2020-01-12 - The rest is easy.
Not everything goes to plan during renovations
IC Date: 2020-01-12
OOC Date: 2019-09-13
Location: Maple/Starlight Theaters
Related Scenes: None
Plot: None
Scene Number: 3568
The first exhalation of consciousness came with a groan as Thewlis came to. He felt like he was in water and his head was pounding, but after a blink he noticed things were upside down. He was back in the theater, his hip felt like his leg was being sawed off with a butter knife and he wanted to vomit.
Looking down, up, he saw the length of safety rope that was hooked, clipped, and knotted to his harness - but it was also around his leg, squeezing tight... Snapped the bone judging by the angle. Now that he was aware he called out, eyes closed, knowing the theater was empty, not even Jade, right now.
Consciousness was a bitch. Didn't feel your own broken leg until it came back, and then all that time you were unaware is suddenly heaped onto you to remind you of all you missed. All one can really do at that point is let it out, and the sound of Thewlis reacting to all of that agony rushing in is enough to vibrate his whole body to the point that the rope shakes, and his leg screams with him.
Eyes peer down from the box seats, and from beneath the general seating he hangs near. The rope stopped him a good five feet up, enough to hurt, but not enough to hit the ground. Snarling and giggling erupts from the shadows and a shiff-shiff-shiff can be heard.
Looking down, up, again he sees the little form like a claw sawing at his safety line, and then he drops, landing on the meat of his shoulders and then slamming onto his back. His leg twists and everything begins to white out. He was hollering as well, and had fallen to deep gasps for air as he forced himself to concentrate, feeling the old tingle, the mind scraping itch of flesh and bone knitting as if in time-lapse.
The pain was done, leg healed, and the part of the theater, in the side aisle, felt drastically colder.
The Stutterer was calling on it again, drawing all that Glimmer into his area, and what wasn't healing his injury was like ambrosia. Supping on the forces called, the eyes grew brighter, hungrier. The Dream he was sucked into was a good start, pulled them here. Siphoning from Glimmer pouring with them into the dreamscape. Now they were almost through the veil, scratching little cracks, making it thin. The Stutterer was a good source, powerful.
Afraid. That was the important part. He wasn't afraid enough though. Not by far. Something was different.
On his feet, things were wrong - but at least he wasn't tender. He knew he was being watched, his hackles were up, anxiety spiking. Whispers from the shadows - the work lights were dimming.
He couldn't leave the place, but he couldn't be in the open. He needed a redoubt. There was already one, hunched, grinning. They read minds, put themselves together from what they saw in people's. They liked to break things, he shouldn't have thought of them like Gremlins. They took that mental image and ran with it. Moving slowly at first, keeping it in sight he felt prickles on his skin, pressure, more coming through and now he was turned and running. Leaping clear over a row of seats and shoulder checking through the theater door on his way to the stairs that led up to the Motte and Bailey of this new sanctuary.
What a day.
Run run run, he's running too soon. Saw one of them. Someone got too excited, went for the scare. Only one wasn't enough to shock this one. They'd need more. When Stutterer started to run fast and they poured from the shadows, laughing, hissing, jeering. They crawled over one another to get up the stairs, trying to reach stutterer. This was the time. Stutterer fixed things, it made people happy. Breaking things made people upset, made it worse when they didn't know how. Then they'd throw blame. Then the fighting starts.
That was the order of things. They'd been trying to deal with Stutterer for years, crafty, quick, quiet. Good survivor, bad for their business.
The door marked Projection Room slammed shut, locks clicked and they burst against it like water, the pressure of bodies behind pushing the others up and over. Dozens of tiny clawed hands scratching and scraping at the paint, hissing and laughing as they began to form up. Those too weak to keep going devoured by the others, growing larger, and larger, less subtle. No more tiny breaks. They needed to destroy.
"NoOoooOOOoOOoowhere tooooo RuuuuUUUUUUuuuuun THEEEEOOOOOOOO!"
Hands pressed to the door, ready, waiting - he could fix the door, keep them out. Teeth together, tears rolling down his face. They were taunting him, and he knew they were right. No where to run - the projection windows were too small, no other exits. Stupid. STUPID. Breathing hard, panicking. What could he do? Where could he go? He couldn't fight them. How could he fight them?
Door bowing inward, with a sound like a kettle being smashed with a hammer, Thewlis is flung backward from the impact. Crashing against a bolted down projector rack, he flips ass over teakettle, back threatening to give before he hits face down, coughing and spitting blood from the split lip drooling it into his mouth. Another slam at the door snapped the top hinge and they began pouring into the room around the edges. Cackling and hooting. Thew had a moment to lift his head and see one larger than he'd ever encountered in all the time he'd fled from them.
All of the features of these beasts exaggerated in the increase of size. Hideous, sadistic, inhuman.
There he is. THERE. HE. IS. On the ground, flung back. The Big One was proud and the others worshiped it for its strength, it's ability to destroy. There were fewer of them, only a couple dozen. But it would be worth it. Stutterer would be gone. They crowed when he was up, and fell down again - dizzy, hurt, scrabbling back on his butt, legs kicking until his back was against one of the rack counters, rattling it. Tools fell on his head, one had cut the scalp.
It made them all laugh harder, things for fixing doing the hurting.
The Big One stomped forward, hooked it's claws into the shirt, and skin of Stutterer and hauled him off the ground. All the others laughed, danced, and cheered - tiny arms thrust into the air.
"No more fixing! No more fixing! No more fixing! No more fixing! No more fixing!" a chant, and then a song, shrieked with such excitement that some of them had fallen upon the floor, spasming, clutching at their abdomens. Stutterer was hurled across the room again, smashing into the wall and knocking down the contents of the counter just below him. More tools, more equipment. A peg board, snapped by his impact shifted and fell on Stutterer's head as he tried to get up, slashing his scalp. Blood like water dripping onto the floor.
The little ones went in first, cackling even as he kicked one out the door and smashed another with his fist. They were on him, biting, chewing, breaking. The Big One was coming, the fun hand to end soon... but Stutterer was standing and he had something in his hand.
Had to act. Act or die. Act or everything was for nothing. Act or leave people behind. He never had people to leave behind. It made his head swim, confused him. He'd resigned himself as a man with nothing to loose, if that. But now. If he lost, they lost. Beating the little beasts off of him, feeling their teeth on his clothes and tearing into him, Thew stood, blood making his face a crimson mockery and he leaned towards the one they were gathering around. It was bigger than him. Broader. Stronger by far.
It opened it's mouth to laugh, a twisted sound that mocked joy, feet thudding as it crossed the short distance in seconds. Head twisting to bite. Thewlis punched his arm out as he screamed, expecting his arm to be removed, and to bleed out on the floor. Always a failure. Never good. Never successful. Worthless. Worthless like she always says.
But he impacts something, he feels the tip of what he grabbed hit, break through and sink it. The hot breath in his face as it screams is rancid, worse. Beyond rot. It was destruction itself. Hand twisting, arm moving, glass like teeth cutting into his arms, Thew's breath came out in a sobbing cry as muscles were torn and bones scraped. Concentrating his glimmer, the wounds repairing as they happen. He twists and pushes, feels his hand driving deeper, and the one red eye he can see, staring at him focusing on him, filled with fear. He's never seen fear there. He scan see himself in the pupil, face twisted in a snarl. Rage. Rage was there.
He'd seen what he'd grabbed, recognized it. He had thought about something, something very important. The rest had been easy.
Stutterer is supposed to run, to panic, and when he couldn't run anymore, they'd feast. It had made the first bite, but it was stung, it was in pain. It burned, it burned and it tore and Stutterer was twisting and pushing. Stutterer was angry looking. He looked SO angry. This was wrong. This was all wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. The little ones were running, back to the thin holes they'd cut, running, leaving it. It was dying. The ones it had eaten falling out of it, piling on the floor and melting away.
It watched him, and it wailed as Stutterer screamed in it's face. Grabbed hold of it's wrinkled, flat nose. It felt the pressure increase... with the scream.
Thewlis was on the floor, breathing in rattling gasps. The Big One was melting, the dead ones were melting, the others had fled. He was going to have to take time to mend this, and his clothes. Can't let them see him like this. His eyes focused on the weapon that had saved him. Can't let her see him like this. Head lolling back for the moment, getting his breath, concentrating on the worst of his injuries to stop the pain. The tingling, the numbing, his fist too weak to remain closed, fingers relaxing and a wooden clunk follows suit.
It had been left behind, by mistake, and was among those items in his tool box he was going to bring home. Old fashioned in style, pine handled, forged steel with a flat head tip and recessed Phillips tines. One part of the handle had been re-sealed, varnished, beneath the coatings the initials J.R. were emblazoned there, burned into the golden wood and standing out in stark relief.
Thewlis looked down at the long necked screwdriver, a trembling smile crossing his face. He thought about what was important.
The rest was easy.
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