[Shannon] Sorry, Charlie....

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

Who: Shannon-in-Charlie
When: Day 29, 1 p.m. (approx.)
Where: The Storage Room
Invited: Shannon/Charlie, a Very Special Guest Star, anyone else
Status: Complete

Shannon reeled away from Soldier Boy and ducked around a corner. Her vision blurred, signaling that tears were imminent. As if she didn't already know that. Her eyes were burning with unshed tears and she was trembling with the need to lash out.



She wanted to scream and cry and...hit something. Or someone. Maybe anyone. No, not anyone--she wanted to strike back at the source of all her pain, but she couldn't. It was the island. "I hate this fucking island!" she said aloud, uncaring of who might or might not be listening. "I fucking hate it!"

'Hate' was really an inadequate word for the depth of Shannon's loathing. She curled her fingers, wanting so badly to wrap them around the throat of someone she could make pay for all the indignities she'd suffered since buying a ticket for Flight 815. From the day they'd crashed on this god forsaken rock her life had been hell--a living hell--in every conceivable way.

For a month now she'd been living in a goddamned grass hut like some bare-breasted third world native in one of Boone's National Geographics. Washing in a creek, using whatever scraps of soap they could salvage from the plane. Wearing cast-off clothes scavenged from the dead. Using a fly-infested, stench-filled primitive latrine that made a Porta-Potty look like the Hilton. Shannon shuddered at the thought.

And everyone hated her. She knew it, though she'd never admitted it. She hadn't missed all the sidelong glances and rolled eyes when she complained--as if they never did! The sadistic glee she sensed when she unwillingly joined in to wash dishes or clothing, or cook, or clean fish. Some few had had the gall to laugh at her! As if she should have known how to do these things!

Losing her memory had almost been a blessing. She might not have known who she was, but at least they were all in the same boat. But that was over and now--now she was trapped in the body of this drug-addled loser! And he was using hers like a goddamned playground! Shannon stopped abruptly and pounded the wall once with her fist.

She could feel a crying jag coming on and she wanted privacy. If Charlie had a room anywhere in this building, she had no idea where. So she ducked through the door marked Storage, slamming it behind her and leaning against it. The storage room was pitch black and cool. There was a light switch somewhere, she was certain but she didn't care. She slid down the door to huddle on the floor and let the tears come.

Shannon wasn't sure how long she cried, but it wasn't long. She paused in mid-sniffle and raised her head, though she still couldn't see shit. The room felt colder suddenly, or maybe it was just a chill. She felt an odd prickling along her arms, realizing only slowly that it was the hairs--hairs on her arms!--standing up. As were the hairs on the back of her--Charlie's--neck.

Shannon felt the first stirrings of fear then. She sensed that she wasn't alone any longer. But she was leaning against the only door. Had someone already been in here? Had they been listening and silently enjoying the sound of her misery?

"Is someone there?" Shannon asked.

No reply. But she sensed that she was the focus of someone's undivided attention. She swallowed hard with a suddenly dry throat. The feeling of being watched grew stronger. "Who's there?" she asked, struggingling awkwardly to get her feet under her and stand up. The silent attention was scaring her now. She wanted to find the light switch and see which asshole was scaring her.

Shannon laid her hand against the wall and slid her arm upward, feeling for the switch--and flinched at the sharp tug she felt on he wrist. Then shrieked as the pain followed. She clutched her injured arm to her chest and gasped in surprise at the hot, salty splash of blood against her mouth and chin, blood that pumped from the raw stump of her wrist.

Her next scream tore her throat as red hot blades slashed across her belly, shredding her flesh. The coppery tang of blood mixed with the stink of shit filled the air. Hot liquid poured down across her bare legs and Shannon knew in a moment of crystalline clarity that she was bleeding out. She felt it when the mass of her intestines slithered out of her abdominal cavity and puddled on the floor at her feet. Then the claws and teeth were at her again, buffeting her and knocking her to the floor, where they tore at her with impossible speed and ferocity.

After the first few moments of stunned shock, Shannon tried to defend herself but there was nothing to strike at, nothing to push away. Only the teeth and claws were real, and only when they scored her flesh, raked at her, worried chunks of meat from her bones.

Shannon screamed and struggled for longer than she imagined possible before she ended.

OOC: Yes, boys and girls, it's a Grue. All anyone will find is a thoroughly dismembered body in a room awash and splattered in blood and gore. No sign of how it got in or out, no footprints, no forensic evidence--other than claw/tooth marks in bone and shredded flesh--of what killed Shannon/Charlie. All will be revealed in due time but for now, it's a locked room mystery with no solution.

Comments

[purplerhino.livejournal.com]

Outside the storage closet a furry form whimpered as blood oozed out from under the door.

Oorie shuffled back a few paces and puddled on the floor.

She threw back her head and made her first barking howl, then whimpered and barked again. It was a half squeaking bark, made more as an instinctual call to her mother, or any nurturing, protective presence.

She just kept alternating between whimpers and barks.

The smell of her puddle was completely covered by the smell of blood and the contents of severed intestines.

(OOC: Why do I suddenly want Riddick's ass on the island?)

[Blaise]

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

Blaise had left the cafeteria after the momentary switch with Ami. He didn't know what Ami had done in the few seconds she'd been back in her own body, but when he found himself back in the cafeteria again he was overwhelmed by a rich stew of emotions and thoughts. It wasn't painful but it was loud, like being in the middle of a noisy cocktail party--a cacophony of voices that made it difficult to concentrate on your own conversation.

Whatever he'd done to block out most of it earlier, he soon found that he couldn't recreate. Not quickly, anyhow. So he'd left the room to gain a little distance. He had no idea what Ami's range was, but figured that distance couldn't hurt. So it was that he found himself lurking in the hallway when Orrie began barking.

Blaise recognized Orrie's bark. The puppy was very distressed--and frightened--by something. He rounded the corner and saw Orrie at the far end, near the rear entrance to the bunker. The puppy had made a mess on the floor, another sign of just how frightened she must be, and blood was spreading from beneath the door.

Blaise approached the puppy slowly, both to avoid frightening her and to assess the situation. Halfway down the hall he caught a whiff of something distinctly unpleasant--and all too familiar from time spent on various battlefields over the years. He reached automatically for his sidearm but his hand found only his hip.

(Ami's hip,) he reminded himself. Blaise hesitated. Did he have a right to risk injury now? Was it wise to investigate? He didn't have the muscle he used to. What about his skills? He suspected that a good half of his martial arts training was muscle memory and he hadn't had a chance to find out for sure.

Still, someone had to investigate and he was here.

Blaise crept up to the storage room door. The stench of violent death was much stronger. Orrie whimpered. Blaise tried the door. It wasn't locked. He pushed it open, reached in around the jamb and flicked on the lights.

"Holy shit," Blaise said. The floor was awash in blood. Blood was also splashed and splattered on all the walls, and on the shelves and their contents. Blaise stared at the mess on the floor, his eyes hurting for a moment as he tried to resolve it into something recognizable.

It wasn't until he identified one chunk as a piece of someone's ribcage that it fell into place. Then that had to be someone's.... Blaise felt his stomach roll. This wasn't the worst thing he'd ever seen--but it was close. The largest pieces were the long bones of the arms and legs; nothing else was bigger than two fists.

Blaise turned and focused on his breathing for a moment, then yelled for someone--anyone--to answer.

After a moment, Jack Harkness stuck his head around the corner.

"Jack!" Blaise called, "I mean, George--whoever. Get Dr. Jackson right now! Someone's dead!"

George gaped for a moment. "Dead? Who?"

Blaise glanced through the doorway, then averted his eyes. He looked at George. "I can't tell."

[Jack]

[purplerhino.livejournal.com]

Jack, too, recognized that stench. He looked around the door and winced, paling a bit. Like Blaise, he had seen much, witnessed much. Hell, he'd most likely done as much as Sayid in the interrogation field. This was just... and it was likely someone they all knew.

He reached for his wrist and suddenly realized George had his wristcom on his body.

"Right. Doctor Jackson. Be right back." Jack upholstered his revolver and handed it to Blaise, unaware of any reservation he might have in Ami. After all, the man was military. "Watch you back."

Jack heard the whine behind him and scooped up the puppy as he took off. He'd always liked dogs, and this little gal had been frightened enough.

"Doctor Jackson! Danny!" Jack half skidded around the corner as he headed to the last place he'd seen the Doctor's form.

He saw him moving away from a bunch of people talking to May. No, may was in the asian guy. No time for that.

He shoved Oorie into Rose's arms. "Watch her and STAY HERE." He issued the order in George's voice, but the command was clear.

"Daniel, you have to come with me. NOW." He grabbed the man's arm. "Someone get George. She's in my body. Send her to storage closet the end of second left. Send the Doctor or House as well. No one else come down there, or I'll kneecap them."

[Scott] Wha?

[starborn-scribe.livejournal.com]

Some sort of commotion in the hall woke Scott from a restless sleep. (Ami?) The silence in his head and general malaise reminded him that he was still stuck in House's body. "Fuck," he muttered.

Footsteps pounded past his and Ami's room.

"Ami?" Scott wrenched his eyes open and sat up. He was alone.

Despite being completely and utterly un-psychic at the moment, Scott's gut told him that something was wrong. Ignoring his various aches and pains he grabbed House's cane and made his way to the door. The hall on the other side was quiet, so Scott opened the door and stuck his head out. He looked around, wanting to call for Ami, but hesitated. If there was trouble, he didn't want to draw it to him in his currently defenseless state.

[Blaise] Did I Mention I'm Psychic Now?

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

The revolver felt wrong in his hand. It took a moment for Blaise to recognize that it felt too big; Ami's hand's were smaller than his. Still, better to have it than not. Just in case--

--Blaise was leaning against a door, the metal cool against his skin. It was pitch black and he was terrified and screaming as claws and teeth tore him apart--

--and Rodney was staring at a computer monitor, eyes wide with fear. "It's not working," he mumbled, typing frantically. "It's not working!"--

--Walt Lloyd clung to his father's hand, leaning backward, trying to pull him along. "We have to go, dad! We have to go now!"--

--The signal fire, neglected after a month with no results, gutters out in the rain. Heavy cloud cover blots out the stars. Darkness envelops the camp. And then the screaming starts--

--The Doctor pauses in the middle of chaos to address the stranger in their midst. "Hello, Hiro Nakamura. I'm the Doctor. Now run for your life!" And suiting words to deeds, the Doctor does just that--

--Strangers groan and sit up in the jungle, sleepy-eyed and wondering, beneath a massive stone carved like a great mushroom five feet high and ten feet across. Blaise doesn't know any of them. But he will--

--Blaise is running, along with everyone else, fleeing from they know not what. Behind them sounds of destruction. They run, spilling things as they go--those who are carrying burdens--with no idea how far away safety might lie--

--A great bonfire burns on the beach in a new camp. Survivors huddle around it as if their lives depend upon it. Many faces are missing. Some are new. All are haunted--

--George stands on the beach, arms crossed, staring out at the rising sun. Ami is beside her. Behind them a camp rises. George turns to Ami. "Isn't this where we started?"

--Blaise woke up with people clustered around him. He was lying on the floor...by the door of the storage room. He felt warm, tacky blood on his outstretched arm and soaking into the back of his--Ami's--shirt. "What--what happened?"

"You fainted."

[Aeryn]

[tweets.livejournal.com]

(OOC: Sis, I'm bringing John along, hope you don't mind?)

Aeryn looked up as the sound of a distressed dog reached her ears.

"What was that?" she glanced to John, seeing a puzzled look in his eyes.

"That, my dear, is a dog. Furry thing, usually only makes noises like that when there's trouble."

The two of them stood, working as one to create a movement that looked more like a dance. Aeryn took her peacekeeper pistol and holstered it, then she took one of the handguns and slid it into her waistband, then grabbed her coat.

John, on the other hand, touched Winona, then reached for another pistol. Just in case.

Together, they moved into the corridor, led by the whimpering of the dog, but as they grew closer, Aeryn paused, then licked her lips and put out a warning hand to slow John down. "I smell blood." she whispered. "Lots of blood and death."

She'd caused many massacres in her time, leading the peacekeeper troops under her command. But even in that there was mercy. This smelt like a butcher's job.

Cautiously they now approached and Aeryn made sure not to stand in the slick blood that pooled on the floor. "What happened?" she asked of the first person she saw.

[Scott, NPC Ripley]

[starborn-scribe.livejournal.com]

Movement further down the hallway from his and Ami's room drew Scott's attention. DI Tyler -- (No, Ripley) -- loped toward him. She/he looked like she'd just finished working out. Her short hair was tousled and sweat-dampened, and her shirt was untucked and unbuttoned. Scott didn't remember seeing the DI with a gun in a shoulder holster, but was glad to see that Ripley had it. Her somber expression didn't bode well.

"Scott," she said quietly. "Get Ami. We're gathering in the small cafeteria."

Scott gulped. "Ami's not here. What's going on?"

"Someone's dead. Messily." Ripley pushed the door open and pulled one of House's arms around Sam's shoulders. "C'mon."

Nodding, Scott limped along as fast as he could. He prayed that Ami had gotten to the cafeteria safely.

[Ami]

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

It was hard to ignore the screams and the growing stench of blood assaulting the senses and being pumped in through the ventilation system as part of their recycled air. Ami hovered indecisively, wanting to charge forth and help and being half terrified.

Plus, what could she do? She might have Blaise's body, but she didn't have his skills.

She was distracted by DI Tyler leading Scott-in-House in her direction.

"Daniel wants us all to go the cafeteria," the body language and tone reminded Ami that it was Ripley, not Tyler.

Ami automatically moved to Scott's other side to offer him support and assitance. "What? Why? What's happened?"

(Or should that be what else has happened?)

[tweets.livejournal.com]

~Sniff~ But I LIKE Charlie!

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

Alas, somebody likes almost all the NPCs--but not enough that anyone has been interested in playing them more than briefly. So they languish, unloved and unplayed for months on end, lonely and miserable. They pile up in the corners with the dustbunnies, feeling like the velveteen rabbit. Unloved and unwanted.

So occasionally we find it necessary to murder them in the most horrible fashion imaginable neatly euthanize them for my own twisted amusement the betterment of all.

[Blaise] At the Crime Scene

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

Blaise was back on his feet now, well aware of the blood drying on his arm and soaking the back of his shirt. Aeryn and John were standing with him, surveying the scene. Aeryn had asked what happened.

"Something killed--" Blaise started to say, just as The Doctor, Chloe and George rounded the corner. No, Daniel, Faith and Jack. (God, this is confusing,) Blaise thought. They approached, Daniel and Faith with an expression he recognized; appalled, horrified, disgusted--but all too familiar with the aftermath of violence. Jack had already seen the mess once and steeled himself to it.

"What happened?" Daniel asked.

"Something killed Shannon," Blaise said.

"Shannon?"

"Charlie's body, but Shannon's...personality, consciousness, soul--whatever."

George rounded the corner and stopped, staring toward them. Blaise waved her closer. She walked up, slipped between Jack and John and peered into the room. "Holy shit," she said. Then she stepped into the room.

Everyone else looked as surprised as Blaise felt. "George!" they chorused.

George waved a hand at them but otherwise didn't acknowledge them. She stepped carefully. It was impossible to avoid stepping in the blood but she was moving like she was on ice, being careful not to slip and fall.

Blaise watched silently, amazed by her demeanor. If the sight or smell of such a violent death disturbed her at all, it didn't show. He knew she and Daisy dealt with death--violent death--every day, but Jesus. That was a level of comfort with it he hoped never to achieve.

He watched her lean over to run her finger across a blood-drenched set of ribs. Then again, with a small frown. She stood up and looked around, and
walked carefully over to another bloody mass of tissue. She touched it, then again.

George stood up. "Shit." She glanced thru the doorway at the observers, muttered, "Fuck!" and then moved toward them. "You're up," she said to Jack.

"What?"

"That's my body you've got there," George said. "So you get to do the honors. Somebody--"

"Shannon," Blaise said, "in Charlie's body."

"Shannon, then," George replied. "Shannon's waiting on you."

Blaise stripped off his--Ami's shirt, wiped the drying blood from his arm as best he could and offered it to George. "Here. It's ruined anyhow."

George took it, and wiped her--Jack's--fingers off with it. She eyed Blaise, especially his cleavage. "I s'pose you want my shirt now."

"That'd be nice," Blaise said. George removed her shirt and gave it to Blaise. It hung on Ami's body like a tent, but at least it covered her.

[Aeryn]

[tweets.livejournal.com]

Aeryn's glimpses of the massacre were all she needed, despite her own past. She watched while Blaise, John and George hovered in the doorway, then she turned to the others.

"There's not much I can do until they're finished" she said, looking pointedly at the Doctor (Daniel-in-Doctor). "What can I do to help, until the clean-up?"

[Daniel] Ghost Story

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

Daniel nodded his head toward the end of the corridor. "Go up there and keep anyone else from coming down here unless we ask for them. There's not much to be done yet, and gawkers won't help."

"Also," Daniel continued, "let people know that...Charlie is dead. Don't tell them he was killed, just that he's dead and we're investigating. I know that we can't keep it secret long, and I don't plan to, but at this point we have no answers to give to all the questions a murder would raise."

"We have no idea who--"

"Or what," Blaise interrupted in Ami's voice. "Definitely what."

"--or what," Daniel agreed. "Nor how or why. We'll provide answers as soon as we have them."

"Alright," Aeryn said, "You've got it."

Daniel turned to Blaise. "'Or what?' What do you know?"

Blaise looked uncomfortable. "You know that Ami has--she's psychic." Daniel nodded encouragingly. Blaise blew out a big breath and started talking.

"I had a--I guess you'd call it a vision." Blaise laughed humorlessly. "Well, not a vision, technically--it was pitch black. But I felt it like I was Char--Shannon. She was torn apart by some...thing. All teeth and claws."

Blaise met Daniel's eyes steadily. "And I mean that literally. It's like it wasn't really there except for the teeth and claws ripping her apart."

Daniel reached up to remove his glasses, aborting the move when he discovered (again) that he wasn't wearing them. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose while he thought for a moment. (Things just keep getting better and better.)

"Okay," Daniel said, looking at Blaise again. "Anything else?"

Blaise looked uncomfortable again. "Actually...yeah."

[Blaise] Did I Mention I'm Psychic II?

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

"What else?" Daniel asked.

"I saw...other things," Blaise said. "Mostly just fragments. Rodney in the lab, getting worked up over something not working. Lots of running and shouting and screaming, both here and back on the beach."

Blaise hesitated. "I don't know what, exactly, is coming--but I'm pretty sure something unpleasant is coming our way."

He glanced into the storage room. "And I think this is connected to it."

[Isabel]

[nohatmatt.livejournal.com]

Following Daniel hurriedly, Isabel's first urge had been to throw up when the mess which used to be Charlie's body was revealed. She'd ducked around the corner, retching but somehow managing not to actually vomit. Once she'd calmed down, she rejoined the group, although the sight of the mess still made the gore want to rise from her stomach.

"I'm pretty sure something unpleasant is coming our way," Blaise-in-Ami was saying. "And I think this is connected to it."

"I think something unpleasant is already here," Isabel pointed out. "Or was very recently. Or still is, somewhere."

[Faith] It Happened Quickly

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

Faith stepped lightly around the room. She steeled her nerves from the moment she arrived and the need to wretch was not nearly as strong at the moment. Faith would be the first to admit that Slayer did not equal indifference . . . even she would never have contemplated something this grim or grotesque in her darker days.

Faith didn't know what she was looking for, but she knew that she'd know when she saw it.

So far, though, all she knew was that the murder had been grisly and thorough.

"Quick," Faith muttered.

"What was that?" Someone in the hall asked.

"It was quick," Faith said. "She - he - whatever. They got killed quick."

"How do you know?"

"Because we didn't hear anything. This much blood, that -" Faith waved at the remains of the body. "Would take a while with normal weapons, or even a normal demon or something. We would have heard the screaming."

[Blaise]

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

"Yeah," Blaise said quietly. "It was quick." Or at least it seemed quick in his brief vision.

Blaise rubbed his temples. He could feel everyone's emotions. And get snatches of their thoughts as well. He knew that Faith was more unsettled by the evidence of violence than she was letting on.

It was strange, this direct perception of emotions. Not like guessing at what people felt by their body language, expressions, tone of voice and so forth. It could be helpful, but it had a high price. Ami could have it. He'd be glad to get back where he belonged.

[Daniel]

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

"Too late to lock down the bunker," Daniel spoke aloud but mostly to himself.

"It wouldn't matter," Chloe's voice carried outside with Faith's control and overtones. "This wasn't natural or normal. If it got in under our noses, probably got out the same way. Lock down ain't gonna make a difference."

"Anything else?" Daniel prompted.

A moment passed, then another. "No vampire or demon I ever heard about. Might be something in one of the books though." Faith appeared in the doorway, and clutched at it, just barely stopping herself from falling down in the blood. Chloe's brilliantly green eyes met Daniel's, and a brief flash of pain and disgust shown there before being replaced by the usual distance and non-chalance that Faith affected when she wasn't being sexual. "I didn't like her much, but nobody deserves to go like that."

Daniel didn't have anything to say to that. The urge to comfort Faith was strong; her mask slipped more than once, but he didn't know how she'd react to that. She liked to be strong, she needed to be strong and Daniel respected that.

And really, he wanted an excuse to get away from the scene. He was more aware of it than he cared to let on. As it was, he'd backed to the far wall and tried to avoid looking at the gore.

Daniel would be so happy to give the Doctor his body back.

He noted Blaise rubbing Ami's temples. (I'm probably not the only one who wants to surrender their borrowed body). "Blaise, are you all right?"

[Doctor]

[purplerhino.livejournal.com]

(since we're making threads at seperate times...)

The Doctor arrived once he heard they were looking for him. The gathered people all looked disgusted.

He could smell the death, the blood and the excrement. He looked around the door and winced, but didn't look sick.

"Well that's a thorough job." He looked at Daniel in his body. If he were capable of it, he'd be looking green. As it was his face was pale and he was leaning away.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Blaise asked.

"Something very nasty offed Charlie." He looked back at Blaise.

"Now is not the time to be flip, Doctor." There was an edge to his voice as Daniel used it, sounding all American.

"Right. You want to know what happened. First guess the throat wound or the shock killed him. The throat slice was deep enough to cut the trachea.” The screwdriver was out. “Can’t tell if he drown in his own blood, because the arterial blood would have gone down the open trachea. The fact that we’ve only got half a lung left makes tellin’ a bit difficult.”

He looked up at Daniel. “Blood loss and shock could have been what actually made the heart and brain shut down. If it was fast enough, he didn’t feel much actual pain. That should comfort you. Shock automatically sets in and your body floods with endorphins. The brain doesn’t really accept what’s happening and those lovely pain blockers are in overdrive. He might have been aware, but not actually feelin’ it.

“Whatever did this was hungry. But it eats fast, just gulps it down. The teeth were sharp as knives. This isn’t so much torn as sliced.” He pointed to severed lower arm. It had a large bite out of it. “And it had a big mouth. About 15 inches American. Likes meat more than fat. Got the back of the calves and thighs, heavy muscle masses on a human. Also got both hands. Most likely when he tried to defend himself, or, if it was somewhat intelligent, to stop that resistance. Flayed the skin off, not here, so it ate that. It also ate the heart and most of the lungs, liver, all the good organ meat. Left the stomach and intestines. Didn’t crack the bones and go after all the nutrient rich marrow. Might not have had time. Doesn’t like fiber. The clothes are all here, shredded and soaked as they are.”

The Doctor stood up from his crouch and looked at Daniel. “Now for the really fun part. Danny boy, what do you smell? You got a whole aroma explosion goin on there. Try to filter out the blood and shite, the adrenaline and fear. Do you smell anything that doesn’t belong to a human body? Anything animal, or chemical? Look in there, any non human hairs, scratchmarks on the environment covered by blood? Got the shelf there, I can even see that.”

OOC

[purplerhino.livejournal.com]

Yes, he can be a cold bastard sometimes. :) He's been around too much death.

OOC: It's Coming

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

Will reply (soonish). Need to nail a few things down . . .

[Blaise] Better and Better

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

Blaise glanced at Daniel. "I'm fine," he said. "Bit of a tension headache, I guess."

He'd been trying to recall more of the fragmentary images he'd glimpsed in the vision. A lot of it wasn't clear, and most of it seemed vaguely unreal, like a dream remembered. But still...

Blaise moved closer to Daniel-in-the-Doctor. "I think...whatever this was, it's going to attack the beach camp."

[Tara]

[weirdweb.livejournal.com]

((OOC note: This is after Chloe and George start organizing switchbacks, so it's a little later.))

TARA ENTERS

Tara hurried down the corridor towards the storage room, not eager to approach the murder scene but wanting to get there as soon as possible. "Excuse me!"

Immediately, Aeryn stepped up to intercept her, and Tara continued before she could lose her nerve. "I-I need to talk to Daniel. Chloe and George figured out how to switch everyone back."

[Blaise]

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

Blaise turned when he noticed Aeryn intercepting someone up the corridor. It was Tara. Blaise walked up to join them.

"What is it?" he asked. When Tara repeated herself, Blaise perked up.

"Where are they?" Blaise asked. Not that Ami didn't have a nice body, but he wanted his own back. Tara said they were in--or headed toward--the second cafeteria. Blaise nodded.

"Let her pass," he told Aeryn. "Tell Daniel and the Doctor," he said to Tara. "I'm going to go find Ami and then we're going to get this taken care of."

EXIT BLAISE

[Tara]

[weirdweb.livejournal.com]

((OOC: Trying to NPC Daniel slightly here, forgive me if it's lame.))

Tara nodded and hurried over to the doorway, but she slowed down considerably at the sight of the pooling blood. Oh, Goddess...

Trying not to look at the floor, she focused on Daniel and the Doctor. "C-chloe and George figured out how to s-switch people back," she informed them, unable to suppress the stammer as she tried to block out the sight and smell of the carnage in the storage room.

"What?" Daniel-in-the-Doctor was trying and failing not to sound eager. "Where are they?"

"In-in the larger cafeteria," Tara managed, turning her face away from the storage room. "I'm sorry, I-I need to go there too. Just to get some air." If she stayed here any longer, she was going to be sick. Living in Sunnydale had desensitized her slightly to demon violence, but she hadn't encountered something like this in a long time. The stink of death was too much to bear. She needed to get outside, get some fresh air; she couldn't stay here any longer.