Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Lunoveau Hill
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as written by Script
The first sighting had been in Fontainebleu. The call had come in the early hours of the morning, a frantic girl by the name of Lilianne DeViere sobbing into the phone, telling of a murder outside the old townhouse on Sauvageau Way, and hysterically naming the culprit a demon.
The garde had reached the scene to find one Gavin O'Connell dead in the front garden, without a wound on his body. Being a thrice-convicted drug dealer, the assumption had been that the death was the result of some form of overdose. It had taken till test results showed that he'd been wholly sober at the time of death before the police began to consider the addict's claims of 'demon' might have been something more than hallucinations.
That was when the church was brought onto the case. An interview with Lilianne had produced a more thorough description of her encounter.
"The first thing that made me think something was wrong was the singing..." The gaunt and pallid girl had clutched her mug of tea, shivering at her memories. "It was like I was on a bad trip, but it felt more real, y'know? I was in some sort of field, like from a painting. And there was a kid there. Not sure if it were a boy or a girl."
She furrowed her eyebrow, clearly struggling to recount the details. "Can't remember what the kid said exactly... it's kinda fuzzy, like a dream. Didn't sound natural, though, I remember that. Creepy as shit. I wanted outta there. It said something about stopping Gav... Then I was back in the real world, and it was just right there. All black and tentacles. It was all over Gav." She shuddered. "I just ran. Ran till I was back home, then I called the cops. If that thing weren't a fucking demon, I don't know what is."
Since then, more sightings had cropped up, but no further deaths. A young couple had seen 'something black with tentacles' lurking in a treetop while they were on a late-night picnic in a local park. A mother had described slipping into a vision of rolling fields with a child while she was nursing her baby in her garden, only to wake and find a monster nestled amongst her roses.
In every case, the creature had fled, leaving those it had been observing apparently unscathed.
Its motivations were unclear, and just what it was - a demon, or some other monstrosity yet unknown - was uncertain. But O'Connell's death had made clear one thing: it was dangerous.
So when a teenage boy called the police late on Friday night, reporting not only a vampire attack but a sighting of a 'weird black tentacled thing', it wasn't long before the church caught ear and sent one of their own to investigate.
____
The clock over the fireplace chimed the eleventh hour, and René yawned into his palm, slumping further down into the sofa of his and his gran's apartment. It was well past his bedtime, considering he had work tomorrow morning, but after what had happened earlier in the evening...
A bored looking police officer was leaned against the wall of the room, sipping a cup of tea provided by Elliot's mom. Officer Niels, as he'd introduced himself, had listened with increasing dubiousness as he recounted the tale of his walk home from the diner, but at the very least, the vampire corpse being found had given cause for the church to be called in.
Apparently, a paladin was on their way now to ask him more questions.
He could hear Elliot talking to his mom in the kitchen while she cooked. His gran was happily asleep, having clearly not understood what he'd been talking about when he told her what had happened. He was grateful that Mrs. Page had taken the time out of her evening to come over and make sure he was alright, and though he was sure Elliot would have been there either way, he had to admit that his mom's cooking was a lot better.
There was nothing left to do now but wait.
The first sighting had been in Fontainebleu. The call had come in the early hours of the morning, a frantic girl by the name of Lilianne DeViere sobbing into the phone, telling of a murder outside the old townhouse on Sauvageau Way, and hysterically naming the culprit a demon.
The garde had reached the scene to find one Gavin O'Connell dead in the front garden, without a wound on his body. Being a thrice-convicted drug dealer, the assumption had been that the death was the result of some form of overdose. It had taken till test results showed that he'd been wholly sober at the time of death before the police began to consider the addict's claims of 'demon' might have been something more than hallucinations.
That was when the church was brought onto the case. An interview with Lilianne had produced a more thorough description of her encounter.
"The first thing that made me think something was wrong was the singing..." The gaunt and pallid girl had clutched her mug of tea, shivering at her memories. "It was like I was on a bad trip, but it felt more real, y'know? I was in some sort of field, like from a painting. And there was a kid there. Not sure if it were a boy or a girl."
She furrowed her eyebrow, clearly struggling to recount the details. "Can't remember what the kid said exactly... it's kinda fuzzy, like a dream. Didn't sound natural, though, I remember that. Creepy as shit. I wanted outta there. It said something about stopping Gav... Then I was back in the real world, and it was just right there. All black and tentacles. It was all over Gav." She shuddered. "I just ran. Ran till I was back home, then I called the cops. If that thing weren't a fucking demon, I don't know what is."
Since then, more sightings had cropped up, but no further deaths. A young couple had seen 'something black with tentacles' lurking in a treetop while they were on a late-night picnic in a local park. A mother had described slipping into a vision of rolling fields with a child while she was nursing her baby in her garden, only to wake and find a monster nestled amongst her roses.
In every case, the creature had fled, leaving those it had been observing apparently unscathed.
Its motivations were unclear, and just what it was - a demon, or some other monstrosity yet unknown - was uncertain. But O'Connell's death had made clear one thing: it was dangerous.
So when a teenage boy called the police late on Friday night, reporting not only a vampire attack but a sighting of a 'weird black tentacled thing', it wasn't long before the church caught ear and sent one of their own to investigate.
____
The clock over the fireplace chimed the eleventh hour, and René yawned into his palm, slumping further down into the sofa of his and his gran's apartment. It was well past his bedtime, considering he had work tomorrow morning, but after what had happened earlier in the evening...
A bored looking police officer was leaned against the wall of the room, sipping a cup of tea provided by Elliot's mom. Officer Niels, as he'd introduced himself, had listened with increasing dubiousness as he recounted the tale of his walk home from the diner, but at the very least, the vampire corpse being found had given cause for the church to be called in.
Apparently, a paladin was on their way now to ask him more questions.
He could hear Elliot talking to his mom in the kitchen while she cooked. His gran was happily asleep, having clearly not understood what he'd been talking about when he told her what had happened. He was grateful that Mrs. Page had taken the time out of her evening to come over and make sure he was alright, and though he was sure Elliot would have been there either way, he had to admit that his mom's cooking was a lot better.
There was nothing left to do now but wait.
as written by Peachy00Keen and Script
There came a knock on the door. Two paladins waited patiently outside. Word had presumably gotten around that Lorainne DuMont was not mute after all, as the number of joint missions she had been sent out on had increased over the past few months. Beside her, standing almost at eye level wit her, was Jareau Évèloix. They had been pleasantly social with each other inside the walls of the Monastery, but this was their first assignment out together. Lorainne turned to Jareau.
"This news of tentacled demons is quite unsettling. Do you have any idea what they could be?" she asked him, her voice calm.
Jareau shook his head. "I haven't the faintest." He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck side to side. "As if the existing vampires and witches we have running around weren't already enough to deal with. This is just one more layer on the cake. It's insane."
"I think what has me the most unnerved is that fact that it lures its victims into a trance first. On the one hand, it's almost merciful, but on the other hand, it's terrifying. Deadly dreams." Lorainne suppressed a shudder brought on by a chill that ran down her spine.
Jareau seemed to sense her anxiety. He put a hand on her shoulder, "Fear not, Sister. We will be alright. Selene will be with us to see this menace through. Perhaps it will be willing to negotiate and we will be able to avoid a fight altogether. Consider the positives." He gave her shoulder a light squeeze before returning his hand to his side. As pleasant as those sentiments were, and as much as he hoped they would bring Lorainne some solace, he found his own words to be empty and cold. He, too, was uncertain of this case.
____
At the knock on the door, Mrs. Page hurried from the kitchen, but the police officer took it upon himself to answer in her stead. The smell of cooking chilli would hit the two paladins as the door swung open to reveal Niels stood there. The officer was a pudgy man with more hair in his moustache than on the top of his head, and he gave the two paladins an expressionless once-over. Many cops, especially in this part of town, weren't exactly fond of working with the church. It usually meant things were going to get complicated.
"Evenin'." After a moment, he offered them a greeting, lazily tipping his cap to them. "Kid's through here."
He stepped back into the flat to let the pair enter. The front entrance opened straight into the living room, where a worn old couch and a pair of mismatched armchairs were arranged around an old box television. A few cabinets dotted the walls, with books and ancient-looking ornaments arrayed upon them, and two doors led out of the room: one into the kitchen, and one through to a small hallway that led to the rest of the flat.
They were promptly greeted again by a blonde woman who looked to be in her forties. Hannah Page was an attractive woman, wearing her lengthy blonde tresses up in a loose ponytail. "Here already! Oh, my, ah... w-would either of you like a cup of tea?" There was a slightly nervous edge to the way that she greeted them. She kept her eyes lowered, avoiding direct eye contact.
By contrast, the teenage boy over her shoulder had fixed them both with a hard stare. Though he was slightly baby-faced, Elliot's glare was no less aggressive for it. He lingered in the door through to the kitchen, his arms crossed. It was clear he wasn't happy to see them.
The last occupant of the room was the smaller teenage boy who was perched on the couch itself - the one that they were here to speak to. René flashed a nervous smile to Lorainne and Jareau as they entered, and it was to him that Officer Niels gestured.
"Ah... hello," he offered, eyes darting across to Elliot and his standoffish posture. He suppressed a grimace.
____
Lorainne often worried she was a little too emotional for the Order. She always felt empathy for the frightened, the abandoned, and the lonely. She knew how they felt. When Hannah offered them tea, Lorainne opened her mouth to answer but Jareau answered before she could.
"No thank you, ma'am, we should--"
Lorainne elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a knowing glare. "Tea would be wonderful. Thank you for your hospitality."
As Hannah turned her back, Jareau turned to look at Lorainne, giving her a shrug and a look of mock-surprise.
They continued into the house, they passed by a young boy with blond hair. He looked displeased to see the paladins. Lorainne made note of it and Jareau responded with a disapproving look of his own. The younger boy was less standoffish. The paladins directed their attention at him.
René seemed skittish. The two paladins made their way to one of the armchairs. Jareau sat down, bringing himself more to eye level with the boy, Lorainne stood behind him, leaning on the back of the chair.
"So, you say you saw a tentacled, demon?" Jareau began, his voice low and gentle. He extended a hand in a welcoming gesture. "Please, tell us what you saw and anyone else who could have seen it that we should talk to."
"Any details you can give us will be extremely helpful," Lorainne added, her own voice sweet and matronly.
____
Hannah nodded, hastily slipping away into the kitchen to fetch the tea. She shot Elliot a warning look as she went, noting his glare that remained fixed on the paladins. The older teen continued to watch from the doorway as René spoke to the paladins, as though wary of what they were going to say.
René hesitated before taking the proffered hand to shake. "Yeah," he nodded, shifting uncomfortably. "But ... I don't think it's quite what you're expecting. So bear with me, I guess."
He took a breath before launching into the story. "It was about an hour and a half ago. I was walking home from the diner where I work, Mary's down on the main road. I kept getting the feeling I was being followed, so I called Elliot," he nodded towards the blonde teen in the kitchen doorway. "I was on the phone to him when I walked around a corner and there was this ... guy, standing there. Long hair, really thin, really pale."
The teen grimaced. "Before I knew what was happening he'd grabbed me, and he was really fucking strong. It was about then I got a look at his mouth, and saw he had fangs. Like, vampire fangs."
____
"Did he chase you before he grabbed you?" Lorainne asked, taking down notes on a small pad of paper. "Were you taking a different route home than usual?"
"Could you see anyone else around who might have been working with him?" Jareau added, also taking notes. "Did you look behind you at any point to see if you were being followed, and if so, did you notice anyone or anything?"
The paladins had numerous questions to ask. Hearing accounts from other people would also be useful, but in the event that no others could or would step forth, they needed to make sure they got all the information they could out of the young boy.
"Did you happen to be near any places that might have had video surveillance cameras -- stores, restaurants, potentially some residences? I know you said you were walking back from work, which was at a restaurant. Had you felt this presence before, or did you sometimes ever walk home with friends?" Jareau rattled off more questions as Lorainne thoughtfully nibbled the top of her pen. "Could someone have learned your route home? What might have set today apart from other days -- walking slower, appearing nervous or tired or generally down--"
Lorainne cut him off. "Let us know if you need any of the questions repeated," she offered with an apologetic smile. The poor child must be overwhelmed.
____
"Uhhhh-" René blinked, trying to take in all of the questions. "No, he straight up grabbed me before I had a chance to run. And it was the same route as normal, just a bit later. I did look, and it didn't look like there was anyone, but I'm getting to that... and I don't think anything was really different?"
He rubbed at the back of his head. "I don't know that it was planned or anything... I mean, he was a vampire. He looked... like, feral. More animal than person. Are all vampires like that?" René shook his head. "Anyway, uh, you probably already know what happened to him. He's dead. I mean, re-dead, I guess? After he grabbed me, I thought I was dead meat, but then there was this ... music, and everything slowed to a crawl. Like my brain was being wrapped in cotton wool or something. The vampire let go, and then this ... black thing hit it out of nowhere."
At this point, Elliot interjected from across the room. "In case it's relevant, I didn't hear the music. I was still on the other end of the phone at this point. I could hear the struggle."
René nodded, then went on. "I came to on the ground, and this thing was all over the vampire. Like, tentacles wrapped around it, squeezing it... it was struggling, and then it just ... stopped. And shrivelled up. It was fucked up." He shuddered. "But then ... the demon talked to me. It wasn't aggressive, or anything. It saved my life."
____
"The vampire shriveled up? Shriveled like a raisin? Was the tentacled creature's mouth attached to the vampire somehow?" Lorainne began firing off questions in rapid succession. "You heard music," she turned to briefly look at Elliott, "but you didn't," she focused back on René, "which seems to imply some sort of psychic bombardment that only affects those in the immediate vicinity as opposed to any potential witnesses. I'm not sure if that's any indication of its power or its intelligence or both..."
Jareau cut in, "You said this creature spoke to you? What did it say to you? Did it make eye contact with you or touch you?" He turned to address Elliott, "You stated that you heard the struggle over the phone. Could you also hear the creature's voice when it spoke to René, or could you only hear the sounds that the vampire made?"
Lorainne set her pen across the top of her notepad and took a step around to the side of the piece of furniture, bringing her to stand between the two boys. "Would either of you be opposed to us trying to obtain a recording of your phone call? I don't know if it would be possible, but if we could hear this creature -- or at the very least, the moments leading up to the attacks and the struggle during them -- that could prove to be very helpful." She held out her notepad to René. "If you don't mind, go ahead and write down your phone number in the margin somewhere
____
"I couldn't see a mouth... or really anything. It was hard to focus at that point, and it was all over in a few seconds." René frowned apologetically. "And yeah, it spoke. Like, I think it was in my head? It was weird, and echoey, like the music. Like it was coming from my own thoughts. Telepathy, I guess?" He shrugged. He wasn't the expert on supernatural things, but telepathy was a common enough concept.
"I didn't hear it talking, but I barely heard Ren, either. Phone can't have been very close." Elliot responded gruffly.
As he did, Hannah emerged from the kitchen with two mugs of tea and made her way across to the paladins, proffering them with an over-exaggerated smile. "Sorry to interrupt," she said hastily, "but here you are."
Once they'd taken the beverages, she slipped back to the edge of the room to stand beside Elliot, clasping her hands together nervously.
René took the proffered notebook and started to write his number, silently acquiescing to them trying to get hold of the call record. "As far as what it said goes... it was weird. At first I was terrified, like I guess you'd expect when faced with a weird black tentacle monster. But ..." He sighed, shaking his head. "This is going to sound weird, but I don't think it was evil?"
"It was probably just trying to make you let your guard down." Elliot scowled.
"I don't think so... It said that it killed the vampire because it was cold, and ... made of death, and hunger. Almost like it was putting it out of its misery. But it asked me if it had done the right thing, too. Like it wanted to be reassured." René rubbed at the back of his head. "It sounded like a kid. Do you get those? Kid demons?"
____
Lorainne reclaimed the notepad from René and shrugged, "I've never personally heard of one, but I suppose they have to start somewhere... I guess." She turned to Jareau, "How many other sightings have we had of this thing -- or things, for all we know?"
Jareau set his pen down and stared off into the distance, seeming to focus intently on the curtains framing the window. "Three, I think. Don't know much about the second one, but the first one involved a boy and a girl. The girl got tranced or whatever it is this thing does and the boy got eaten. I'm not sure what set the boy apart from the rest of the world, but maybe that's something we should look into." He turned his attention to the young boy and narrowed his eyes pensively. "René, can you give me as detailed an account of this... thing as you can manage?" he asked, flipping to a fresh page in his notebook; "Tell it to me like you're trying to describe it to a deaf, mute, and blind person -- height, width, smell, texture, sound, color, features, anything you've got."
____
"Alright," René furrowed his brow with thought, trying to recall as much detail as possible. "Well, I've already said it was black. It was almost like it was ... tar, I guess." He wrinkled his nose at the memory. It might have saved him, but the creature sure as hell had looked terrifying. "It was sort of dripping this weird black stuff, but there wasn't any trail or anything left, so I guess it disappeared after it dripped. I couldn't tell you how many tentacles it had, it was just this... mass of them, they all kind of blurred together. But it had a halfway humanoid torso sticking out in the middle, with a head and a face and something like hair. Long, stringy and messy. And it had horns, or they might have been antennae? I'm not sure. They stuck up straight, like a good half meter over its head. The whole thing was maybe half my height, but the tentacles spread out a meter or so. I think they could stretch."
He looked up, biting his lip. "I couldn't make out much of its face. I don't even know if had proper facial features, like a person. But it had these really big, like really big white eyes. No pupil or iris or anything, just white."
There was a lengthy pause, where it was clear René was considering adding something else. "It had a name, too. At first it called itself 'this one'. It talked in the third person, which was weird, but... I mean, it saved my life, and it kept reassuring me that it didn't want to hurt me, so I talked to it for a bit. I asked it if it had a name, and it said that someone had called it 'Zexal' before. I don't know if that's relevant, but..." he shifted uncomfortably. "I really don't think it was evil."
____
As the boy described the creature, Jareau's pen moved in furious sketches, taking down every detail as it came to him. When the boy stopped, Jareau looked up, lines lingering on his face where they had formed during his intense concentration. He held up his notebook to show the boy what he had rendered on the page.
"I realize the proportions are likely a bit off, but is this at all what it looked like? What's different?" His questions were direct, focused.
Turning her attention to Hannah, Lorainne gestured to the cup of tea and nodded thankfully to the timid woman, letting Jareau do his part without interruption.
There came a knock on the door. Two paladins waited patiently outside. Word had presumably gotten around that Lorainne DuMont was not mute after all, as the number of joint missions she had been sent out on had increased over the past few months. Beside her, standing almost at eye level wit her, was Jareau Évèloix. They had been pleasantly social with each other inside the walls of the Monastery, but this was their first assignment out together. Lorainne turned to Jareau.
"This news of tentacled demons is quite unsettling. Do you have any idea what they could be?" she asked him, her voice calm.
Jareau shook his head. "I haven't the faintest." He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck side to side. "As if the existing vampires and witches we have running around weren't already enough to deal with. This is just one more layer on the cake. It's insane."
"I think what has me the most unnerved is that fact that it lures its victims into a trance first. On the one hand, it's almost merciful, but on the other hand, it's terrifying. Deadly dreams." Lorainne suppressed a shudder brought on by a chill that ran down her spine.
Jareau seemed to sense her anxiety. He put a hand on her shoulder, "Fear not, Sister. We will be alright. Selene will be with us to see this menace through. Perhaps it will be willing to negotiate and we will be able to avoid a fight altogether. Consider the positives." He gave her shoulder a light squeeze before returning his hand to his side. As pleasant as those sentiments were, and as much as he hoped they would bring Lorainne some solace, he found his own words to be empty and cold. He, too, was uncertain of this case.
____
At the knock on the door, Mrs. Page hurried from the kitchen, but the police officer took it upon himself to answer in her stead. The smell of cooking chilli would hit the two paladins as the door swung open to reveal Niels stood there. The officer was a pudgy man with more hair in his moustache than on the top of his head, and he gave the two paladins an expressionless once-over. Many cops, especially in this part of town, weren't exactly fond of working with the church. It usually meant things were going to get complicated.
"Evenin'." After a moment, he offered them a greeting, lazily tipping his cap to them. "Kid's through here."
He stepped back into the flat to let the pair enter. The front entrance opened straight into the living room, where a worn old couch and a pair of mismatched armchairs were arranged around an old box television. A few cabinets dotted the walls, with books and ancient-looking ornaments arrayed upon them, and two doors led out of the room: one into the kitchen, and one through to a small hallway that led to the rest of the flat.
They were promptly greeted again by a blonde woman who looked to be in her forties. Hannah Page was an attractive woman, wearing her lengthy blonde tresses up in a loose ponytail. "Here already! Oh, my, ah... w-would either of you like a cup of tea?" There was a slightly nervous edge to the way that she greeted them. She kept her eyes lowered, avoiding direct eye contact.
By contrast, the teenage boy over her shoulder had fixed them both with a hard stare. Though he was slightly baby-faced, Elliot's glare was no less aggressive for it. He lingered in the door through to the kitchen, his arms crossed. It was clear he wasn't happy to see them.
The last occupant of the room was the smaller teenage boy who was perched on the couch itself - the one that they were here to speak to. René flashed a nervous smile to Lorainne and Jareau as they entered, and it was to him that Officer Niels gestured.
"Ah... hello," he offered, eyes darting across to Elliot and his standoffish posture. He suppressed a grimace.
____
Lorainne often worried she was a little too emotional for the Order. She always felt empathy for the frightened, the abandoned, and the lonely. She knew how they felt. When Hannah offered them tea, Lorainne opened her mouth to answer but Jareau answered before she could.
"No thank you, ma'am, we should--"
Lorainne elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a knowing glare. "Tea would be wonderful. Thank you for your hospitality."
As Hannah turned her back, Jareau turned to look at Lorainne, giving her a shrug and a look of mock-surprise.
They continued into the house, they passed by a young boy with blond hair. He looked displeased to see the paladins. Lorainne made note of it and Jareau responded with a disapproving look of his own. The younger boy was less standoffish. The paladins directed their attention at him.
René seemed skittish. The two paladins made their way to one of the armchairs. Jareau sat down, bringing himself more to eye level with the boy, Lorainne stood behind him, leaning on the back of the chair.
"So, you say you saw a tentacled, demon?" Jareau began, his voice low and gentle. He extended a hand in a welcoming gesture. "Please, tell us what you saw and anyone else who could have seen it that we should talk to."
"Any details you can give us will be extremely helpful," Lorainne added, her own voice sweet and matronly.
____
Hannah nodded, hastily slipping away into the kitchen to fetch the tea. She shot Elliot a warning look as she went, noting his glare that remained fixed on the paladins. The older teen continued to watch from the doorway as René spoke to the paladins, as though wary of what they were going to say.
René hesitated before taking the proffered hand to shake. "Yeah," he nodded, shifting uncomfortably. "But ... I don't think it's quite what you're expecting. So bear with me, I guess."
He took a breath before launching into the story. "It was about an hour and a half ago. I was walking home from the diner where I work, Mary's down on the main road. I kept getting the feeling I was being followed, so I called Elliot," he nodded towards the blonde teen in the kitchen doorway. "I was on the phone to him when I walked around a corner and there was this ... guy, standing there. Long hair, really thin, really pale."
The teen grimaced. "Before I knew what was happening he'd grabbed me, and he was really fucking strong. It was about then I got a look at his mouth, and saw he had fangs. Like, vampire fangs."
____
"Did he chase you before he grabbed you?" Lorainne asked, taking down notes on a small pad of paper. "Were you taking a different route home than usual?"
"Could you see anyone else around who might have been working with him?" Jareau added, also taking notes. "Did you look behind you at any point to see if you were being followed, and if so, did you notice anyone or anything?"
The paladins had numerous questions to ask. Hearing accounts from other people would also be useful, but in the event that no others could or would step forth, they needed to make sure they got all the information they could out of the young boy.
"Did you happen to be near any places that might have had video surveillance cameras -- stores, restaurants, potentially some residences? I know you said you were walking back from work, which was at a restaurant. Had you felt this presence before, or did you sometimes ever walk home with friends?" Jareau rattled off more questions as Lorainne thoughtfully nibbled the top of her pen. "Could someone have learned your route home? What might have set today apart from other days -- walking slower, appearing nervous or tired or generally down--"
Lorainne cut him off. "Let us know if you need any of the questions repeated," she offered with an apologetic smile. The poor child must be overwhelmed.
____
"Uhhhh-" René blinked, trying to take in all of the questions. "No, he straight up grabbed me before I had a chance to run. And it was the same route as normal, just a bit later. I did look, and it didn't look like there was anyone, but I'm getting to that... and I don't think anything was really different?"
He rubbed at the back of his head. "I don't know that it was planned or anything... I mean, he was a vampire. He looked... like, feral. More animal than person. Are all vampires like that?" René shook his head. "Anyway, uh, you probably already know what happened to him. He's dead. I mean, re-dead, I guess? After he grabbed me, I thought I was dead meat, but then there was this ... music, and everything slowed to a crawl. Like my brain was being wrapped in cotton wool or something. The vampire let go, and then this ... black thing hit it out of nowhere."
At this point, Elliot interjected from across the room. "In case it's relevant, I didn't hear the music. I was still on the other end of the phone at this point. I could hear the struggle."
René nodded, then went on. "I came to on the ground, and this thing was all over the vampire. Like, tentacles wrapped around it, squeezing it... it was struggling, and then it just ... stopped. And shrivelled up. It was fucked up." He shuddered. "But then ... the demon talked to me. It wasn't aggressive, or anything. It saved my life."
____
"The vampire shriveled up? Shriveled like a raisin? Was the tentacled creature's mouth attached to the vampire somehow?" Lorainne began firing off questions in rapid succession. "You heard music," she turned to briefly look at Elliott, "but you didn't," she focused back on René, "which seems to imply some sort of psychic bombardment that only affects those in the immediate vicinity as opposed to any potential witnesses. I'm not sure if that's any indication of its power or its intelligence or both..."
Jareau cut in, "You said this creature spoke to you? What did it say to you? Did it make eye contact with you or touch you?" He turned to address Elliott, "You stated that you heard the struggle over the phone. Could you also hear the creature's voice when it spoke to René, or could you only hear the sounds that the vampire made?"
Lorainne set her pen across the top of her notepad and took a step around to the side of the piece of furniture, bringing her to stand between the two boys. "Would either of you be opposed to us trying to obtain a recording of your phone call? I don't know if it would be possible, but if we could hear this creature -- or at the very least, the moments leading up to the attacks and the struggle during them -- that could prove to be very helpful." She held out her notepad to René. "If you don't mind, go ahead and write down your phone number in the margin somewhere
____
"I couldn't see a mouth... or really anything. It was hard to focus at that point, and it was all over in a few seconds." René frowned apologetically. "And yeah, it spoke. Like, I think it was in my head? It was weird, and echoey, like the music. Like it was coming from my own thoughts. Telepathy, I guess?" He shrugged. He wasn't the expert on supernatural things, but telepathy was a common enough concept.
"I didn't hear it talking, but I barely heard Ren, either. Phone can't have been very close." Elliot responded gruffly.
As he did, Hannah emerged from the kitchen with two mugs of tea and made her way across to the paladins, proffering them with an over-exaggerated smile. "Sorry to interrupt," she said hastily, "but here you are."
Once they'd taken the beverages, she slipped back to the edge of the room to stand beside Elliot, clasping her hands together nervously.
René took the proffered notebook and started to write his number, silently acquiescing to them trying to get hold of the call record. "As far as what it said goes... it was weird. At first I was terrified, like I guess you'd expect when faced with a weird black tentacle monster. But ..." He sighed, shaking his head. "This is going to sound weird, but I don't think it was evil?"
"It was probably just trying to make you let your guard down." Elliot scowled.
"I don't think so... It said that it killed the vampire because it was cold, and ... made of death, and hunger. Almost like it was putting it out of its misery. But it asked me if it had done the right thing, too. Like it wanted to be reassured." René rubbed at the back of his head. "It sounded like a kid. Do you get those? Kid demons?"
____
Lorainne reclaimed the notepad from René and shrugged, "I've never personally heard of one, but I suppose they have to start somewhere... I guess." She turned to Jareau, "How many other sightings have we had of this thing -- or things, for all we know?"
Jareau set his pen down and stared off into the distance, seeming to focus intently on the curtains framing the window. "Three, I think. Don't know much about the second one, but the first one involved a boy and a girl. The girl got tranced or whatever it is this thing does and the boy got eaten. I'm not sure what set the boy apart from the rest of the world, but maybe that's something we should look into." He turned his attention to the young boy and narrowed his eyes pensively. "René, can you give me as detailed an account of this... thing as you can manage?" he asked, flipping to a fresh page in his notebook; "Tell it to me like you're trying to describe it to a deaf, mute, and blind person -- height, width, smell, texture, sound, color, features, anything you've got."
____
"Alright," René furrowed his brow with thought, trying to recall as much detail as possible. "Well, I've already said it was black. It was almost like it was ... tar, I guess." He wrinkled his nose at the memory. It might have saved him, but the creature sure as hell had looked terrifying. "It was sort of dripping this weird black stuff, but there wasn't any trail or anything left, so I guess it disappeared after it dripped. I couldn't tell you how many tentacles it had, it was just this... mass of them, they all kind of blurred together. But it had a halfway humanoid torso sticking out in the middle, with a head and a face and something like hair. Long, stringy and messy. And it had horns, or they might have been antennae? I'm not sure. They stuck up straight, like a good half meter over its head. The whole thing was maybe half my height, but the tentacles spread out a meter or so. I think they could stretch."
He looked up, biting his lip. "I couldn't make out much of its face. I don't even know if had proper facial features, like a person. But it had these really big, like really big white eyes. No pupil or iris or anything, just white."
There was a lengthy pause, where it was clear René was considering adding something else. "It had a name, too. At first it called itself 'this one'. It talked in the third person, which was weird, but... I mean, it saved my life, and it kept reassuring me that it didn't want to hurt me, so I talked to it for a bit. I asked it if it had a name, and it said that someone had called it 'Zexal' before. I don't know if that's relevant, but..." he shifted uncomfortably. "I really don't think it was evil."
____
As the boy described the creature, Jareau's pen moved in furious sketches, taking down every detail as it came to him. When the boy stopped, Jareau looked up, lines lingering on his face where they had formed during his intense concentration. He held up his notebook to show the boy what he had rendered on the page.
"I realize the proportions are likely a bit off, but is this at all what it looked like? What's different?" His questions were direct, focused.
Turning her attention to Hannah, Lorainne gestured to the cup of tea and nodded thankfully to the timid woman, letting Jareau do his part without interruption.
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as written by Peachy00Keen and Script
René nodded. "Sort of," he said. "Just a couple things... my fault, probably, for not specifying. It didn't have arms, as far as I could tell. And it was a bunch skinnier... almost fragile. It didn't really have a defined chest or anything, it was just... smooth, tarry black stuff in that vague shape. The tentacles were a bit longer, I think, too, but thinner. As far as the general shape and the face goes, though, you've pretty much got it."
He was fairly impressed, considering how haphazard his description had been. The thought of the fragile-looking creature with such a buff body did bring an amused smile to his face, however.
Hannah smiled nervously back at Lorainne, but only held eye contact for a moment before she looked away. Clearly, she wasn't any more comfortable with the paladins present than her son - who continued to watch the exchange impassively from the doorway. She just expressed it in a different way.
____
"Ah," Jareau said, withdrawing his sketchbook and trying again with the new modifications.
As he corrected the sketch, Lorainne began the next round of questions: "So, after the ordeal took place, where did this thing -- Zexal, you called it -- go? Did it slither off somewhere? And what gave you the impression that it was not evil?"
____
"It vanished into the shadows as soon as Elliot got there," René smiled sheepishly over at the other teen. "He spooked it, I think. I don't know where it went after that - I couldn't keep track of it in the dark. And... well, it was the conversation I had with it."
He frowned, fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. "I know that sounds stupid as hell, but after it ... well, saved my life, I talked to it. I was scared at first, but... it didn't do anything to hurt me. It came across as just... lonely. It said something about 'stopping the hurt' when it killed the vampire, and that it didn't like it when things hurt... because that made it hurt. I don't think it really understands much about emotions, but it definitely seemed like it meant well..."
Elliot folded his arms. "I still don't buy it. Demons are demons, Ren."
"You realise you sound like her right now?" René retorted defensively. The older teen practically flinched at the accusation, scowling. It seemed like he was about to say more, but then bit his tongue, frowning in thought.
____
The two paladins shared similar thoughts: Psychic abilities, potentially empathic, exhibits poor understanding of emotion and possibly life itself, may be unaware of its wrongdoing.
"Who is this 'her' you speak of? Someone associated with the events?" Lorainne asked.
____
"Oh, sorry, no..." René grimaced. "Just a woman we met at the festival the other day. Nothing to do with this."
____
Both paladins gave the boy a curious look before exchanging glances with each other. Jareau rose and the two of them stood together, towering in the room and filling it with a latent sense of authority.
"Is there anything else you'd like to add?" Jareau asked as he began to fold away his notebook.
____
"I..." René frowned. "I guess I can't really ask this, but... when you do find it? Give it a chance? I don't think it wants to hurt anyone..."
"Except the people it's probably already killed..." Elliot muttered.
René ignored him. "But... that's it. I can't think of anything else, anyway."
____
"And it didn't mention anyone else or anything else that might hint at its motives?" Lorainne added, almost as an afterthought.
____
"Nothing, aside from it being lonely. I think it's just confused." René shrugged, shaking his head. "I guess that's not much help."
____
Both knights nodded appreciatively toward the boy and thanked him before turning and doing the same to the other two people in the room. They set their teacups on the coffee table and headed back for the door. As they passed the officer, Lorainne handed a scrap of paper with two phone numbers on it to him.
"If anything else comes up, phone or text either of us directly. It'll be faster than going through the Monastery proper. We should set up a time to discuss in detail the first event and anything recorded from the second event. We can make a photocopy of the sketch if you want and send it over to your headquarters. Just let us know."
And with that, the two paladins exited the household.
René nodded. "Sort of," he said. "Just a couple things... my fault, probably, for not specifying. It didn't have arms, as far as I could tell. And it was a bunch skinnier... almost fragile. It didn't really have a defined chest or anything, it was just... smooth, tarry black stuff in that vague shape. The tentacles were a bit longer, I think, too, but thinner. As far as the general shape and the face goes, though, you've pretty much got it."
He was fairly impressed, considering how haphazard his description had been. The thought of the fragile-looking creature with such a buff body did bring an amused smile to his face, however.
Hannah smiled nervously back at Lorainne, but only held eye contact for a moment before she looked away. Clearly, she wasn't any more comfortable with the paladins present than her son - who continued to watch the exchange impassively from the doorway. She just expressed it in a different way.
____
"Ah," Jareau said, withdrawing his sketchbook and trying again with the new modifications.
As he corrected the sketch, Lorainne began the next round of questions: "So, after the ordeal took place, where did this thing -- Zexal, you called it -- go? Did it slither off somewhere? And what gave you the impression that it was not evil?"
____
"It vanished into the shadows as soon as Elliot got there," René smiled sheepishly over at the other teen. "He spooked it, I think. I don't know where it went after that - I couldn't keep track of it in the dark. And... well, it was the conversation I had with it."
He frowned, fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. "I know that sounds stupid as hell, but after it ... well, saved my life, I talked to it. I was scared at first, but... it didn't do anything to hurt me. It came across as just... lonely. It said something about 'stopping the hurt' when it killed the vampire, and that it didn't like it when things hurt... because that made it hurt. I don't think it really understands much about emotions, but it definitely seemed like it meant well..."
Elliot folded his arms. "I still don't buy it. Demons are demons, Ren."
"You realise you sound like her right now?" René retorted defensively. The older teen practically flinched at the accusation, scowling. It seemed like he was about to say more, but then bit his tongue, frowning in thought.
____
The two paladins shared similar thoughts: Psychic abilities, potentially empathic, exhibits poor understanding of emotion and possibly life itself, may be unaware of its wrongdoing.
"Who is this 'her' you speak of? Someone associated with the events?" Lorainne asked.
____
"Oh, sorry, no..." René grimaced. "Just a woman we met at the festival the other day. Nothing to do with this."
____
Both paladins gave the boy a curious look before exchanging glances with each other. Jareau rose and the two of them stood together, towering in the room and filling it with a latent sense of authority.
"Is there anything else you'd like to add?" Jareau asked as he began to fold away his notebook.
____
"I..." René frowned. "I guess I can't really ask this, but... when you do find it? Give it a chance? I don't think it wants to hurt anyone..."
"Except the people it's probably already killed..." Elliot muttered.
René ignored him. "But... that's it. I can't think of anything else, anyway."
____
"And it didn't mention anyone else or anything else that might hint at its motives?" Lorainne added, almost as an afterthought.
____
"Nothing, aside from it being lonely. I think it's just confused." René shrugged, shaking his head. "I guess that's not much help."
____
Both knights nodded appreciatively toward the boy and thanked him before turning and doing the same to the other two people in the room. They set their teacups on the coffee table and headed back for the door. As they passed the officer, Lorainne handed a scrap of paper with two phone numbers on it to him.
"If anything else comes up, phone or text either of us directly. It'll be faster than going through the Monastery proper. We should set up a time to discuss in detail the first event and anything recorded from the second event. We can make a photocopy of the sketch if you want and send it over to your headquarters. Just let us know."
And with that, the two paladins exited the household.
The clock had chimed midnight by the time René finished his shift at Claire's, although he'd been supposed to clock out half an hour before. The dishes hadn't been done, and there'd been a last-minute spillage at one of the tables when a patron on what René was pretty sure had been a bad drug trip had suddenly jumped out of his seat and ran for the door, sending his burger and fries splattering across the floor in the process. Cleaning that up, and thence extracting himself from his conversation with the diner's proprietress had taken him through to almost an hour after he was supposed to have left. For a fair portion of that time, Elliot had been sat waiting for him in one of the diner's booths. Ever since his run-in with a feral vampire and the strange shadow-creature the other week, the werewolf had insisted on coming out to meet him when he had late shifts. It wasn't that René didn't appreciate the company, or the gesture, but he really didn't feel like it was necessary.
"I told you, you don't need to come all the way out here just to walk me home. I've been doing this for months and the other week was the only time that I've ever had any trouble." René looked across at Elliot and smiled. He supposed he couldn't complain. It was nice to have the extra bite of time to spend with his friend. They didn't get enough time to spend together, given how much of his René spent working or looking after his grandma. Even if it was just a half-hour walk back to the flat, it was nice. And it made his heart swell that Elliot cared enough to trek out and collect him.
"Only takes one time," Elliot mumbled by way of response. They were well on their way back to their block of flats, now. The early winter chill bit at him through René's old coat, and the patch on one of his gloves had annoyingly come loose that evening, before work. He'd have to get out the sewing kit again next time he had a few spare minutes at home. Not tonight - he had an early shift at the store tomorrow so he couldn't stay up late worrying over that, but he might have some time between fixing dinner for his grandma and heading out to Claire's...
"Uh, René?"
René realised he'd stopped talking, and was gazing off aimlessly into the middle-distance as though in a daze. He blinked, then laughed. "Sorry. I was uh, thinking about gloves."
Elliot raised a curious eyebrow, then snorted. "Of course you were. Not even surprised. That's such a you thing to be daydreaming about."
"Hey, I daydream about interesting things too, sometimes!" René elbowed the werewolf in the ribs playfully, sticking his tongue out.
"Yeah, like getting a new vacuum cleaner. Domestic goddess that you are, and all."
"Please, just because I can bake a potato without setting the whole building's fire alarm off." René fired back. At that, Elliot elbowed him back, and before René knew it, it had escalated into a full-blown playfight. Full-blown, but not very long-lived - it wasn't long at all before he found himself trapped in a very firm headlock by the significantly stronger boy.
"I give! I give!" He exclaimed through fits of laughter, wriggling fruitlessly against Elliot's grip.
"What's that? I'm not hearing a 'sorry, o' smart and wise friend of mine, I take back my rude as fuck comments about your cooking skills'." Elliot teased, ruffling his hair.
"Okay, maybe you could manage a potato, but fuck if I'm letting you near a bag of pasta again. You made a paste, El. A paste! How do you fuck up pasta that bad?"
"You want me to what? Okay then!"
René barely had a moment to question what was about to happen before Elliot had hauled him off his feet and slung him over one shoulder. "Hey!" he protested, flailing his legs helplessly and pounding his fists on Elliot's back. "Put me down! Elliot! Stoooop!" Despite his protests, he couldn't help but continue to laugh. They were probably waking people up at this point, which René really should have felt more bad over, but he was having too much fun to care. "This is cheating! I'm only a weak and feeble human, this isn't fair!"
He could practically hear Elliot's grin in response to that. "Life's not fair, princess," the werewolf said, patting him on the leg. "Now let's get you back to the castle."
"You're not seriously going to carry me the whole way like this. Oh my god Elliot no." René groan-laughed. "This is so embarrassing!"
"Oh, yeah, your copious amounts of street cred are totally at risk right now."
René's response to that was another snort of laughter followed by a heavy, dramatised sigh of surrender. "Fine, I give up, but only because I'm tired and this is actually kind of comfortable." He wriggled himself around a bit to re-distribute his weight in a more practical fashion, and propped himself up on his elbows to watch the street roll by in reverse. Aside from a hum of approval to his surrender, Elliot gave no further response, and they settled into a comfortable silence. René smiled to himself, as Elliot walked on. He could get used to this kind of treatment. Well, maybe in a slightly less awkward position, but the being carried around part was a pretty good deal. Maybe he could angle for a piggy-back, next time...
"I told you, you don't need to come all the way out here just to walk me home. I've been doing this for months and the other week was the only time that I've ever had any trouble." René looked across at Elliot and smiled. He supposed he couldn't complain. It was nice to have the extra bite of time to spend with his friend. They didn't get enough time to spend together, given how much of his René spent working or looking after his grandma. Even if it was just a half-hour walk back to the flat, it was nice. And it made his heart swell that Elliot cared enough to trek out and collect him.
"Only takes one time," Elliot mumbled by way of response. They were well on their way back to their block of flats, now. The early winter chill bit at him through René's old coat, and the patch on one of his gloves had annoyingly come loose that evening, before work. He'd have to get out the sewing kit again next time he had a few spare minutes at home. Not tonight - he had an early shift at the store tomorrow so he couldn't stay up late worrying over that, but he might have some time between fixing dinner for his grandma and heading out to Claire's...
"Uh, René?"
René realised he'd stopped talking, and was gazing off aimlessly into the middle-distance as though in a daze. He blinked, then laughed. "Sorry. I was uh, thinking about gloves."
Elliot raised a curious eyebrow, then snorted. "Of course you were. Not even surprised. That's such a you thing to be daydreaming about."
"Hey, I daydream about interesting things too, sometimes!" René elbowed the werewolf in the ribs playfully, sticking his tongue out.
"Yeah, like getting a new vacuum cleaner. Domestic goddess that you are, and all."
"Please, just because I can bake a potato without setting the whole building's fire alarm off." René fired back. At that, Elliot elbowed him back, and before René knew it, it had escalated into a full-blown playfight. Full-blown, but not very long-lived - it wasn't long at all before he found himself trapped in a very firm headlock by the significantly stronger boy.
"I give! I give!" He exclaimed through fits of laughter, wriggling fruitlessly against Elliot's grip.
"What's that? I'm not hearing a 'sorry, o' smart and wise friend of mine, I take back my rude as fuck comments about your cooking skills'." Elliot teased, ruffling his hair.
"Okay, maybe you could manage a potato, but fuck if I'm letting you near a bag of pasta again. You made a paste, El. A paste! How do you fuck up pasta that bad?"
"You want me to what? Okay then!"
René barely had a moment to question what was about to happen before Elliot had hauled him off his feet and slung him over one shoulder. "Hey!" he protested, flailing his legs helplessly and pounding his fists on Elliot's back. "Put me down! Elliot! Stoooop!" Despite his protests, he couldn't help but continue to laugh. They were probably waking people up at this point, which René really should have felt more bad over, but he was having too much fun to care. "This is cheating! I'm only a weak and feeble human, this isn't fair!"
He could practically hear Elliot's grin in response to that. "Life's not fair, princess," the werewolf said, patting him on the leg. "Now let's get you back to the castle."
"You're not seriously going to carry me the whole way like this. Oh my god Elliot no." René groan-laughed. "This is so embarrassing!"
"Oh, yeah, your copious amounts of street cred are totally at risk right now."
René's response to that was another snort of laughter followed by a heavy, dramatised sigh of surrender. "Fine, I give up, but only because I'm tired and this is actually kind of comfortable." He wriggled himself around a bit to re-distribute his weight in a more practical fashion, and propped himself up on his elbows to watch the street roll by in reverse. Aside from a hum of approval to his surrender, Elliot gave no further response, and they settled into a comfortable silence. René smiled to himself, as Elliot walked on. He could get used to this kind of treatment. Well, maybe in a slightly less awkward position, but the being carried around part was a pretty good deal. Maybe he could angle for a piggy-back, next time...
Rorshach's Journal
You're locked in here with me.
Harriet flicked the zippo lighter's lid off with her thumb, inspecting the gold-rimmed engraving that bit against two of her fingers with a bored distaste. To E, love P, it said, in a looping, girly font, contained within a silver heart. It contrasted with the rough, patchwork metal - some of it fresh scrapes - that resulted in a well-worn momento, probably very old.
Probably meant a lot to E.
He probably was a cancer to his relationship in the long run. Probably, once he turned and his human, frail little P didn't change with him, he found a nice changer to settle down with and pork on those long cold Lutetian nights. Most likely, he forgot all about P, waiting for him to come home, and spent his nights howling into the wind with his new pet, someone who could understand him, someone who was worthy of his lupine cock. Probably didn't even know that the fucking lighter was in his coat pocket when she'd snatched him up.
She picked at some asphalt stuck in the keepsake with her thumbnail, then clucked in annoyance when part of the nail chipped, peeling away in a rough, hard flake. She bit at it, idly, watching from underneath the cover of a short red coat and the mouth of an alleyway, watching the passerby. Two boys clowning, one carrying the other like a sack of potatoes - cute - and brisk, cold wind that pierced her knit hat, causing her to jam her hands, lighter and all, into the fiery coat.
Then, she heard something that made ice blue eyes flash, the scars below her left pulse lightly with a fresh pain.
"I'm only a weak and feeble human," cried one of the boys - the one being carried - in protest, in plea. "This isn't fair."
Harriet slid one hand to curl around the cool metal of a throwing knife - pure silver, as was her custom - and flung it at the inhuman boy's thigh.
Probably meant a lot to E.
He probably was a cancer to his relationship in the long run. Probably, once he turned and his human, frail little P didn't change with him, he found a nice changer to settle down with and pork on those long cold Lutetian nights. Most likely, he forgot all about P, waiting for him to come home, and spent his nights howling into the wind with his new pet, someone who could understand him, someone who was worthy of his lupine cock. Probably didn't even know that the fucking lighter was in his coat pocket when she'd snatched him up.
She picked at some asphalt stuck in the keepsake with her thumbnail, then clucked in annoyance when part of the nail chipped, peeling away in a rough, hard flake. She bit at it, idly, watching from underneath the cover of a short red coat and the mouth of an alleyway, watching the passerby. Two boys clowning, one carrying the other like a sack of potatoes - cute - and brisk, cold wind that pierced her knit hat, causing her to jam her hands, lighter and all, into the fiery coat.
Then, she heard something that made ice blue eyes flash, the scars below her left pulse lightly with a fresh pain.
"I'm only a weak and feeble human," cried one of the boys - the one being carried - in protest, in plea. "This isn't fair."
Harriet slid one hand to curl around the cool metal of a throwing knife - pure silver, as was her custom - and flung it at the inhuman boy's thigh.
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A cry of pain snapped René out of his dozey contentment, and the next thing he knew he was sliding ungracefully off of Elliot's shoulder and landing on his ass with a jarring smack. He looked up to see Elliot's hands had gone down to his leg, where a- a knife was protruding out. His friend's face was contorted in pain, expletives falling out his mouth in a garbled waterfall.
"Shit! Elliot! Are you okay?" René scrambled to his feet and put a hand on the werewolf's arm, casting his eyes around in search of the assailant. He picked out the woman in the red coat in the dim light of the alleyway, and he rounded on her with an angry scowl. "What the fuck?!"
It was a stupid thing to yell as though he were expecting an answer, René realised the moment it had left his lips. What kind of knife-throwing maniac was going to take the time to say anything.
Elliot's eyes followed his gaze, and through gritted teeth, the larger boy straightened, hand closing around the knife and pulling it free of his leg with a hiss of pain. Blood began to flow more freely from the cut, but at least moving wasn't going to make it worse anymore. Probably. His eyes locked onto the woman, faint hints of amber swirling behind the blue of his irises. "Get behind me, René," he said, gently pushing René back to interpose himself between his friend and their attacker. "And call the cops or something."
It wasn't like he was a veteran of many fights, but he was a werewolf. He at least had a physical advantage over most humans.
"Shit! Elliot! Are you okay?" René scrambled to his feet and put a hand on the werewolf's arm, casting his eyes around in search of the assailant. He picked out the woman in the red coat in the dim light of the alleyway, and he rounded on her with an angry scowl. "What the fuck?!"
It was a stupid thing to yell as though he were expecting an answer, René realised the moment it had left his lips. What kind of knife-throwing maniac was going to take the time to say anything.
Elliot's eyes followed his gaze, and through gritted teeth, the larger boy straightened, hand closing around the knife and pulling it free of his leg with a hiss of pain. Blood began to flow more freely from the cut, but at least moving wasn't going to make it worse anymore. Probably. His eyes locked onto the woman, faint hints of amber swirling behind the blue of his irises. "Get behind me, René," he said, gently pushing René back to interpose himself between his friend and their attacker. "And call the cops or something."
It wasn't like he was a veteran of many fights, but he was a werewolf. He at least had a physical advantage over most humans.
Rorshach's Journal
You're locked in here with me.
"Cute," Harriet said, a second knife twirled on her finger. Her knit cap was pulled down, forming a strange piece of material that took the form of the scenery behind it, making it seem like all but her eyes and mouth were see-through.
"You feeling the burn, yet?" she called, sending the knife spinning with a flick, "The knife is laced - the handle, coated. You allergic to wolfsbane, pup?"
A lie, of course - but she needed the knife back.
"You feeling the burn, yet?" she called, sending the knife spinning with a flick, "The knife is laced - the handle, coated. You allergic to wolfsbane, pup?"
A lie, of course - but she needed the knife back.
Elliot's grip on the knife tightened. It was a weapon, even if it wasn't designed to be used in hand to hand. He sure wasn't about to throw it. It'd probably be as effective as straight up handing the thing back to her, for all he knew about knife throwing. "I don't want any trouble," he called to her, ignoring the question. Wolfsbane as an anti-werewolf poison was a fairly common superstition. Truth was that, as a poison, it worked about as well on a wolf as it did on a human. The knife was silver, he noted. Another superstition, although one a bit more solidly rooted in reality. So this bitch probably fancied herself some sort of hunter. Fucking hell. "I don't know what kind of beef you have with werewolves, but I'm just some kid, and René's not even a wolf. Just leave us alone."
While he tried to stall, René was dialling the number for the police, shooting frantic glances from his phone to the woman. Why did this keep happening to them? This neighbourhood was supposed to be safe!
While he tried to stall, René was dialling the number for the police, shooting frantic glances from his phone to the woman. Why did this keep happening to them? This neighbourhood was supposed to be safe!
Rorshach's Journal
You're locked in here with me.
"Everyone starts a kid," she replied, calmly, watching carefully. No signs of weakness, no sweating or shaky knees.
Well then.
"Though, I must say - you have taught me a lot tonight," Harriet said, her voice monotone, measured, "about what you can withstand."
Just then, E called out from behind the alleyway - more wolf than man, now, more a howl than a scream. It had begun. The sound sent a visible shiver down the woman's spine, her eyes half closing at the sound of it.
"Keep the knife as a keepsake, then," she murmured, half-turning towards the alleyway, as another half-howl ripped through the night, "I have others. Remember me fondly."
She started back towards the alley.
Well then.
"Though, I must say - you have taught me a lot tonight," Harriet said, her voice monotone, measured, "about what you can withstand."
Just then, E called out from behind the alleyway - more wolf than man, now, more a howl than a scream. It had begun. The sound sent a visible shiver down the woman's spine, her eyes half closing at the sound of it.
"Keep the knife as a keepsake, then," she murmured, half-turning towards the alleyway, as another half-howl ripped through the night, "I have others. Remember me fondly."
She started back towards the alley.
"What's going on back there?" Elliot called after her, accusatory. Stupid. It was stupid. He should've just run. But someone was screaming in the alleyway and he couldn't just leave them. Could he? His eyes flicked to René. He didn't want to risk him getting hurt, but whoever that screaming was... Maybe he could buy them time until the cops arrived. If they'd even show, this time of night in Lupaix.
"There's a woman attacking us with a knife!" René hissed into the phone behind him. "Knives! And someone's screaming! Ennoire Avenue, in Lunoveau Hill. Please hurry!"
Well, that was promising. But just because they'd picked up didn't mean they were likely to show anytime soon.
Elliot's follow-up call was short and to the point.
"Why?"
"There's a woman attacking us with a knife!" René hissed into the phone behind him. "Knives! And someone's screaming! Ennoire Avenue, in Lunoveau Hill. Please hurry!"
Well, that was promising. But just because they'd picked up didn't mean they were likely to show anytime soon.
Elliot's follow-up call was short and to the point.
"Why?"
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Rorshach's Journal
You're locked in here with me.
Harriet's eyes narrowed at the mouth of the alleyway, her head slowly turning to watch the pair of them - smirking lightly underneath the weird mask.
"We're all part of something," she murmured, her smile widening, stretching the limits of the mask, "some more than others."
She flipped the knife again, caught it by the hilt. "You'll know soon enough the why of it, but if you are curious, you can come see for yourself."
Another scream, this one contained around a word - please - as it echoed out of the alleyway. Harriet unzipped the red jacket, revealing more of the cloth - the camouflage - as the zipper travelled south.
She stepped backwards, towards the mouth of the alleyway, temporarily out of his sight.
"We're all part of something," she murmured, her smile widening, stretching the limits of the mask, "some more than others."
She flipped the knife again, caught it by the hilt. "You'll know soon enough the why of it, but if you are curious, you can come see for yourself."
Another scream, this one contained around a word - please - as it echoed out of the alleyway. Harriet unzipped the red jacket, revealing more of the cloth - the camouflage - as the zipper travelled south.
She stepped backwards, towards the mouth of the alleyway, temporarily out of his sight.
Elliot took a step forwards, but found his arm caught by René. "You can't!" the younger boy hissed, pleading with his eyes. "She's crazy, she'll kill you, El!"
"Someone's dying back there, René," Elliot fired back, urgently but with as much confidence as he could muster. "I can't just leave them. Stay here, I'll be okay. Tough guy, remember?" He didn't wait to hear René's continued protests, gently prying his hand off of his arm and making for the alleyway. His grip on the caught knife stayed tight. When he stepped into the alley's mouth, he hesitated, watching for an ambush.
Stay here. Like hell was René going to listen to that. After only the barest moment's hesitation, he'd started after Elliot, coming up behind him just as his friend was starting to advance further into the alley. He was sure that Elliot could probably hear his heart beating out his chest, even if his footsteps hadn't been obvious enough, but the werewolf didn't try and send him away again. He obviously realised it was futile, at this point.
"Someone's dying back there, René," Elliot fired back, urgently but with as much confidence as he could muster. "I can't just leave them. Stay here, I'll be okay. Tough guy, remember?" He didn't wait to hear René's continued protests, gently prying his hand off of his arm and making for the alleyway. His grip on the caught knife stayed tight. When he stepped into the alley's mouth, he hesitated, watching for an ambush.
Stay here. Like hell was René going to listen to that. After only the barest moment's hesitation, he'd started after Elliot, coming up behind him just as his friend was starting to advance further into the alley. He was sure that Elliot could probably hear his heart beating out his chest, even if his footsteps hadn't been obvious enough, but the werewolf didn't try and send him away again. He obviously realised it was futile, at this point.
Rorshach's Journal
You're locked in here with me.
The alleyway opened to them, shadowy and dark. At the end of it, a strange orange glow pulsed, and where there should've been a brick wall - a dead end - there instead was a circular window, almost like a hole had been cut into the brick and mortar. Through the hole, they could see a rooftop, sloped downwards, and nothing but starry sky around it.
On the rooftop lay a man, half-turned into a wolf with fur sprouting alongside his chest and back. He was tied down - feet, arms, neck all strapped with thick ropes that hissed lightly whenever they touched his skin. His screams had turned into half-moans, his tongue - too large for his mostly human mouth - hung out of his mouth awkwardly, moving in rhythm with his panting. An IV drip led from his arm to a bag, suspended on a pole above his head.
"The trauma," came a voice from above them - Harriet's voice - "changes them slowly. He's very allergic - you, young one, likely won't change at all."
The man panted a few more times, rolled his neck, and watched the two young men.
"I love this part," Harriet's voice, again, a low, lusty whisper, echoing among the alleyway. At the boys' feet lay a red jacket, jeans - carelessly discarded.
On the rooftop lay a man, half-turned into a wolf with fur sprouting alongside his chest and back. He was tied down - feet, arms, neck all strapped with thick ropes that hissed lightly whenever they touched his skin. His screams had turned into half-moans, his tongue - too large for his mostly human mouth - hung out of his mouth awkwardly, moving in rhythm with his panting. An IV drip led from his arm to a bag, suspended on a pole above his head.
"The trauma," came a voice from above them - Harriet's voice - "changes them slowly. He's very allergic - you, young one, likely won't change at all."
The man panted a few more times, rolled his neck, and watched the two young men.
"I love this part," Harriet's voice, again, a low, lusty whisper, echoing among the alleyway. At the boys' feet lay a red jacket, jeans - carelessly discarded.
"What the fuck?" Elliot took an involuntary step back, bumping into René, at the sight of a portal to ... what, the rooftop over them? Somewhere else entirely? He heard the younger boy's own gasp moments after his exclamation, and locked eyes with the man on the roof. His instincts were screaming to run. Something in the woman's voice. The ominous statement: 'I love this part'. It was like the setup to a slasher movie. But he couldn't stare into that desperate gaze and just turn away.
"You're sick," he growled. Then started forwards.
"Elliot!" René's worried call reached him, but he didn't stop. He was vaguely aware of the other boy starting after him. He stopped for a moment at the threshold of the portal, took a breath, then stepped through.
Not far away, in the shadows of the opposite rooftop, the shadows stirred. They sensed the pain of the wolfman, the fear of the boys in the alleyway. They recognised one of them.
They moved.
"You're sick," he growled. Then started forwards.
"Elliot!" René's worried call reached him, but he didn't stop. He was vaguely aware of the other boy starting after him. He stopped for a moment at the threshold of the portal, took a breath, then stepped through.
Not far away, in the shadows of the opposite rooftop, the shadows stirred. They sensed the pain of the wolfman, the fear of the boys in the alleyway. They recognised one of them.
They moved.
Rorshach's Journal
You're locked in here with me.
Elliot found himself high up, in the middle of what would be recognized as Vargeras. The orange portal shimmered, held still, and felt cold as it was stepped through. The wolfman on the roof suddenly reacted to Elliot stepping through, frantically shaking his head, twisting at the ropes.
"No, no," he moaned, thick tongue muffling the words, causing drool to pool on the side of the roof.
Before René could fully move through the portal, Harriet leapt at the human boy, knife flashing as she attempted to drive it into his groin.
"No, no," he moaned, thick tongue muffling the words, causing drool to pool on the side of the roof.
Before René could fully move through the portal, Harriet leapt at the human boy, knife flashing as she attempted to drive it into his groin.
René screamed, flinching backwards far too slowly; but the swell of panic in his chest was a cry enough for help. There was a crack of energy, and suddenly something was between him and the knife - all black and tentacles - shoving him away even as the blade plunged into inky flesh. An inhuman shriek followed, ichor spurting from the wound, and the creature lashed out in retaliation. Tendrils shot out with an aim to wrap around Harriet's arm with a vice-like grip, and a pair of large, milky white eyes bore into her with a hatred born of fear.
'Hurts! It hurts! Leave the kind warm thing be!'
The voice that pierced through the hunter's mind was panicked and child-like, and echoed with an unnatural resonance. Its source was unquestionably the creature before her, as alien as its appearance: ooze-like, it moved as though it were more liquid than solid, undulating unnervingly on the spot. At the core of its innumerable tentacles appeared to be a more humanoid shape, like a torso without legs.
The tendrils, should they have successfully latched onto the huntress, pulsed, and where they touched her, her arm began to grow cold and numb.
It was in the same instant that the creature's mental shriek sounded that Elliot turned in response to René's scream. A combination of anger and fear brought the wolf to the forefront, and his eyes were now more amber than blue or white both. He threw himself back through the portal, saw René on the ground with the thing between the psychotic woman and him. He didn't know what to make of it. He stopped in a moment of frozen indecision.
'Hurts! It hurts! Leave the kind warm thing be!'
The voice that pierced through the hunter's mind was panicked and child-like, and echoed with an unnatural resonance. Its source was unquestionably the creature before her, as alien as its appearance: ooze-like, it moved as though it were more liquid than solid, undulating unnervingly on the spot. At the core of its innumerable tentacles appeared to be a more humanoid shape, like a torso without legs.
The tendrils, should they have successfully latched onto the huntress, pulsed, and where they touched her, her arm began to grow cold and numb.
It was in the same instant that the creature's mental shriek sounded that Elliot turned in response to René's scream. A combination of anger and fear brought the wolf to the forefront, and his eyes were now more amber than blue or white both. He threw himself back through the portal, saw René on the ground with the thing between the psychotic woman and him. He didn't know what to make of it. He stopped in a moment of frozen indecision.
Rorshach's Journal
You're locked in here with me.
Harriet, too, was frozen - her arm cold, numb, as the black ink circled her limb, making it feel like it wasn't part of her, like it was luggage being swung by a strap. She pulled, aiming to put a foot on the thing and rip free, the knife clattering to the alleyway floor.
The man, tied down, began to thrash harder, one tied hand reaching for Elliot, a whine beginning to gain volume from the back of his throat. Salvation had been so close, and seemed further and further. The portal sparked, began to close, and his whine became an agonized shout.
From somewhere in the distance, a siren rose above the din of Lutetia, drawing closer.
The man, tied down, began to thrash harder, one tied hand reaching for Elliot, a whine beginning to gain volume from the back of his throat. Salvation had been so close, and seemed further and further. The portal sparked, began to close, and his whine became an agonized shout.
From somewhere in the distance, a siren rose above the din of Lutetia, drawing closer.
Harriet's foot found purchase on flesh, but it gave almost as easily as rubber, providing her little in the way of momentum for escape. More tendrils began to lash out onto different parts of her, wrapping around her leg, her torso. Those empty white eyes continued to stare unblinking, seemingly unfeeling, even as their owner sapped the life out of its captive. René pushed himself to his feet, taking in what lay before him. Zexal. It was Zexal. The creature from before, the one that had saved him from the vampire. Then his eyes went across to Elliot, and the man behind him. He heard the panicked shout.
"Help him!" he yelled, meeting Elliot's gaze.
Another moment of hesitation. The portal was shrinking rapidly, it was Elliot's last chance to make his choice. René's plea cut through his shock, and then the desperate whine followed. He understood that sound, instinctively. But René. He couldn't leave him with this demon - and he wasn't sure which of the two tangling on the alley floor he meant. Elliot didn't turn back, running past the inky creature and the woman and dashing to the younger boy's side. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine! El, the guy!"
But the portal had closed. The man was gone.
"Help him!" he yelled, meeting Elliot's gaze.
Another moment of hesitation. The portal was shrinking rapidly, it was Elliot's last chance to make his choice. René's plea cut through his shock, and then the desperate whine followed. He understood that sound, instinctively. But René. He couldn't leave him with this demon - and he wasn't sure which of the two tangling on the alley floor he meant. Elliot didn't turn back, running past the inky creature and the woman and dashing to the younger boy's side. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine! El, the guy!"
But the portal had closed. The man was gone.
Rorshach's Journal
You're locked in here with me.
Vernon DuPuis' grip tightened on the steering wheel, the undercarriage of the car scraping against the crest of a hill as it flew towards the location of the call, competent hands gripping at the wheel. The siren screamed out from the beat-up patrol car, echoing off of buildings as he screeched around a corner, wrestling the car straight again as the smell of smoky rubber burst from the asphalt, assaulting his nose. He slowed with a sharp ring of brakes, and the ring became a squeal as he pulled up to the alleyway in which four people seemed to be in some kind of scuffle.
He unclipped his seatbelt, drew his service revolver, and ripped the car door open - with a loud creak - before rounding the hood, yelling out towards the alleyway.
Harriet, meanwhile, staggered backwards, letting out a pitched wail, followed by a ruthless laugh - high, keening, crazy - as she could actually feel the life force fading away.
"Stop," roared Vernon, charging towards the shadow tangled with the camouflaged shape - to his eyes, two demons wrestling.
He unclipped his seatbelt, drew his service revolver, and ripped the car door open - with a loud creak - before rounding the hood, yelling out towards the alleyway.
Harriet, meanwhile, staggered backwards, letting out a pitched wail, followed by a ruthless laugh - high, keening, crazy - as she could actually feel the life force fading away.
"Stop," roared Vernon, charging towards the shadow tangled with the camouflaged shape - to his eyes, two demons wrestling.