Week 14, Day 1-> Day 2; dream
[You wake up in a strange place. It's a jungle, green and lush and warm and humid. There are a few other people here besides you, and you run into them within minutes of your awakening. You stick together and look around. Try to find a street, a path, anything. But it really is a jungle, and you're in the middle of nowhere and none of this makes any damn sense. It makes even less sense once you come to a river, and spot a herd of dinosaurs peacefully having a drink over at the other bank.
None of you worries about making sense anymore when half a day later, hungry and exhausted, you encounter another bunch of dinosaurs. Between your frantic running, screams of death and the sounds of breaking bone and tearing flesh, you learn to appreciate being at the top of the food-chain, even if none of this occurs to you once you're being torn limb from limb. Struggle as you may.
((But you woke up from that.))
You're in New York. There's a riot in the streets and you know exactly why, you saw the money thrown out the windows and the hastily thrown together army of supporters of a self-proclaimed god were ever so quick to turn on each other in their own greed. But as you're on your way back to your safe haven, you hear a hiss behind you. The content feeling drops clear out of your gut as you start running, but out of the corner of your eye you can see the creature, pitch black body and glowing yellow eyes as it trades swimming through the panicking crowd in for running along the wall. It's catching up, and quick. You turn down a back alley, try to lose it, turn another corner but it's there, hissing, sneering, and you fire your gun at it-
It staggers back, and snarls in pain, but ultimately swings its claws at you, a gash appears in your arm and it stings but that's not the end of it. You only have so many bullets. Before you know it you're bleeding everywhere, and the creature pins you down on the ground, leering at you as its claws poise to strike at your chest. Straight for the heart. And you feel it, somehow, even if by all reasoning you should have blacked out from the pain, but you didn't, and you scream as you feel it tear the core of your being from your body.
((...Ah, wait, was that how it went?))
There's a zombie outbreak. It's not just on your world, it's half across the multiverse from what you heard, and you pull all available strings to get a hold of ammunition and supplies. Holing up on the top of an abandoned building isn't a bad idea, the weather is nice and you can easily set everything up. It's perfect. You've called Matt and he's on his way, and while you're setting up the energy supply for his laptop you check on the community to see who else is surviving out there. You sit down with the sniper rifle when you hear he's closing in, clearing his path, picking off the undead one by one. There's a stash of both cigarettes and chocolate next to the food and water that should last you for at least a week without having to move an inch. If all else fails, you know you can leave on a moment's notice. Matt manages upstairs, spraid with blood and guts and brains, but alive, and who cares about the rest of the world, you're gonna survive this thing together.
Except you don't. A day later, Matt's developing a fever. He says he's not feeling well. It doesn't occur to you until a day later to ask him if he got here without problems. Check him for injuries. A festering bitemark on his ankle, and not even God knows how those teeth got through his boots at all, but that changes nothing. By the end of the day, he's either complaining he's hungry, or asking you to shoot him, or crying that he doesn't want to die.
But you can't.
No matter your pragmatism, you can't.
And so by nightfall, when you've seen the light in his eyes go out and he's coming at you like the mindless thing he's become, you whisper a silent apology and put the gun to your own head. "I'm sorry. I can't-" But the thought is drowned out by the gunshot.
((No, wait. that's not it either.))
You've taken a dare. A Goddess's dare, and she chose you for the role of the hero in her little game. You are to defeat an Efreet, she says, and I will grant you the power to do so. But you know her better than taking her word alone, you put the powers to the test. Sure enough, she likened you to Achilles, and you find the catch quickly. So you go to face the Efreet.
He makes an imposing figure, you think, when you find him. All wrapped up in flames, but with his eyes still the dark, blood-like red they normally are. The feathers stayed, too, oddly fireproof, one more thing to tip you off on who he is. And it goes well. You have muscle memory that you never had before, never could have had, you draw the Prussian saber you've taken to carrying and set out to slay the dragon that isn't one. You fight, and you think you have the upper hand, but the next moment you feel his fire engulf you, and feel it burn you to the bone- you scream until he's turned you to ash.
((Is that... how it went? Really?))
You open your eyes. Your back is against the metal fence near the roller coaster. The concrete in front of you is still wet, the surroundings dark for daytime. Abandoned. Silent. But you know there might be someone out there with your picture, and with every intention to kill you. You remember the tinny, cheerful voice from the PSA. If you fail to kill your assigned target, your entire world is in jeopardy. You know the kind of motivation that can be, because you've already acted upon it yourself. It put you past gratitude, past mercy, past caring for anything. You don't expect it to be any different for the others.
Two and a half days have passed. This is the third day. You only have to survive until nightfall. But lack of food and rest has made you jittery, and you struggle to keep your eyes open and focused. Then suddenly there's movement behind a trashcan across the square. It takes you two tries to spot the girl crouching there, despite the vibrant colors of her clothing. You bolt, and to your quiet horror, she sprints after you. You've found your hunter. And she's fast. As fast as you. Several minutes of running later, your breath burning in your lungs you realize you can't lose her like this. So you make a sharp turn and take aim, but you didn't see that she had a sword and you're standing too close to the corner to make it a point blank shot and before you have the time to formulate another thought you're surprised her swing didn't take your head off. You stagger. Drop your gun. Clutch your throat, but it's useless, useless the gash is too deep and you've already fallen to the ground. You see the red spilling around you, but everything is going so dark, darker, and with the realization of failure you finally lose conciousness.]
--
[Mello wakes up with a shaky breath, sitting up halfway and one hand instantly at his throat at the memory, the lingering feeling. Then he sinks back down, completely unaware that the Hitomi broadcast it for everyone to see.]
((ooc: Have some hints to what happened to Mello in game canon, guys! Only one of these situations actually ended as badly as they did in the nightmare. Feel free to prod him about it though. Also, bonus points if any of the KHR people spot Xanxus, despite me being vague as anything.))
None of you worries about making sense anymore when half a day later, hungry and exhausted, you encounter another bunch of dinosaurs. Between your frantic running, screams of death and the sounds of breaking bone and tearing flesh, you learn to appreciate being at the top of the food-chain, even if none of this occurs to you once you're being torn limb from limb. Struggle as you may.
((But you woke up from that.))
You're in New York. There's a riot in the streets and you know exactly why, you saw the money thrown out the windows and the hastily thrown together army of supporters of a self-proclaimed god were ever so quick to turn on each other in their own greed. But as you're on your way back to your safe haven, you hear a hiss behind you. The content feeling drops clear out of your gut as you start running, but out of the corner of your eye you can see the creature, pitch black body and glowing yellow eyes as it trades swimming through the panicking crowd in for running along the wall. It's catching up, and quick. You turn down a back alley, try to lose it, turn another corner but it's there, hissing, sneering, and you fire your gun at it-
It staggers back, and snarls in pain, but ultimately swings its claws at you, a gash appears in your arm and it stings but that's not the end of it. You only have so many bullets. Before you know it you're bleeding everywhere, and the creature pins you down on the ground, leering at you as its claws poise to strike at your chest. Straight for the heart. And you feel it, somehow, even if by all reasoning you should have blacked out from the pain, but you didn't, and you scream as you feel it tear the core of your being from your body.
((...Ah, wait, was that how it went?))
There's a zombie outbreak. It's not just on your world, it's half across the multiverse from what you heard, and you pull all available strings to get a hold of ammunition and supplies. Holing up on the top of an abandoned building isn't a bad idea, the weather is nice and you can easily set everything up. It's perfect. You've called Matt and he's on his way, and while you're setting up the energy supply for his laptop you check on the community to see who else is surviving out there. You sit down with the sniper rifle when you hear he's closing in, clearing his path, picking off the undead one by one. There's a stash of both cigarettes and chocolate next to the food and water that should last you for at least a week without having to move an inch. If all else fails, you know you can leave on a moment's notice. Matt manages upstairs, spraid with blood and guts and brains, but alive, and who cares about the rest of the world, you're gonna survive this thing together.
Except you don't. A day later, Matt's developing a fever. He says he's not feeling well. It doesn't occur to you until a day later to ask him if he got here without problems. Check him for injuries. A festering bitemark on his ankle, and not even God knows how those teeth got through his boots at all, but that changes nothing. By the end of the day, he's either complaining he's hungry, or asking you to shoot him, or crying that he doesn't want to die.
But you can't.
No matter your pragmatism, you can't.
And so by nightfall, when you've seen the light in his eyes go out and he's coming at you like the mindless thing he's become, you whisper a silent apology and put the gun to your own head. "I'm sorry. I can't-" But the thought is drowned out by the gunshot.
((No, wait. that's not it either.))
You've taken a dare. A Goddess's dare, and she chose you for the role of the hero in her little game. You are to defeat an Efreet, she says, and I will grant you the power to do so. But you know her better than taking her word alone, you put the powers to the test. Sure enough, she likened you to Achilles, and you find the catch quickly. So you go to face the Efreet.
He makes an imposing figure, you think, when you find him. All wrapped up in flames, but with his eyes still the dark, blood-like red they normally are. The feathers stayed, too, oddly fireproof, one more thing to tip you off on who he is. And it goes well. You have muscle memory that you never had before, never could have had, you draw the Prussian saber you've taken to carrying and set out to slay the dragon that isn't one. You fight, and you think you have the upper hand, but the next moment you feel his fire engulf you, and feel it burn you to the bone- you scream until he's turned you to ash.
((Is that... how it went? Really?))
You open your eyes. Your back is against the metal fence near the roller coaster. The concrete in front of you is still wet, the surroundings dark for daytime. Abandoned. Silent. But you know there might be someone out there with your picture, and with every intention to kill you. You remember the tinny, cheerful voice from the PSA. If you fail to kill your assigned target, your entire world is in jeopardy. You know the kind of motivation that can be, because you've already acted upon it yourself. It put you past gratitude, past mercy, past caring for anything. You don't expect it to be any different for the others.
Two and a half days have passed. This is the third day. You only have to survive until nightfall. But lack of food and rest has made you jittery, and you struggle to keep your eyes open and focused. Then suddenly there's movement behind a trashcan across the square. It takes you two tries to spot the girl crouching there, despite the vibrant colors of her clothing. You bolt, and to your quiet horror, she sprints after you. You've found your hunter. And she's fast. As fast as you. Several minutes of running later, your breath burning in your lungs you realize you can't lose her like this. So you make a sharp turn and take aim, but you didn't see that she had a sword and you're standing too close to the corner to make it a point blank shot and before you have the time to formulate another thought you're surprised her swing didn't take your head off. You stagger. Drop your gun. Clutch your throat, but it's useless, useless the gash is too deep and you've already fallen to the ground. You see the red spilling around you, but everything is going so dark, darker, and with the realization of failure you finally lose conciousness.]
--
[Mello wakes up with a shaky breath, sitting up halfway and one hand instantly at his throat at the memory, the lingering feeling. Then he sinks back down, completely unaware that the Hitomi broadcast it for everyone to see.]
((ooc: Have some hints to what happened to Mello in game canon, guys! Only one of these situations actually ended as badly as they did in the nightmare. Feel free to prod him about it though. Also, bonus points if any of the KHR people spot Xanxus, despite me being vague as anything.))