welcome_rpg | welcome to mayfield: day 3

Are you sure it really is an end?

[He'd been unsuccessful, so far, in finding Lucas, if the boy was even here anymore. No sign of Belgium or Hilda either.

Still, after hearing of others being attacked, Charles was even more of a desirable person to have around. If they could keep the snarking to a minimum, they might even get along.]

There are no more mirrors, at least. I don't know what else it might be. [unless it's a trap of some sort, but he's pretty sure they both understand the risks of that without him having to say anything.

he takes a tentative step past the last one and into the darkened area, waiting to see if his vision will adjust as it usually does.]

[There was another reason he wore his pharmacy coat home from work every day rather than leaving it at the store. And a reason he was wearing it now. Holland will make sure, as he already has dozens of times in the funhouse, that the revolver he bought is in the pocket, along with another box of bullets in the other pocket.

It was standard issue for him every day in Mayfield, now. And he'd been protecting them in this place; who knew if he'd need them.]

Is there a door, or a wall?

[he takes a few steps further into the area, scanning it from one side to the other before making an irritated noise.]

I can't see much of anything right now.

[There's a flurry of movement in the shadows. There seems to be something humanoid in the distance. Whatever it is, it's approaching - and fast.]

Charles. . .

[Holland has a box of bullets, so he's not taking a single chance once he catches sight of whatever is rushing towards them. It's much too fast to be harmless; he'll get his revolver in hand. While he might not shoot whatever is there outright, he's definitely firing, and the bullet lands in front of whatever that thing is.

If it gets closer, he probably won't miss. ]

[Charles, on the other hand, isn't kind enough for warning shots. he'll be stumbling backward and out of the way shortly before Holland fires, and in the next second, he's pulling one of the pieces of glass shards he had saved from the day before out of his cloak pocket and flinging it with high speed in the direction of the humanoid shape.]

[The figure gives a piercing human scream of agony when the glass shards hit, but doesn't slow down. It's now close enough that they'll be able to make out the white of a hazmat suit in the darkness.]

Charles!

[He actual sounds calm; Holland scowls and fires 3 more shots, aiming for the head and torso.
Inside, however, he feels panicked, and that is why he calls out to Charles

It's a damn hazmat. A hazmat suit just like that welcome letter had described.

The dismay and anger he feels at this even existing, of seeing the truth of the letter with his own eyes, just makes him want to kill whatever is in the suit even more.

Edited 2012-07-04 17:02 (UTC)

[he instantly associates hazmat suits with Westport, with the post-Sergei invasion of the town, and starts backpedaling toward the opening in the maze they had created, stopping just shy of Holland and elbowing him in an attempt to get him to follow. in his opinion, this is one of those "better to cut your losses" situations. no use exploring a pitch-black area with hazmats lurking about.]

If you want to keep firing, cover your nose and eyes. There might not be a person inside of that. [he flings another piece of glass in the direction of one of the tubes running from its air canister to its mask, but he already has his left hand raised as a secondary defense, ready to strike in case that doesn't slow it down.]

Edited 2012-07-04 20:25 (UTC)

[With the light from the opening filtering through, they can finally make out the features of the hazmat...and it quickly becomes obvious that Charles is very, very wrong. There is indeed a person inside the suit, although 'inside' may be the wrong word for it; the fabric of the suit itself is growing out of his - her? the gender is impossible to tell - skin, fused to their upper torso and arms. The lower half of their face is covered by a hazmat suit's protective plastic mask that emerges from beneath the flesh of the cheeks and jaw, but their eyes are still visible, and they are clearly in unbelievable agony.

But Charles and Netherlands better not spend too much time focusing on the hazmat, because it's leaking both blood and gas from where the glass shards and bullets hit. The gas won't cause any pain if they breathe it in; instead, it'll simply delete one of their senses. Sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch, balance - the longer they spend in the gas's presence, the more will disappear.

Edited 2012-07-05 04:18 (UTC)

[Holland will press his arm over his mouth; even though he's still holding his revolver out he won't shoot again, disturbed at the expression on the hazmat's . . . well, what he could tell might be it's face.]

Who are you?

[He's going to back up with Charles as he asks.]

[captain stabby over here is far more preoccupied with keeping his guard up in case the hazmat creature lunges or tries attacking, so Holland might catch a brief startled look on his face right before he turns and tries to push him through the exit.]

Are you honestly trying to ask it questions? [another, more urgent push; he's pretty much about to scoot past and leave you in the dust if you don't get a move on Holland...] Out, out, get out! Unless you want to wind up with that sort of look on your face, we're leaving.

[After its initial rush and getting them to back up, the hazmat doesn't seem to be that interested in attacking them anymore. Instead, it prowls restlessly, breathing heavily and letting out the occasional hiss the longer they stay there.

It seems to be guarding something.]

[It's obvious, once the creature stops, that it is simply trying to get them to leave. If they left, they would be doing exactly what Mayfield wanted them to do, even after all this time.]

. . . no. . .

[Holland will take a few steps towards it; he didn't know what the gas would do, but he's still covering his mouth with his arm.]

I'm not going to leave, I'm going to get past it and see what's there.

[He'll look meaningfully at Charles. The other clearly had a choice to come with him or not, but he is one of the most stubborn nations in Europe.]

Edited 2012-07-05 13:41 (UTC)

[he sticks by the entrance they had created, hand over his mouth now as well, and stares in the direction Holland (or rather, the sound of his footsteps) goes. there's a mixture of agitation and exasperation in his voice when he speaks, muffled through his hand and through the fact that he's leaning away from the room now.]

There's likely nothing there, you moron! Don't get close to it, covering your mouth will only do you so much good. [he could bail now, and in all honesty he's only a few seconds away from doing so, but that much of a warning only seems fair.]

[The hazmat lets out a piercing shriek when Holland approaches it and starts spraying gas in his direction. This gas is different from the one leaking out of its body - it's much thicker and almost viscous. It coats whatever body part it touches, dissolving the flesh and bones instantly and solidifying into a fabric-like substance over the empty space, much like the hazmat creature itself.]

[He'll back up, alarmed, but then he's taking his bullets out of his coat, loading his gun with a few more and then shoving them into his trouser pocket. Holland is going to attempt to block the spray of gas with his coat, swinging at the hazmat with his coat to avoid the spray - much like one would attempt to hit someone else with a wet towel - and ultimately flinging it over the hazmat like a net. And then he's going to try shooting it more, ignoring, for now, the pain from some of the gas that got on his thigh. Right now, he's only fueled by anger. And he'll do it all without a word, relentlessly ruthless as he shoots the creature from almost a point-blank range.]

[in the split second it would take him to turn around and bulldoze his way back out of the maze, he instead stomps his foot in a childish display of irritation at being right and not being listened to. it isn't his job to collect stray idiots!

but hazmats invoke a pretty strong reaction in him at this point, and that's the extra push he needs to propel himself at superhuman speed into the room in the direction of the gunshots. hopefully Holland won't mind his personal bubble being invaded too much, because there's a hand on his arm one moment and it's quick to grab his collar the next, jerking him backward with a little more force than necessary. if they don't run into any hazmat hitches he'll be bailing out of there, backpedaling quickly until he hits a mirror.]

[The hazmat either doesn't want to or isn't able to leave the main area. Once Charles backs up enough, it'll go back to pacing the room.]

[Charles won't be hitting a mirror.

No, he'll be colliding head first against something decidedly not hard or cold. The opposite, actually. There's no 'thud' either; did he run into someone?

...Well, the soft squeeze on his shoulder might be the answer. Charles may not be able to see what's going on, but Holland should be able to catch clear sight of Ciel, robed, throwing two Black Keys onto the ground towards the direction that they just came from. Cracking faintly with power, a faint blue line is then drawn between the two swords nailed to the floor: a binding spell, just in case whatever that was back there decides to give chase once more.

Frowning with concern, she's then going to look down towards Charles and then at Holland. Sucks to not being able to say anything, though her eyes will quickly fall back down to Holland's leg, noticing the irregular injury and already scanning it for some way to heal this.]

[Now it was starting to hurt; it really really hurt, but he has had worse in his centuries of intermittent warfare. He'd died before. Her spell is confusing to him for the moment, and he'll turn and look at both Charles and Ciel, pulling against Charles' grip.]]

What are you doing? And who the hell are you, too?

[He's attempting to load his gun again.]

[he has no doubt that he knows who this person is before he even manages to catch a scent or hear anything outside of the erratic heartbeat nearest to him. who else could it be?

but he's quickly distracted from trying to communicate with Ciel by Holland, and he'll pull back that handful of shirt he has with harsh force. not enough to injure, but definitely enough to warn. the fabric is released after that though, and he brushes his hands off.]

I'm preventing you from dying shamefully, but I will kill you myself if you continue to do stupid things. Do you understand?

[Her eyes narrow. Not in annoyance, but in mild frustration. She may not know Holland, apart from seeing him around town a few times during both their stays, but she knows Charles. His words confirmed her suspicion, too: Holland almost got himself killed, and Charles is the one who pulled him back.

She's with him on that one. How to explain while she's mute however, that's gonna be the arduous part. The faint grimace on her face might tip Holland off. So...

Taking a few steps back, she'll gesture for them both to keep pulling away from... wherever they just came from. Her other hand's still on Charles' shoulder, not yanking forcefully but definitely urging him to keep retreating. Pull back. They don't seem to be getting followed, but it may still be best to make their way outside before taking the leisure to take a closer look at the injuries. She'll have time then to write out her words, too. So...

Hopefully Holland won't ask too many questions and be cooperative. The sooner they get out, the better.]

[Perhaps the reason they're having the disagreement is because of a simple question of being human or not human . . . then again, Charles was hardly human.

But Holland has been hurt before. He's fought before, he's died before, at least, his body has died. He has no reason whatsoever to believe that if he did die, even here in Mayfield, that he wouldn't be back. Whether by the town's power, or the simple fact alone that he was not a human being, he would be back. He was a nation. It was impossible to really destroy him, even if Mayfield had taken his nation body from him, somehow.

At least, that's what he believes. Despite the pain in his leg being breath-taking, he'll take one last step towards the hazmat, pointing his gun at it in an angry gesture while he almost lectures the other two.]

I don't care what you'll do; there is no reason for me to leave yet! It doesn't want us to go past it, so that's where I have to go!

[He's actually looking angry; incredibly angry, not just sullen or irritated.]

I'm never doing anything this town wants me to again, and I'll use my own hands to tear it apart.

[And just because, he'll take aim and shoot the hazmat again, and again.]

--and then I'll do it again.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject