multiversallogs | Striking in complete silence / devastating, isolating, until I lose control

Entry tags:

Striking in complete silence / devastating, isolating, until I lose control

Who: Raylan Givens and Rachel Conway
What: Saving the day! Aaaand opening up a CR can of worms.
Where: Champion's Walk, Griss Twist.
When: Backdated a few days, in the midst of monster madness.
Notes: N/A
Warnings: Violence against monsters.

She'd been driven from her apartment three days ago, driven from her neighborhood a day after that. Rachel had managed to pack a bag on her way out, slung across her body now, full of what meager first-aid supplies she could gather and everything she could possibly use as a light source.

...Not that she intends to go that route. Ever. But better to be prepared for something you don't have to do than to be pushed into that corner and not be ready.

She's been moving through the city, doing what she can, sleeping when she can. She's hardly prepared for this; she's been a book editor and a tea house waitress and a low-level volunteer for a political party, there's nothing in her background to ready her for circumstances like these. But she couldn't just hide somewhere and not try.

The side streets tonight are reasonably quiet, if demolished here and there, bearing scars of earlier skirmishes. She makes note of buildings that look like they'll stay standing, and when she comes across the odd person wandering the street, she checks to make sure they don't need medical attention and then she shoos them off to the nearest safe place.

But as she nears Champion's Walk, the odd people become groups of people, and they're not wandering, they're fleeing. She catches the ones she can, directing them to a safe place, unable to get much out of them besides "monster" and "didn't want to be trapped."

There's a knot of people running through the open back door of a business that faces Champion's Walk. She fights her way through, dodging people, and she gets out the front door. She still can't see much--there's a group of people coming toward her, and some more, lit by the few street lamps still working, congregating by some buildings on the next block.

And then a shape moves between her and a lamp, flitting by so fast there's only a silhouette, and an impression of size. Great size.

She can't just stand here and do nothing.

Back through the shop she goes, back out the back door, but instead of joining the others fleeing onto the side streets, she takes one that parallels Champion's Walk. She sees another stream of people coming down an alley, and she squeezes through, popping out into the crowd of people gathered there.

"Who's in charge?" she asks the nearest person. "Is there anyone helping you guys right now?"

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The terrified refugee manages to stutter out something about a sheriff with a hat, but is reluctant to stop for much more than that.

The hat in question is not so terribly hard to spot, though it's dirtier than it once was. Raylan's had a rough few days and it shows. He's started trying to keep the peace in Mog Hill, but the sky cracked open and jurisdiction stopped meaning anything.

He still has his original firearm, but it's empty - he has yet to find more ammo for it, but it was what came from home. It's in its holster. In his left hand, he holds a shotgun he found subsequently; there are still shells for that to spare, for now, though it's not the weapon he'd prefer. His clothes are filthy, soot-stained and ripped in places; he's clearly been on the front lines.

There aren't a lot of safe places, but he's been doing his best to herd civilians toward them.

Unfortunately, they've been spotted this time. When the monster moves again, Raylan raises the shotgun, but there's nothing to properly aim at. When he notices the people he'd been directing have frozen, he yells, "Keep moving, goddamit," which doesn't make him terribly inconspicuous.

As soon as the person says sheriff with a hat, Rachel's heart sinks into her stomach. Surely there's more than one?

But he yells at everyone to keep moving, and she knows, before she turns to lay eyes on him. It's strange, how torn she feels, pulled between thank God it's him and why does it have to be him. She watches him just long enough to catch his gaze, and she gives him a single, brisk nod, hey, I'm here.

And then she turns back to the person she'd grabbed, tightening her grip on the guy's arms. "Look at me. Listen." She cants her head, indicating the way she'd come. "That alley. I just came through there. It goes out into the side streets behind this one. Grab as many people as you can and get through there, spread the word. If you can't get there, there's an open building at the end of the second block if people can get past whatever the hell is in the street. Get to those side streets, and then spread out, get into whatever buildings you can and hide. Go!"

She repeats this about half a dozen times, directing people to keep moving, to get out of here. The crowd has thinned by about half by the time she's within reasonable conversation distance to Raylan.

"You okay?"

"For now." He's torn between glad to see her and exasperated she's here. "I should have already added 'ripped up by monsters' to the ways not to get killed before now, huh?"

He look a bit post-apocalyptic, but he doesn't seem to be seriously hurt in any way, now that she's close enough to judge. Though he's talking to her, his eyes are scanning the area in front of them, shotgun still raised.

He's not hurt, that she can see; thank God for that. She offers him a wan smile. "I guess with as often as we have monsters around here, I should've taken it as a common-sense thing. But I was just--"

She's cut off by an inhuman sound, a high-pitched whistle so shrill that it's like nails on bone, their bones, rattling them with that noise. She turns to scan the street, eyes wide. And just beyond the glow of the street lamp, something sails past in the shadows.

"...What the hell was that? Have you gotten a good look?"

"It's too goddamn fast." That's a no. He's scanning the sky, though. "I've been trying to get the last of the civilians out of the way, but I'm not sure what it's waiting for."

He wanted a target.

It whistles again, the sound setting her teeth on edge. And it rushes past, closer this time, close enough to give a vague impression of limbs that hung way out of proportion to what was normal for a body.

"...Okay, maybe I'm reading too much into things," she says, giving a stunned onlooker a gentle shove toward the alley, "but if I had to guess? I'd wonder if it was trying to scare us before it comes in for whatever else it's going to do."

"Well, let's not hang around and give it a chance," he says, glancing back. The group has mainly moved on, leaving him and Rachel at the rear. "Head back the way you came, I'll cover us."

But as he steps out into the road, he stops, wary. The thing is hard to get a good look at, but it's paused a few yards away. It looks long and stringy, like a cartoon victim of the rack. But when it moves, it's a blur again. Raylan raises the shotgun and pumps off two rounds.

His aim is perfect. Which is why it's too bad that the shots have absolutely no effect on the thing barreling them down.

Rachel starts to do as he says, but the sounds of those shots being fired stops her. Did he hit it? Is it over?

...No. This makes no sense, those shots were dead on, how is this thing still upright, let alone coming at them... Oh, God, it's coming at them, whistling again, that awful sound somehow more angry than before.

It seems to be teasing them now, but not in any way that would amuse. No, this is cruelty, the thing slowly advancing on them, revealing more and more of its horrible, stretched, skeletal body as it moves. It lets out that shrill cry again, and she realizes the thing has a tiny little hole for a mouth.

The gun didn't do anything.

Oh, God, but she can't, not now, not here.

...Not in front of him.

But she edges toward the lamp post--specifically, the large circle of light it casts on the pavement, all the same. "Raylan... If that thing doesn't stop... Get somewhere behind me, okay?"

He doesn't look away from the thing, but says, "We should pick two directions and run - it can't chase the both of us if we split up." And, with luck, the noise of his gun will attract it.

Granted, he doesn't have much of a plan after that. He'll improvise.

The thing is closing. It's playing with them, that's clear. But he doesn't see a lot of other options.

"You're right. It can't chase us both."

There's an odd calm in her voice, her hands moving to open the bag slung across her body.

"But we can't defend ourselves, if we run. Your gun's not doing a damned thing to it."

She glances down at the pavement, studying something (her shadow, where it falls) and she shifts around a bit (getting the light more fully behind her, making the outline nice and crisp).

"And i'm unarmed, if I run."

She feels pretty sick to her stomach right about now, pulling a large, heavy, metal police flashlight from her bag.

"I'm sorry. But I think I might at least be able to stop it for a minute. Maybe. If I don't run."

She punched out a shadow once, when nothing else worked, to bring a lamp back to the gods. It feels like a lifetime ago, like it happened to a different person.

She wishes it had.

"Get ready to get the hell out of here, if you can."

He looks over at, frowning now that he's noticed her tone. "What the hell are you gonna do?"

The thing seems like it might have been waiting for him to look away. It goes for him, inhuman fast.

But it doesn't quite reach him, held back at the last second, its forward momentum suddenly arrested. It flails, held back for the moment, but it inches forward, trying to break free.

It is being held. Rachel still stands in the arc of light thrown down on the pavement by the street lamp, her face a mask of hard-fought concentration. Her shadow falls at her feet, just as one would expect, but as it stretches away from her, it is doing what ought to be impossible. It hovers above the pavement, darker than it should be, more solid than it should be. It's vaguely person-shaped, long arms stretched out and wrapped around the monster's neck and shoulders.

And the reason it can strain against her, the reason it can gain even a tiny bit of ground, is because the farther out of the bright arc of light her shadow falls, the thinner it is. She apparently can't sustain it out there.

She takes a step back, and she heaves, and the thing goes rolling across the street. She picks up the big flashlight she'd pulled out, sparing Raylan an almost apologetic glance as she turns it on. "It's probably pretty evident that there are a lot of things I should've told you." She shifts the flashlight to her left hand and she uses it to cast a shadow of her right onto the streetlamp's pole. She twists the echo of her hand and the lamp post twists too, falling.

"If I can, later, I'll tell you everything. But the most important thing you need to know right now is I don't always have the best control of-- of this." She gestures at the pole with the flashlight, moving around it so the light she felled is behind her. "Get out of here. Or get somewhere behind me and give me plenty of room. Please."

"...shit." He doesn't have time to do much pearl-clutching, even if he were inclined. "I'm not gonna leave you." But he does jog for an open doorway, a handful of yards behind her. He's no good against this thing, but if another, more solid thing comes up... well. He can cover her, at least.

"We need to get someplace more defensible, when you think you can manage it," he shouts, as an afterthought.

Apparently, Rayan has decided to freak out about this later.

She's glad there's no immediate freaking out, but she knows that's likely to come later when they're not so occupied trying not to die. And that she's as likely as he is to be the one flipping out.

"That's a good idea," she calls back, stealing a brief glance over her shoulder, "let's get up higher, above street level."

Just as before, it's when its target isn't looking that the monster goes for the attack. It lunges as she turns back, and Rachel doesn't have quite enough time to get her shadow in the right spot to block it fully. She stops enough of the jump to keep it from earing her apart right there, but it sends her sprawling to the pavement, killing any shot she has of repeating that defense.

She panics as the thing leans over her, its whistle ear-splitting in such close quarters. She somehow managed to keep hold of her flashlight, and she takes a few useless swings at its head. But then she remembers taking down the lamp post, and she wonders if she can do that again.

She holds up her hand between herself and the monster's neck, shining the light on it from behind. It swipes at her, claws raking her side, and she very nearly drops the flashlight. She refocuses her attention on her task, raising her hand and the flashlight again. There's a dark, well-defined shadow on the thing's throat now. She takes a deep breath, and she twists for all she's worth.

The whistling halts at once, as if all its air has been cut off. The monster flails harder, managing to claw a row of furrows along her hip, but she doesn't let up. She can't--she's done if she falters, it's got her, and then it'll go after Raylan.

It feels like she's sprawled there for an eternity, pouring every bit of her focus and strength into holding on. After a minute, the monster's movements start to slow and to lose their coordination. Another minute and it seems to go limp. She tosses it aside, scrambling away as fast as her shaking limbs will carry her, crawling across the sidewalk until she's well out of its reach.

But it doesn't stir. She stops, half-sitting, half-sprawling on the concrete, staring at it. And then she lets out a huge breath, almost crumpling with relief and exhaustion.

"I think it's-- I think we're okay."

He looks a little pale, beneath the dirt, but he's steady. (The shotgun gives him a bit of a "zombie apocalypse" air, as he leans it back on his shoulder.)

"Well, let's not hang around long enough to find out if we're wrong. Can you walk?" He moves toward her, in case the answer is no. Apparently "keep a careful distance" is something he perceives as just a suggestion.

"Yeah." Rachel gets to her feet, moving to gather up her flashlight, her bag. She's pale too, shaken and not quite meeting Raylan's gaze as she moves back to where he stands.

If she'd had to pick how the whole oh yeah, so there's something i can do that people aren't just supposed to be able to do, it's kinda scary, might be genetics or something, anyway, i'm not normal, sorry conversation would have started--well, okay, dishonest as it was, she thought it not coming up at all was going just fine. But if it had to come up, this was absolutely the last way she would have wanted it.

People finding out never went well even when they were prepared. This already felt like a disaster.

"You were saying a minute ago, a more defensible position? That's a good idea. Find one before something else comes along."

Whatever he feels about what Rachel can do (oddly betrayed, in a way, but not because she didn't tell him - he'd just thought she was something normal, and maybe there's nothing here he can count on), it's not the time to sort that out.

"Yeah. We're probably not going to catch up with that group, but I've mainly just been trying to herd people to safer places, out of the open. Look for places that are still structurally sound, try to make sure you don't have too many windows." He gestures in a direction at random. "And don't stay still too long."

"Yeah. That's what I've been telling people to do. Get into the bulidings that look like they'll stay standing and find an interior room until the coast is clear. I've been doing it myself since my neighborhood got overun by God himself only knows what, crawling up out of the harbor."

She looks over int the direction he indicates. "I came up one of the side streets... Not quite along there but close enough. Many of the buildings I saw on my way in were holding up. We can probably find a spot to catch our breath and make sure nothing follows us away from here. And then we can figure out what to do next."

Which is likely going to involve a whole hell of a lot of explaining and apologizing on her part. She'd do it now and just get things overwith, but this isn't the best place for it.

"Right. Let's find a holding-up building then." He starts in that direction, but not too fast, making sure she can walk as well as she thinks. He's not very talkative on the way over, but that's also just Raylan.

While it's clear what she did took a lot out of her--she's still pale, subdued--she falls into step beside him and has no problem matching his pace. Her hands move up and close around the strap of her bag where it crosses her chest.

"You're okay? You're not hurt or anything?"

"No more than you would expect." Bruises, and he thinks he might have pulled his shoulder earlier, but everything still functions. "How are you doing?"

"About the same. Nothing that needs a doctor or anything, I'm all right."

She falls silent again, and she stays that way until they reach the end of the block. " Let's cut through here. There were some apartment buildings back that way. Lots of interior rooms, right?"

"Sounds good. Some of these things don't do stairs so well either, so it couldn't hurt to get some higher ground." As long as he stays focused on movement and practicalities, he'll do okay.

They make their way over to the side street, to check out the apartment buildings. The first one's entrance is locked. The second one doesn't inspire much confidence in its safety, what with its roof torn off.

The third one looks stable and the front door is unlocked, revealing a dim corridor beyond. "You ready?" she asks, because, after all, he's the one with the gun.

"Stay behind me." It's hard to do the classic sweep with a shotgun instead of a handgun, but Raylan thinks grimly that it's somehow fitting for a holler boy. Law training takes over as he leads them up through the first floor to the second. He finds a corner room with a view of two streets, and thinks it's the best they'll do.

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