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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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"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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"There's one little problem: The way you're doing it? Kinda sucks. I mean, how many people were in the Pod Caverns again? Then there were those nice folks at Vista Verde. Nadia..."
He jabs Jaime in the chest.
"All because you're weak. You know it, I know it, you're enemies know it. You're soft. And it's only going to get more people killed, because, sad to say, you are no Ted Kord." He adds, glibly,
He pulls Jaime forward by the collar.
"That's what's so beautifully ironic about this. No matter what, you lose. You get to either watch as innocents die around you--probably some friends and crewmates, too--because you're an idealistic powder puff. OR you can deal with it all by doing all that you're truly capable of--but would wind up basically selling your soul in the process. Sticky little situation, that."
He slaps Jaime on the cheek, gently.
"But it doesn't matter anymore, does it."
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All Jaime can do is try to catch his breath, try to stop crying. His head is reeling, and he feels like he's drowning in all his failures.
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The other Jaime suits up, and looks down at him, pityingly.
"I am your future, Jaime Reyes. You get to be a jaded, cynical, immoral piece of crap--that does everything he can to get the job done. That's what happens to idealists like you, that's what happens when they're as weak as you are."
His arm forms into a cannon and he aims it at Jaime's head.
"On the up side, it'll totally sell way more action figures. People love gritty anti-heroes."
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It's right then that he hears a voice in his head. It isn't his conscience. In fact, more often he's its Jiminy Cricket.
But it says exactly what he needs to hear right now, the best words that could possibly be said to him in this situation.
The doppleganger's eyes widen, Jaime's eyes narrow. The suit creeps up his body, with Khaji's will helping Jaime take over the dream to allow it to happen, as soon as it's over his arms, he breaks free of his restraints. Rolling to the side, just as his double fires where his head was, he finishes suiting up and then launches himself at him, removing that distance between them so his alternate can't use ranged weapons.
In between punching his evil self in the face, he says, "It doesn't matter--what I do in the Sensoriums." More punching. "I was angry--I let it out. Maybe it--"
They grapple for a bit, and Jaime manages to kick his other self away by planting both his feet in his stomach. Hard.
"Maybe it's a little twisted, but it was a way of letting out my anger that didn't hurt anybody. So I don't do that if I ever face them again."
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"You'll let them go, you'll try to saaave the bad guy like you always do--even though they don't deserve it."
Getting his second wind, the Other manages to land a few good punches in the face.
"But I guess it doesn't matter anyway. Even killing them won't bring B5 back, will i--"
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There is a flurry of punches, charged with blue energy.
"What--matters--is--I tried!"
A punch to the stomach.
"I tried. I tried to do it right, I tried to get to him. I tried."
A blast to the chest from his arm canon.
"And B5 would understand that, which is why that was a really stupid thing to do. Even though it is my fault, he was too good a person to blame someone else. That's how I know this isn't real. That's how I know it's a trick."
The Other tries to get up, but Jaime blasts him again. And again. And again. Tears stream down his cheeks, but he can't feel them because of the armor over his face.
"I'll get it wrong sometimes. People might die. I might die. But what matters is I tried. What matters is I'll always try."
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...It isn't even strictly alive.
"You're not allowed--to care--about them--little insects--all the little people--when you have the power--to kill stars--"
It's a dream-thing. One of the Nightmare King's servants.
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This...thing doesn't get to make him feel bad for feeling. It doesn't get to make him feel bad for being angry, for caring about people. It doesn't get to torture him with the things he's already torturing himself with.
It sure as hell doesn't get to trick him into feeling like a bad person, or feeling like the only way he can save people is to become one. Not a chance.
"That's exactly the time you should care about people, when you have the power to blow up stars."
Jaime powers ups his arm cannon again.
"I told a bad guy once, that the thing with us little people is there's a lot of us. And we will only be pushed so far. And some of us have--you know what? Why don't I just show you?"
CHAKOOM!
Particle cannons. Gotta love 'em.
He'd only blasted enough to knock the thing out, though. At least as far as he could tell. That means, he needed to end this.
"Scarab, can you wake me up?"
A jolt of adrenaline and the whole dreamworld fades with a rush of sound, and he's lying in his bed, starting up at the ceiling, sweating and breathing deep.