For the slightest moment, you’ve forgotten everything.
You don’t remember who you are or what happened to you, but soon enough, everything comes rushing back. It’s disorienting, but you stand up to your feet anyway. The floors were polished, sleek and reflected light without a single scratch. The walls were without fingerprints. The lights above you all shined equally, none flickering. The room was flawless, perfect. Yet at the same time, it was empty, barren.
You’ve never been here before, but you know what being here means. You would’ve prefered this didn’t happen. It means that you’ve failed, and failure is not an option.
As if on cue, a tremor shook the room. The lights flicker, the walls crumble, and the floor begins to crack under your feet. There are no doors for you to escape, and now, the room cannot hold itself up any longer.
The floor collapses, and the only thing you feel is the sensation of falling.
You find yourself in the room below the one from before, but there was nothing to signify that anything from before happened, save for the massive hole in the ceiling. You weren’t harmed, there was no rubble around you. Instead, what was around you were scattered bullet shells and the outlines of bodies drawn in chalk. Over to one side of the room, there’s an elevator. Beside it, there was a keypad and a plaque with a simple command.
“ Count the dead. ”
You looked back at the body outlines. There were seventeen in all, but that was not the answer you punched in. Instead, you pressed the number zero. No one had died, as there was no blood. All of it returned to their respective owners. When the elevator opened, you stepped in, and let it descend, lower and lower. You look out the window, and you see that the sky is dark and cloudy. You look down, and the tower you’re in seems to go on forever with no bottom in sight.
The lights flicker again, the elevator shakes and trembles to a sudden stop, and though the door didn’t open, you’re not alone anymore. You whipped around and reached for your gun, but you had none on you. When you look up to see the intruder, you see yourself. You see pain and anguish on her face. She’s saying something, but what you hear is indecipherable, and it leaves you with a pounding headache. Yet you feel what she feels; the confusion, the frustration. All you know is fighting. You cannot love, nor be loved. The lights flicker again, and you don’t see her anymore, but you still feel her presence.
Then, the elevator drops into free fall.
The wind roars around you, the metal structure of the elevator breaks apart and the tower that you were once standing in has disappeared. It is only you now, surrounded in in clouds and falling with nothing to save you. You look down, and you see the black pavement, rapidly approaching. You close your eyes, bracing for impact.
SO GOOD. YOU WRITE DEEMO SO ADORABLE WHILE HINTING AT THE UNDERLYING MYSTERY BEHIND HIM. I WANTED TO KNOW EVERYTHING. now i know and im weeping. (pats cheeks)
GO in SOUL (Vs. Hive City Horror) [6-Person Group Thread]
After some more alcohol, a lot more food, and a soaking or two, Azrael looked up at the conveniently placed clock at the beach’s food stand and cracked a rather twisted smile.
It was time.
As Azrael stood up from his seat and paid for his food, he cranked his shoulders back and forth to prep himself. He wasn’t exactly in the best shape with his strength cut and without access to The Terror or Growler Field, but luckily he was going to have backup. Heading to the rendezvous point he indicated earlier, he wondered just what kind of big, tough brawlers he’d have handy to- oh dear god.
Why were there only a bunch of teenagers here? Where were all the fighters?
「You kids gotta be shitting me. You realize we’re fighting a goddamn sea monster, right?」Something told Azrael that yes, in fact, they did, but that only exasperated the Mad Dog further. He wished he could test these kids to see if they could handle it, but time was short. They’d have to do. But man, did he ever hope that they were competent in a fight, or else this was... gonna be some shit, to put it mildly.
That, and he’s really not in the mood to deal with leading five kids to their deaths.
「Alright, whatever. You all know what we’re doing, so I’m not gonna deal with this. Before we go, I don’t have a damn clue who any of you people are. So, intro time before we get a boat and head out to kill that damn thing.」God, getting that Hive City Horror back was gonna suck with a bunch of teenagers around. Hopefully he could swim back with it.
「Right. We’ll start with... you.」Azrael pointed at the girl to the farthest left, then dragged his hand along to the right.「Gonna just go left to right with these. Makes it easier.」
❝Excuse me...!❞ Jason jogs to draw level with the person, glancing at them. ❝Sorry to bug you, but you’ve got like six sand crabs hitching a ride on your back. I thought you’d wanna know. Probably wouldn’t be so good to bring ‘em into your house or something.❞ A pause. ❝Unless you want them there.❞
Funny how no matter what he’s been through, and no matter how old he gets, he still manages to find times in his life that intimidate him, and leave him feeling particularly timid, and in need of a hand to hold to show him the way to go. Being thrust into an unfamiliar place under a rather alarming pretense, stripped of everything but some stupid toy sword that’s not even worthy of acting as fire kindling ...
How long has it been since the last time I actually wished Katsuya was here to tell me what to do, anyway ... ?
Deep breath. It’s okay. He can figure this out. He doesn’t need Katsuya here. Just have to keep Maya in mind ( let’s positive thinking, everyone! ), and he can do this. While he wouldn’t really categorize himself as lost, per se ... it would be a good place to start, right? Maybe there’s more waiting for him at the place the board directed him to? Even if it’d just be his zippo, he’d be fine with that ...
... he should ask someone where to go. Right. That’s the first step for someone who doesn’t know where they are. Orientate themselves, familiarize with the environment ... He can do that. Fidgeting with the sword between his hands, he picks a direction, and weaves his way through the crowds of people, eyes on the buildings. He might not have money, but a corner market or some little dining area would likely have someone who could assist him. ( ... and maybe someone who might let me borrow some money for something to eat. )
Restaurant it is.
The first thing that catches his attention is a little bakery - styled shop. The last thing he wanted most of the time was cake, or really anything sweet thanks to his brother, but ... it catches his attention if only due to the sense of familiarity that the smell brings with it. And so he plods inside, looks over the sparsely populated tables, and approaches a dark - haired girl, clearing his throat.
“ ... Uh, excuse me, sorry ... could I ask you where exactly ... this is? ”
Burnt cigarette one hand, BB gun in another--he exhales a cloud of smoke into the sizzling summer breeze before dropping the cigarette into the ground, using the heel of his boot to stomp on it almost naturally. What a joke, he thinks, gaze set on the gun resting on his gloved digits. Safety had never really been much of a concern for Matt while he was alive in his world--he’s reckless, he’s carefree, he doesn’t care whether he’s putting his life at risk or not. Probably because he didn’t have much regard for his safety in the first place.
But being in the city has changed his outlook on life--he considered his arrival somewhat of a second chance, one that he would cherish and protect for as long as he had the privilege of staying there. He’s very aware of the laws of life and death in the city--he knows that if he dies, he’ll wake up a few hours later. That notion puts him at ease, yet not completely--he doesn’t want to experience death again. If he wants to protect himself from harm, he’d have to find a way to get a better weapon. He’s wary now, BB gun always close to his grip. Any blaring sound is enough to make him alert--his mind is vigilant to his surroundings now, scanning the ambience carefully. Beneath the exterior of a seemingly carefree individual lies someone who has experienced the sheer terror and excrutiating pain of death, someone who will not subject himself to the same experience again.
He wishes he could immerse himself in his previous lifestyle--isolated from the world, withdrawn from society, without a single care in the world. But sadly he is unable to do so here. He’s currently sharing his apartment with two other people whose names he hasn’t bothered to ask for. He doesn’t do people--he can’t do people. He’s never been a social butterfly. He’ll ask for your name, how long you’ve been here and maybe bargain for a cigarette or two. That’s the most you’ll get out of him. Information is the most valuable asset. Perhaps even more valuable and useful than that somewhat pathetic excuse for a gun that he currently names his ‘weapon’. But to gain more information, he needs to break the barrier that he puts between him and other people. He needs to form bonds. Maybe it’d make his life here more enjoyable.
His mind is still lost in thoughts--he needs to know how he can upgrade his weapon. He’s only been here two weeks--he knows he can’t expect much. He’s not entitled to. He’s just a nobody after all. He hasn’t managed to gather much in that aspect, so it’s time to get to work. He’s not one to approach people mindlessly to strike up friendly conversations--despite not necessarily being mean spirited, he prefers solitude above anything else. He sees a young girl from a distance through his amber tinted goggles--frigid and collected demeanor, probably knows what she’s doing. He approaches her, mustering a smile and maintaining his usual collected and laidback stance, hoping not to come across as threatening. He knows his looks and fashion sense can...weird out others, to say the least.
“ Sorry to bother you, but mind helping a dude out? “
