2019-11-02 - Clean-Up, Aisle 4

If we're going with the birds metaphor, then James will be represented by a half-dead chicken with most of its feathers plucked, half-leaning on a shopping cart as he drags himself around. His eyes are a bit bloodshot, whether from being high or lack of sleep is unclear, though. The cart is empty, and he's muttering to himself under his breath. "... the fuck are the Doritos?" Ah, high it is.

A student chef, picking up some food before starting his shift in the kitchen at 6am - Corey. He's meandering up and down the aisles with the 'I'm awake honest' look of someone who didn't sleep well but has no choice about being awake at this time, trying to decide what he wants to take for breakfast. Too early for fresh bagels, not early enough to want to eat ones made yesterday. The dilemma.

Mason is there, with his guitar case in hand, backpack strapped to his back. He seems lost. Not that he doesn't mean to be here, but he has a kind of glazed over look like he's not sure entirely what he was planning to do here. Red, bleary eyes indicate that he is apparently -also- high, but this is 5 AM at a safeway after all. He's less concerned about munchies though. More concerned about his dry mouth and throat. So he's wandering the aisles looking for gatorade or whatever else he can find. And if on the way he ends up grabbing some twizzlers or something, that's not munchies, that's just good future planning.

James winces at the voice on the intercom, and flips the nearest security camera the bird. "... s'too fecking early for that level of anything.", he grumbles, and turns around the corner onto the next aisle, just in time to catch sight of the glorious technicolor rainbow of crunchy salty carb-bombs that is the chip aisle. "Jackpot."

"Why the heck do they even need more than one register at 5am?" is Corey's mutter to himself, grabbing a loaf of wholegrain bread and eyeing the jogger, seeming in no hurry to try and beat this apparent bottleneck. He's clearly of the opinion that there won't be one, sauntering now to the chilled food to grab some butter or somesuch, as if he's got all tthe time in the world.

Mason actually laughs at the cheery tone of the announcement. It's so cheery it's laughable. Mason isn't even THAT cheery, and he's generally quite chipper. It's fake enthusiasm of course. And immediately he imagines someone holding a gun to someone's head as they make the announcement. He nods at James, having heard his comment. "Stepford smilers are so weird" he says in a conspiratorial tone, as he makes his way to the snacks, grabbing chocolate chex mix. Sweet and salty. Is there any better combination? "Is it lying if you're faking that level of enthusiasm? Can emotions be dishonest?" He wonders aloud to No One in Particular. It's one of those questions that probably sounds way more profound when high.

James is more of a spicy chips guy, letting out a little "... fuck yeah..." as he spots some bags of the hard to find Flaming Hot Funyuns just placed by the employee. Clearly he doesn't have anyone waiting for him back home to make out with, if he's eating that. Mason's words cause him to pause, and he blinks up at the younger, taler man. "Emotions are bastards.", he replies in a low grumble, and reaches for his chips- which fall just out of his grasp as the bags fall horizontal just when he was reaching for them. "... really?" And then the announcement and the screeching sound, causing the surly little dude to wince. "Moment of silence for ol' Liz."

Having secured some butter, now Corey heads for the aisle where chips are to be found, more carbs to keep him going. It is here that he encounters Mason and James, offering the usual polite upnod and passing by until he hears the topic of conversation, brows raising. "Sounds more like a moment of silence is needed for their intercom system," he comments, snagging some salt and vinegar chips and dropping them into his basket along with the bread and butter.

Mason might have lost track of the conversation, because when he hears 'emotions are bastards' he immediately gives James a puzzled look. "Whose? Yours or mine? Or is there a difference...Sometimes there isn't..." He trails off. "Maybe the separation between us is an illusion. You could be...a representation of my psyche. I wonder what part. Or maybe I'm something from yours." He looks at Corey. "I dunno, should we look for Elizabeth and make sure she's okay?" He smirks. "Gotta get someone to ring up my chex mix anyway. Why not Elizabeth?"

"Liz, the intercom, man, it's all the same to these corporations. Like, we're all just cogs in their machine, man.", James says, shaking the bag of spicy onion crisps at Corey, then blinks and looks up at Mason. "Dude. If I'm a representation of your psyche, you need a therapist." He starts to turn to walk off, because he's Mr. Sunshine and also we've hit the 'paranoia' part of his current trip. "Make sure they give you the good stuff.", he says, before stopping in his tracks when the crinkling gets more intense, and then that bag of chips pops. "... aw come on, I can't even buy freakin' Funyuns in peace?", he says, his voice coming out in a bit of a whine. He's had a rough week, our James.

"Uhm. Can.. you guys hear that?" Corey's voice is quiet, quavering a little bit. The crackling from the intercom, the crinkling from the bags of chips, coming closer. He picks up a large 36x multipack of chips as if to use it as some kind of crunchy body shield, then discards it just as quickly, instead lifting his basket closer to his chest, shoulders hunching in a bit.

Mason doesn't disagree. He probably does need therapy. Who doesn't? But then he starts to realize things aren't right. "You know, I was joking about that shit but maybe you actually -are-." He looks around, and starts breathing deeply. Slowly. Don't panic. "You both stand out. Like color splashed on a gray world." He says softly. "This ss-s-s...This sucks." He starts to stutter. "K-keep b-... Keep br..breathing." He advises, softly. It's a little ominous. "Ev--everything ends." He swallows hard and looks around, intentionally breathing deeply, slowly. Then mutters to himself. "Yellow...Red....purple..." He's naming colors on packages. "The smell of fresh bread. Cleaning solution from the floors...The taste of chocolate...The sound of breathing, of crinkling, of wheels, of footsteps..." He keeps breathing. Calming himself down, apparently. But he also backs up a little, away from the fallen ginger snaps, moving closer to both of the others.

Ok, so Corey's got his basket, Mason's got his colors and visualizations, and James? James has a weed vape. He pulls it out of his pocket as the bags start popping, and takes a quick hit, muttering "... oh hell no..." around the THC-laden vapor. Then that screech and the voice and the message, and again he flips the nearest security camera the bird. "I knew that level of fucking cheer wasn't natural, I goddamn knew it!" He grabs his Funyuns in one hand, and with the other shoves the otherwise empty cart in the direction of the popping chips and the bubbling liquid before he turns and hightails it in the other direction. "Nope nope nope nope nope" can be heard as the squirrely little beardo streaks past the other two.

HEY that could be a good weapon. Corey reaches out to grab the empty cart with one hand, snagging it before it goes more than a foot or two, and then setting his basket down into it, gripping the cart's handle with white-knuckle intensity. "Running away won't help!" he calls out, a note of desperation in his tone. Please, God, don't let him be the only one facing the coming onslaught of chips and almost-blood-coloured soda.

Whatever Mason was trying, it seems to have failed. When the blood starts pouring out--or what seems like blood--and the voice starts making ominous threats, Mason seems to completely lose the ability to vocalize. He tries, but no sound comes out--like his voice was stolen. He's struggling to say -anything- when James rushes past him and he just reaches out for Corey and tugs at his sleeve, and points to James. Then signs 'We need to stay together' but there's every possibility Corey doesn't know ASL. But what choice does he have? His voice has apparently decided to abandon him. He looks toward James, worriedly, and points again.

"Oh shi-", James starts to say, as his feet slip out from under him. He doesn't catch himself, instead, he wraps his arms around his Funyuns, protecting them from the hit even as he thuds onto the slippery floor. "... ooow." He tries to blink away the stars swimming in his eyes as he sits up, checking first that his Funyuns are safe- they are -before looking up and meeting Elizabeth's lack of eyes. "... aw, Liz. Told you. Moment of silence." He scrambles back to his feet, looking around, as he realizes they're apparently trapped. "OK. New plan.", he says, and points at Mason and Corey. "Who's got a new plan?"

It would appear to be Mason's lucky day, since Corey nods to the guy as he signs. "Yeah, sticking together is a good idea," he confirms, showing he understood, though not signing back because it seems like Mason can hear just fine. He motions for both the other men to come over and back behind the shopping cart he's holding out in front of him like a shield, eyeing Elizabeth and her weird eye-wearing cart-pusher with definite intent. "No. You ladies can just fuck off now."

Mason lets out a relieved sigh at being understood, then signs to the both of them--maybe James understands too--'New plan. Stay together. And survive. Away from her.' And then he beckons James over to them. Trying not to look directly at the horror in front of him. More signing. 'Keep calm and carry on. AWAY from here. Come on'. It's up to Corey to translate, Mason's voice is gone for now. He's not freaking out, exactly, he's dealt with this sort of thing before apparently, and even in the middle of a panic attack he knows panicking doesn't help.

Now, James does not know sign language. But he does know 'come here' when he hears- err, sees it. He skids over to the pair of them, wincing as he enters that weird 'field', and reaching out to his side a moment to steady himself, which he does by putting a hand on the cart. He blinks, then, and comes to a decision. Again the Funyuns are held tight as he scrambles up and onto and into the otherwise empty shopping cart. Being smol has its advantages. "Right. Fuckin' charge!"

Fuckin' charge? Fuckin' no. Corey is all fired up to get the hell out of here, charging the dead-eyed woman with the other shopping cart is not on his to-do list. Now that the three of them are together, with James sitting in the cart and hopefully not squashing his basket and contents, he's beginning to back away from Elizabeth and Co with a steady pace, making sure not to slip or skid on any of the spilled chips and soda, taking James/cart along with, and assuming Mason will be keeping pace with them too.

He may have said they need to flee, but Mason suddenly realizes he can't yet. He signs to Corey quickly, 'Go, I'll try to slow her down first.' He then grabs the nearby shelf and pulls on it with all his might to bring it down to block her path. It may not slow her down at all, but with luck it could buy the other two time to get away. If Mason has to die to save two people it's probably worth it.

James is, in fact, irritated- especially when he's hit by that bag of cheddar popcorn. He flails the arm that isn't protecting his Funyuns around, and gives the popcorn bag a betrayed look as it falls off. "Et tu, Cheddar Popcorn?" He hunches over, gritting his teeth, and reaches out with his free hand to steady them as they move- but he can't quite reach, and so ends up mostly just flailing about uselessly. Which is pretty on-brand.

Okay. Corey is freaking out somewhat. And when Corey freaks out, he lashes out. Wrenching one hand from the shopping cart he makes a shoving gesture, and the dozens of jars of dip on the shelf suddenly jerk forward with surprising force, flying haphazardly towards the Faceless Mom, to hit her, her cart, the body in the cart, make a mess smashing on the floor, all that. All the while he's backing off, face set in a grim expression of determination.

Mason lets go of the shelf, as everything goes flying around. Oh to hell with this. He looks at this monster, with determination, and focuses his will to shoot electricity into her. It's not something he does often, but if there was ever a situation where shooting mind bullets at your problems was justified, this is it.

James jumps and leans down and squirms and just generally tries, and fails, to keep from getting splattered with the dip flying everywhere. "What the...", he starts to say, just before Mason goes full Palpatine on Eye Dream of Screamie over there. "... actual fuck?" He hasn't been exposed much to the more... physical abilities. Or the zappy ones. But hey, it works, they get through, they push out, and James holds on tight to the side of the cart with the hand that's not still protecting his Funyuns. "Ludicrous speed!", he shouts, hoping Corey will push the cart the rest of the way the hell out of here.

It takes a moment for Mason to realize she's not moving, but the second he does, he bolts over to catch up with Corey and James and get the hell out of this mess. 'Can't believe that worked!' he tries to say, but the only thing that comes out is a 'aaa..aa..' sound and then he huffs a little and gives up. No good. Voice gone. Maybe later. But he gives the others a thumbs up at least.

James blinks slowly as they come back out into the real world. "... ah shit I think the high's wearing off.", he mutters, then awkwardly climbs out of the shopping cart. He checks to make sure his Funyuns are still in place, and looks at the other two. "Well, amigos. After an experience like this, I find it's very healing and cathartic to just, y'know, never, ever fucking speak of it again, yeah? Good. Toodles." And with that he turns and heads towards the register to pay for his 'yuns and head back home, to practice a few hours of crying in the bathtub in a fetal position.

When the dream ends, and everything is back to normal, Mason breathes out a sigh of relief, and then quite suddenly gives first Corey and then James a tight hug, flat out ignoring any boundary issues or resistance to the affectionate gesture because this is important, damn it. He still isn't talking, but he's smiling. And seems to have calmed down. Alive again. Made it through another freaky dream. Always cause to celebrate. With snack foods and music. That is of course assuming he can find his guitar. He left it in the Dream, so it's probably ...around somewhere. Right? If not he may need a new guitar. Oh well. What can you do?

James squirms at the hug but he doesn't push Mason away either, just gives him that kind of 'offended cat' look like when a cat has just squirmed out of your arms and and its tail is just twitching in irritation? That look. But he otherwise just allows it because he is weak like little girl, before heading off with a sigh.