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crossing_lostrp2007-06-21 06:50 pm
sinanju.livejournal.com) wrote in crossing_lostrp2007-06-21 06:50 pm
Entry tags:
[Shannon] Sorry, Charlie....
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.
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.
[Daniel]
"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]
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
OOC: It's Coming
[Blaise] Better and Better
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."
[Blaise] A Cunning Plan
Blaise turned to see Chloe at the far end of the corridor. Aeryn was keeping her from advancing while Chloe shouted and waved for Faith. Blaise traded looks with Daniel.
ENTER CHLOE
"What is it, Fai--Chloe?" Daniel asked. He gestured to Aeryn and she let Chloe pass. Chloe hurried down to stand in front of them.
"I've got an idea," Chloe said excitedly. "How to put everyone right again!"
"Yes? What is it?" Daniel asked after a moment's silence.
"You!" Chloe said, pointing at George. "You can take people's souls, right? Why can't you do it now? And then swap everyback where they belong?"
Jack and George looked at one another. "Would that work?" Jack asked.
"How the hell should I know?" George said, scowling. "It's not like this ever came up before." She shrugged. "It can't hurt to try."
Faith looked alternately excited and disappointed. Blaise smirked. He knew--everyone knew--that she'd been hoping to have some (more) fun with Chloe's body. Not that she was the only one. Blaise suspected that a lot of people had--or would be--taking advantage of this opportunity, given the chance.
Chloe walked and leaned down to whisper into Chloe's ear. Blaise saw Faith's eyes shift as she listened. Then a huge grin spread across her face. "Hey, yeah! Cool. Okay, count me in!"
"What do you think, then?" Chloe asked Jack and George.
"What the hell," George said.
"Why don't you go find someplace a little more...private," Daniel suggested. And away from the scene of gruesome death, he didn't add but Blaise heard.
"Uh...yeah," Chloe said, only now paying attention to the scene in front of her. (She must have been really excited about this idea,) Blaise thought. (It's not like her to miss something this obvious.)
"Come on, guys," Faith said, taking the lead. "I have a good idea where we should go. If this works, we'll let you know."
EXIT CHLOE, FAITH, GEORGE (and JACK?)
OOC: Heh.
And at least May and Ami have been there before and know what to expect...
Re: OOC: Heh.
But now that we're getting short on time before the rollover to the new comms, it's time to get busy.