While she was fully aware that the crew was having problems with nightmares, she hadn't expected things to escalate so fast. But then again, she couldn't be so sure she wasn't gone long. Time passed oddly on the ship. Had her short mission been much longer for those back here?
That didn't matter now. She was back, and all around her the crew was succumbing to horrifying terrors. No one seemed to be sane. She could even feel herself being pulled into the madness-but she had to fight. She had to pull out the crew from their own nightmares.
Running, running, running. He’d been doing a lot of running lately.
Having made a deal with Nanoha and procuring his backpack, Dustin was again on the move. He wasn’t sure where to go, what to do first. Part of him screamed that he should go to the City, where the specters were emanating—he didn’t need the Magical department or some Daligig hologram to tell him that the Nightmare King had set up base there, deep within the ship. When he was able, Dustin fixed his phone’s primary scanner, gave it time to adapt to its environment and realize what was supposed to be there and what wasn’t. This task was, needless to say, much easier on his home world, where the paranormal and the usual were strictly defined and easy to differentiate. But this, we have to remember, is an interdimensional living spaceship with creatures from different universes piled inside. These definitions had to be rewritten.
When they were—that time being several minutes before present—Dustin turned his phone towards the heart of this ship and let it sing.
Blip.
A single dot in space. It faded as the pulse resonated and a second one began. Moments passed as the point was again reached.
Blip.
Nothing new, nothing moving. Dustin ran standard diagnostics, testing for origin or energy signature. He got location first—Pod Caverns, oddly enough. But his scans always blanked out in the Pod Caverns…
It only got weirder as he started heading for it. The phone continued processing, continued scanning, but nothing changed. It was still the same dot in the same place.
Blip.
And then the program finished running and cut to the summary page. Dustin brought the screen up, not expecting to see much, only to realize that every single field was completed. This didn’t even happen for the standard creatures on his planet, or even the other members of H.A.B.I.T.S….
He only needed to see her picture to know why this was. And then Dustin broke into a sprint.
Pod Caverns, present time. Out of breath, gears turning furiously, phone still beeping in his gloved hand, the scruffy scientist came to the mouth of the giant space and leaned on his knees. He saw nothing out of the ordinary—certainly no red-headed girls wandering about calling for him—but this was not surprising. The Pod Caverns were huge, she could’ve been anywhere.
Dustin bowed his head, gasping for air, frail chest heaving with the effort. He’d only just been taken off of emergency status; the splints on his nose were still degenerating. He shouldn’t have worked himself so hard so early, it wasn’t—healthy—
A gust of wind, resonating like a sigh about the cavern…and there she was.
Pods were slit open left and right, slime and bodies strewn about the floor. The glowing pustules flickered feebly, as if Stacy knew that none of her children had survived. Stasis was like that; wake them up without the right procedures, and…and they never stood a chance. Some were still twitching, but all were dead.
She was there, an inconspicuous corpse among hundreds, bright orange hair glittering despite being covered in slime and waste, small form exposed and pale and sickly in the shade. Dustin blinked, noticing with disdain that she didn’t disappear, and he quickly checked his phone.
Blip.
It fell to the floor, and so did Dustin.
He crawled past the bodies, scurrying quickly towards her, crouching carefully by her side with wide eyes, and he gently flipped her onto her back. Her face was completely still, neutral and complacent, lids closed and sealed shut with goop. He could still see her freckles…It was painless, her death. Her heart—her tiny, delicate heart—had simply stopped once the nutrients flowed out. Her brain was already comatose before that, so it wasn’t a hard transition to the final stage. There would be no rigor, and the slime would preserve her skin for days to come. Her wonderful, soft, beautiful skin…
Dustin gently slid his hands under her back and around her abdomen, cradling her limp form on his knees like a father would his child, keeping her head supported in the crook of his elbow. She did not stir.
“No,” he whispered, jerkily lifting his hand to brush away the spare strands of copper stuck to her face, “Codi, please. You’re not…you can’t be…This isn’t happening…”
He trailed off, hand hovering over her brow. Everything else had disappeared around him. And it was so quiet.
Dustin pulled her close, bowing his head, rocking on his heels as he began to sob.
Yoshimi really shouldn't be surprised to find Dustin in a state of total collapse, but she has to admit that she's a little shocked by the small, gingery corpse in his arms. An emotion that she refuses to acknowledge surges through her veins, making small hands clench, eliciting a hiss from her as still-bleeding wounds shift and sting at the pressure.
She sighs, not at all prepared for what she is about to do.
Taking several stern strides forward, she puts an almost-gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking and squeezing, trying to garner his attention. He needs to blink himself back into reality, but she knows damn well that this one'll hurt worse than a lot of things, and really, she's loathe to be the one to pull him out of it.
"Dustin... kid, you need to let go for the moment. Remember, it's a nightmare - she's... uh.... she's probably still alive somewhere, yeah?"
He could hear her coming, but he didn’t do anything to hinder her or deter her from closing in. When she shook his shoulder he still didn’t react, arms locked tightly around his little corpse with a death-like grip that refused to be released.
It was only fitting that Yoshimi be here. Codi’s replacement…that’s all she was. It took this to make him realize her position here. It took this to make him realize his position here; all his efforts, all his plans and claims…none of it mattered. In the end, Dustin had no control over this. How could he have ever thought he had a choice in this?
“…You don’t even know her name, do you?” he hissed, rocking slowly back and forth, face buried in his knees, “She’s just another body, another unplanned fatality…”
A beat. Dustin hugged her tighter, feeling her ribs buckle under his strength.
She feels her eyebrow twitch with an odd mixture of hurt and irritation, because damn, isn't he usually more rational than this? Then again, he is having the worst nightmare of his adult life...
"No, I don't. You never talk about anything around me. Anyway, if you're aware enough to talk, you should be able to find a shred of cognizance in that hair-brained head of yours. This isn't real, Dustin." She pauses, purses her lips, moves to crouch in front of him, eyes shifting between the girl's face and what she can see of his, a frown creasing her face. "I know that doesn't help at all, but you have to try. Dig your heels in, you know? It's a figment of your imagination sent by that bastard lurking in Escherville, and you know damn well that you're only seeing this because it's your greatest fear." Her voice has strengthened, and she doesn't notice that she's leaning forward until her hands are on his forearms, squeezing just as powerfully as he is squeezing the corpse, seriously injured hands screaming at her in agony or no. "Stand up. You can do it. Just stand up. Or look at me. Or... stop breaking the poor girl. I'm sure she'd be crying her eyes out if she could see this."
And hey, she's almost being persuasive here. Right?
Dustin complied with at least one of those points, slowly lifting his head just enough to expose his reddened, watery green eyes. They stayed locked on Codi’s blank expression for what seemed like an endless amount of time, finally moving to Yoshimi, squinting as if he didn’t recognize her; unable to keep proper contact, Dustin hesitantly looked away.
He barely registered her tightening grip on his arms, which, if kept up, would bruise the right one (since the left one was, as you know, made of metal, and I think it’s kinda difficult to bruise metal). But he did see the blood on her hands, and he understood her logic. Problem was, Dustin had his own reasoning for this.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he muttered, holding her closer, protecting her from invisible ills, “The dreams aren’t dreams anymore…Now that the Nightmare King is out, he has power over the real world as well as the subconscious one. It explains the injuries, the visions, the readings…”
The actual Dustin would not have been convinced by this. Actually he wasn’t too convinced now; but something was definitely changing him, and not just emotionally. His brain was becoming fuzzy, heavy, like he was drugged or concussed or suffering from amnesia, because he just couldn’t remember…
She offers him a vague, tense smile during the few seconds his eyes are actually trained on her, expression dropping back into a frown when he looks away. Yes, that was an effort, but hell if he isn't still convinced of the reality of this hellhole. Damn is she bad at this.
"Dustin," she starts, squeezing her eyes shut, feeling the adrenaline still turning her muscles to twitching, hyperactive knots flooding her system, knowing that her own nightmare was only easy because she had lived it for four years, knowing that his heart is what's hurting here, and knowing that she knows nothing of that kind of shit, because she never lets anyone close enough to do make possible that kind of damage. Knowing that she'll have to slap him out of this, and to hell with the consequences, because a Dustin incapacitated by grief isn't worth her left shoe... "The dreams are just dreams. The dreams are terror-inspired hallucinations meant to bring us all to our lowest, and while they may or may not be real right now, the sooner we get mobilized, the sooner they can stop being real."
"She's fine."
And with a scared stern expression, she flicks his forehead, hoping to draw his attention to what's real here. Hoping to remind him that Dakota Perkins is probably just dandy, sitting somewhere quiet and laughing at him.
Not listening, not listening…Dustin again buried his head, squeezing Codi’s form to the point of crushing it, sobbing quietly into her neck and stringy hair. How couldn’t Yoshimi understand that this was real? She saw the body, didn’t she? Was the pain he felt not obvious enough to merit any of this factual? I mean, Dustin always knew Yoshimi was heartless, but really…
And here she was, insisting that Codi was fine! He ground his teeth, letting out a muffled yell of frustration, refusing to acknowledge anymore of Yoshimi's touches or efforts.
“No! No, you’re wrong! You couldn’t possibly comprehend any of this, you simple-minded fool, you emotionless freak—Just stay away and give me some peace! Just—“ Dustin raised his head to snarl at her, “—Just—Leave—“
Dustin's assertions echo loudly in her skull, seeming to fill up space that she hadn't known she had until the present.
simple-minded fool
fool fool fool
fool
"N-"
emotionlessfreak
FREAK
"Not at-"
Just Leave
Leave
And, without thinking, an odd, unvoiced sob choking her for air, stopping words and mental faculties, she stands to go, because what other option does she have? People are always asking her to leave, because she's unorthodox and violent. Hell, she'd ask her to leave if she were him, too.
Fortunately, there's a robot right behind her, and though relief really isn't a reasonable emotion to feel when walking into a waking nightmare, it courses through her veins like cold water now, because she now has something to distract herself long enough to regain her thoughts, and once again she is rending metal from plastic with bare, bleeding, screaming hands, snarls and madness radiating from her tensed form like so many pheromones.
And oh hey, look at that. The robot's gone, and she's pulled herself far enough back into lucidity that she can muster the strength to keep the endless flow of gray-orange carapaces at bay. Bad news for the miserable, mourning Dustin, though - at present, there is an enraged, rather insane-looking Yoshimi marching towards him.
Wait for it.
Wait for it.
SMACK!
The sound of her slap echoes off the walls of the Pod Cavern, and his face no doubt hurts rather a lot right now.
"Who the &*#$ do you think you are, you mother&*#$ing asshole? Baka, baka baka, ono baka, you dumb jerk, preying on people's insecurities in your own misery. What the hell does that make you, huh? A hermit, and a jackass, and a bastard who doesn't have any goddamn people. And you know what? I know that I'm a hypocrite, because &*#$ if I have any people myself, but &*#$ if you don't deserve people, you &*#$er. Stop driving people away with your social ineptitude - that is my job on this ship. Your job is to fuck Stacy's internal organs up and-and-and be ridiculously bossy and-and &*#$ing snore at horrifying hours of the night. And goddammit, would you stop crushing that girl's ribs? She's not real."
And her hand fists in his hair, pulling him to his feet as the sound of metal fills her ears. Honestly, it's a lot harder to stave off nightmares when your blood is boiling.
He could hear something going on behind him. It sounded like…shorting wires? Clanging metal? Of course now that he noticed it the noise was nearly deafening, as it should’ve been, and Dustin slowly turned his head ‘round to see what the commotion was all about.
And would you look at that! Why hello, extremely angry Yoshimi, walking so purposefully forward, briskly raising her hand covered in cuts and blood and machine lubricant! You’re gonna slap a bitch, aren’t you?
SMACK!
It’s difficult to turn a man’s head more than ninety degrees with just the flat of one’s palm, but Yoshimi achieved it with little effort on her part, leaving a print on Dustin’s cheek that was red with freshly irritated skin and her own blood. She then proceeded to curse him out in multiple languages (no, really), during which time Dustin did not listen to her at all, because he was too busy replaying the few moments he caught of Yoshimi tearing apart that robot before she turned on him. The skill, the efficiency, the sheer determination, the sweat, her movements…
…Wow. Hadn’t felt like that in a while. Actually he was feeling a lot of things right now, a lot of things that were quickly becoming much stronger than his fear and sadness.
And with those replaced, what else was keeping this nightmare intact? What else was keeping Codi’s preserved corpse from completely disappearing?
Nothing, that’s what. But the Nightmare King wasn’t giving up that easily.
Dustin didn’t have much of a choice in (ow) standing or not, since (ow) Yoshimi already had (ow) a fistful of his (ow) thick hair up in the air, so (ow) naturally he came along with it. And then his giddy eyes noticed a smoky figure floating just behind her, triggering one of the few reflex actions still left in that static-filled brain of his—that being the one making him reach into his backpack and flip the V-12 onto his shoulder, pulling the charge trigger and letting it hum for a few seconds as he found his target.
Yoshimi’s going to find herself losing most of her victim, as Dustin has enough hair that he can spare a handful or two in a situation such as this one, and she might want to brace herself for the bright red light that fills the air behind her when the large fusion weapon fires, igniting the air, completely obliterating the dark specter screeching its final cry as the nightmare faded.
And, while reality set in, a fuzzy sort of noise started to fill up the gaps that the dream left behind, leaving Dustin feeling really confused. What was this gun he was holding? Is there really a disembodied robot lying on the floor over there? Was his arm made out of metal?
Startled as she is by the shock of red light flooding past her, Yoshimi's a bit more concerned with the now throbbing gash running jaggedly across her left shoulder. Nightmares are one thing - physical wounds wrought in a fit of unsuppressable rage are another entirely.
Hissing, eyes squeezing shut as she presses her pretty much equally-as-wounded hand to the laceration, she is momentarily distracted from the man at her side. After all, the feeling of one's own blood seeping through one's own fingers is pretty distracting. It's rather a miracle that she hears his statement.
"Yeah, so do I, kid," she spits, glaring at him through slit eyes. It only takes her a second to notice that... yeah, something really is wrong. For the first time in... however the hell long she has known him, Dustin Silver looks genuinely at a loss, and not in the sad way. In the "I cannot think of what to do now" way that lots of normal people feel and express when in tight spots, but that he somehow manages to never, ever show.
That anger from a few seconds ago? Consider that gone - now she's just kind of shocked.
"You two," Samus finds the pair and hurries onto the scene, analyzing the situation. Neither seems to be in immediate danger from their nightmares. That is good. Both seem at a loss, and one is injured. That is... not so good.
Yoshimi takes her attention first, "We have to get you to the medbay. Are you well enough to walk?"
There are traces of compassion in her question, but she can't take the time to act overly concerned. It's not that she doesn't care, it's just that there isn't time. The fact that they need to hurry to get out of here is evident.
Dustin nearly jumped out of his skin, waving the V-12 towards the person in power armor with far less adeptness than he did when facing the Shade several minutes earlier. The gun no longer made sense to him, other than perhaps the simple knowledge that pulling the trigger made things in front of it stop moving; this new discovery made even less sense, as he found that he could identify what this person was wearing, but he couldn’t quite fathom how it worked, or exactly what it was capable of doing.
This, more than anything, scared the crap out of him. He dropped his gun and watched it reconfigure into a small, vein-covered cube on the Pod Cavern floor. Immediately afterwards he forgot how to activate it again. He thought, he thought harder—the noise in his head became deafening and he had to stop, grinding his teeth and grabbing at his temples.
Something was very wrong here. Unfortunately for Samus, lack of brainpower did not make Dustin any less of a smartass.
“It’s her shoulder, not her leg,” he quipped, gingerly picking up the V-12 and poking at it for a moment or two, “She can walk fine. And I’ll be the one to escort her, thanks. You look well enough to keep fighting.”
Yes, that was Dustin being defensive. And you’d better believe that he’s moving between them, offering a shoulder for Yoshimi to lean on in case she needs it. He knows that he owes her one.
"I suggest you calm down," Samus stated simply in a I-will-not-tolerate-shit-right-now tone. She made a slight motion with her arm cannon to emphasize that point. Of course she would never shoot one of the crew, but Dustin wasn't privy to that.
Dustin could escort her, but Samus was still wary of that idea. For one, she didn't trust him. Hist little outburst didn't earn him any points. Plus, with only a gun and hauling along an injured person, they wouldn't really be able to handle any trouble that they might run into along the way.
She wasn't going to argue with Dustin about this though. She'd ask Yoshimi directly, "Do you trust him to get you to safety?"
There was a definite air of suspicion in her voice, but ultimately she really wasn't in a place to stop either of them without force which was not really her favorite option.
"I'm fine, both of you. It's blood, it's pain, it's not the worst I've had." Despite her assertions, though, she looks quite pale, and the blood dripping from her fingers is moving at rather a fast pace. And this wound has only been topped by that pole through the stomach she had received as thank for her efforts at taking down the goddamn meat industry after it went bloody rampant. Man, did she love medical science sometimes...
Why yes, her thoughts are wondering nonsensically.
Blinking, she stares at Samus, trying to remember the question she'd been asked, settling on nodding several seconds later when her brain fails to provide appropriate feedback. Probably a good move on her part - the MedBay will do her good, at least to stop the bleeding so she can go help other people.
Dustin kept his eyes locked on the armored person the entire time, not once letting his gaze wander from her suit and that arm cannon. Partly it was to make sure she didn’t do anything drastic if the situation did not prove to her liking; mostly it was him trying to figure out how it worked. Normally he would’ve taken one look at it, saw the various connections, its build, known all of the feasible (and unfeasible) ways it could’ve been powered, and within several seconds its internal workings would’ve been buzzing around in his brain like so many unsorted blueprints. But no, the noise took up that space now. And it was really starting to frighten him.
On the plus side, Yoshimi appeared too delirious to argue against him getting her as far away from Samus as possible, which solved one of his problems. Dustin gently but persistently pulled at the Robot Slayer’s good arm, determined to lead her in the right direction. Yet he was looking as pale and uncertain as she was…
“Come on, let’s at least get you someplace safe where we can staunch the bleeding,” he suggested, paranoia showing even more prominently than usual as he again noticed how long it was taking him to formulate a way to accomplish this task, “We need…cloth or…something…”
Yoshimi stared at Samus, following reluctantly as Dustin tugged on her "good" arm. Somehow she didn't want to wander off on the woman, and it didn't really help that she was loathe to acknowledge the bone-deep pain ricocheting through her body. More than that, she really just wanted to force more people out of their nightmares so that they could all turn their anger on the Nightmare King, full-force. As she had said to Dustin, the sooner they all come to their senses, the sooner it'll all be over.
"We'll be back," she says to Samus, nodding delicately, trying to avoid using any of the muscles in her left shoulder, which is admittedly hard to do when in motion.
Dropping her resistance to being dragged off by Dustin, she turns her eyes to him, eyebrow lifting.
"I'll take care of staunching the bleeding. I don't really think I want you near a gaping wound right now. You just... make sure I don't pass out. Or something." Her expression is more concerned than her words sound, though, echoing the roiling worry in her head. This is very, very strange, right here, and she isn't so sure that she's fond of it.
He heard the alert, he knew things had been gearing up. Xander grabbed what supplies he could, scarce as they were. He's dealt with nightmares becoming reality before, just like the old high school when the Seal was opening up. Scary funtimes that was.
He was running down a corridor when he heard somebody call his name. He turned, and there was Anya looking at him.
'Why Xander?' Another figure emerged, Cordelia, then Renee. All of them looked dead, blood dripping from wounds, and pooling on the floor.
"Wait, what?"
'Why did you kill us?' No wait, Cordy had long since moved away to LA before she died. And yet, wasn't there that notice from Angel and the others? About the coma?
"No, no, I didn't."
Anya spoke again, 'You curse any women you love. You're a worse demon than I ever was.'
Renee added, 'I barely knew you, and I'm still dead because of you.'
He fervently shook his head, starting to panic and shake where he stood, "No, no I would have stopped it if I could. Please, it's not my fault."
'You left everybody to die Xander, and nobody even likes you here. Why are you even still alive? You should have let that evil preacher finish the job. Done us all a favor. I couldn't even curse you like I wanted to!' Anya spat out with clear disgust on her face. Their features grew paler as more blood dripped away, their bodies slowly decomposing and reaching for him.
"Hey!" Samus barked out when she spotted Xander, her voice revealed her heightened sense of alert. She needed to catch his attention. She needed to pull him out before he became a victim of his own mind.
He tried to react, but the corpses were grabbing for him now. He yelled as one started to pull his left arm out of the socket. Xander tried to fight to get away, and yelled louder as his arm dislocated.
Work quickly, Samus. She fired into the crowd of corpses, the energy blasts finding their way to the chests of the monsters with surprising accuracy. However, her trust in her own abilities was faltering. Her own fears bit at the edges of her mind.
She didn't want to risk Xander's safety. She couldn't shoot those corpses closest to him. She would have to push through closer and take care of them.
It cleared some space for him to kick his way through, and then fall to the ground so he could crawl out of the way. Also meant be out of blaster range while he tried to wrench his arm back in. Part of him knew it was a dream, and the pain was helping the corpses to start to waver.
She pushed through the rest with no worries about hitting the wrong target once Xander was out of the way. She managed to break through and offered a hand to help him get up.
In Wyn's dream, there's nothing but blackness-- and an eerily perfect copy of Wyn herself, sitting backwards in a chair that seems to be made of the darkness surrounding them.
"Hi! Nice to finally talk to you, Gwydion." Wyn's double chirps, tilting her head and smiling cheerfully.
"What--" Wyn stammers, too stunned to even reach for the modified percussion gun she's been carrying. The double's eyes flick towards the black-and-chrome weapon, then back to Wyn's face.
"Relax, I just want to talk." This isn't right, and Wyn knows it. Nightmares shouldn't be this rational, even if the unchanging smile on her double's face is starting to be more unnerving than reassuring. Wyn shakes her head, but no words come out. "I'm sure you know what I'm going to say, right? 'You should stop fighting your destiny, soon you will be like me, blah blah blah.'" the copy says, moving her hand in the universal shorthand for 'your mouth is moving and I don't care'.
"The thing is, though… we are alike, no matter how much you don't want to admit it. And you really don't, do you? You love to pretend everything's fine and that it'll all be right in the end. I wonder how many of your new friends here know that half the time, your smile is just something you've pasted on over the ticking timebomb of your psyche?" the double says, tilting her head in mocking curiosity. "Oh, that's right. None."
Wyn shakes her head. "No. No. We're nothing alike."
"Really? So they know what it means to be a mad scientist, then? They know that you've got maybe a year or so before you completely lose your mind, before somehow everything becomes less important than that next discovery? Do they know that you're going to start hiding in the lab somewhere, away from everyone you might have been friends with? You of all people, the bright-and-cheery ray of science and sunshine?"
Wyn's silence is answer enough.
"I thought not." the double says, her smile shifting into a cruel smirk. "But here's the real question: do they know it's already started happening?"
"What!?" Wyn cries in shock. Her double tsks, giving Wyn a look of patently false concern.
"Like it's not all you've been worrying about since that robot friend of yours died, the one whose funeral you didn't even bother to attend? Please."
"It wasn't-- I didn't-- I was--" Wyn says, running a hand through her hair. She can't think straight, and hasn't been since she didn't shoot her crazy doppelganger on sight. She knows what her copy is saying isn't true, but…
"Busy?" the copy says, her smile turning outright predatory. Wyn freezes, unable to think of a response… and slowly starting to think that her mirror image is right.
[ooc: Wyn's dream should be last, chronologically, so... just pretend that this is after everyone else has broken out of their dreams.]
Samus had never officially met this girl, but Stacy was a small place in the grand scheme of things. Names had tricked through to the hunter. Watching the nightmare, Samus picked up on who it was. She and the seemingly rag-tag group she had picked up were here to help, though this nightmare didn't seem like it be solved with her typical tactics of bursting in and blowing everything up.
"Wyn," it was just one word. A name. Samus meant for it to alert both copies of her presence. She wanted them both to know that she was here and she would do what it takes to get the real one out.
"Oh, look. You've got friends." the Wyn facing Samus says, standing up and dissolving her chair into the darkness around them. She doesn't look particularly surprised by the intrusion, although she seems to think it won't do any good.
The other Wyn turns her head to stare at Samus and the others. "... what are you doing in here?" She's obviously significantly more confused by the presence of more people than her counterpart is.
"Don't be so sure." the copy says with a grin. "It's not like this is all in her head, anyway. She's going to snap one of these days, and it's only a matter of time. There's not much you can do about it." For an insane person, the copy sounds very reasonable...
The copy raises her hands in surrender, although she's still smiling a bit too widely for comfort. "I know when I'm not wanted." And with that, she vanishes, taking the darkness with her. The walls slowly return to their normal green-fleshy selves, and the real Wyn shakes her head quickly like a swimmer trying to get water out of her ear.
"Thanks." she says weakly.
Well, that was easy, right? ... almost a little bit too easy.
The Japanese woman feels an odd sense of nostalgia as she turns corners rapidly, her heart throbbing with adrenaline and excitement. It's been so long...
A flash of memory hits her like a transport bot - the feeling of wind whipping her pigtails behind her, the gray-tint of the world through a helmet, the hoarse growl of a motorcycle between her legs, SMG strapped tight against her back, hands wrapped tightly in cloth to keep her skin from getting too ruined with electricity and metal. A sigh escapes her lips, and she almost runs into a wall, having forgotten to turn the last corner. A fringe of pink obscures her eyes, and she growls, spinning on her heel. Freeze.
The glare of emergency lights in a dull, gray-orange shell filled her vision, the whirring of pneumatics, the ticking of joints bending the wrong way, machinery misfiring as it tried to get itself back on track. She paled, and she blinked, and the night sky bright with light from lights that didn't light things at all, because does light really exist when there's nobody around to see it?
The silence of machinery, metal sounds, metal everything corroded the air, and her head spun, hair standing on end. She had no gun, no tape on her knuckles, no motorbike to escape on. She had only herself, and the thought terrified her for a long moment, the insecurities of a teenage anachronism assaulting her nineteen-year-old psyche for the first time in... weeks, and she was almost overwhelmed...
Take that, Nightmare King, she taunts mentally, muscles relaxing and flexing simultaneously, and she really isn't surprised at all to see that the single Class B Duty Bot has multiplied by eight, and hey, is that a Class D back there?
A sick, gleeful grin contorts her round, Asian face, eyes twinkling with a madness seen by no one on this beautiful, beautiful vessel. With a puff of breath and an easy flowing of limbs, she is moving into destruction, dislocating limbs from chest plates with the practiced skill of a mechanic. Fireworks in the form of electricity ensue, along with the screeching of metal torn from metal, the hissing of pneumatics losing pressure, the bzzz, bzzz of wires trying to connect. She is a whirl of pink and martial arts glorious enough to inspire rock ballads in the minds of far-off musicians, and within minutes, the nightmare is dispelled, and she is huffing.
"Fucking... fuc...fucking Nightmare King," she says, coughing, hand pressed to her chest despite the numerous gashes and burns marring it, her pulse racing with lack of exercise. "Catching me off-guard like that. So far below the belt, man. So far."
And she is on her way, turning yet another corner, and another, overjoyed to find a vengeful, violent, terrified-looking Samus.
Samus may be working in a frenzy, but she is anything but terrified. Suicide situations were her day-job before she made it onto the Meatship. She was working a bit more frenziedly than usual, but she's been on edge since the beginning of this whole "Nightmare King" business. It didn't help that she was tossed back in at possibly the worst time just after completing a rough small mission for their host AI. At least she was back in time to do some good now.
She spotted the other woman as Samus blasted away some remnants of other nightmares looking for some other poor souls to terrorize.
"You!" She shot. She notices the woman's injuries and ran over, hoping Xander had enough sense to follow. "How are your injuries?"
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While she was fully aware that the crew was having problems with nightmares, she hadn't expected things to escalate so fast. But then again, she couldn't be so sure she wasn't gone long. Time passed oddly on the ship. Had her short mission been much longer for those back here?
That didn't matter now. She was back, and all around her the crew was succumbing to horrifying terrors. No one seemed to be sane. She could even feel herself being pulled into the madness-but she had to fight. She had to pull out the crew from their own nightmares.
She had to protect them. It was her duty.
[1/2]
Having made a deal with Nanoha and procuring his backpack, Dustin was again on the move. He wasn’t sure where to go, what to do first. Part of him screamed that he should go to the City, where the specters were emanating—he didn’t need the Magical department or some Daligig hologram to tell him that the Nightmare King had set up base there, deep within the ship. When he was able, Dustin fixed his phone’s primary scanner, gave it time to adapt to its environment and realize what was supposed to be there and what wasn’t. This task was, needless to say, much easier on his home world, where the paranormal and the usual were strictly defined and easy to differentiate. But this, we have to remember, is an interdimensional living spaceship with creatures from different universes piled inside. These definitions had to be rewritten.
When they were—that time being several minutes before present—Dustin turned his phone towards the heart of this ship and let it sing.
Blip.
A single dot in space. It faded as the pulse resonated and a second one began. Moments passed as the point was again reached.
Blip.
Nothing new, nothing moving. Dustin ran standard diagnostics, testing for origin or energy signature. He got location first—Pod Caverns, oddly enough. But his scans always blanked out in the Pod Caverns…
It only got weirder as he started heading for it. The phone continued processing, continued scanning, but nothing changed. It was still the same dot in the same place.
Blip.
And then the program finished running and cut to the summary page. Dustin brought the screen up, not expecting to see much, only to realize that every single field was completed. This didn’t even happen for the standard creatures on his planet, or even the other members of H.A.B.I.T.S….
He only needed to see her picture to know why this was. And then Dustin broke into a sprint.
[2/2]
Dustin bowed his head, gasping for air, frail chest heaving with the effort. He’d only just been taken off of emergency status; the splints on his nose were still degenerating. He shouldn’t have worked himself so hard so early, it wasn’t—healthy—
A gust of wind, resonating like a sigh about the cavern…and there she was.
Pods were slit open left and right, slime and bodies strewn about the floor. The glowing pustules flickered feebly, as if Stacy knew that none of her children had survived. Stasis was like that; wake them up without the right procedures, and…and they never stood a chance. Some were still twitching, but all were dead.
She was there, an inconspicuous corpse among hundreds, bright orange hair glittering despite being covered in slime and waste, small form exposed and pale and sickly in the shade. Dustin blinked, noticing with disdain that she didn’t disappear, and he quickly checked his phone.
Blip.
It fell to the floor, and so did Dustin.
He crawled past the bodies, scurrying quickly towards her, crouching carefully by her side with wide eyes, and he gently flipped her onto her back. Her face was completely still, neutral and complacent, lids closed and sealed shut with goop. He could still see her freckles…It was painless, her death. Her heart—her tiny, delicate heart—had simply stopped once the nutrients flowed out. Her brain was already comatose before that, so it wasn’t a hard transition to the final stage. There would be no rigor, and the slime would preserve her skin for days to come. Her wonderful, soft, beautiful skin…
Dustin gently slid his hands under her back and around her abdomen, cradling her limp form on his knees like a father would his child, keeping her head supported in the crook of his elbow. She did not stir.
“No,” he whispered, jerkily lifting his hand to brush away the spare strands of copper stuck to her face, “Codi, please. You’re not…you can’t be…This isn’t happening…”
He trailed off, hand hovering over her brow. Everything else had disappeared around him. And it was so quiet.
Dustin pulled her close, bowing his head, rocking on his heels as he began to sob.
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She sighs, not at all prepared for what she is about to do.
Taking several stern strides forward, she puts an almost-gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking and squeezing, trying to garner his attention. He needs to blink himself back into reality, but she knows damn well that this one'll hurt worse than a lot of things, and really, she's loathe to be the one to pull him out of it.
"Dustin... kid, you need to let go for the moment. Remember, it's a nightmare - she's... uh.... she's probably still alive somewhere, yeah?"
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It was only fitting that Yoshimi be here. Codi’s replacement…that’s all she was. It took this to make him realize her position here. It took this to make him realize his position here; all his efforts, all his plans and claims…none of it mattered. In the end, Dustin had no control over this. How could he have ever thought he had a choice in this?
“…You don’t even know her name, do you?” he hissed, rocking slowly back and forth, face buried in his knees, “She’s just another body, another unplanned fatality…”
A beat. Dustin hugged her tighter, feeling her ribs buckle under his strength.
“She’s…still…warm…”
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"No, I don't. You never talk about anything around me. Anyway, if you're aware enough to talk, you should be able to find a shred of cognizance in that hair-brained head of yours. This isn't real, Dustin." She pauses, purses her lips, moves to crouch in front of him, eyes shifting between the girl's face and what she can see of his, a frown creasing her face. "I know that doesn't help at all, but you have to try. Dig your heels in, you know? It's a figment of your imagination sent by that bastard lurking in Escherville, and you know damn well that you're only seeing this because it's your greatest fear." Her voice has strengthened, and she doesn't notice that she's leaning forward until her hands are on his forearms, squeezing just as powerfully as he is squeezing the corpse, seriously injured hands screaming at her in agony or no. "Stand up. You can do it. Just stand up. Or look at me. Or... stop breaking the poor girl. I'm sure she'd be crying her eyes out if she could see this."
And hey, she's almost being persuasive here. Right?
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He barely registered her tightening grip on his arms, which, if kept up, would bruise the right one (since the left one was, as you know, made of metal, and I think it’s kinda difficult to bruise metal). But he did see the blood on her hands, and he understood her logic. Problem was, Dustin had his own reasoning for this.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he muttered, holding her closer, protecting her from invisible ills, “The dreams aren’t dreams anymore…Now that the Nightmare King is out, he has power over the real world as well as the subconscious one. It explains the injuries, the visions, the readings…”
The actual Dustin would not have been convinced by this. Actually he wasn’t too convinced now; but something was definitely changing him, and not just emotionally. His brain was becoming fuzzy, heavy, like he was drugged or concussed or suffering from amnesia, because he just couldn’t remember…
“…Her name is Dakota Perkins.”
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"Dustin," she starts, squeezing her eyes shut, feeling the adrenaline still turning her muscles to twitching, hyperactive knots flooding her system, knowing that her own nightmare was only easy because she had lived it for four years, knowing that his heart is what's hurting here, and knowing that she knows nothing of that kind of shit, because she never lets anyone close enough to do make possible that kind of damage. Knowing that she'll have to slap him out of this, and to hell with the consequences, because a Dustin incapacitated by grief isn't worth her left shoe... "The dreams are just dreams. The dreams are terror-inspired hallucinations meant to bring us all to our lowest, and while they may or may not be real right now, the sooner we get mobilized, the sooner they can stop being real."
"She's fine."
And with a
scaredstern expression, she flicks his forehead, hoping to draw his attention to what's real here. Hoping to remind him that Dakota Perkins is probably just dandy, sitting somewhere quiet and laughing at him.no subject
And here she was, insisting that Codi was fine! He ground his teeth, letting out a muffled yell of frustration, refusing to acknowledge anymore of Yoshimi's touches or efforts.
“No! No, you’re wrong! You couldn’t possibly comprehend any of this, you simple-minded fool, you emotionless freak—Just stay away and give me some peace! Just—“ Dustin raised his head to snarl at her, “—Just—Leave—“
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Dustin's assertions echo loudly in her skull, seeming to fill up space that she hadn't known she had until the present.
simple-minded fool
fool fool fool
fool
"N-"
emotionless freak
FREAK
"Not at-"
Just Leave
Leave
And, without thinking, an odd, unvoiced sob choking her for air, stopping words and mental faculties, she stands to go, because what other option does she have? People are always asking her to leave, because she's unorthodox and violent. Hell, she'd ask her to leave if she were him, too.
Fortunately, there's a robot right behind her, and though relief really isn't a reasonable emotion to feel when walking into a waking nightmare, it courses through her veins like cold water now, because she now has something to distract herself long enough to regain her thoughts, and once again she is rending metal from plastic with bare, bleeding, screaming hands, snarls and madness radiating from her tensed form like so many pheromones.
And oh hey, look at that. The robot's gone, and she's pulled herself far enough back into lucidity that she can muster the strength to keep the endless flow of gray-orange carapaces at bay. Bad news for the miserable, mourning Dustin, though - at present, there is an enraged, rather insane-looking Yoshimi marching towards him.
Wait for it.
Wait for it.
SMACK!
The sound of her slap echoes off the walls of the Pod Cavern, and his face no doubt hurts rather a lot right now.
"Who the &*#$ do you think you are, you mother&*#$ing asshole? Baka, baka baka, ono baka, you dumb jerk, preying on people's insecurities in your own misery. What the hell does that make you, huh? A hermit, and a jackass, and a bastard who doesn't have any goddamn people. And you know what? I know that I'm a hypocrite, because &*#$ if I have any people myself, but &*#$ if you don't deserve people, you &*#$er. Stop driving people away with your social ineptitude - that is my job on this ship. Your job is to fuck Stacy's internal organs up and-and-and be ridiculously bossy and-and &*#$ing snore at horrifying hours of the night. And goddammit, would you stop crushing that girl's ribs? She's not real."
And her hand fists in his hair, pulling him to his feet as the sound of metal fills her ears. Honestly, it's a lot harder to stave off nightmares when your blood is boiling.
"Now walk, and stop crying."
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And would you look at that! Why hello, extremely angry Yoshimi, walking so purposefully forward, briskly raising her hand covered in cuts and blood and machine lubricant! You’re gonna slap a bitch, aren’t you?
SMACK!
It’s difficult to turn a man’s head more than ninety degrees with just the flat of one’s palm, but Yoshimi achieved it with little effort on her part, leaving a print on Dustin’s cheek that was red with freshly irritated skin and her own blood. She then proceeded to curse him out in multiple languages (no, really), during which time Dustin did not listen to her at all, because he was too busy replaying the few moments he caught of Yoshimi tearing apart that robot before she turned on him. The skill, the efficiency, the sheer determination, the sweat, her movements…
…Wow. Hadn’t felt like that in a while. Actually he was feeling a lot of things right now, a lot of things that were quickly becoming much stronger than his fear and sadness.
And with those replaced, what else was keeping this nightmare intact? What else was keeping Codi’s preserved corpse from completely disappearing?
Nothing, that’s what. But the Nightmare King wasn’t giving up that easily.
Dustin didn’t have much of a choice in (ow) standing or not, since (ow) Yoshimi already had (ow) a fistful of his (ow) thick hair up in the air, so (ow) naturally he came along with it. And then his giddy eyes noticed a smoky figure floating just behind her, triggering one of the few reflex actions still left in that static-filled brain of his—that being the one making him reach into his backpack and flip the V-12 onto his shoulder, pulling the charge trigger and letting it hum for a few seconds as he found his target.
Yoshimi’s going to find herself losing most of her victim, as Dustin has enough hair that he can spare a handful or two in a situation such as this one, and she might want to brace herself for the bright red light that fills the air behind her when the large fusion weapon fires, igniting the air, completely obliterating the dark specter screeching its final cry as the nightmare faded.
And, while reality set in, a fuzzy sort of noise started to fill up the gaps that the dream left behind, leaving Dustin feeling really confused. What was this gun he was holding? Is there really a disembodied robot lying on the floor over there? Was his arm made out of metal?
…Oh, there’s the fear again…
“…Yoshimi, I think something’s wrong.”
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Hissing, eyes squeezing shut as she presses her pretty much equally-as-wounded hand to the laceration, she is momentarily distracted from the man at her side. After all, the feeling of one's own blood seeping through one's own fingers is pretty distracting. It's rather a miracle that she hears his statement.
"Yeah, so do I, kid," she spits, glaring at him through slit eyes. It only takes her a second to notice that... yeah, something really is wrong. For the first time in... however the hell long she has known him, Dustin Silver looks genuinely at a loss, and not in the sad way. In the "I cannot think of what to do now" way that lots of normal people feel and express when in tight spots, but that he somehow manages to never, ever show.
That anger from a few seconds ago? Consider that gone - now she's just kind of shocked.
"Sonofa-"
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Yoshimi takes her attention first, "We have to get you to the medbay. Are you well enough to walk?"
There are traces of compassion in her question, but she can't take the time to act overly concerned. It's not that she doesn't care, it's just that there isn't time. The fact that they need to hurry to get out of here is evident.
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This, more than anything, scared the crap out of him. He dropped his gun and watched it reconfigure into a small, vein-covered cube on the Pod Cavern floor. Immediately afterwards he forgot how to activate it again. He thought, he thought harder—the noise in his head became deafening and he had to stop, grinding his teeth and grabbing at his temples.
Something was very wrong here. Unfortunately for Samus, lack of brainpower did not make Dustin any less of a smartass.
“It’s her shoulder, not her leg,” he quipped, gingerly picking up the V-12 and poking at it for a moment or two, “She can walk fine. And I’ll be the one to escort her, thanks. You look well enough to keep fighting.”
Yes, that was Dustin being defensive. And you’d better believe that he’s moving between them, offering a shoulder for Yoshimi to lean on in case she needs it. He knows that he owes her one.
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to that.
Dustin could escort her, but Samus was still wary of that idea. For one, she didn't trust him. Hist little outburst didn't earn him any points. Plus, with only a gun and hauling along an injured person, they wouldn't really be able to handle any trouble that they might run into along the way.
She wasn't going to argue with Dustin about this though. She'd ask Yoshimi directly, "Do you trust him to get you to safety?"
There was a definite air of suspicion in her voice, but ultimately she really wasn't in a place to stop either of them without force which was not really her favorite option.
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"I'm fine, both of you. It's blood, it's pain, it's not the worst I've had." Despite her assertions, though, she looks quite pale, and the blood dripping from her fingers is moving at rather a fast pace. And this wound has only been topped by that pole through the stomach she had received as thank for her efforts at taking down the goddamn meat industry after it went bloody rampant. Man, did she love medical science sometimes...
Why yes, her thoughts are wondering nonsensically.
Blinking, she stares at Samus, trying to remember the question she'd been asked, settling on nodding several seconds later when her brain fails to provide appropriate feedback. Probably a good move on her part - the MedBay will do her good, at least to stop the bleeding so she can go help other people.
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On the plus side, Yoshimi appeared too delirious to argue against him getting her as far away from Samus as possible, which solved one of his problems. Dustin gently but persistently pulled at the Robot Slayer’s good arm, determined to lead her in the right direction. Yet he was looking as pale and uncertain as she was…
“Come on, let’s at least get you someplace safe where we can staunch the bleeding,” he suggested, paranoia showing even more prominently than usual as he again noticed how long it was taking him to formulate a way to accomplish this task, “We need…cloth or…something…”
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"We'll be back," she says to Samus, nodding delicately, trying to avoid using any of the muscles in her left shoulder, which is admittedly hard to do when in motion.
Dropping her resistance to being dragged off by Dustin, she turns her eyes to him, eyebrow lifting.
"I'll take care of staunching the bleeding. I don't really think I want you near a gaping wound right now. You just... make sure I don't pass out. Or something." Her expression is more concerned than her words sound, though, echoing the roiling worry in her head. This is very, very strange, right here, and she isn't so sure that she's fond of it.
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He was running down a corridor when he heard somebody call his name. He turned, and there was Anya looking at him.
'Why Xander?' Another figure emerged, Cordelia, then Renee. All of them looked dead, blood dripping from wounds, and pooling on the floor.
"Wait, what?"
'Why did you kill us?' No wait, Cordy had long since moved away to LA before she died. And yet, wasn't there that notice from Angel and the others? About the coma?
"No, no, I didn't."
Anya spoke again, 'You curse any women you love. You're a worse demon than I ever was.'
Renee added, 'I barely knew you, and I'm still dead because of you.'
He fervently shook his head, starting to panic and shake where he stood, "No, no I would have stopped it if I could. Please, it's not my fault."
'You left everybody to die Xander, and nobody even likes you here. Why are you even still alive? You should have let that evil preacher finish the job. Done us all a favor. I couldn't even curse you like I wanted to!' Anya spat out with clear disgust on her face. Their features grew paler as more blood dripped away, their bodies slowly decomposing and reaching for him.
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She didn't want to risk Xander's safety. She couldn't shoot those corpses closest to him. She would have to push through closer and take care of them.
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"Hi! Nice to finally talk to you, Gwydion." Wyn's double chirps, tilting her head and smiling cheerfully.
"What--" Wyn stammers, too stunned to even reach for the modified percussion gun she's been carrying. The double's eyes flick towards the black-and-chrome weapon, then back to Wyn's face.
"Relax, I just want to talk." This isn't right, and Wyn knows it. Nightmares shouldn't be this rational, even if the unchanging smile on her double's face is starting to be more unnerving than reassuring. Wyn shakes her head, but no words come out. "I'm sure you know what I'm going to say, right? 'You should stop fighting your destiny, soon you will be like me, blah blah blah.'" the copy says, moving her hand in the universal shorthand for 'your mouth is moving and I don't care'.
"The thing is, though… we are alike, no matter how much you don't want to admit it. And you really don't, do you? You love to pretend everything's fine and that it'll all be right in the end. I wonder how many of your new friends here know that half the time, your smile is just something you've pasted on over the ticking timebomb of your psyche?" the double says, tilting her head in mocking curiosity. "Oh, that's right. None."
Wyn shakes her head. "No. No. We're nothing alike."
"Really? So they know what it means to be a mad scientist, then? They know that you've got maybe a year or so before you completely lose your mind, before somehow everything becomes less important than that next discovery? Do they know that you're going to start hiding in the lab somewhere, away from everyone you might have been friends with? You of all people, the bright-and-cheery ray of science and sunshine?"
Wyn's silence is answer enough.
"I thought not." the double says, her smile shifting into a cruel smirk. "But here's the real question: do they know it's already started happening?"
"What!?" Wyn cries in shock. Her double tsks, giving Wyn a look of patently false concern.
"Like it's not all you've been worrying about since that robot friend of yours died, the one whose funeral you didn't even bother to attend? Please."
"It wasn't-- I didn't-- I was--" Wyn says, running a hand through her hair. She can't think straight, and hasn't been since she didn't shoot her crazy doppelganger on sight. She knows what her copy is saying isn't true, but…
"Busy?" the copy says, her smile turning outright predatory. Wyn freezes, unable to think of a response… and slowly starting to think that her mirror image is right.
[ooc: Wyn's dream should be last, chronologically, so... just pretend that this is after everyone else has broken out of their dreams.]
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"Wyn," it was just one word. A name. Samus meant for it to alert both copies of her presence. She wanted them both to know that she was here and she would do what it takes to get the real one out.
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The other Wyn turns her head to stare at Samus and the others. "... what are you doing in here?" She's obviously significantly more confused by the presence of more people than her counterpart is.
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"Thanks." she says weakly.
Well, that was easy, right? ... almost a little bit too easy.
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"Let's go."
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A flash of memory hits her like a transport bot - the feeling of wind whipping her pigtails behind her, the gray-tint of the world through a helmet, the hoarse growl of a motorcycle between her legs, SMG strapped tight against her back, hands wrapped tightly in cloth to keep her skin from getting too ruined with electricity and metal. A sigh escapes her lips, and she almost runs into a wall, having forgotten to turn the last corner. A fringe of pink obscures her eyes, and she growls, spinning on her heel. Freeze.
The glare of emergency lights in a dull, gray-orange shell filled her vision, the whirring of pneumatics, the ticking of joints bending the wrong way, machinery misfiring as it tried to get itself back on track. She paled, and she blinked, and the night sky bright with light from lights that didn't light things at all, because does light really exist when there's nobody around to see it?
The silence of machinery, metal sounds, metal everything corroded the air, and her head spun, hair standing on end. She had no gun, no tape on her knuckles, no motorbike to escape on. She had only herself, and the thought terrified her for a long moment, the insecurities of a teenage anachronism assaulting her nineteen-year-old psyche for the first time in... weeks, and she was almost overwhelmed...
Second Half
and she was almost overwhelmed...No.
and she was almost...
No.
and she was...
No.
and she IS.
And when has being alone ever stopped her before?
Take that, Nightmare King, she taunts mentally, muscles relaxing and flexing simultaneously, and she really isn't surprised at all to see that the single Class B Duty Bot has multiplied by eight, and hey, is that a Class D back there?
A sick, gleeful grin contorts her round, Asian face, eyes twinkling with a madness seen by no one on this beautiful, beautiful vessel. With a puff of breath and an easy flowing of limbs, she is moving into destruction, dislocating limbs from chest plates with the practiced skill of a mechanic. Fireworks in the form of electricity ensue, along with the screeching of metal torn from metal, the hissing of pneumatics losing pressure, the bzzz, bzzz of wires trying to connect. She is a whirl of pink and martial arts glorious enough to inspire rock ballads in the minds of far-off musicians, and within minutes, the nightmare is dispelled, and she is huffing.
"Fucking... fuc...fucking Nightmare King," she says, coughing, hand pressed to her chest despite the numerous gashes and burns marring it, her pulse racing with lack of exercise. "Catching me off-guard like that. So far below the belt, man. So far."
And she is on her way, turning yet another corner, and another, overjoyed to find a vengeful, violent, terrified-looking Samus.
"Aya, Kami-sama, ono baka..."
Re: Second Half
She spotted the other woman as Samus blasted away some remnants of other nightmares looking for some other poor souls to terrorize.
"You!" She shot. She notices the woman's injuries and ran over, hoping Xander had enough sense to follow. "How are your injuries?"
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Nothing earth-altering or world-ending.
But she did hold in her hands a copy of Patsy Walker: Hellcat & Friends, a comic written by her mother, in which Hellcat dies a grisly death.
...Why?