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trans_92010-01-08 09:26 pm
daemonomicon.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92010-01-08 09:26 pm
Entry tags:
- !plot: at the mountains of madness,
- aang,
- aeneas,
- arha masaari,
- billy cranston,
- blin,
- dean winchester,
- erwin fischer,
- fletcher tringham,
- gauron,
- hellion,
- inara serra,
- jaime reyes,
- jamie mccrimmon,
- kang,
- katara,
- kaylee frye,
- kelly-087,
- leon s. kennedy,
- loren,
- luis sera,
- lyle norg,
- malcolm reynolds,
- plays-in-traffic,
- rhiow,
- russel tringham,
- scarlet witch,
- sensor,
- sir sparhawk,
- sokka,
- spaurh,
- spider-man,
- stature,
- steve burnside,
- surge,
- zelda and sheik
Sweet Dreams Are Made of These
Nighttime.
Or, at least, what passed for nighttime on the meatship.
A time when most of the crew was already fast asleep, dreaming away pleasantly throughout the night.
...Or, perhaps not. For you see, tonight, something particularly strange is happening.
Now it is not all that unusual for someone to have a nightmare, especially not on the ship.
Yet tonight, no one will sleep easily, for the Nightmare King deems it so.
Everyone's dreams will have a tinge of horror to them. Nothing so out of the ordinary to rouse one's suspicions, but at the same time, no one is left out.
Pleasant nightmares, meatship.
[ooc: And thus begins the start of the Nightmare King's spree of insanity. He's starting out subtle, of course. The nightmares won't be anything more than your run of the mill bad dream, but he is giving them to everyone. Posting in isn't mandatory, but if you want to have fun with your character's nightmare, go right ahead.]
Or, at least, what passed for nighttime on the meatship.
A time when most of the crew was already fast asleep, dreaming away pleasantly throughout the night.
...Or, perhaps not. For you see, tonight, something particularly strange is happening.
Now it is not all that unusual for someone to have a nightmare, especially not on the ship.
Yet tonight, no one will sleep easily, for the Nightmare King deems it so.
Everyone's dreams will have a tinge of horror to them. Nothing so out of the ordinary to rouse one's suspicions, but at the same time, no one is left out.
Pleasant nightmares, meatship.
[ooc: And thus begins the start of the Nightmare King's spree of insanity. He's starting out subtle, of course. The nightmares won't be anything more than your run of the mill bad dream, but he is giving them to everyone. Posting in isn't mandatory, but if you want to have fun with your character's nightmare, go right ahead.]
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Instead of just the GTFO team watching him, the entire crew is. They're behind the glass, trying to get to him, pounding on it, but it's soundproof and can't be broken. They can only watch.
Only now they're trying to escape from something, too. Far off in the distance, but slowly closing in is a ravening horde of undead. The twisted, naked forms of the people in podsleep. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children...
The innocents whose lives Jaime Reyes' mistake cost. They're staring too, across all that distance, as they close in, staring beyond their prey, through the glass, at him. Their cloudy eyes are somehow filled with judgment.
The crew is trapped on the other side of the glass with them, and Jaime knows, he knows his mistakes will cost more lives. He knows. The dead are waiting, they're waiting to let more dead join them, they're waiting for his mistakes.
He kneels on the floor in a blue and black jumpsuit, hands bound behind his back. In front of him, instead of the Negotiator, instead of Max Lord, instead of anyone else, there is a gun held to his head, but it's held by a retractable arm, attached to a great, glowing red eye, edged by sinister spikes of technology.
Hal9000.
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Paco stands behind the glass, just looking at him mournfully, the stump of his missing arm as visible as always.
"I thought I'd figured it all out. I thought--I thought I'd done it right."
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He's silent.
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And seeing it again leaves Jaime feeling like he did when he was first starting out, scared, alone, like he doesn't know what he's doing...
You failed them, Reyes. Do you wonder what he'd say to you, if he could?
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There's B5, still behind the field, the glass, his mouth moving, as he tries to tell him something important--just like before.
But as Jaime looks, he can hear him, just B5 and B5 alone.
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"Why did it have to be this way?" he asks, and his voice is filled with all the pain that he hadn't felt in those final moments. The wound in his chest and side is ugly, the metal blackened and peeled back as if by giant hands to expose torn and damaged circuitry that crackles with dying energy.
"Why didn't you predict that they might have had a weapon there, that they might try and kill us all? You could plan to avoid your own death, so why not mine?"
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"A plan didn't save my life. It was luck," says Jaime, avoiding his gaze. "Luck and quick-thinking."
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There's a flicker in the exposed circuitry, a crackle of connections burning out and, despite the glass between them, Jaime can smell the acrid reek of smoke and hear Brainy's hiss of pain perfectly.
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"I was trying to keep the others from getting pulled through. I--I didn't move fast enough."
His expression is pleading.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough."
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"No, you weren't," he says. "You were supposed to le-ead us, to make sure everyone was sa-a-afe." There's an all too familiar glitch creeping into his voice. "And you couldn't even do that.
"So I- I had to pay the price for your failure." He shoots Jaime a dark, angry look. "And all you can say is sorry?!"
He's on the ground now, only hanging on due to sheer determination. The damage is spreading even further as parts of his external armour fragment and fall away to reveal a dark emptiness filled with the dying flashes of circuits burning out. Brainy's voice is far from sounding even remotely human as he speaks for one last time.
"I'll never forgive you."
Then the last light burns out and he's gone.
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Jaime's eyes close tight, but tears manage to squeeze out through his eyelids anyway.
"What was I supposed to do? I'm just--I'm just--"
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At himself.
"You're so weak it's disgusting."
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"I'm not--" he sniffs.
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"Look at you! You're crying. You cry all the time. You sob and whine and it's always about you. You you you! Your pain, your guilt, your angst. All that matters is you get comforted, that mommy and daddy pat you on the back, that your friends kiss your boo boos, and if you can get that, you think it's all okay. And it's back to Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, Mr. Noble."
He whines in Jaime's--well, his own voice.
"'I'm so sorry and being sorry makes it all okay. I can still pat myself on the back and tell myself I'm a gooood person.'"
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"That's not what I think. That's not--"
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"But you're not noble, are you. At least not as noble as you like to make everyone think you are. Have you told everyone about your little program in the Sensoriums? About where you've been hiding all this time?"
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Silence.
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Jaime cuts himself off.
"I don't kill."
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"Really? Then what to do call decapitating and vaporizing holographic space pirates? Last I checked, most sentient beings needed a head to, y'know, actually live."
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"They're just holograms! I'd never--"
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"But you want to. Deep down inside, you want to just...clean up the world. And here's the thing: you could."
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"Not like that."
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