Box 2029 - One Hell of a Night

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Nov 21, 2009, 2:18pm

Box 2029 :: New York :: New York City :: One Hell of a Night

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Topic: One Hell of a Night (Read 35 times)

Derek Brodie
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One Hell of a Night
« Thread Started on Oct 20, 2009, 2:48pm »

A bang tore through the night, and as Derek ran he felt himself stumble, sharp pain shooting through the right side of his body. He tripped, shocked, and tumbled off the edge of the building. For a brief moment, as he fell through the air, he was stunned. Had he just been... shot? Upside-down, his back slammed against the adjacent building and shook him from his surprise. More pain travelled like lightning through his body and as the ground rushed to meet him and warm liquid oozed from side, Derek turned to smoke. The descending column of clouds collided with the ground, spreading wide across the pavement with the quiet gasp of rushing air. For a time, all was quiet, painless. The mist swirled about, as if thinking, then rushed off somewhere east, toward some far horizon the sun would greet in only a few hours.

Smoke unfurled as if crawling up the edge of the Safehouse, searching for a particular crack. The dark sky of night still hung over the world. Ah, there it was, just between the window and its sill, through the insulation .The mist travelled through that channel, into the small and cluttered room beyond. It was in this room that Derek re-entered the world. Slick with sweat, he leaned against the boxes here had brought here only hours earlier, wincing in pain as his hand searched for its source. He could feel the warm liquid, blood, coursing in lethargic rivulets down his side, and by now it had almost certainly stained his pant leg. As his fingers found the wound, shooting pain surged through him again, and a yelp escaped his lips, followed by a bit of an embarrassed blush at the sound. He lost his balance for a moment and leaned more heavily on the boxes, dark ovals of moisture seeping through the cardboard as he perspired.

Derek collected himself, hobbling slowly and painfully through the room, drawing sharp and hissing breaths as he walked in search of something. What exactly, he didn't know. Something to stop the bleeding, maybe, something to stop the pain, possible even something just to grip as he waited for the miserable sensation to end. His hand clasped tightly to his side. He other pressed against walls and boxes for support. Was anyone else in the safehouse? Maddie had said something to that effect, if he remembered correctly, but he couldn't be sure.

Derek had reached the door to the rest of the house when his night caught up to him. His vision swam. The hand on the doorknob trembled and Derek felt distant from the world. He rested his forehead against the door, his lungs falling and rising with his heartbeats, crying for air. His muscles told him he was tired, and in its stupor, his mind agreed. With an audible thud, Derek's vision was invaded by the night he had just escaped, and he fell to the floor, limbs splayed and a puddle of red slowly, slowly pooling beside him.

« Last Edit: Oct 22, 2009, 9:17pm by Derek Brodie »

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Amelia Marie
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Re: One Hell of a Night
« Reply #1 on Oct 22, 2009, 4:06pm »

It was time to figure out certain things from the past, dig out files from the archives and try to figure out what really happened back in the days. Figure out what she threw her life away on. She could’ve become somebody, instead she became a runaway. Had she just owned up to her mistakes, she might’ve been able to do something useful now rather than sit around and pass time.

“Be quiet, will you?”

She’d been trying to get some useful research done, but the little dog wouldn’t shut up, it was almost like it wanted to go out or something. When all else failed, Amelia snapped her book shut, closed her laptop and started at the annoying, adorable little animal. What did he want this time? Surely Maddie and Sylar weren’t around to give the little fur-ball a treat or two, so it seemed she needed to take the thing for a walk, maybe it would be quiet then.

“Ok, ok, you win. Let’s go for a walk then, just shush, will ya?”

Smiling to herself, she found the dog’s leash and let Dog lead the way to the door, only to have him want to run in the wrong direction the minute they were out of the door. Curious as to what had the animal so worked out, and curious about the thud she’d heard around the same time as Dog started barking. But it didn’t make sense for her to be walking this way, she’d been sure she was the only one there for the night, but it seemed she was mistaken.

Finally they stopped in front of a door, and Dog barked more than before. Wait. Wasn’t this where Maddie had told her the new guy (Derek was is?) was staying should he need shelter.

“Derek?” She called before she knocked on the door, “Are you in there?” she felt so stupid, calling out for someone she’d never visited on the account of her dog scratching at the door eagerly, she had no idea why the little beast was acting like he was, but he was seldom wrong.

(OOC: I really didn't know how to get her involved, so I hope this works =))

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Derek Brodie
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Re: One Hell of a Night
« Reply #2 on Oct 22, 2009, 9:50pm »

As Derek lay face-down on the floor, his mind sought refuge from the physical world in a strange mesh of memories. His breath was slow, labored. Far back within the recesses of his brain, pictures and dreams both far gone and recent came together to form a confusing series of images, some of which Derek would remember for some time. But first came the smells. Aromas he hadn't picked up for years came flooding back to him. The scent of polished wood when he purchased Amelia's first violin, the perfume his date wore the first night he'd spent with a woman, the smell of his wife Chloe's hair the night of their wedding. He remembered these scents and, for a time, he found solace in his removal from his present state. Then came the scent of the gravel as the stone slab plummeted towards him years ago, the odor of his wife's first cigarette in months when she'd told him what she'd done, the smell of Aleksandra's guns and the near-physical hatred in her voice. As Derek's mind retraced his life in scents, his face contorted, happy, then sad. Pleasure, then pain.

Next came the sounds. Yelling as the stone slab fell, applause as his wife and he kissed before the priest. Amelia's violin. His parents clapping after a long-forgotten school play. Shouting, crying, laughter, cheering, melodies, gunshots. These sounds intertwined themselves with the scents, and the sense of touch followed. Derek could feel his wife's skin as they consummated their marriage, his body dematerialize for the first time as the slab crushed what would have been him. Derek could feel the tattooist's needle jab into his kin, imprinting indelibly upon him the name of the daughter he'd never have. Taste came along as well, and Derek remembered meals, important and otherwise, complete with sounds and sensation.

At last, came the sights. There was Chloe, all smiles and laughter in her white dress, tossing her bouquet behind her. Aunt Claire had caught it, gotten married not two years later. Lucky girl. There was Peter, one of his first friends at work, staring at the stone that he thought had crushed his new best mate. Amelia, young and scared, watching as her brother pummeled the face of a bully to win back something he'd taken from her. There was the tattooist, smiling at the design of "Emily" as he stained the flesh of the happy father-to-be. And then Derek saw Chloe, no longer pregnant. At her side, clutching her hand, was a girl he'd never seen, never heard, never touched, but he'd loved her. He'd loved her for years. Her name was to be Emily, and hard though Derek tried, he could not see her face.

And then, behind Emily and Chloe, was her. The woman who had hunted him. She held a gun in her hands, a look of victory on her face. A cruel and wicked smile, far beyond the boundaries of a human's face, was spread across her foul skin as she lowered the barrel of her gun to Emily's faceless head.

In reality, the physical world, Derek moaned. It was low, yet resonant, pained. A dog outside the door scratched vigorously at the threshold, either curious, or concerned. In his dreams, he saw now only the woman and a smoking barrel, felt only a coldness in his chest, and a silence in his ears. Then she laughed, high. Shrill. As blood continued to seep out of Derek's side, a tear followed suit, traveling down the side of his nose and dropping quietly to the floor. His fever dream continued, and Derek remained on the floor, his moan having ended and only half of him wishing the bleeding would stop.

((Holy fuck that's a depressing read. Amelia, it should be obvious what to do now.))

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Amelia Marie
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Re: One Hell of a Night
« Reply #3 on Oct 26, 2009, 11:39am »

She thought she heard something from inside the apartment, and that was good enough for her. Derek would just have to be mad at her later if this was a false alarm. She told the dog to stay back, and when he wouldn’t budge, she picked him up, moved him and glared at him “stay”. Much to her surprise, the dog listened to her and she could return her attention to the door.

Reaching out, she tried to open the door and realized it was locked, but since she didn’t have the keys and thought there wasn’t time to go find someone who did, because something might be terribly wrong, she held on to the doorknob and heated it up until the metal in the lock was soft enough for her to open the door. And when she did, she was glad she had barged in.

“Oh my, Derek,” she said, carefully trying to avoid slipping on the growing pool of blood. Without knowing where things were, she took a chance to see if there were any towels, anything in the bathroom (of course she hurried through to find the room first) she could use to apply pressure to the obvious gun shot wound (seriously, what else could cause that kind of damage? And to a vaporizing man to boot). He must not have seen it coming. Once she found what she was looking for, she hurried back out to Derek, her newest neighbor. This was no way to get to know the man better.

“Stay with me, Derek,” she said as she knelt down next to him, putting the towel to the wound, pressing down to make it stop bleeding. It had been so many years since she’d had anything to do with guns and gunshot wounds, she was almost at loss for what to do, but she had a feeling it’d be a good start to stop him bleeding. Of course, it probably would be better to see if the vaporizing man had an exit wound too, but from the blood on the floor, that seemed reasonable.

“You’re going to be OK, just stay with me now.” She couldn’t guarantee anything, but of course she could always hope for him to survive. It would be a shame if her newest neighbor didn’t make it.

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