1. have a half-snake teenage mutant with a broken sarcasm meter?coldslithrMay 11 2013, 20:40:37 UTC
The first thing Charlie's aware of when he comes to is the warm, wet air around him. The warmth isn't a problem--better warm than cold, he'd rather not trust that he's still warm-blooded enough to survive winter--but the damp...his mom would never let the humidity get that high. Makes his scales itch. And what's with the background noise? Did Bones leave one of his nature videos on again...?
Rolling over, all fifteen feet and change of him hit what is definitely not his bedroom floor. Dirt and leaves and freaking huge trees. Oh my. "What the hell...?" he wonders out loud, his eyes taking in the scenery, and spotting what looks like a body close by.
Even after going on the run, David was not exactly roughing it. So it should come as no surprise that the first thing that registers in his brain is the damp, earthy ground his face is currently lying in. Seeing as how he had gone to sleep in a motel bed, this is enough to wake David up at once.
Sitting up, all five feet and seven inches of him, the first thing he takes in are the trees. The huge, overgrown, definitely-not-from-home trees. Brushing aside something crawling up his arm, David turns in time to see what has to be the largest snake in the world. Larger than the largest anaconda. And then, as he incredulously follows the enormous creature's body, he sees that it's got a torso instead of a head. A human torso. With a human head.
The body stirs, makes a brief noise, and sits up, showing a blonde head with a face Charlie's never seen before in his life. Not surprising. He doesn't exactly get out much these days, what with the whole making people scream and run in terror thing. And as the kid's eyes widen, he's expecting more of that, really--which is why the words that actually come out of the kid's mouth are a surprise. Slowly, Charlie stands, or what passes for the motion these days, hitting about six feet tall before brushing dirt and leaves off a well-worn G.I. Joe t-shirt.
"A Charlie, actually, but points for a well-rounded vocabulary," he offers, voice dry. "Who're you?"
Hi stranger! #4 if you don't mind notalittlefairyMay 11 2013, 20:00:48 UTC
[RNG thinks someone should be hurt, b/c RNG is sadistic, and I'ma make it Josh, b/c if it was Danny it would be too easy for Josh to just toss him over a shoulder and go ;)]
Josh sits with his back braced against a tree, face pale and left arm pulled tight across his chest as he tries really hard not to think about the bloody, broken branch protruding from his bicep. "So... sliding down that bank probably wasn't the best idea ever, huh?" Even if it had been the only decent chance at evading pursuit at the time. He gives Danny an anemic smile and checks reflexively to make sure he hasn't lost his gun. "Least it's not my shooting hand, right?"
Apparently the old saying is true - the bigger they are, the harder they fall. They'd both come skidding down the bank at about the same speed, with about the same desperate disregard for personal injury; but being around half the size and weight, Danny hadn't landed nearly as hard. He's managed to get away with nothing worse than skinned palms and a few new cuts and bruises. But Josh...shit. This is the last thing they need right now.
Danny takes a moment to assess their surroundings before crouching to look over the injury. He's no medic, but he has more than a passing acquaintance with the many and varied ways a person can fuck themselves up, and this is a bad one. Even if they do manage to get Josh moving again, the scent of blood is going to make it all but impossible to evade those fucking alien dog-things. Shit"That's gonna need to come out," he says, eyes flicking from the wound to Josh's chalk-pale face and back. It'll probably come out easy enough if he snaps the excess off, and there's enough of his overshirt left to serve
( ... )
Josh holds as still and quiet as he can as he waits on Danny, biting back the urge to whimper in pain. God, he can't believe he was that stupid, or maybe just unlucky. Doesn't really matter, though, because either way he's pretty much fucked. His arm is slicked with blood, dripping off his elbows and mixing with the mud and sweat on his skin, and it's soaking into his tank top in a spreading patch. He's light-headed and dizzy, and he's not sure how much of it is from that and how much is from the pain, because fuck it hurts.
"Gonna have to, aren't I?" His voice is thin but he's determined, because screaming will just bring their pursuers down on them that much faster, and he figures he can manage just about anything he has to if it means hopefully not dying. He looks for a moment around until he spots a piece of wood that looks about the right size. "Pass me that?" He starts to gesture with his uninjured arm, but even that jostles him enough to pull a gasp from him and he nods toward it instead. "I can chew on it to keep my mouth
( ... )
RNG says 3. Also hello! :DscarecrowhitmanMay 13 2013, 04:44:58 UTC
Crow has been trudging in happy silence for the last two hours, rationing cigarettes, rifle tucked under his arm and ready to go in case of danger. He never had been much of a talker, and stress had the effect of shutting him up entirely into his head to think and plan and calculate - at least until a given point.
That given point, today, was the sudden and unexpected explosion of barking and howling somewhere a little too close for comfort, especially with the sun setting as it was. The setting sun had been worrisome enough, christ. He'd spent the last forty-five minutes trying to figure out what to do about that. He had not factored this in.
Crow stops in his tracks, eyes narrowing, and looks over at Nick. "...Those sound like any coyotes you've heard before?"
Nick has been alternating between holding his rifle at the ready and letting it hang by it's strap as he fiddles with the communications gear he carries. He's long past trying to raise their own backup and is simply trying to get an answer from anyone as they trudge through this fucking never-ending jungle. He hasn't gotten anything but static in hours, though, and it's more stubborn habit than any expectation of success that has him letting his rifle hang as he starts again.
He stops in his tracks barely a beat behind Crow, though, at the sound of the wild barking and howling, and lets the comm hang as he grabs his rifle again. "Not even fucking close," he answers, scowling back at the other man. "Think we'd better pick up the pace and try to find someplace defensible to hole up." Which, yeah, easier said than done given there don't seem to be any convenient caves or anything but, yeah, trees and vines and mud. Lots and lots of all of those.
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Rolling over, all fifteen feet and change of him hit what is definitely not his bedroom floor. Dirt and leaves and freaking huge trees. Oh my. "What the hell...?" he wonders out loud, his eyes taking in the scenery, and spotting what looks like a body close by.
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Sitting up, all five feet and seven inches of him, the first thing he takes in are the trees. The huge, overgrown, definitely-not-from-home trees. Brushing aside something crawling up his arm, David turns in time to see what has to be the largest snake in the world. Larger than the largest anaconda. And then, as he incredulously follows the enormous creature's body, he sees that it's got a torso instead of a head. A human torso. With a human head.
"A naga?" he blurts incredulously.
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"A Charlie, actually, but points for a well-rounded vocabulary," he offers, voice dry. "Who're you?"
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Josh sits with his back braced against a tree, face pale and left arm pulled tight across his chest as he tries really hard not to think about the bloody, broken branch protruding from his bicep. "So... sliding down that bank probably wasn't the best idea ever, huh?" Even if it had been the only decent chance at evading pursuit at the time. He gives Danny an anemic smile and checks reflexively to make sure he hasn't lost his gun. "Least it's not my shooting hand, right?"
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Danny takes a moment to assess their surroundings before crouching to look over the injury. He's no medic, but he has more than a passing acquaintance with the many and varied ways a person can fuck themselves up, and this is a bad one. Even if they do manage to get Josh moving again, the scent of blood is going to make it all but impossible to evade those fucking alien dog-things. Shit"That's gonna need to come out," he says, eyes flicking from the wound to Josh's chalk-pale face and back. It'll probably come out easy enough if he snaps the excess off, and there's enough of his overshirt left to serve ( ... )
Reply
"Gonna have to, aren't I?" His voice is thin but he's determined, because screaming will just bring their pursuers down on them that much faster, and he figures he can manage just about anything he has to if it means hopefully not dying. He looks for a moment around until he spots a piece of wood that looks about the right size. "Pass me that?" He starts to gesture with his uninjured arm, but even that jostles him enough to pull a gasp from him and he nods toward it instead. "I can chew on it to keep my mouth ( ... )
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That given point, today, was the sudden and unexpected explosion of barking and howling somewhere a little too close for comfort, especially with the sun setting as it was. The setting sun had been worrisome enough, christ. He'd spent the last forty-five minutes trying to figure out what to do about that. He had not factored this in.
Crow stops in his tracks, eyes narrowing, and looks over at Nick. "...Those sound like any coyotes you've heard before?"
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He stops in his tracks barely a beat behind Crow, though, at the sound of the wild barking and howling, and lets the comm hang as he grabs his rifle again. "Not even fucking close," he answers, scowling back at the other man. "Think we'd better pick up the pace and try to find someplace defensible to hole up." Which, yeah, easier said than done given there don't seem to be any convenient caves or anything but, yeah, trees and vines and mud. Lots and lots of all of those.
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