[Shannon] Sorry, Charlie....
Jun. 21st, 2007 06:50 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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crossing_lostrpWho: 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.
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no subject
Date: 2007-06-22 05:01 am (UTC)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]
From:[Jack]
Date: 2007-06-22 04:09 pm (UTC)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?
From:[Blaise] Did I Mention I'm Psychic Now?
From:[Aeryn]
From:[Scott, NPC Ripley]
From:[Ami]
From:[Scott, Ripley, Ami]
From:no subject
Date: 2007-06-22 09:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:[Blaise] At the Crime Scene
Date: 2007-06-23 07:47 pm (UTC)"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]
From:[Daniel] Ghost Story
From:[Blaise] Did I Mention I'm Psychic II?
From:[Isabel]
From:OOC question
From:Re: OOC question
From:[Jack]
From:[Daniel]
From:[Isabel]
From:Re: [Isabel]
From:[George]
From:[Jack]
From:[George]
From:[Jack]
From:[George]
From:[Jack]
From:[George]
From:[Aeryn]
From:[Jack]
From:[George]
From:[Shannon]
From:[Jack]
From:[George]
From:[Jack]
From:OOC giggling
From:[Jack]
From:[Aeryn]
From:OOC laughter
From:[Faith] It Happened Quickly
Date: 2007-06-25 02:32 am (UTC)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]
From:[Daniel]
From:[Doctor]
From:OOC
From:OOC: It's Coming
From:[Blaise] Better and Better
From:[Blaise] A Cunning Plan
From:OOC: Heh.
From:Re: OOC: Heh.
From:[Tara]
Date: 2007-06-28 11:14 pm (UTC)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]
From:[Tara]
From: