Jim all but spits back at James. True Bone Gnawer Ragabash - no respect for authority or rank. Or just too tired to really care.

Finally, Jim just collapses onto the ground, letting his head hang between his knees. "I give up.." he grumbles to himself.

Overhead, a black shadow creeps across the moon, slicing it in half. The shift in light is unnoticable. Its the quiet whirring of motorized blades cutting through the air that gets his attention. The sound of a helicopter engine overhead.

Ominously, the only source of light behind the Quick E-Mart explodes. Shards of glass fall to the ground as the back-alley turns to black..

(james)
I escaped.
I don't remember a lot of how it happened.
I was still real doped up.

several rebuttals rising to spit back in the kid's face
intollerance sparking some deep-pit detonation
kid sure acts like a Gnawer.... right up until that giving up
James ready to bark a thing or two to snap the kid back into shape

.... and the lights go dim
.... and someone left the helicopter on
.... oh no, those lights. went. out.
CRASH!

somewhere in the darkness a fist wraps around Jim's sleeve
hauling the kid quite uncerimoniously to his feet and..... to the left!
"Move."
the word felt more than heard from the Ahroun's chest
suddenly close features cast in shadow of an eery bluish glow
coils of almost invisable light melting out of his forarm
.... he wasn't carrying that three foot pipe a minute ago

dex+dodge: 5D10 Dice Roll 3; 3; 8; 9; 5

st: 2; 4; 10; 2; 8; 3; 7

When the lights went out, Jim could be found exactly where he was. Like he was just too used to this. Like he just didn't care anymore. [Bring on the Apocalypse. Bring on the End. Let the world turn to pitch and die, a low flickering flame finally gone out.]

James lifts his light frame too easily, and the boy just goes along for the ride. He doesn't even offer to help carry himself along, placing the burden of his safety squarely on James' shoulders. Fingers wrap tighter around the boy, squeezing and pulling.

From overhead, a red beams cuts the night. Sweeps across the urban floor until it touches James.

This is about the time that James will begin to feel the arm in his grip slipping - a liquid substance creeping between his hands and Jim's arm. Blood. And a barely audible gasp for air from the near-corpse hanging off his arm. These are the images and thoughts that run through James's head right before a silenced projectile penetrates his right-shoulder. And he was so close to dodging that red dot too.

james stamina: 4D10 Dice Roll 9; 9; 6; 8 - bruised

(james)
hm.... liquid making that grip awful slippery
(blood... coppery tangy scent sharp in a predator's nostrils)
and the projectile. penentrating. his right. shoulder. really makes it suck.
(blood... something short circuits when its the predator's own)
snarl coming out of the raggedyman anything but the human he resembles

that's it

near-corpse is still in his grip and.... yes... seems to be breathing. barely.
James is hauling it towards, of all places, the middle of the street
back alley light's gone but the oblique shine of sliver moon's still enough
"Dunn give up on me nah, kid."
(Don't give up on me now, Eagle, lend me your strength)
spiked nail projecting out from the pipe's head leveraged against a manhole cover
Fostern's totem granted strength making little work of moving the heavy grate
enter two Gnawers the underground tunnels
(Shoot me through asphalt, motherfucker)

dex+dodge: 5D10 Dice Roll: 8; 5; 9; 5; 6

(st)
There's a strangely familiar feeling to being shot. The feel of hot seering metal breaking through your skin and coming out the other end - or lodging itself somewhere in your innards - is too hard to forget. In hindsight, James will realize this felt a little different. He never felt the bullet break out the other end of his body like it should have, or even break all the way into his skin. It stopped at the surface. Later still, when examining his wound he might be shocked to see he wasn't even hit by a bullet - but there was a small puncture wound in his skin where he felt the 'bullet' hit.

James isn't thinking about any of this right now. James is trying to dodge the beam of red light so intent on shooting him again. A spark flies off the asphalt where his left foot just was - a shot barely missing its target. The exposed moon offers James a shred of light to see by. His companion is barely conscious, definitely immobile. Half his face and neck is missing, replaced by three long and thick slashes that have removed an entire eye, most of his nose, and cut a hole through his throat. He's breathing through a wound in his neck - that's the wheezing sound you hear. The manhole cover flies off, as two more beams manifest. Slicing through the air. Enter two Garou into Chicago's underlair, as three simultaneous shots go off. ClankClankClank against the street and interior of the sewer from above.

{forced pause... again.... assumed jim passes out and they're on their way to next stop and chapter 12]

Posted by james at August 10, 2004 12:00 AM