(no subject)
I'm wandering around New York, taking in the sights, that sort of thing. It's a cloudy afternoon, but otherwise, I'm having fun. Suddenly, off in the distance, there's an explosion. Something rockets up into the sky before exploding, sending debris everywhere. Some of it lands over the area where I am, but rather than metal and concrete, it's a strange substance that lands with a splat. Looking at it, it's a weird meaty-looking kind of slime, a squishy, shiny pink lump. People start prodding it, wiping bits of it off themselves, talking about how they had such a scare. That's about when the screaming starts. The slime starts reacting violently, growing tentacles to attack people, burning the people it landed on. As the slime attacks people, it grows. Pretty soon, the street is swarming with slime as it throws cars and busses around. People are snatched up and devoured whole as the street erupts into chaos.
I'm pulled along with a crowd as everyone tries to flee from the horror behind. Every so often, I catch a glimpse of some new nightmare: a car bombing down the streat, covered in barbed flails swiping at passers by, a domed building now a swarm of teeth, tentacles and eyes. The streets and buildings behind me are covered in the matter as more and more people are absorbed into its mass. I manage to get out of the stampede and into a side alleyway where a small group of people is catching their breath. I end up following them as they look for a place to escape to, but no matter where we go, the mass is already there. We find ourselves cornered and duck into a building. Barricading ourselves in a room, we try futilely to block up all the gaps to keep the slime out, but to no avail. As the others are dragged off and absorbed by the mass, the last thing I see is huge tendril about to slam into my face.
When I awaken, I'm the only one left. The others are gone, but somehow, I'm still alive. As I look around, I notice the slime reacts to me, retreating from wherever I stand. I trace patterns in the wall with my finger and watch it pull away from me. Somehow, I'm not just immune to it, I'm anathema. As I step outside, the only sound and movement comes from the meaty slime, gently squirming and reshaping itself in the now bright sunlight. I find a police radio nearby and try to contact anyone I can. The line stays dead. Looking around, I pick a vague direction and head that way, looking for any signs of life I can recognise.
Yeah. Don't say you weren't warned.