70. [DREAM/DREAM/DREAM/DREAM]

[foolishwren]

[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

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[show_my_cannons]

[Ironhide has gotten sick of roaming this weird landscape. It's annoying, and as much as he likes being himself again, he would much rather stop feeling like he's hallucinating every five minutes.]

[The door is new.]

[He could turn around and walk away, but... having neither blood nor flesh at the moment, what does he have to fear?]

Out of my way.

[The five-ton Autobot snorts, and shoves the door aside, stepping through it with cannons powered and ready.]

[foolishwren]

[There's little that a moldering door-- even a heavy one-- can do in the face of just being straight-up smashed.]

[The wood splinters under the force of Ironhide's push and the door even wrenches off of its frame partially, hanging askew as he steps through... and onto a floor of rusty metal grating that strains and groans under his incredible weight like an old man trying to pick up a boulder. It doesn't buckle, though... but it sinks dangerously in spots, enough to indicate that if he doesn't want to put a foot through the clearly-ancient grating and potentially disappear into the blackness below, it would do him well to walk carefully

[show_my_cannons]

[He was fully determined to march forward through the doorway, and keep stomping his way through whatever was on the other side... but stops. Ironhide may be bull-headed, and may very well launch himself forward without thinking half the time. But even he doesn't want to fall through a metal grate into darkness.]

... Hmnf.

[His scanners come to life, combing the immediate area. But their radius seems dimmed, shortened. Ironhide shakes his head. Must have jammed something.]

[The big Autobot moves slowly, eying his surroundings with his good optic. In a way, he's reminded of the dying days of Cybertron. The rusted metal, the vast emptiness where there should have been life. With another grunt, he kicks at one of the trashcans, out of some odd sort of spite. Stupid world... mocking him.]

[And then he stops -- the low sounds catching his attention before the other unknown noises join in. He draws himself up, bringing his cannons online with a shake of his arms.]

Had enough of this. Show yourself! Get out here!

[... so

[foolishwren]

[The trashcan goes flying with a satisfying clank, soaring an impressive distance and then clattering out of sight once it meets the grated floor of the themepark once more. On its way there, something head-sized and plush-pink falls from it along with a small cascade of garbage, landing with a solid thump and rolling a short distance

[hintcoinplz]

[He should've known opening that door was a bad idea. It was better to have stayed in the dreams of others where he was safe, where he didn't have to think about his parents dying or London being reduced to rubble.

But his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and the only thing he could do is keep going forward. So he carefully opens the door.]

[foolishwren]

[Curiosity killed the cat, Luke...]

[A gust of cold, wet air is what greets him as he opens the door, which is heavy and stubborn, but not impossible to move. Beyond it, there's an alleyway. The pavement is damp and strewn with puddles and garbage... old bottles, soggy newspaper... there's a few garbage bins around, and the brick walls are coated with graffiti.]

[There's a splash of rain in the atmosphere and wisps of steamy fog hover around the ground-- a streetlight's glow peeps from around the corner, but otherwise, it's fairly dark...]

[Not to mention, that light has a strange quality about it...]

[hintcoinplz]

[The alleyway was eerie enough, but maybe if he proceeded he could find his way out of...wherever he was. In any case, he was here now and the only thing he could do was go forward.

So that's what he does, stepping through puddles of rain and trying to navigate through the darkness and fog.]

[foolishwren]

[Onwards, young explorer! ... After all, it's not like he can do much else... when the door drifts shut again behind him, it's gone. Nothing but a brick wall.]

[The alley is narrow and winding, but growing broader as it presumably gets closer to the street beyond-- maybe once he gets there, he'll be able to figure out where he is. At least the light's getting brighter.]

[... But then, as he nears the mouth of the alley, there's a loud, clamoring CRASH, shattering the relative quiet. A trash can rolls into view, its contents tumbling out of it wetly with moist plops. ... Almost like organs. They may in fact BE organs...]

[Something must have knocked it over... but what?]

[useddeathbound]

[[He doesn't like the look or the smell of the door, but all around him there's simply darkness, now. So where else is there to go? He's no longer carrying his axe. Castor isn't here. His evoker isn't there.

But what does he have to lose?

Shinji opens the door, cautious, and steps in to take a look around.]]

[foolishwren]

[The first thing that will hit Shinji's eyes is somewhat reminiscent of what one sees when they look straight at the sun with closed eyes. Veins-- or something like veins-- crawling up and down the walls, which are red like flesh.]

[It's not immediately obvious what kind of place he's just stepped into... only that the hallways are somehow organic. Moist, sickeningly warm, and... pulsating. Somehow.]

[Either he's wandering through a giant body, or-- ... well he's wandering around in a symbolic giant body. Something like that.]

[useddeathbound]

[The way the floor gives, soft and wet under his boots makes him sick to his stomach, and he stays away from the walls altogether, not really wanting to explore how those large, pulsating veins feel or how they look up close. He really just wants out of here.

Whose dream is this, anyway? Who'd wind up with something as messed up as this?]

[foolishwren]

[That's a pretty good question there, Shinji...]

[Goopy strands of the floor stick to his feet and trail as he walks. All around, there's an incessant writhing sound... not the dull, steady thud of a heartbeat like one might expect inside... someplace like this. Instead, it's more like the noise of maggots squirming through flesh, en masse. Maybe that's what those veins really are...]

[The 'hallway' widens as he travels down it, at least... and starts to dry out. ... Or at least not be quite as squelchy. Eventually he'll arrive at a junction. with two doors. ... The doors, at least, don't look organic...]

[northerncrosses]

[ sheryl's always had good intuition when it comes to things that doesn't seem normal. for example, that door she's been staring at for quite some time now.

but having gone through several different dreams -- one, even, where she almost (just almost!) drowned in a sea of stuffed animals -- this one should have been less strange. the stench and the sounds behind it is familiar enough for someone who had lived all her life on galaxy; metal and industry and progress. except for that note written on it, one that is enough to send a cold shiver down her spine.

still, it's a way out, something she'd been searching for a while now since she's entered this place. ]

It's just a door. There's nothing to be afraid of it.

[foolishwren]

[It's never the door that's the danger. It's whatever's behind it.]

[Which, in Sheryl's case, is drifting fog. The place she'll be stepping into should she choose to open the door, is a town. Or a town center, rather-- it's a quaint, New England-style place. It's a place that should be bustling with tourists, even on a gray, foggy day like it is.]

[But there's not hide nor hair of anybody... just a foggy town center, with all its little cafes and mom-and-pop shops closed, dark-windowed. The pavement of the roads that sprawl out in all directions from the little square is all cracked, and there's old garbage strewn everywhere. A few cars are sitting around, but they're covered in rust... like they've been there for years.]

[But hey, there's streets, and where there's streets, there's paths to take...]

[northerncrosses]

[ another unfamiliar place.

sheryl sighs loudly, holding a hand to her head. this is simply getting out of hand, always finding herself in different dreams one after the other. this one, however, she doesn't like the look of. in fact, several warning bells are already ringing in her head, telling her to just stop and turn around.

she looks around, noting the lack of people -- or any kind of life actually -- around, adding to the eeriness of the place. and the fog itself isn't helping either. quelling the rising apprehension inside her chest, she takes a step then another, her heels clicking against concrete.

pausing near the opening of one of the streets . . . ]

Hello? [ she calls out tentatively. just in case that someone answers her anyway. ]

[foolishwren]

[Her voice falls oddly flat against the silence... like the quiet itself is actively dampening any actual noises made, as though it were a mute in a trumpet. The same goes for her footfalls... the sound of them meeting the asphalt is deadened. There are no replies. Not even an echo.]

[... But there is a phone booth! Several, actually-- standing on the corner of the sidewalk, looking just as old and unused as everything else about this place...]

[Should Sheryl investigate, all she'll get from them is an endless dial tone. It would seem that they're out of order... but... should she turn to walk away, a piercing ring will shatter the silence in a way that not even her own voice had-- bouncing off the buildings with such resonance it's almost a little painful.]

[Yeah... one of the out-of-order phones is going off.]

That picture is so cool

[serpensrex]

[The Commander glanced at the door again. He knew he wasn’t going to like this. Nothing about the way that door looked made him think this was going to be a good idea.

But he didn’t really have a choice now, did he? Besides, he thought, it couldn’t be as bad as some of the other places he’d been to recently, could it? Mustering up what little courage he had, the Commander made up his mind and stepped through the door.]

Thanks, man!

[foolishwren]

[Nope. The door's not good news, not at all. But there's just nowhere else to go.]

[When the Commander steps through the door, it's into an old, dark hallway. There's a stale smell about it, like it hasn't been inhabited in a long, long time. Peeling paint and abandoned gurneys litter its edges ... and there's a horrible stench in the air.]

[It's not blood... or even that ransacked-pharmacy smell one might expect from a place that so obviously was a hospital (... or was once a hospital...) ... it's rot.]

[serpensrex]

[He sighed out of relief. This wasn’t as bad as he feared. Especially not compared to some of the other nightmarish places he’d been. No horrible looking islands, no floors littered with the dead, no giant robots about to end his life.

Not too bad. Aside from that horrible smell.]

Ugh, what died in here?

[He pushed forward, one hand clasped over his mouth, unsuccessfully trying to block out the smell. There had to be an exit around here somewhere.]

[foolishwren]

[A lot, Commander. A lot died in here. But you don't know that... yet.]

[Fortunately for him, the hallway is mostly unblocked, and there's door after door leading off of it.]

[The bad news? Most of them are locked.]

[The good news? The one at the very end of the hallway isn't.]

[... The badder news? ... It's the one the smell seems to be coming from. In fact, the closer he gets to where the hall ends, the more eye-wateringly foul the reek becomes. Not even his hand can fully block it out-- it's so strong he'll be able to taste it with every breath.]