rickitikitarr | 3. could be worse could be raining

3. could be worse could be raining

[Audio]

These things, they're coming through holes in the fabric of... well, space itself. Is there any way to close them?

[Is the technical explanation that Ricki stumbles for. It's only a seventies scifi explanation of a phenomenon he barely understands, but it's what he's got right now.]

It means that until they stop opening, any of the normal tactics- a perimeter, a systematic sweep- are totally useless. They can crawl right in behind us. Normally I'd suggest gathering everyone in the mess and working our way out, but if a tear opens up in the back, it has the potential to turn into a slaughter. We actually may be best keeping the vulnerable on their own, in their rooms, while everyone who can tries to clear down the halls.

[Then, silence, and finally two quick gun shots. The feed remains dead a little bit, as he gets his adrenaline down. His voice is still low, very level, when he can continue.]

But that means people may be trapped without food. It might be worthwhile to get volunteers to make runs for their neighbours. It'd be better to work in pairs to accomplish that.

Anyone game? [And, belatedly.] Anyone trapped?

[He'd do a better job of organizing this if it weren't on the fly. But as it is, he can hear something approaching. Heavy footsteps that may only just be captured by the feed. Then there is the sound that some residents will recognize as a gun being reloaded, before the feed cuts off.]

[Spam]

[Ammunition is scarce, but Ricki makes the most of what he has, hoarding it closely as he makes his perilous way through the halls of the ship, sometimes hunting, occasionally being hunted. The gun helps against the felhunters, and he isn't shy of shooting the succubi either, but on more than one memorable occasion he gets into it with a golem and ends up having to run for it, god damn it.

He'll help and need help, both in reasonably equal measure.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Broken neck.

[Agreeing, quietly. But;]

It's over, you're back now.

[He can't even come close to processing that properly.]

I really did think you was takin' the piss. But. I s'pose if he can do it anywhere he can do it here, can't he?

[Which he knows is basically a remark on what his deal is, but it's only really the finer details he feels much need to keep to himself.]

Yeah.

[Watching him closely, inferring from that- but the head on approach is not the best one, and certainly not right at this moment.]

It's happening to most of us, this time. I've never seen so many people killed in such a short window.

Barge ain't full'f fuckin' monsters most of the time.

[He hopes. Could be a normal week for all he knows.]

Nah. But what do I know, I'm as new as you are, in the grand scheme o' things.

[Talking to Eggsy is bringing his accent out in earnest, unconscious mirroring.]

[Eggsy's noticing, and he can't deny that he's pleased.]

Yeah, no shit. Maybe it's gonna be zombies next week. Robots an' all.

[Zombies and/or robots, he thinks he'd be better equipped for.]

[Ricki's is weird- a muddle of colony-kid, his father's Australian, and then a good spell of years in and around Brixton, but that's part of while it slides around so easily with his mood. Right now he's feeling rather violent, rather willing to risk a little collateral.]

Or a combination of both.

[But for now, he pulls out his lighter, and sets it on the bar-top. As soon as they're ready, they can head back out there and cause a hell of a lot of damage, with these.]

Yeah.

[He looks at the row of wicked bottles and the lighter with a renewed sense of purpose that, at least psychologically, offsets the hideous pain in his neck.]

Right. Let's stop fucking about, then.

Let's shall.

[Fuck, he's missed this. He picks up two, and starts for the door.

How wrong can it possibly go?]

[One way to find out. He grabs a couple for himself and follows.

Eggsy's not exactly short on weaponry. Gun (bit light on ammo) in the back of his jeans, one more grenade in his pocket, electric-shock signet ring on his right (that is to say, 'wrong') hand. But there's something about the weight and heft of the bottles in his hands that makes him feel better.

Shit, even if he thinks better of starting a fire below decks, there's a lot of damage you can do with a broken bottle and a bit of visceral determination. He pretty deliberately neglects to shut the door on the way out - maybe it'll shut by himself but that won't be on him - and it's quiet on the stairs but that doesn't necessarily mean anything.]

What else you run into downstairs?

This thing made exclusively of spines.

[Is the only way he can think to put it.]

Tusks, spikes, snapping tentacles-

Yeah, I seen 'em. Looks like a dog on a shit acid trip, sounds like...

[They've barely set foot on Level One when he hears the snarling from the other end of the hall, and really, Eggsy doesn't doubt for a second that Ricki fucking jinxed them somehow.]

...that?

[Ricki is going to have to do some sort of scientific study of the role of jinxing on barge reality, because this keeps happening.

In the mean time, this thing is coming at them too fast for him to fuck with the lighter, so he's drawing a knife as it charges. Eggsy saved him last time, it's Ricki's turn.

Like last time, the key with these things is to aim right. They're dangerous as hell, but they're rigid. The strategy that worked last time was to get inside its' guard, and then go for the underside of the jaw, stabbing right up and at that lolling tongue. Moving fast, avoiding the big tusks, Ricki dives in very close and grabs on to for purchase with all his strength. It's sort of like literally taking a bull by the horns, only while also trying to saw its' throat open. All he can do is hope the tentacle-venus-fly-trap things don't do more than surface damage. One of them is shredding at his leather coat already, the other finds skin, but Ricki is already doing damage and the monster is screaming. It's up close and really fucking personal.

It predictably goes a bit wrong, after a few seconds. When it bucks, Ricki loses his grip, and is sent into the wall. He's already scrabbling to bolt, hopes it's bleeding out fast enough that it won't get him in the throes.]

[It doesn't take long, is the thing. A lot happens but it's too fast to get involved - he can't engage without running into a claw or a snapping mouth or Ricki himself.

It would be enough time to get a Molotov lit, but then there's gouts of blood and Ricki being chucked into a wall and the the dog-whatever-the-fuck-it-is looks like it's dying but that's not really a positive. Eggsy hurls himself at the monster, grabs its horns from behind when it rounds on Ricki. It's going hell-for-leather and actually drags him a couple of feet, but Ricki's already moving faster than it can follow and eventually the bastard thing just collapses in a puddle of its own completely disgusting blood.

Which they're both now pretty much covered with, but Eggsy's starting to think that 'scorched and covered in various bodily fluids' is going to be the order of the day for a few days yet.]

Fuckin' rank. Y'awright?

Christ-

[He answers, because he has no idea. He's peeling his sweater back off his neck, where he's bleeding- but given that he isn't spurting blood he thinks the thing can't have done too much damage. Neck wounds tend to be all or nothing, in his experience.

He pulls himself to sit up at least, keeping pressure on, just for a few seconds. That's all they have, because something else is coming around the corner, attracted by the noise. It never rains but it pours.]

[Eggsy - just barely in a crouch to look at Ricki's neck - stiffens in place and glances down the hall. He can hear...a woman, giggling?

Then what sounds like the crack of a whip. Whatever pause he might have given something that sounds human, he's getting over fast.]

Pass us your lighter.

[He digs into his pocket with blood-slick fingers, and hands it over. It's the old, metal kind- will be a struggle to light, now that he's bled all over it. He's looking down the hall with trepidation, while trying very hard not to turn his head, as whatever that is comes creeping out of the shadows.

'Don't fuck around, kill it with fire' goes unsaid, as he presses the lighter tight into Eggsy's fingers.]

[Eggsy takes it and gives it a perfunctory wipe on his jeans.]

Cheers.

[The succubus - looking like something he'd see tattooed on one of his stepdad's mates - appears at the other end of the hall. Taking long skipping strides toward them, still laughing, wings spreading at her back. She's fucking gorgeous and there's a brief wobble in his head that he can't quite tell is her influence on him: she won't hurt him, could never hurt him, if he just stops a second -

But he's never been able to stop.

He gets the lighter lit after a couple of flicks, scorches the wick on the Molotov and throws. What happens next is instantaneous: the crack of a whip in the air, smashing the bottle, and then Eggsy skittering back away from a fine mist of igniting vodka.]

Shit-!

[He smacks into the wall alongside Ricki. There's more giggling and a slow, teasing advance.]

Of course they're fucking flame retardant-

[Is what Ricki wastes his precious breath on, because he has more ire than good sense these days.

He's desperately trying to conserve bullets, and anyways, the aim on his gun is a little too unsteady for close quarters like this, there's too much of a chance he could take Eggsy out in the crossfire.

Instead, he pulls the taser, braces his arm up on his knees, and tracks it on her, waiting for a clear shot.]

[She's not giving him one, her gait floaty and uneven. Eggsy narrows his eyes.]

Hold on a sec--

[He picks himself up and staggers back onto the offensive. She brings down the whip again; he lets it coil around his forearm and yanks it, pulling the whip taut and holding her still for just a second.]

Now!

[He shoots. She may be able to float through fire, but the electricity that the little projectile and attendant wires shoot through her drops her to the ground in a spasm. Even Ricki is feeling the allure a little bit, she's so close, but watching her head knock about on the barge floor like a fish snaps him out of it.]

Clear. Quick-

[Because who knows how long that'll last.]

On it!

[He runs a few steps, jumps to one side, kicks off the wall to give himself some more force and brings his knee down into the back of her neck with his whole weight behind it. The crack of her spine is sick and brutal.]

Darling, whatever they're paying you, it isn't enough.

[Ricki's head falls back against the wall and he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.]

[Eggsy just laughs and sits down heavily next to Ricki. After a second to catch breath, he pulls a cloth out of a remaining Molotov and takes a pull.

Then offers it across.]

Here. It's shit.

[He reaches out and borrows it for a swig, finally through the pain enough to sit up, decide that no, his throat really hasn't been torn out. He can keep going. The liquor helps.]

Good to keep going? We have to sweep up all these things before the portals can be closed.

(no subject)

formerself - 2015-04-16 23:02 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only