[GAME EVENT] Team Cockpit: It's Out There
Jan. 17th, 2006 09:01 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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crossing_lostrpContinued from here.
Megabyte felt it before the others did. Maybe there was something to be said for being telepathic, but then again maybe not, because he wasn't sure he liked the oppressing feeling that suddenly crept on him and weighed him down. His heart sped up, and instincts more animal than human threatened to take over. Something told him to run, teleport, do anything but just get away . . . and get away now.
"Hey, can we get a move on it guys?" Pretty Boy called up from outside.
"Oh hold your horses," Rodney snapped, although not loud enough for his words to carry beyond the cockpit. With a final twist and snap, the transceiver was free, everything salvageable had been salvaged and Megabyte released the breath that he hadn't noticed he was holding. "Now, we can 'get a move on it.'"
Rodney backed up, pushing Megabyte slightly out of the cockpit and to allow Jon to reach around and help the pilot with freeing himself from the safety belt and the pilot's seat. The young man must have noticed it then as well, because he stopped and squinted out of the window. "Oh shit."
Although everything in him told him not to, Megabyte followed Jon's gaze out of the window. Although the angle was awkward it was easy to tell the whole jungle was swaying – or being ripped apart. A moment later, the ground shook and the front third of the plane shook around bouncing them roughly.
"What –" the pilot lifted himself up, poking his head through the window.
Jon attempted to pull the man back down, "You don't want to do that. Get back in here."
And then It – whatever It was – was on them. There were shouts and screams from the ground below and rapid gunfire. The pilot tried to scramble back inside the cockpit, but something held him fast and with a blood-chilling scream, kicking legs, a loud gurgling and splash of blood, he was gone, violently ripped from the plane.
The action shook the fuselage and the transceiver tumbled from Rodney's fingers, clattering over to wedge itself in the corner by the co-pilot. The gun fire had ceased and all was quiet, but Megabyte was deathly afraid to call out. He really wanted to hang onto the hope that Sergeant Blaise, Locke, George and hell, even Pretty Boy were all right down there.
Jon turned his body, attempting to wedge his arm into the small space, but the transceiver remained steadily out of reach. Jon swore, quite colorfully, and shifted positions.
/Megabyte?/ He heard Ami, but really this wasn't the time for a play-by-play.
/Not now./ He severed the contact; he'd explain later, she'd understand.
"Jon, let me," Megabyte pushed his way into the cockpit. Whatever It was – and he was grateful that he hadn't seen It – It was gone for now, but It might come back. The further they were away when that happened, so much the better.
Jon gave him an odd look, but whatever look Megabyte gave him in return must have cinched it because the younger man scrambled over to the pilot's seat, plastering himself as far back from the window as possible. Megabyte took Jon's spot on the floor, knowing that his arm would not even reach as far as Jon's did. But that wasn't the point.
With a quick thought, he felt the transceiver in his mind, then it was wiggling loose and skittering across the cockpit into his waiting hand, telekinetically pulled free. He didn't know if Jon saw, and he didn't care at that moment. The transceiver meant that they were step closer to rescue and one step closer to home.
Megabyte waved it at Jon and Rodney, "Now let's get the hell out of here."
OOC Note: Leaving it open for those outside to interpret what they saw. It was not a T-Rex, however. It was very much akin to this.
Megabyte felt it before the others did. Maybe there was something to be said for being telepathic, but then again maybe not, because he wasn't sure he liked the oppressing feeling that suddenly crept on him and weighed him down. His heart sped up, and instincts more animal than human threatened to take over. Something told him to run, teleport, do anything but just get away . . . and get away now.
"Hey, can we get a move on it guys?" Pretty Boy called up from outside.
"Oh hold your horses," Rodney snapped, although not loud enough for his words to carry beyond the cockpit. With a final twist and snap, the transceiver was free, everything salvageable had been salvaged and Megabyte released the breath that he hadn't noticed he was holding. "Now, we can 'get a move on it.'"
Rodney backed up, pushing Megabyte slightly out of the cockpit and to allow Jon to reach around and help the pilot with freeing himself from the safety belt and the pilot's seat. The young man must have noticed it then as well, because he stopped and squinted out of the window. "Oh shit."
Although everything in him told him not to, Megabyte followed Jon's gaze out of the window. Although the angle was awkward it was easy to tell the whole jungle was swaying – or being ripped apart. A moment later, the ground shook and the front third of the plane shook around bouncing them roughly.
"What –" the pilot lifted himself up, poking his head through the window.
Jon attempted to pull the man back down, "You don't want to do that. Get back in here."
And then It – whatever It was – was on them. There were shouts and screams from the ground below and rapid gunfire. The pilot tried to scramble back inside the cockpit, but something held him fast and with a blood-chilling scream, kicking legs, a loud gurgling and splash of blood, he was gone, violently ripped from the plane.
The action shook the fuselage and the transceiver tumbled from Rodney's fingers, clattering over to wedge itself in the corner by the co-pilot. The gun fire had ceased and all was quiet, but Megabyte was deathly afraid to call out. He really wanted to hang onto the hope that Sergeant Blaise, Locke, George and hell, even Pretty Boy were all right down there.
Jon turned his body, attempting to wedge his arm into the small space, but the transceiver remained steadily out of reach. Jon swore, quite colorfully, and shifted positions.
/Megabyte?/ He heard Ami, but really this wasn't the time for a play-by-play.
/Not now./ He severed the contact; he'd explain later, she'd understand.
"Jon, let me," Megabyte pushed his way into the cockpit. Whatever It was – and he was grateful that he hadn't seen It – It was gone for now, but It might come back. The further they were away when that happened, so much the better.
Jon gave him an odd look, but whatever look Megabyte gave him in return must have cinched it because the younger man scrambled over to the pilot's seat, plastering himself as far back from the window as possible. Megabyte took Jon's spot on the floor, knowing that his arm would not even reach as far as Jon's did. But that wasn't the point.
With a quick thought, he felt the transceiver in his mind, then it was wiggling loose and skittering across the cockpit into his waiting hand, telekinetically pulled free. He didn't know if Jon saw, and he didn't care at that moment. The transceiver meant that they were step closer to rescue and one step closer to home.
Megabyte waved it at Jon and Rodney, "Now let's get the hell out of here."
OOC Note: Leaving it open for those outside to interpret what they saw. It was not a T-Rex, however. It was very much akin to this.
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(frozen) [Locke] (open tag)
Date: 2006-01-18 03:29 am (UTC)The myriad of birds silenced. Blaise, George, and Boone noticed it, too. The distant sounds of wood splintering and cracking filled the void. "From the north," Locke said quietly. Holding his P-90 ready, Blaise turned and said something to Boone and George. Locke edged to the east side of the cockpit, drawing McKay's pistol and switching off the safety. (Not much better than my knife.) He peeked around the edge.
The creature trampled everything in its path just like the night before. Locke felt an adrenaline rush of fear and excitement as it rushed straight toward the cockpit. He leveled the handgun on the swaying trees. Moments later the nearest trees exploded into toothpicks, revealing a horizontal plume of black smoke.
Locke gasped. He let the gun lower as dark vapors twined up the nose of the plane. Gunfire sounded from the other side of the wreckage. Locke chuckled quietly at the futility of it. Bullets couldn't stop it. None of them could. It was what the island wanted.
A man screamed, and the screams choked off. Locke shook his head. He knew it wasn't McKay, Damon, or Jon, but the knowledge didn't lessen his sorrow. "How many more people have to die?" he whispered.
(frozen) [Boone] Disappearance
Date: 2006-01-18 04:35 am (UTC)And suddenly it was raining, and he was sliding, and he didn't know if anyone was following behind him. All he could think about was getting away. The only thing in his mind was saving his own life. Some would call it cowardice - but what could he do for the others?
He stopped in a grouping of trees, disoriented and feeling ill. He tries to keep going, but he fell to his knees and vomited into the muddy ground. He tried to breath, his throat burning, his heart pounding He looked up - were those shadows, between the trees?
"Still playing hero? Oh, Boone."
The whispers has started. He turned his head as they passed on the wind, then looked up. The shadows were moving cloer, he was sure of it. He couldn't breath. It was getting darker...
Black.
[OOC: This was a planned disappearance of Boone. I hope the way I did it was fine. The shadows can be 'the others', tailaways, hallucinations from Boone's fear... anything, really. whenever someone comes, there might be a clue of some sort, maybe his shirt, but he won't be there. This okay with everyone? ]
(frozen) [Blaise] (open tag)
Date: 2006-01-18 04:56 am (UTC)He brought the P90 up to firing position. Flicked the safety off. Spun slowly in place, scanning for the threat. Boone was near the fuselage, shouting something. Locke eased around the fuselage, weapon in hand, likewise watching for the threat. Blaise would have preferred SG-23 for backup, but he was happy to have Locke around under the circumstances. George was standing there, staring up into the web of branches and vines supporting the cockpit, eyes wide. Boone was--where the hell was Boone?
Blaise shouted for him. No answer.
The wreckage shifted, then--god help them all--jerked back and forth as if being worried in the teeth of some huge carnivore. Like, say, a T. Rex.
Blaise raised his P90 and prepared to fire. Then he saw it. All his speculations and half-formed ideas for dealing with a monstrous dinosaur melted away. It was an immense black cloud, opaque and swirling with--eagerness. Blaise could sense it's eagerness to attack, to terrify, to kill. It was...evil. No, Evil with a capital 'E', like Ash's Evil Dead.
Even as he had the thought, Blaise tried to tell himself he was imagining things. The SGC had run into plenty of weird things and some--like the Goa'uld--were certainly evil. It didn't wash. The goa'uld were evil in a basically human "use other people for their own purposes" kind of way.
This was different. It was one bizarre thing too many as far as Blaise was concerned. A guy could only take so many hits to his sense of reality before something snapped. Blaise was deafened by a furious roar--and a moment later realized it was his own.
He stalked forward, bellowing his own wordless rage. The P90 thundered in his ears, beating a staccato rhythm against his shoulder. It was very cathartic. It was also utterly useless. The rounds vanished into the smoke with as little effect as on it as shooting at fog.
Blaise might have continued firing until he emptied the magazine, but a human figure popped up out of the shattered cockpit window, screaming and waving its arms. Blaise released the trigger before he consciously recognized what he'd seen. Then the figure was gone, the scream choking off abruptly.
Blaise stared after it, his ears ringing. (What the hell was the deal with this damned island!?)
(frozen) [George] I Spy With My Undead Eye
Date: 2006-01-18 06:08 am (UTC)Who else would be behind everything that had happened since the flight had taken off? The gravelings were probably responsible for the crash in the first place. They'd definitely done for Major Powell immediately afterward.
The gravelings alerted suddenly, glancing around--then scattered into the surrounding trees, vanishing like wisps of smoke. An instant later, the jungle trembled and trees began swaying. George stood motionless, staring up into the trees.
When an immense black cloud swirled into sight, looking like nothing so much as that inky smudge that gravelings vanished into, George wasn't surprised. The surface of the cloud was in constant motion, billowing and swirling. She thought she glimpsed gravelings flickering in and out in the roiling depths.
"The Mother of All Gravelings," George muttered. She had no idea what it really was, but that seemed as apt an name as any.
George jumped, startled by the sudden blast of Sgt. Blaise's assault rifle. He stalked past George, screaming at the cloud and blazing away at it. (Well, I guess everyone can see it,) George thought. She'd assumed, based on its resemblance to the gravelings that mortals couldn't. Which only made her wonder what the hell it really was.
The cloud enveloped the nose of the plane as a man stuck his head up through the broken window. Blaise stopped firing. The man screamed. He was pulled bodily through the window. The screams ceased a moment later. Silence filled the clearing.
George realized she was trembling. She was shocked, and horrified. Not by the pilot's death--he had to be a pilot--because violent deaths were nothing to to her, and she was sure he was dead. But because she'd had no forewarning. There's been no notice, no one had been assigned to collect his soul.
She'd seen what happened to the poor bastards who died but whose souls weren't taken. George had let it happen early on, stubbornly refusing to do the job that had been thrust upon her. By the time Rube forced her to complete her assignment, the guy was a gibbering wreck. It had been a hard lesson--the only kind George sometimes thought she learned from.
But it had stuck. If this guy was dead, she wasn't going to let him suffer that way. She had to find his body and release him.
(frozen) [Jon] (open tag)
Date: 2006-01-18 05:38 pm (UTC)"Rodney, get your ass back to the ground floor," he ordered, then shrugged the bag off his shoulders and held it open for Damon. "You'll need your hands free to get down safely - the transceiver will be better off in here, ok?"
The other guy went along with the idea easily. "Sure, it'd be hell to find in that mess."
"Exactly." Jon nodded sharply as he adjusted the new load on his back. "Rodney, what are you still doing here?"
"I'm moving as fast as I can, Murphy. We're not all young and spritely, remember?" was the petulant response, but all Jon could see was McKay picking his way through the mess with far too much care.
Spritely? Tempting as it was, Jon resisted the urge to swipe the physicist's feet from under his legs so he'd have to slide down - with all the bodies and wreckage in the way, it'd only make him slower. So he tried the next best thing.
"McKay, get a move on. I think it's coming back!" he yelled, adding a little panic for good measure - then shrugged innocently at Damon, whose mouth was hanging open. "What? The man needed motivation.. You coming?"
Progress was slower than Jon would have liked under the circumstances, but now wasn't the time to complain. There hadn't been any gunfire from outside for some time so presumably the monster - or whatever that thing was - had gone. Either that or everyone else was dead. Was it worth calling out, attracting attention to themselves? A loud yelp answered that question - and yes, it came from himself. Being accosted by a dead body tended to do that, he assured himself, nothing wrong with reacting to cold, clammy flesh on one's face whatsoever.
"Ya still down there, Sergeant?" Jon called out as he neared the bottom, and was relieved to see the head and shoulders of John Locke peering into the fuselage from the outside. "Any casualties?"
The older man looked solemn, but not as disturbed as the situation might suggest. "Boone's vanished."
Oh shit.
OOC: I don't know whether George has run off yet, so am just sticking with Boone for now..
(frozen) [Blaise] (open tag)
Date: 2006-01-19 06:57 am (UTC)Blaise continued staring up at the treetops for a beat, then turned to look at George. He wondered if his eyes looked as haunted as they felt. "What?" he asked. Then he replayed George's words in his memory and forced himself to focus again.
"No!" Blaise snapped. "He's dead. Forget about him. We've got to get out of here before it comes back." He turned to yell for the others to get their asses in gear--
"Fuck that!" George shouted. Blaise spun back around, shocked by George's reaction. He really looked at her this time. She was clearly shaken--for the first time since he'd met her.
"We have to find him!" George insisted. "He..." she hesitated and in that moment Blaise knew she was about to lie. Whatever her real reason for chasing after the pilot, she wasn't ready to share it. "He...might still be alive! We can't just leave him!"
That rocked Blaise back. She didn't believe for a moment that the pilot was still alive. Why the hell would she want to find him if he were dead? It made no sense. Blaise knew he'd worry at it later, but for now they had more pressing concerns.
"The hell we can't," Blaise replied. "He's dead! My job is to keep you--all of you--safe. We need to leave now. That's not a request!"
Blaise turned away, ignoring whatever argument George tried to make. "Locke!" he called. "Get them out of there ASAP! And where's Boone?"
Locke straightened up from peering into the fuselage. "They're on their way out now--and Boone is missing. Ran off into the jungle when all the trouble started." He pointed. "That way."
"Shit," Blaise said. Then a thought occurred to him and he glanced in George's direction. If she decided to run off--but no, she was still there, glowering at him but apparently not prepared to dash into the jungle alone. Which marked her as smarter than Boone in Blaise's book.
(frozen) [Locke] (tag Blaise, George, open)
Date: 2006-01-19 12:12 pm (UTC)"Panicked" certainly was the word for it. Blaise was rattled -- understandably -- but keeping his head. George, however... the usually blase young woman was distraught, yet determined to find the poor soul that the island had claimed. Locke didn't believe her lie any more than the sergeant did. Clearly this was something that George felt compelled to do.
"I'll go with you," Locke told George. He turned to the sergeant. "It won't come back anytime soon. It got what it wanted." He moved to George's side, indicating for her to lead the way.
OOC: Is "safetied" a valid term for switching on the safety of a gun?
(frozen) [Megabyte] (open tag)
Date: 2006-01-19 03:53 pm (UTC)Go with her where? To find Boone?
The comment he made about It was rather unnerving too.
"Um, are you going off alone to find Boone?" Megabyte asked, because even with a gun, that sounded pretty stupid to Megabyte. Especially considering that It had evidently started eating people as well as destroying the forests and behaving like something out of a child's nightmare.
"No, to find the pilot," Locke explained.
Megabyte wondered if he was the only one who thought that Locke and George had to be nuts. But more importantly, he wondered if he was the only one in a hurry to get back to Camp Crash knowing that It knew that they were in the jungle.
(frozen) [George] Blaise Isn't Happy (open tag)
Date: 2006-01-19 09:58 pm (UTC)Blaise turned to Locke. "And how the hell do you know that?"
"It seems satisfied to have carried off the pilot," Locke said. He spoke with quiet assurance. "Clearly gunfire had no effect on it. If it were interested in taking more of us, it would still be here."
"It..." Blaise stared at Locke. To George's eyes he was clearly wondering if everyone around him had lost their minds. Boone running off--which George had to admit wasn't the cleverest thing to do. George wanting to go after the dead pilot. Locke agreeing to tag along.
George watched Blaise scrub his face with one hand. She had a moment of sympathy for him. He was trying so hard to protect everyone and--from his point of view--everyone was doing their damnedest to make his job harder, if not impossible. Just now he reminded George of Rube trying to herd his crew of squabbling reapers.
Blaise sighed and dropped his hand. He looked up. "No," he said. "We're going back to camp."
"But--the pilot!" George objected. If she could persuade them to go along on the search, she could find the body, pop the pilot's soul and then let them lead her back to camp. They'd be none the wiser. If they wouldn't come along on the search for the pilot, George could always run off like Boone had. She didn't want to. For one thing, they'd probably stick around to search for her, which would only complicate things and might get someone hurt.
Blaise turned on her. "You know what? Fine!" He shifted his gaze to Locke. "Knock yourselves out." (Wow, he's really mad,) George thought.
Damon looked shocked and started to protest. Blaise cut him off. "No--I'm not their keeper. I'm not going to shoot anyone over this. I'm not willing to tie them up and carry them either. So if they want to go, they can go.
"We, however, and the others are heading back to camp now. They've gotten what we came for, so there's no reason to stay." Blaise looked to Locke again. "You can follow the signs we left."
Locke nodded.
"Great," Blaise said. "See you there. Marma--Damon, as soon as the others are out, we're leaving."
(frozen) [Jon] (open tag)
Date: 2006-01-19 10:52 pm (UTC)He stared openly at both George and Locke, hoping to see some indecision or at least a reasonable - sane - amount of fear, but no. Did they not realise how much of a miracle it was that the pilot had been alive enough to say hi in the first place, let alone after being dragged through the jungle by.. whatever it was..
"Sergeant, I presume you were shooting at something, right?"
"Uh, yes." The Marine sounded off-balance, and not just by the suggestion that they chase this mystery beast.
"And..?" Somehow Jon didn't think he was going to like this answer.
Locke cut in this time, his tone firm. "The island took a man who may still be alive. This young woman was in a good position to see his condition, and if she believes there's still a chance we shouldn't leave him behind."
Oh crap, there was the magic line. No. No no no no no. "So Boone ran off and the pilot got half-eaten, and the one you propose to go searching for is - let's see - the guy most likely to be dead?"
The older man inclined his chin, much like Teal'c when his sense of honor was being slightly squished by Earth-bound priorities. Faaaaabulous..
"We're not going to be able to stop you, are we?"
"No," George replied - and she looked dead set.
Jon turned to the fuselage and banged his head against the cold metal a few times. Not that he wanted to leave people behind, let alone see others attempt idiotic search and rescue runs, but if a Marine with a P90 couldn't talk them out of it..
"For the record, I think you're both crazy - surviving a plane crash doesn't mean you're suddenly invulnerable." Hey, there's five whole syllables in that - cool. "But since you insist, how 'bout we give you some of our food and water to take along? Maybe you can have a nice picnic out there, while we enjoy roast polar bear."
(frozen) [Megabyte] (open tag)
Date: 2006-01-19 11:30 pm (UTC)There was no way in hell that the pilot was alive, but if it would make them feel better to get a nice close up of what Jon probably pretty accurately described, so be it.
"Good luck to you."
(frozen) [George] (open tag)
Date: 2006-01-19 11:47 pm (UTC)She glanced at Locke who gave her a reassuring smile. "Well, bye," George said. "See you later."
She turned and walked off into the jungle with Locke following behind.
OOC: And with that, I think it's time to start a new thread for George & Locke's Excellent Adventure!
(frozen) [Rodney] (open tag)
Date: 2006-01-20 03:31 am (UTC)He fisted his hands around the straps of his pack to control their trembling. "Now, let's get the hell out of here before whatever it was decides to come back. And what the hell did he mean 'the island took him'? No, no, you know what?" McKay did a complete verbal 180. "I don't want to know. For the first time in my life I am completely and utterly non-curious, uninterested, and am not going to follow up on this. No, I just want to go home, back to my real life."
(frozen) [Jon] (open tag)
Date: 2006-01-20 11:15 am (UTC)He hefted his pack until the transceiver was no longer jabbing into his bruised ribs, then took a look around the rest of the group.
"Can we just get on with this and head back? We've got a barbeque to attend. It's bring-a-dish and apparently we're providing the main course."
(frozen) Moving
Date: 2006-01-21 12:56 am (UTC)