Tumgik
#it took away my paranoia of running scanner
c-53 · 3 years
Text
Im never hopping into a raid immediately after taking my sleep meds ever again it was nightmarish
19 notes · View notes
hailbop1701 · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
Chapter Three: An Explosively Good Time
Chapter three guys! I'm both nervous and excited for you all to read it. It's pretty long and we delve a bit deeper into the story. Kirk wants answers and Bones needs a new shirt. 👀 Well, I don't want to give anything away. I truly hope you all like it! Thank you to my wonderful beta reader @dw-writes. You're amazing doll!
The tram slowed to a smooth stop, John lifted his weapon just as the doors opened. He swept the area with Beckworth on his left. Nodding to the security officer, John moved forward making sure Kirk and Chekov were just behind him. Taking up the rear of the group were Lawrence and Bitar, bickering all the while. Rolling his eyes, John squared his shoulders as he led the group into the residential area. The double doors hissed open to reveal a courtyard and John couldn’t help but appreciate how real it truly looked. Cobblestones, rich green plants, a running fountain, and automated birds chirping happily.
Beckworth let out a low whistle from beside him, “Fancy digs,” he murmured with an amused smirk. John stopped, listening for any possible threats that could be hiding in the area. Nothing. Just the hum of the base and the bubble of the fountain in front of them. It was way too quiet and peaceful for his comfort.
Jim moved so he was standing on his other side. “I don’t like it,” the Captain whispered to him.
John hummed in agreement, something didn’t feel right. He almost let out a snort. ‘Nothing about any of this feels right,’ he thought. The hair on his neck stood on end. John scanned the area again, only this time he eyed the plant life and the cobblestones. All of this said “TRAP”
Lawrence walked forward, his gaze on the plant life all around them instead of what was right in front of his nose.
Spotting what he was looking for, John hissed and was behind the young man within seconds, he grabbed the kid’s vest and yanked him back.
Lawrence yelped as he fell onto his ass, “What the-”
John held up a hand to silence gasps and yells of surprise. He then pointed at a thin fine wire mere inches away from where the security officer had been standing.
“Shit,” Beckworth grumbled crouching down to get a better look at the “Booby trap.”
“Holy crap, thanks Doc.” Lawrence gasped out as he scrambled to his feet again.
Bitar rolled her eyes. Reaching up, she gave Lawrence a swift smack upside the head. The action started a whole new bickering match.
John sighed, gesturing for the others to follow him and move out of the way. Pulling a knife from his boot, he gently tossed it up into the air before catching it nimbly by the blade. With a quick flick of the wrist, the knife shot from his hand. Spinning in the air a couple of times, the blade sliced through the wire before embedding itself into the cobblestone. Cocking his head to the side, he heard a mechanism click. Chekov let out a startled squeal as a haphazard metal spike trap sprung from the bushes and trees. Grunting, John strode forward, he examined the trap with a deep frown.
“Used pretty recently,” he muttered, touching one of the spikes. He showed his fingers to the group, “Fresh blood, and someone had to have reset it.” He wiped his hand on his pants.
Kirk furrowed his brow in confusion. “Do you think that means we’re not the only ones surviving here?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
John jerked his knife free from the path. He grimaced at his friend. “Honestly? It could go either way,”
Jim wasn’t the only one looking at him with a confused expression. Sighing John fiddled with the knife in his hands. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with the right words. He really didn’t want to give his best friend any more bad news. Sheathing the knife back in his boot, John pulled his tricorder free. Scanning the blood he began to explain. “This stuff can really mess with your head, and I’m not just talking about C-24 fucking with your DNA. Being hunted by monsters with an extreme possibility of never making it out, and a chance that you’d turn into something that is worse than death...well, I’ve seen highly trained and skilled men crack. Go insane and beyond reason.” He paused as the scanner chimed with the results that he wanted. Turning the device around so the screen faced the group in front of him. Chekov’s mouth dropped open in shock, he looked at John with horror in his eyes. John continued, “The blood has no trace of C-24 or any sick and twisted variation. It’s completely human…” He paused glancing at the screen again, “And Andorian, and Vulcan,”
Kirk choked for a second, “So you’re telling me that the trap was made by a living person and they’re killing other living people?”
John put the tricorder away, “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
Chekov took a shuddering breath, while Kirk just set his jaw. “So we’re being hunted on two fronts,” the Captain sighed, running a hand messily through his hair. Beckworth’s eyes darted around the peaceful courtyard with a healthy dose of paranoia. His younger security officers ceased their quiet bickering and pulled out their phasers, ready for a surprise attack.
Reaper clenched his jaw and tensed. The hair on the back of his neck and his arms stood straight up. They were being watched, and not just by the cameras, but by a live body. He could hear their heartbeat thudding deeply in their chest. In his periphery, John saw a shadow on the second story landing.
Jim Kirk knew Leonard McCoy. Even though he may not have known as much as he originally thought. So when Bones - Reaper- tensed, he knew something was wrong. “Bones…” Jim prompted, trying to keep as casual as possible. The man tilted his head to the left; a subtle gesture but Kirk got what his CMO was trying to say: “Someone is watching”
Out of the corner of his eye, John watched as a shadow quickly disappeared. The sound of muffled hurried footsteps echoed in his ears. “Beckworth,” his voice carried no southern drawl but reverberated with authority. Beckworth couldn’t help but stand up straighter. In fact, everyone stood up a bit straighter, even the Captain.
“Yes, sir?”
“Get everyone to the third floor, there’s a bridge up there that attaches to the rest of the shopping district.” His orders were clear and without room for argument. Jim opened his mouth to protest but Chekov beat him to it.
“But what about you?” he asked, eyes wide.
John couldn’t help but smirk at the young navigator. With a half-hearted shrug, he turned to look at the second-floor balcony. “I’m gonna go say hello to the locals,” he muttered while moving off. The rest of the away team watched slack-jawed as Reaper bounded up onto a nearby chair, and table before he lept up, catching hold of a stone carving halfway to the second floor.
“Jesus, McCoy!” Beckworth called out with a short hysterical laugh.
John easily clambered up to the second floor. Swinging himself up onto the metal banister, Reaper sat and appraised his surroundings. From this vantage point, he saw a lot more, he couldn’t decide if his new view was a good thing or not.
The courtyard was clean at first glance, but from where he was John saw the gore underneath all the beauty. There were multiple bodies hidden in the garden, blood tainted the fountain and coated the walls surrounding him. Frowning, John leaned back on the banister to look down the long hallway. He was being watched again. Glancing down, he saw that the group was making their way through to the stairs. Nodding in approval, John rolled off of the banister onto the dirty corridor floor. A long blue - or what used to be blue carpet was covered in blood and torn to shreds - lined the hall. If John could hazard a guess, he had a faint idea of what wandered through. ‘ Damn Hell Knights,’ he thought darkly.
Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Reaper let his surroundings disappear for a moment. He could hear the base thrum under his feet, but it was growing faint; they were on the clock. The heartbeats of the rest of the away team thudded steadily, some rapid in fear, some in calm easy thuds. Then there was what was a lot closer. Running footsteps, and labored breathing. It was heading straight for him. John sighed sadly; this wasn’t going to end well.
Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders, John opened his eyes just as a blur of a man jumped at him. Quickly stepping to the side, John saw what had been killing everything and anything. The man was ragged like he had been surviving in this hell hole for quite some time. His hair was long and matted, full of knots, and coated in many different substances. His clothes were ripped and repaired and ripped again. Reaper wrinkled his nose, pitty filling his gut.
‘Poor bastard,’ was all that ran through his mind as the cracked man screamed at him, pouncing again. John leaned back, holding up his arm, only noticing the makeshift knife at the last second. Letting out a string of curses, Reaper kicked away the madman and looked at the shank sticking out of his arm with an annoyed expression.
“God fucking damnit!” he hissed, yanking the blade out of his forearm.
The man he had batted away looked at John in pure terror. “Demon!” the man shrieked, pointing at John with an accusing finger. Rolling his eyes, Reaper tossed the knife away over the side of the nearby banister. He could hear it clunk against a mass of water as it landed in the fountain.
“You’re not the first to call me that, and you’re sure as hell won’t be the last,” he drawled to the man, who was scurrying backward away from John as fast as he possibly could. John held up his hand peacefully, “Easy now, I’m not gonna touch you.”
The ragged man stopped his scuttling and paused. He looked visibly confused. “You’re not- who are you?” he asked, voice raspy and raw.
Reaper chewed on the inside of his cheek; Jim called it his nervous tick. “My name is Doctor Leonard McCoy, I arrived on the USS Enterprise. My team and I are trapped here just like you,” he soothed trying to bring out the humanity in the man before him.
“Enterprise,” the man breathed eyes wide, his breathing quickened, almost panicked. “No, no, no,” The man shook his head in denial, he reared and screamed “No!” once more before he started laughing. It was hysterical and Reaper was now completely convinced that the guy was way too far gone.
John watched the man carefully, trying to figure out if he needed to be taken care of or just locked away in a closet until they could get back to the ship. But before the ex-privine could formulate a plan of action, the survivor abruptly stopped laughing, looking as serious as could be. “You’re the one she wants. Death himself.” The words were in a hissed whisper as if speaking any louder would bring forth the demons lurking in the shadows. John froze, body tense ready for an oncoming attack but none came. “You can’t run away from your past forever. If you do those around you are going to suffer and die.” With those final words, the man whirled around and sprinted at break-neck speed down the long hallway. “Face your past Grimm!” he hollered as he rounded a corner and was out of sight.
That was until John heard him let out a startled scream. To anyone else, it sounds as if a paint-filled balloon popped behind a closed door but, to Reaper, it sounded almost too familiar. During the third world war, John experienced a new form of suicide bombers. The bombs weren’t visible, you could almost never tell it was there until it was too late. “SCED” or “Subcutaneous Explosive Device.”
Reaper flinched at the memories that assaulted the forefront of his mind. During world war three John was not officially in the armed forces but had stepped in multiple times to help the wounded and civilians to safety. During that time he had seen and experienced firsthand what a “SCED” could do. Shaking his head, John moved cautiously forward and peered around the corner. John choked on his breath his eyes went wide,
“Shit,” he cursed, stepping out to take in the scene full on. The corridor was dripping and smoking. Blackened blood coated the walls and floor, parts of more than one person could be identified. What made John’s stomach churn and made his scientific mind curious was the fact that the blood was smoking. The man who had run from him was laid curled up on the floor, covered and burnt beyond recognition.
Kneeling down, John examined the man more closely: he was missing a couple of limbs and his face was stuck in a silent scream. ‘Burns aren’t consistent with an explosion,’ he thought with a furrowed brow. Cocking his head to the side, John sniffed the air and immediately sneezed. Wrinkling his nose, Reaper scowled. “Acid. It smells like fucking acid,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “What in the hell are these things mutating into?” he asked himself quietly as he slowly got back to his feet.
A low rumbling growl made John freeze and cautiously turn around. There stood a very large, incredibly fat infected not even ten feet away from him. Raising an eyebrow, John harrumphed, “Well, aren’t you all quiet-like. I’m impressed with you bein’ as big as you are.”
He had never seen an infected like this before; John fully just realized that he was in completely new territory. The demon snorted, seemingly unimpressed by Reaper. It stepped forward, its form expanding and gurgling as it went. Backing up, John reached and pulled his rifle from his back and took aim. The demon let out a blood-curdling scream as it expanded further, its skin pulled apart and cracked, revealing a glowing blackness underneath.
John fired just as the monster before him blew. The final thought that ran through his mind for quite some time was simple: “Fuck me,”
------------------oOo----------------
Sound was the first thing that came back to him. It wasn’t that spectacular if he were being honest. His head ached and the ringing in his ears was starting to piss him off. Groaning, John rolled to his side so he was sitting up on his elbow. His vision was blurry but was quickly clearing, and he grimaced as his surroundings came into focus. The area was worse off than before, the walls were practically melting and Reaper didn’t want to find out if this was going to cause a hull breach. Quickly pulling his rifle from under him - it was a miracle in itself that he managed to save it last second- and got to his feet, John stumbled down the corridor until he hit the stairwell. ‘Third floor,’ he thought numbly, he could faintly feel his burns and other fractures slowly knit back together. The healing process didn’t take long but it was damn uncomfortable. It felt as if his whole body had gone to sleep, the sensation of old TV static. It was always a painful experience.
Staggering up the stairs, John let out a sigh of relief as the numbness in his body began to fade. “ ‘bout fucking time!” he growled out as he made his way to the third floor. As soon as he was close enough for the sensor, the door hissed open.
Multiple cries of concern and joy filled his ears.
“Bones!”
“Doc!”
“Thank the Gods, we thought you were dead!”
And Chekov’s accented, “Doctor McCoy,” made him smile minutely.
Waving away whoever’s hand was trying to help him through the door, John straightened and cracked his back and neck. He looked closely at the group in front of him with a doctor’s eye before nodding satisfied.
Kirk coughed trying to cover a chuckle, “Ugh Bones, you uh need a new shirt,” he faked whispered, and pointed out the obvious.
Reaper rolled his eyes, “Oh gee Jim, I haven’t noticed,” he ground out.
The Captain scowled back half-heartedly but everyone could see his concern. “You okay?”
“I just got blown up by a fleshy acid bomb and I’m stuck in what has to be one of my worst nightmares. I’m - “ Reaper took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’m fuckin’ fantastic. This place should rate five stars, too bad Yelp is no longer a thing,” he muttered walking toward one of the residential quarters. Kirk grimaced at the blatant sarcasm, McCoy’s tone and quips were answer enough.
John squinted at the nameplate next to the door controls, his lip twitching in irritation. Sure, he was glad to see the away team unharmed, but the exploding demon really wrecked what was left of his day; though that wasn’t saying much.
“Well, Daniel Garrets, I hope you have a shirt my size,” John muttered punching the door just right. Bitar let out a soft curse from the group behind him as the door bent and caved in ever so slightly. Pushing his fingers into the small gap John yanked the door open easily. The door let out a shuddering groan as it was forced to roll on its track. Light from the corridor shown faintly into the dark room. Before anyone could go in, Reaper held up a halting hand and cocked his head to the side, listening. He breathed in deeply and all he could smell was must and dust.
Nothing had been in there for quite some time.
Moving in, John pulled his rifle around so it was aimed into the darkness; he’d rather be safe than sorry. Despite his gun being slightly melted it still worked perfectly fine. Reaper didn’t want to express it but he was rather impressed by how detailed the replica truly was.
Clearing the room, John waved the rest of the team in. John eyed down both sides of the hallway before he forced the door closed with a deafening squeal. Turning around, he saw that Chekov all but collapsed in a chair, his nose buried in a PADD. Jim paced the length of the room in deep thought, muttering to himself. The three from security were quietly talking about the best way to keep their captain and Chekov safe. John wasn’t the least bit offended that he was no longer included in that list. Though it did make him a bit sad, it was a step closer to leaving the Enterprise. To leaving his first home in a long, long time.
Sighing, Reaper shucked his rifle and his tattered shirt. Bare-chested he moved through the small room to the closet, silently praying that the man who had once lived there wore the same size. Opening the closet John frowned a little, not quite but close enough. Grabbing a simple black t-shirt from the hanger he pulled it over his head and rolled his shoulders so it fit on his frame better. Turning from the closet he moved into the bathroom.
Upon finding the sink, John started the tap and let the water run for a few seconds before ducking his head under the stream. Grumbling, he ran his hands through his hair trying his best to pull the matted blood and bone from the tresses. Lifting his head he saw Jim in the mirror. He was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, an almost unreadable expression on his face. He wanted answers now.
The shock of the reveal was wearing off and now Jim Kirk wasn’t going to hold back anymore. Veera’s dramatic reveal was something he didn’t want to believe but now he didn’t have a choice. Since the atrium, Jim has been in complete and utter denial. He had seen what his best friend could do, he had seen how different he was. Jim’s eyes flashed in the light, his jaw set. No more joking, no more keeping up his causal maverick front. He was pissed and McCoy - Grimm- was going to see it. But no matter who Bones was. He will always be Jim’s friend. He had already decided to hear the man out. To listen to what he had to say, to hear what’s true and what’s fiction.
Reaper hummed and jerked his head, inviting Kirk into the small space. Moving into the room, the starship captain kept silent waiting for his friend to talk. As he carefully thought over his words, John rummaged through the cabinets around him, after he found what he was looking for (an electric razor) he finally spoke.
“I told you the gist of what happened on Mars. Olduvai. It was an honest to god shit show, Jim. Eight fully trained specialized privines - eh private military contractors - were sent in to search for some scientists. Well, we sure as hell found them.” John let out a dark humorless laugh and shook his head. He was halfway done cutting down his hair, it was no longer messy but shortened and military. John swallowed hard, he looked just as he did when this all happened the first time.
Kirk thinned his lips as he let his friend search for the words he was looking for. Reaper brushed away the dirty hair from his shirt and clicked off the razor. He turned and leaned against the sink, crossing his arms he looked down at his boots.
“We found that the research up there wasn’t exactly kosher. They uncovered humanoid remains in the archeological dig and found that some of these remains had a synthetic chromosome. It made them superhuman. Faster, stronger, incredibly intelligent, and apparently live obscenely long lives. The Oldulvians ruined themselves and we almost followed in their footsteps more than once. They created a rudimentary transporter called the Ark and fled to Earth to escape themselves. You see, C-24 didn’t affect everyone the same way. There were some that turned into monsters.
My sister - Sam- who was an unwitting accomplice in all of this, had a theory that it only turned those with genes that had markers for insanity. She was actually the one who discovered that not everyone would turn into monsters. But, by that time, my CO had lost what was left of his sanity. He began to kill everyone whether they were infected or not, and at this point, some infected had gotten through the Ark and into the Earth facility. No matter how horrible it sounds, but we were lucky that the quarantine was still active at that time. A little over two hundred people died, men, women, and children, my unit included. Only Sam and I made it out.”
Kirk was smart enough to figure out this was a shortened account of events but it was enough for now. He nodded but frowned, “How did you get C-24?” he asked curiously.
John snorted, chuckling darkly. “Projectile weapons are a bitch kid. I got a damn ricochet in the gut. I was bleeding out and on my way to hell but my sister decided to take a gamble and inject my ass. Turns out she was right, but it had its consequences.” John ran a hand through his newly cut hair, a haunted look crossing his face. He looked up, “For what it’s worth Jim, I’m sorry.”
Kirk looked away his expression guarded. John knew he wasn’t going to get away cleanly but knowing the outcome of something didn’t make it hurt any less. His eyes were locked onto the floor, he was wound tighter than piano chords. He was expecting to be shouted at, told to go to hell. And he believed he deserves it.
“What can we expect here, Bones?”
John relaxed ever so slightly, shocked at Kirk’s tone. It showed less anger and frustration and more like his friend, John wasn’t forgiven yet but it was a start. He grumbled, “Well, we can expect strong ass monsters who want to either turn you or eat you. Other than that, I’m in new territory. This is completely new and, if I had a month, maybe I could tell you how much of a difference it is. The crazy pirate bitch changed things so much that it shouldn’t even be called C-24 anymore. Who knows what else is lurking out there.”
John could see how much Jim didn’t want to hear that by the set of his jaw.
“Keptin, Doctor!” Both men turned to face Chekov as he barreled into the small room holding up his PADD.
“What is it, Chekov?” Jim asked hopefully. The young man turned the PADD around and showed them a single dot on what appeared to be a map of Genesis.
“Sir, I managed to vind this under the station's jamming signal. It appears that there is another Starfleet officer trapped here! “
John and Kirk looked at each other, both were wondering if it could be a trap. “Is it just a signal or-”
Chekov was already shaking his head before Jim could finish. “No, there is a single message attached to the ping. It just says a name and some sort of code…” he trailed off as he tapped hurriedly at the screen. Turning the PADD around Chekov let the message play.
John felt his blood freeze.
“This is Layla Grimm, I’ve been compromised. Code: Ghost, I repeat - Code: Ghost! Run Uncle J-”
Reaper felt his knees buckle as screams filled the air of the bathroom. He faintly felt Jim grip his arm trying to keep him upright. His blood pulsed in his ears and all he could see was red. The look in John’s eyes made both Kirk and Pavel back up a step giving the CMO some space. John gritted his teeth breathing hard. “Where was that sent from?” his voice was sharp, making Jim wince.
Chekov cleared his throat as he looked down at the screen in his hands. “The medical wing sir,”
John looked at Kirk who just nodded in approval.
“Looks like we’re goin’ hunting.”
Tags:
Everything: @thottiewithashotgun, @lauraaan182, @writerdee1701, @stileslover13-blog, @cowenby2, @bluesclues-1234
Hollow Castle: @chook007, @lauranthalasah
11 notes · View notes
ahsoka-lives · 4 years
Text
Apprentice pt. 3 (REWRITE)
A/n: Yikes, I didn’t like the original one too much so I edited it and added a bit more perspective and changed the over all plot structure a bit. The beginning is largely the same, it’s the end and the dialogue that changed the most. I appreciate the kind words given from the original but I am critical of myself and will always find ways to pick apart what I wrote, whether it was good or not. I promise this one is staying up! Thank you all for almost 150 followers!! And thank you for being so patient with me as I repost work and take so long to update. I hope you’re all taking care of yourselves and that you enjoy this chapter!! Gif is by @wiccangoddes​
Warnings: Descriptions of death, threats, Soulmate AU
Word count: 3199
Tumblr media
The past month alone on this ship was tiresome, the only consistency was a dull ache in the base of your skull, a side effect of not being with Cal. Luckily, yesterday was the final portion of tests aboard the training vessel.
There wasn’t much about the final test you remembered, only going into the sensory deprivation chamber and succumbing to the sedative. When you woke up you were cleared to return to “Cal’s supervision”, a phrase you were growing tired of.
Secretly, you’d grown bitter the past few weeks, you were treated far worse when not around Cal. The technicians weren’t exactly pleasant and while you may have worn their uniform, they knew who you were and where you came from. They treated you like the Bracca trash they saw you as. Now, when looking at you there were no remnants of your upbringing in your appearance. Long gone was the poncho that served you comfort all those years. No one could tell that the Empire tore you away from the only place you could call home and attempted to brainwash you. You couldn’t help but feel like you let this happen, mesmerized by the idea of a happily ever after with Cal, you willingly walked aboard the transport. Then not even a day later, you watched him walk away from you and onto his ship with only a few kind words and the promise of his return.
All personnel walked the halls with their heads high and shoulders back. Their uniforms blurred them together, erasing any personality within them. They were only of the Empire, nothing else. The fluorescent lighting reflected off the white tile, giving the ship a sense of sterility. Now, you stood in the mirror of your small, cramped room aboard the training vessel. The brandishing of the Inquisition was displayed on your shoulder, this was their training armor. It was similar to Cal’s chest plate, only yours lacked his sense of authority. You knew that was something you’d have to make for yourself starting today. 
Today was your first time back into the real world since being taken into the Empire and because of how fresh your training is, Cal was going to keep you under a microscope.
 - Cal’s POV
Cal Kestis stood inside the small bay of his ship in front of the holotable, his eyes fixated on the projection in front of him. It was the case file containing every ounce of data the Empire could procure on you. Every test, every simulation, every behavioral pattern that could be used to predict your future actions in the field. On your last test, you performed abnormally well with the exception of one minor infringement that resulted in the test ending sooner than expected, written off as a technical difficulty. Nevertheless, they sent the recording to him, just as he requested for every test.
Cal looked fondly at the intake photo that was shown next to your name one last time. He knew all too well what was to come, how could he not? The Empire was exceptionally skilled in controlling its subjects and as such, they had a knack for identifying those who would give them trouble. He wondered what you would think of the name they’d given you and if you would soon prove them right.
 Y/f/n Kestis, FLIGHT RISK.
-Reader’s POV
The walk to the hangar was a short one, within minutes you were walking on the bridge that hung over it. You looked down onto the ship that had just docked. Standing beside it talking to a small group of troopers was Cal, instantly upon seeing him your muscles relaxed, the ache in your neck and shoulders lessened. The closer you got the more the tense feeling of anticipation in both of you slipped away. That’s not to say the bitterness you felt was gone, only lessened with the feeling of normalcy returning to your body
.“Apprentice.” He nodded to you in acknowledgment. You stayed silent as he dismissed the troopers and let them walk for a moment before pulling you in for an unexpected hug. The headache left you almost instantly and you melted into his arms. The energy around him fought to suffocate you further against him, you weren’t sure if this was a conscious effort or just a reflex for him. He took a deep breath in, balance returning to him after a long few weeks without having you around. Was he happy to see you or happy to feel his power returning?
-
While on your way to the new living arrangements that the Empire set up for Cal and you, a distress signal was intercepted by the ship. A small outpost on a nearby moon had a small squabble with the locals, nothing out of the ordinary according to Cal. 
Across from you in the bay, Cal’s helmet sat in the chair next to him as he meditated, there was something peaceful about this. His face was relaxed with the exception of his brows furrowed in concentration. Seeing him like this humanized him, it made a hopefulness bloom inside of you, maybe his intimidating manner was all a facade. 
But as soon as the ship landed, the helmet returned, with it your memory of what he’s done while wearing that uniform. The uniform reminded you of the time you spent in the labs on the training vessel. They showed you what the Empire had in store for you. The Empire wanted to turn you into a weapon just like they had Cal. The simulations were designed to warp your view on reality, to plant the false narrative of the Empire’s savior complex, and to tempt you into accepting its enemies on as your own. Perhaps their biggest mistake was showing you what the Empire does to force sensitives. They showed you that if it weren’t for your ties to Cal, you would be lying dead in the scrapyards at this very moment. 
The Force-sensitives in the simulations were painted as burdens, as insignificant evils that needed to be removed from the galaxy with a swift and heavy hand. But, if that were true, what did that make you? How could you in good conscience kill someone like you? Someone who may not even understand their role in the universe yet or what it even means to be Force-sensitive. It’s thoughts like these that made the idea of running more tempting. 
You desperately tried to smother these thoughts, you’d hate for Cal to catch on. You’d learned that those skilled with the Force could tap into the thoughts and feelings of those around them and slight paranoia followed you ever since. For all you knew, he could be trying to see inside your head right this moment. 
 “Apprentice, let’s get going.” Cal snapped you out of the mental spiral you’d gone down. The fresh air washed over you and with it a fleeting moment of happiness.
“Let’s see if any of that training paid off.” He spoke as he held a saber out in his hand for you. It was cold and heavy in your hands, heavier than the training saber you used with the droids. Side by side, you walked with Cal, a squadron of troopers trailing behind you. The grass was near your knees and the trees towered over you providing shelter from the sun.
This wouldn’t be a bad place to disappear.
The group walked for miles in near silence until a column of smoke emerged from beyond the trees.
 “Eyes up, that’s coming from the outpost, this might be bigger than we thought.” Cal’s modulated voice called out. The troopers fanned out from behind you and raised their blasters. The air felt tense and the hairs on your neck stood, every sound suddenly more clear. 
Cal raised his fist to halt the troopers and looked down at the scanner on his forearm. Your eyes remained on the trees in front of you. They looked to Cal for direction who only pointed two fingers ahead of the group at the thick wall of trees and shrubbery. In unison, you and Cal reached for your sabers. 
Suddenly, high pitch blaster shots whizzed past you in a red flash, you braced and brought your saber up to block as many as you could. One by one the troopers were shot down, leaving only you and Cal standing. You gave a nervous glance up to his helmet and dug your feet further into the ground to solidify your position. He felt oddly calm. 
“Cal Kestis, we meet again.” A woman emerged from the trees, her voice was steady and smooth. Her cream-colored robes flowed gently in the wind, her dark hair was tied back out of her face that adorned a small smile. Behind her were a few soldiers dressed in similar green and beige clothes, not quite a uniform but close to it.
 “Trilla, how disappointing.” Cal mocked the woman. “How’s the leg doing since I last cut it off?”
“Well, the prosthesis business is booming, apparently a lot of sword-wielding maniacs have been running around” She joked and raised an eyebrow at the Inquisitor. “Aren’t you interested as to why I lured you here?”
“Not really, no. I’d rather skip to the part where I finish you and your little band of men off for good this time.” He sassed and flipped his saber up in his hands absentmindedly.
 “We got word of another Jedi being abducted by you and your sisters, am I right to assume this is her?” She sneered, gone was the playful banter between them.
“She’s no Jedi, and she’s none of your concern.” He growled and put an arm in front of you protectively.
 “On the contrary, innocent life in the hands of the Empire is and will always be my first priority.” She paused and looked at you this time. “I’m here to help you, what’s your name?”
“I’m Y/n, and I don’t need your help.” You bit back and grabbed hold of his arm to lower it, allowing you to step forward. He was more than hesitant to allow this and you could feel his distaste for the situation arising. 
“Y/n, a little early for blind allegiance to them, isn’t it?” She urged and took a small step forward making Cal tense visibly.
“At least she knows where she belongs.” He bit from behind the mask.
“With the enemy? With the government who hunts down people like us?”
“There is no us, Trilla.” He chuckled darkly as he continued to berate her. “The order is gone, only the ashes of its failure remain along with insolent, naive padawans like yourself.”
“You forget that you were once a padawan, that you once wore the symbol of the Jedi with pride.” Her voice was saturated in emotion and she seemed to be choking back tears.
“For a Jedi, you sure cry a lot.” He rolled his eyes under the helmet, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. “How about I really give you something to cry about?”
His gloved hand raised in front of him and one of the soldiers rose from the ground and flew toward him. He swiftly impaled the soldier with his saber before letting the body fall to the ground at his feet. Without hesitation, he moved forward and lifted another off the ground only this time his fist curled tightly, and with a subtle movement of his head, he snapped the man’s neck. 
The woman named Trilla cried out, sprung forward and clashed her saber against his, their duel ensuing. You were torn from your state of shock by a blaster shot grazing past your shoulder. Your eyes flew to the source and you reflexively brought your saber up to block the next one.
 “Apprentice, you’re going to have to be more offensive than that,” Cal called out, his tone playful as he kicked Trilla in the chest sending her flying back. 
His hand stretched out and lifted the soldier who fired at you up and with a flick of his wrist the soldier was flown into the ground in front of you. The man was visibly shaken but his intent to finish his mission seemed to take precedence over what just happened. You screwed your eyes shut and swung your saber forward, slashing the rifle in half. 
The soldier, seemingly unfazed, swept your ankle with his foot making you fall to the ground, your saber falling a few feet away now lifeless. A knife was pulled from his boot and he lurched forward in an attempt to impale you with it. You shuffled backward away from him, your back near the dirt, panic flooding your chest. 
Your eyes looked to Cal who was preoccupied with a fight of his own and you realized that you were alone in this. You scrambled to your feet and took cautious steps back as the man in front of you seemed to be calculating his next attack. The saber, your only chance of survival, was at his feet. The soldier grunted and leaped toward you, you barely managed to avoid it. Your hand reached out desperately for your saber and every ounce of effort was forced into calling it to you, but the saber barely shifted on the ground. 
You groaned in frustration, why wasn’t it working?
“Y/n, behind you!” Cal yelled but it was too late, you were tackled to the ground, your head slamming into the firm grass.
 “Commander, I have her!” The man yelled to Trilla. 
The trees around you seemed to spin and you struggled to move as he had you pinned down, your saber was resting on the ground just a few feet in front of you and just beyond it was the fierce duel between the Jedi and the Inquisitor. You had to admit, Trilla was skilled but she lacked something that you saw in Cal. He was downright violent, while Trilla fought to defend herself, he fought for the sake of fighting. She fought toward an end but he relished in seeing the frustration on his opponent’s face as he evaded their attacks and inflicted pain onto them. 
You let your eyes shut and you tried to recall what you felt all those weeks ago on Bracca. Your hand flexed open and you let your mind feel the air around you, imagining that the world around you was still. You gave up on trying to physically will the saber to you and allowed your mind to do the work for you. You just had to get out of this, you weren’t going to let someone else take you away to stars knows where.
You sighed in relief when the cool metal of the hilt was in your hands. When your eyes reopened, the deep red of the saber was alive in front of you. You caught it in reverse and the blade had opened directly into the man’s chest, his limp body falling off of you. You stood up panting and looked to Cal who had single-handedly taken on the four other men and Trilla.
“Your men are dead, Trilla, are you ready to join them?” Cal taunted, his arms gesturing around to the dead bodies that lay around the three of you. The pain on her face was evident as was her exhaustion. She looked to you with an earnest glint in her eyes, a silent plea but you didn’t know what for. 
“Can’t you see what he is? What he wants you to become?” She begged and gestured to Cal, his face still hidden by his armor. “A monster in a mask who spends every waking moment in darkness.” 
“You don’t seem to understand, Trilla, she knows.” He chuckled and lazily twirled his saber in his hand. “Besides, she couldn’t leave me if she wanted to, we are bonded by the Force, inseparable.”
 “You? The Force gave you a soulmate?” She spit, sheer disbelief written over her face as she shook her head. “That doesn’t matter, you’ve known her for what? Four weeks? The bond isn’t complete, there’s still time for her.”
“None of this matters, but, I’ll tell you the best part.” He laughed, he was thoroughly entertained by all of this, the pain she felt included. “She knows no family, no past worth holding onto. There’s nothing for you to tempt her with. Only I can give her what she wants.”
He was right, you had nothing pulling you back, no family for you to return to. But if what Trilla said was true, you had nothing keeping you here either.
 Maybe you didn’t have to become another pawn. 
You took another look at the man in front of you, the memory of his comfortable arms still fresh in your memory. Cal promised you a lot, a soulmate...stability, but at what cost? Your eyes moved to the woman that was now kneeling on the ground, wounded and exhausted from fighting your partner. She offered a way out of the Empire’s schemes but that was it. Surely you could find that for yourself. In a moment of pure thoughtlessness you raised your palm up toward Cal, gaining his attention.
“My dear, that’s a bold move, even for you.” He chided and raised his hands to remove his helmet. “Are you sure you have what it takes to go against me?” 
“I’ll be long gone by the time you’re moving again.” Your voice was shaky as you tested the waters against him, guilt of your betrayal arising in you.
“Oh, I’m sure. I’ve seen what you can do but you have only seen a taste of what I can do.” He promised with a chilling intensity, a wicked smile on his handsome face, his excitement growing by the second. His irises tinted yellow and his pupils were blown. 
“Go ahead, I can handle it, sweetheart.” You felt the past few weeks of suppressed emotions and near torture bubbling inside of you. “Come on, gorgeous, I’ll give you a head start.”
He deactivated his saber and hooked it onto his waist, seemingly unbothered by the Jedi watching this unfold. While this meant he was going to let you run, it wasn’t nearly enough security for you. You mustered up all the strength that you could and forced Cal over the wall of bushes and away from you. 
After a moment of silence, you assumed him to be unconscious and stalked over to Trilla with a determined look on your face. 
“I knew you’d do the right thing, y/n.” She sighed and rose to her feet. The words made you roll your eyes, his arrogance was rubbing off on you. “I’m glad you’re joining the right cause.”
“I’m getting tired of everyone talking and thinking on my behalf, who said I was joining you?” You growled and shot your hand out to pull her saber into your hand, her unfounded trust in you left her guard down. 
Now, with both sabers in hand, you pointed one across her throat, the other in a block position above your torso. “Take me to your ship.”
123 notes · View notes
someonestole15 · 3 years
Text
Underground
4 pages, Zephyr.
Bright blue sky, faint wind blowing through the canyons with a whispering as it passes through the slits in the rocks. Rocks covered in sand and dead trees, my jacket bares a tan coloring to blend in with it.
Small squad, Mira, Valkyrie and Nine, along with myself, keep the rear and take in the sights as the scanners remain clear. Lightweight weaponry, the cape over my hood and shoulders feels light but sturdy enough to shrug off a bullet or two, Nine’s additional pouches have made given him a secondary role as the support, carrying a few bottles of restoring mist and a stack of magazines fit for the weapons we carry.
Same rifle, different set ups, Valkyrie and Mira have theirs focused on longer range combat with an extended barrel and mine is optimized for close to medium engagements with a flashlight mounted to the side rail and a red dot sight on the top. Rounding up, the Phoenix in my holster, we reached the original camp/mining site.
“Hold.”
The camp was left barren, only frames of what used to be the buildings were standing, the yellow paint on them faded by wind and sand.
“Looks clear, keep an eye out.” Mira said as she braced the rifle against her shoulder and headed further into the area with Valkyrie and Nine in tow.
Sticking near the entrance, the whistling winds and clouds of dust forming from it, I kept my scanners active and on the walls the faint interference was not making it any easier with the high metal content in the sand around us, the blue markers for friendlies flashed in and out at random.
Glint in one of the caves nearby, I took a knee and aimed my rifle towards it, only for the glint to vanish as soon as my sights were on it. Weird but not worth wasting a bullet on it. Back on my feet, I heard the call to regroup at the central building.
“As they said, there’s nothing here. Good.”
“Seems like they took everything worthwhile before leaving, most of the equipment is scrap.”
“Scrap, but usable as spares, have a look around and see if you can scavenge anything from the machinery.”
“Alright.”
“Valkyrie, the gatehouse near the entrance of the compound, see if they left anything behind.”
“Understood.”
“I’ll get in touch with Kira, the faster we get set up, the better. Go on.”
As I turned away, Valkyrie grabbed my hand.
“Don’t get lost, Nine and I would hate to see you go.”
“I’ll stay in range this time, don’t worry.” One hand on her shoulder, I tapped lightly. “No losses today.”
“Roger that.” She smiled as she took a step back and started heading towards the gatehouse. Breathe, focus, recalibrate the sensors and get to work. Check the equipment, full magazine and a round in the chamber, good to go, I headed back to the building near the entrance that was seemingly used as a scrapheap after the evacuation.
Frame of a building, most of what was left, a pile of scrap in the middle of the floor and two larger containers behind it, the markings made it clear they were Corporation, age hard to judge from the marking numbers but they were definitely old.
The pile of scrap was mostly just bits of ruined garbage, the containers yielded more usable gear, although most of it was in a state of disrepair. Receivers from ruined rifles and magazines with rusted springs, hopefully Valkyrie and Nine had returned by now, getting some walls up would help in making this place feel like home.
Container closed, I felt a gaze burning into my hood but once I laid my hands on the rifle, it disappeared. Keep it close, fool me twice, shame on me, I took a step forward. The burning, returned.
Turn to it, nothing but something around my leg pulled me down to the ground. Pulling with force greater than my own, the sand wasn’t helping with my struggle for grip as the trails from my fingers were drawn to the sand.
Tighten the grip around the rifle and force myself over, attempting to take aim, no chance of hitting such a small target while getting dragged along, the destination worried me more.
A half open hatch, grated, the darkness not very inviting, but that’s where I was going and fast. Last ditch effort to take hold of the hatch itself, the rusted metal cracked like glass under my weight and the force pulling me down, back in the depths, in the darkness.
Rather not be, a blink of my eye shined forward to something shimmering from it. Attempting to touch it made it retreat away from my hand as I got closer. Small flame on my palm, radio out, I routed more power to the flame and watched it quiver in the air flowing within the cavern.
Easier to keep up than the light in my eye, the moisture in the air was heavy, my breathing formed fog as I looked around. The tunnel ran two ways, a thin layer of water beneath my boots echoed along the tunnel as I looked up and thought about climbing back out the way I had fallen, but the hatch hadn’t held my body and the surrounding metal didn’t seem any sturdier.
Only way is forward, I kept the fire close to me and started heading into the darkness. One finger on the trigger, hard to focus with the flickering and the mist blocking out my view. A split into four, I lowered my hand and listened, nothing, followed by a rush of sounds coming from all directions.
Can’t keep an eye on four directions at once, a sharp impact to the side of my head was the last thing I noticed before my systems blacked out.
Hard to breathe, exhaling formed trails of bubbles from my mouth as I looked above and saw several wrecked gunships slowly descending towards me. Burnt my wings, missing engines, holes in the hull and damage to the control surfaces, I leaned my head back and drew in the water around me.
Filtered out, breathing stabilized and heartbeat coming back around, a jolt of electricity through my spine brought me back to reality.
Smell the ashes, or not, it’s more a metallic scent, the air feels thinner, I’m clearly not the in same tunnel as I was before. Sounds of dripping water and a faint humming, hard to see into the dark. Weapons taken, steady pain beating in my head as I pulled myself up and stabilized myself with one hand on the wall. The stone felt cold, I scraped my fingers along it and formed a small flame in between my fingers.
Flicker like a candle, the orange light made it easier to see but I was still in the dark, hardly weaponized with the blade inside my arm, there was one door out of the room.
Whoever had knocked me out had likely used this place for storage, there were numerous crates and sacks of produce stored within, none of it familiar to my scanners. Highly nutritious from what I could gather, I tried the door. Locked, scans showing some kind of lifeform outside, hard to say exactly what it was, the nervous system resembled human but the rest of it…
Knock on the door, see if they answer. Nothing, but the creature did react to my knocking, speaking out for someone else to come down.
Sit down on one of the crates and wait, guessing they want to talk or else they would have just killed me earlier, and even if I just started a head-on assault, getting out alone would be difficult.
They are my one way out, little time passed before the door opened up with a snake like creature brandishing a spear with high voltage running through it,
Easier to describe as Lamia, the torso resembled human but below it, a long scaled tail trailed along the floor.
Long split tongue whipping itself in and out of the creature’s mouth, its eyes locked onto my hands as I kept them on my lap and remained calm. No mention of anything like this in the Empire files, I wonder how many had seen them with their own eyes. Another creature pushed itself past the first one and placed its hand on the spear, lowering it.
“So… why are you here?”
“Wondering the same, what exactly are you?”
“Your questions will be answered later, answer mine or you’ll remain here.”
Short explanation of what had happened, how the situation had led me to this planet and what the remaining squad above planned.
“They are not after the minerals?”
“No, last I’ve heard the place was mined dry.”
“There’s plenty of it left, but if the ones settling above are not after it, I believe we can come to an arrangement. Allow me to officially welcome you to our kingdom, outsider.” The snake extended his hand out for me to shake. Called many things, outsider isn’t the worst of them, I took the hand and shook it.
“Specter, pleasure.”
“Krotz, king of the underground caverns of Zephyr. Pleasure is all mine.”
Even with the limited knowledge on the lamia, they seemed calm with showing me around their caverns, many of them spreading kilometers across the mined areas, much of the equipment had been left behind and the tales told of fearsome reptile creatures driving off the miners, the stories were buried as madness or simply paranoia of spending months in the mines. The Corporation had gotten their fill of Palladium and new sites had been found, abandoning this one seemed more worthwhile.
Understandable, who would want to work in a mine cursed by snake like creatures going around with weapons such as these?
Back to the point, the tour ended with Krotz showing me a way back to the surface, offering to come along to meet with the rest of the squad who had landed with me, to “mend the relationship” as he put it.
Back to the surface, the grey clouds had moved away, replaced by the sun heating up the surface. Krotz had replaced his yellow safety jacket with a brown bomber jacket, likely scavenged from the previous crew, along with a hood over his head. My gear had been returned to me before leaving, would be a shame to leave the Phoenix behind after it has been repaired.
“Warm, yes…”
“So how close to snakes are you?”
“We are cold blooded as our smaller squadmates, although this body has taken many a centuries to reach a state like this.”
“Good to know. Valkyrie, can you hear me?”
“Oh good, you’re still alive, got me worried there. Where are you?”
“A few clicks from the compound. Got a new friend who wishes to meet Mira and Kira.”
“Understood, The Mule is already here, keep your transponder active, we’ll come get you.”
“Sitting tight, Specter out.” End call, I took a seat on one of the rocks near the entrance to the caverns.
“That is your friend?”
“Yeah, that is close enough to reality.”
“How is she?” Krotz asked as he sat opposite me, curling his tail around the stone.
“Headstrong, but accurate.” Not much to say, actions speak louder than words but finding ones to describe Valkyrie have remained the same.
“Chosen words for someone you care about.”
“I would be dead several times over without her.”
Silence fell as the faint wind picked up, the breeze felt uplifting on my jacket after the few hours underground, I heard the gunship engines roaring in the distance as Krotz raised his head and placed one hand to protect his view from the sunlight.
Hold onto hope, I am homeward bound.
  So a longer set of pages, I plan on ending the AX15 and Valkyrie storyline for a while since they will be laying low on Zephyr and not much of it would be interesting. My plans, however, involve going out of my comfort zone for the next pages I will write afterwards, but that is on the way.
Thanks for reading. Harry
1 note · View note
lefaystrent · 5 years
Note
Could you write a short story where Virgil is out at a store, Deceit and Remus spot him. Virgil is like F social interaction. Then is only rude because he really didn't feel like being noticed by people who recognize him. (Patton could be another costumer, Roman a cashier who is working there when not acting, Logan getting supplies for a science class at school)
A Storm Rolled into Town
Fandom: Thomas Sanders,Sanders Sides
Pairings: none
Summary: It’s not likeVirgil meant to become famous anyway. It just sorta happened. And now he’sshopping in some small-town mom-and-pop store on a weekday morning. Despitewearing the hood of his jacket up and perhaps looking the more conspicuous forit, he can sense that someone somewhere in this store is watching him.
Word Count: 2150
________________________________________________________________
Virgil Storm was born with eyes inthe back of his head.
Not literally. It was mostly justanxiety and paranoia working in tandem to create a 360° zone of caffeinated caution.A necessary skill when you became part of the famous crowd. All it took was onecrazy person with a knife screaming about how you’re meant to be together, andthen you’re fucking dead.
Not that Virgil had been assaultedby anyone.
Yet.
He has had experiences witha couple of stalkers before that were quickly handled. It’s amazing how whenmore than a handful of people know your name and can buy your merch, theirsense of entitlement turns you into a thing to be owned.
It’s not like Virgil meant tobecome famous anyway. It just sorta happened.
And now he’s shopping in some small-townmom-and-pop store on a weekday morning. He had to make a pit-stop on his longdrive back home to Florida. Sure, he could have gotten home faster if he’dridden in a plane. He could also set this store on fire or go jump in a lakewhile strapped to an anvil. Doesn’t mean he’s going to.
The point is, Virgil is very awareof how famous he is, and despite wearing the hood of his jacket up and perhapslooking the more conspicuous for it, he can sense that someone somewhere inthis store is watching him.
Virgil glances down the aislebehind him, but there’s nothing. Again.
He lets out a huff of air andcontinues to peruse the candy section. He’s got a craving for something sour,but he’s not looking to get accosted here.
He swipes up a packet of gummy wormsand goes around to the chip rack next. Virgil subtly peeks around the store,noting the two guys manning the register counter. They look young, maybe aroundtwenty. They’re more talking and laughing rather than working. Other than them,there’s this one nerdy looking guy in a tie and glasses over by the stationary.The store seems empty otherwise.
Virgil picks up a large bag of sourcream ‘n onion and nearly screams when there’s a mustached face poking out inthe space left behind.
“Boo!” the man says.
“Fuck off!” Virgil growls andthrows the chip bag right at the face.
A series of snickers come back fromthe candy aisle that Virgil had just vacated. Pissed off and heart racing, hewhips his head around to see some guy in a bowler hat.
“I do believe the phrase ‘got you’fits this scene well,” Bowler Hat says.
“You didn’t ‘get’ anything,” Virgilhisses.
“Oh? So you didn’t just jump likeyou’d seen a ghost?”
“He definitely jumped, Dee! He evenpeed his pants!” Mustached Man cackled, coming out from behind the chip rack.
“I didn’t—” Virgil went to defendhimself but found it pointless. These guys just seemed like assholes. “Justleave me alone.”
“Oh poo, have some fun would you?”
“Now Remus, let’s not annoy him toomuch. Wouldn’t want him to storm out.”
Storm.
He made it very clear that he knewVirgil’s last name. If the pointed pun didn’t say as much, the smarmy grin onBowler Hat’s face surely did.
Virgil tried not to show how muchthat got to him.
“So what? You know who I am. Bigdeal. Buzz off and let me shop in peace.” If these two kept harassing him orworse, Virgil could always threaten to call the cops. Then again, cops took afew minutes to respond, and it only took less than a second to die.
New plan. Virgil could throw downthe chip rack and then run for his life. And if that didn’t work, he carriedpepper spray on his person for a reason.
“What brings someone such asyourself to our neck of the woods?” Bowler Hat questioned, not leaving Virgilalone in the slightest.
Mustached Man jumped up beside hisfriend, leaning an arm against his shoulder to loudly whisper, “I bet he needsto hide a dead body!”
Virgil’s eye twitched. “Yeah,because that’s the only reasonable explanation, right?”
Mustached Man nodded in agreement. “Nothingelse to do around here.”
“It does get rather dull here,”Bowler Hat mused. He brushed his gloved fingers over his chin.
Seriously, who the hell were theseguys? And were they intentionally being low-key threatening? Perhaps not, butthat’s how they were coming across anyway.
“That’s nice.” Virgil smiled in away that showed his utter contempt. Better than showing his fear. “Now if you’redone bothering me, I’ve got things to buy.”
He would have liked something morethan just the gummy worms, but he no longer felt hungry enough to risk hislife.
Virgil walked away, his stepspicking up speed as he heard Mustached Man barking at him.
He was never stopping anywhere everagain.
________________________________________________________________
Roman sat at the register counter,bored out of his mind.
“Patton, my loyal companion. Remindme why we’re here again?”
“Because we get paid to be here.”
“Ah.” Roman nodded, eyes narrowedin deep understanding.
Then he slumped over with a whimperingwhine. His head banged against the countertop.
“Awww, cheer up Ro-Ro! We’ve only gota few more hours left of our shift!”
“My shackled soul is unmoved byyour comfort. They are but mere words in the face of unforgiving oppression.”
“…so what you’re saying is that youneed a pun, right? Or maybe a hug. A combination of the two? A pug. Oh!Doggy!”
Roman snorted as Patton’s train ofthought derailed. He sat up to stare at his coworker and long-time friend.
He snapped his fingers. “Focus,Puffball.”
“Oh, right,” Patton said,refocusing. His expression became determined. “Go on and get all the angst out,kiddo. I’m all ears.”
“Retail suuuuuucks,” Roman concluded.“My creative spirit yearns for a place I can spread my wings and thrive! I ammeant for bigger and better stages. You see this face? You hear this voice? Alltoo good to be squandered away in Backwoodsville, Tennessee.”
“We don’t live in Tennessee.”
“My point is that I am a work ofart, and yet I am left collecting dust in grandma’s attic. It is a crime! Theuniverse should give me a break already.”
From the stationary aisle, afamiliar voice contributed to the conversation, “Perhaps if you put nearly asmuch effort into publicizing yourself to the entertainment community instead ofwhining, you wouldn’t be stuck where you are now.”
Roman slammed a hand on thecounter. “No one asked you, Microsoft Nerd!”
Logan smirked and resumed hisshopping. They knew each other of course. It was hard not to recognize everyonewhen you worked in one of the only stores in town. Plus all three of them hadgone to high school together.
Patton patted Roman’s shoulder insympathy. “I think what Logan’s trying to say is that you’ve got loads of potentialand I’m sure someone’s going to notice one day.”
“That is not what I said at all,but go off I guess,” Logan stated.
Roman flipped him off. Somehow, despitehis back turned to him, Logan must have sensed it and returned the gesture rightback to him.
Patton swatted at Roman’s hands. “Don’tbe ugly!”
“That’s impossible for someone likeme.” Roman grinned.
Patton sighed. “What am I going todo with you?”
“Love me, of course.”
Patton giggled.
“Hi,” a clipped voice cut in. Romantore his attention away from the agony of his life to regard the customer athis counter.
Roman hopped up from his seat andshifted flawlessly into his customer service spiel. “Hello! Ready to check out?”
“Yeah,” the man nodded, his hoodfalling back a bit at the movement.
Roman smiled. He recognized thejacket brand and was about to compliment the customer’s taste.
Their eyes met briefly and Roman’sheart exploded.
Virgil Storm.
Virgil freaking Storm was standingat his register counter.
No. No it couldn’t—
HOLY SHIT!
“That’s it,” Virgil Storm said,tossing a pack of sour gummy worms onto the counter. He briefly glanced overhis shoulder as if to look for something. He wasn’t really paying attention toRoman, so he didn’t catch being ogled.
Oh god, Virgil Storm was standingat his register. No matter how many times Roman looked, Virgil Stormstood there, and all Roman could do was ogle him.
Roman suddenly found the candypacket very interesting.
If he kept his head down, nothingbad would happen, right?
“Uh . . . that’s it,” Virgil saidagain, and Roman realized that he’d been standing there frozen.
Willing his limbs to unthaw, Romanmechanically reached for the candy and ran it over the scanner. A beep sounded,and with a stiff arm, he punched for the total.
“Your total is . . . a number.”
“What?”
Roman couldn’t even look up farenough to check the screen. How could he? When one of his idols stood beforehim. He owned all of this man’s albums, for God’s sake!
“Yes,” Roman said, as if thatexplained everything.
“Okay . . .” Virgil said. Heshuffled, presumably getting his wallet out or something. Internally, Roman wasscreaming to Patton for help, but sadly his friend had never mastered telepathy.In fact, he had no idea what Patton was doing right now. He wasn’t sayinganything, that was for sure. Did he even recognize the celebrity in their storeright now?
“Here,” Virgil offered a five-dollarbill.
Roman blinked at it. Wasn’t VirgilStorm rich? Why was he using cash when he could use a card?
Carefully, lest he mess up andforever embarrass himself, Roman reached up and took the bill from him. Theirfingers weren’t even close to touching, but Roman still felt like he’d steppedon a live-wire, a shock racing through his system.
Roman had dreamed many a time ofcasually running into his idols. He imagined nearly daily of becoming likethem, of leaving his mark, of impressing those that he looked up to. He wouldbe suave and graceful and witty, a dazzling star in the making who would sweepthem off their feet.
Instead Roman hunched in on himselfand began to cry.
“Oh shit, are you okay?” VirgilStorm asked him, and that somehow made everything worse.
Roman covered his face with hishands and sniffled. “I’m just feeling a little emotional right now.”
How mortifying.
A hand rubbed at his back. “Sorry,he’s having a quarter-life crisis,” he heard Patton explain.
Roman threw up his arms,tear-streaked face be damned. “PATTON! That’s not why I’m crying.”
“It’s okay Ro, it happens to a lotof people. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
“I knew retail work was hell, butgeez,” Virgil commented.
Patton nodded in sympathy. “Hereally wants to be on Broadway someday.”
“Patton,” Roman gasped in admonishment.“You can’t just be telling V— telling people about my silly dreams.”
“Why’s it silly?” Patton asked. “You’reso talented! You’ll make it, I know you will. You’ve just gotta keep trying.”
This could not be happening rightnow. Roman wanted to curl up in the employee’s bathroom and die.
“Broadway, huh?” Virgil asked.
Screw going to the bathroom. Roman coulddie on the spot.
“Ridiculous, huh?” Roman tried tolaugh at himself. If he laughed at himself first, it’d hurt less when everyoneelse did.
Virgil shrugged. “Not really.Someone’s got to do it, right?”
Oh.
No rejection.
Just a practical sense of hope.
Someone’s got to do it, and thatcould be him.
Roman blushed and gazed down at hisfeet. “Thank you . . .”
“No problem. Just uh, feel better Iguess.”
It was clear Virgil found this situationawkward but was trying to be considerate. For that, Roman was extremely grateful.
“Dee! Remus! What are you doing inhere? You know you’re banned!” Patton hollered, moving around the counter. Hehad his stern face on and a broom in hand. The two troublemakers would do wellto run while they still could.
They watched Patton chase Dee andRemus off.
“Does that happen a lot?” Virgilasked Roman.
“Only about every other day.”
Virgil didn’t say anything, soRoman went ahead and finished the transaction.
“Here’s your change,” Roman saidmeekly, handing the correct amount back to him.
“Thanks,” Virgil said, pocketingthe money. He picked up his gummy worms yet hesitated.
“Something else?” Roman wondered.
Virgil scratched the back of hishead. “To be honest, I wanted to get more stuff. But those guys were beingcreepy . . . But they’re gone now, so . . . would it be weird if I went to getmore stuff?”
Roman’s lips twitched up into asmile. “You didn’t judge me, so I’m not going to judge you.”
Virgil smirked. “Thanks.”
___________________________________________
General Tag List: @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie @unring-this-bell @analogicallythinking @lilygold23 @levy-the-b00kw0rm @tacohippy56900 @accio-hufflepuff-power1 @just-another-rainbowblog @georganabanana @grey-says-heck @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @thesynysterunknown @idont-know-what-im-doing @idioticsky @fadingglowcloud @whizzie72 @theinvisiblespoon @greyyy523 @opaque-puppet @just-fic-me-up @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @sos-fandoms @loganeatsbooks @trust-is-overrated @theitalianalchemist @im-crunchie @mourning--star @4amanxiety @hogwarts-my-love @enby-phoenix @justanotherpurplebutterfly @internet-or-sleep @absolutesandersidestrash @seaspider10 @nonasficcollection @satanblessi @an-absolute-failure @analogical-mess @noisyeggpizzapatrol @hamilsandersfam @cefinitely-rolo @thgjclw @knight-shives @no-no-no-no-6 @savingshae @rabbitsartcorner @buddypallady @midnight-tragedyy @007ardra @fandomloverangel @dorkoverse @mirrorz-n-starz @idunnosong
282 notes · View notes
chiseler · 4 years
Text
THE MYSTERY OF SUNN CLASSIC PICTURES
Tumblr media
It was like the positive, life-affirming New Age mysticism of the hippies took a sudden turn for the dark and very strange. In the mid-Seventies, as the country was overwhelmed by a creeping atmosphere of impotent anger, paranoia and existential despair in response to Vietnam, Watergate, race riots, Kent State, the Tate-LaBianca murders, bomb-tossing student radicals, pollution, high-profile assassinations, the oil crisis and the emergence of disco, Americans sought solace in some form by plunging headlong into a collective national obsession with all things Mysterious and Unexplained. Suddenly Bigfoot was all the rage, as was The Loch Ness Monster, The Bermuda Triangle, UFOs, psychic phenomena, near-death experiences, apocalyptic Biblical prophecies, and ancient astronauts. People were desperate to hold onto something, anything, no matter how ridiculous and fanciful, as the whole world seemed to be crumbling and burning around them. If something pointed toward an unseen world, a world outside this stinking mess we were stuck with, or better still promised the complete obliteration of this stinking mess, then at least there was a glimmer of hope. Almost overnight, a cottage industry cropped up, flooding the market with cheap paperbacks, magazines, movies and TV shows—even comic books and board games—devoted to unexplained phenomena of all sorts. Personally I didn’t give a Toss about the state of the world, but I still subscribed to UFO Reporter magazine, had a shelf full of cheap paperbacks with titles like The Search for Bigfoot and From Outer Space, and never missed In Search Of…, the half-hour syndicated series narrated by Leonard Nimoy that  delved into one mystery or another every week. For god sakes, I even had the Bermuda Triangle board game.
Tumblr media
But in what may have been the strangest phenomenon of all, far more bizarre than the legends surrounding Area 51 or the Philadelphia Experiment, in 1971 Schick teamed up with the Church of Latter Day Saints to launch a low-budget movie studio that aimed to become the epicenter of High Strangeness culture.
Yes, a razor blade company and the Mormons decided to make movies together. How could the results be anything but unfathomable?
(It’s worth noting before we get too far that in my research into the history of Sunn Classic Pictures, it became clear the indie studio, which still exists in some vague form today, seems to have gone to some great lengths to fog their early history, never once mentioning the Mormons, and in some cases denying there even was a Sunn Classic Pictures prior to 1980. With only a few  rare exceptions, the reasonably small Sunn Classic catalog, now owned by Paramount, never received any kind of home video release, which only adds to the mystery.)
As the official story goes, in 1971, the employees of Schick—a subsidiary if the pharmaceutical company Warner-Lambert—approached Rayland Jensen and asked him to launch a new movie studio. Appalled by all the filth and violence and sex and cursing that infested American movie screens, as well as the so-called “intellectuals” who thought these movies were “good,” they felt real Americans needed a family-friendly alternative. Those Schick employees concluded Jensen was just the man for the job, as a few years earlier he’d handled distribution for a nature picture released by the Utah-based American National Enterprises. The picture had done very well.
Okay, let me stop there. As I said, that’s the official story, as far as it goes and as little sense as it makes. The real story goes more like this.
In 1971, a renegade group of American National Enterprises employees, led by Jensen and inspired by that same disgust with what American movies had become, broke away to form a new production company to release family-friendly, G-rated pictures. Patrick Frawley, the ultraconservative, paranoid, anti-communist conspiracy theorist who also happen to run the Schick razor blade company invested a bundle in the new venture, ensuring he would have some say in the kinds of movies the new company would release.
With headquarters divided between Salt Lake City and Park City, Utah, the newly-christened Sunn Classic Pictures (aka Sunn international, aka Schick Sunn Classic Pictures) set out to Make family-friendly features and documentaries aimed at working class, conservative, God-fearing Americans who didn’t go out to movies very often, likely because of all the above-mentioned filth and sex and violence and cuss words. Moreover, they wanted to make certain these warm-hearted films turned a healthy profit. This involved two basic techniques.
The first was four-walling, a distribution method American National Enterprises helped pioneer. Instead of spending a fortune on all those prints necessary for a massive nationwide theatrical release, Sunn instead rented theaters serving the target demographic, inundated the market with ads and gimmicks, then screened their new film at the selected theater for no more than a week. After that extremely limited run, they packed up and moved the print to another theater far away. It was a tricky ploy. On the upside four-walling a picture allowed the production company to keep all the box office receipts without having to divide them among various middlemen.
If they knew the film was a stinker, it also allowed them to skip town before the bad reviews could do them any damage. On the downside, those limited runs also meant the picture would be there and gone before any positive word of mouth could work its magic. Sunn would try four-walling a new movie for a few months, and if it was making money, they might consider a nationwide release. If not, then they’d start trying to sell it to TV for syndication. It wasn’t a tack that worked all the time, but often enough to make it worthwhile, and it left them more of an escape route than a national release ever would.
So. “Family friendly.” Yes. If you want to make Disney-style pictures but don’t have Disney-style budgets to work with, animated features are out. So are live action films with any kind of special effects. Basically what you’re left with are nature films, right? No expensive sets, very few actors, and as a result very cheap to make. So Sunn began producing wilderness adventure stories.
Tumblr media
In those very early days, you can definitely smell Patrick Frawley’s hand in the development process. Films like 1971’s Toklat, in which a man is forced to track down and kill a beloved pet bear after the bear kills a local rancher’s livestock, is a prime example. (As it happens, Toklat was the first Sunn picture I ever saw, Green Bay being a conservative working-class town, and so on Sunn’s demographic map. ) There was something decidedly Nietzschean about those earliest releases. Most of them featured lone individualusts with strong principles who flee the corruption of modern civilization to face the harsh realities of nature alone.
Now, think back and ask yourself honestly” what kid in his right mind has ever liked nature films, Nietzschean or otherwise? Maybe Mormon kids did, but certainly not normal kids. Nature movies are dull as dust, all those endless shots of trees and rivers and shit. Even if it’s supposed to be a true adventure story about some historical frontiersman, so what? Where are the explosions and car chases and monkeys doing funny things? You know who liked nature films? Grandparents! Grandparents loved them because they were wholesome and taught valuable lessons. They insisted on dragging their grandkids to them because they didn’t have to worry about being embarrassed or having to define certain words on the trip home.
The handful of films Sunn Classic released in their first three years—most all of them wilderness adventures about solitary manly sorts learning to dominate nature in one way or another—did okay. They didn’t lose money, but they also didn’t become runaway hits.
In 1974, even after several rewrites, no one at Sunn Classic Pictures had high hopes for the next film on the docket, something called The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams. Sure, it was loosely based on an historical figure who again fled the corruption of the modern world to live in the wilderness, befriending a grizzly bear along the way. But the character was not some stalwart and steely-eyed Ubermensch—he was gentle and kind-hearted. What the hell were they going to do with that?
Enter Charles Sellier, and the second technique that would be central to Sunn Classic’s success. Sellier, today considered one of Sunn’s true founders together with Rayland Jensen, was a recently-converted Mormon in his thirties, as well as the author of the 1972 novel upon which Grizzly Adams was based. As Sunn’s new executive producer, he had a different—and eventually hugely influential—approach to marketing films.
Sellier set aside an estimated $85,000 for market research before a new film went into production. This involved targeting the desired demographic with door-to-door and telephone interviews asking housewives and construction workers what kind of movies they would like to see. This also involved screening early rushes from films currently in production for hand-picked test audiences in order to get their reactions and advice. This is, of course, standard operating procedure now, but it was radical back then, and something that mortified directors and screenwriters. In some cases Sellier even had members of the test audience wired to biometric scanners to measure their reactions to the scenes they were being shown, and use those reactions to have a script rewritten more to the test audience liking. If audience pulse rates went up whenever a certain character was on screen, well, they’d build up that role. If a certain animal warmed their hearts, well, maybe they’d make a whole movie about that particular animal.
Sellier’s method of crowd-sourced filmmaking was first tried on The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams, and sure enough, the film, starring former viker movie regular Dan Haggerty, became Sunn’s first bona fide international hit, bringing in over $20 million. The film was such a smash among grandparents it quickly spawned a Sunn-produced TV series, which was also a big hit among grandparents. To date, the Grizzly Adams franchise remains Sunn’s biggest cash cow.
Tumblr media
But something else happened in 1974 that would help make that iconic Sunn Classic logo as familiar and comforting as the Toho, American International, Shaw Brothers and Troma logos. To some of us, anyway.
In 1968, Erich Von Daniken published Chariots of the Gods?, a book which argued, through some mighty suspect and loosely interpreted archaeological evidence, that aliens had visited Earth thousands of years ago, and among other things helped build the Egyptian and Mexican Pyramids, Stonehenge and the statues on Easter island. It was one of the first major hallmarks of the High Strangeness Culture to come.  Originally published in Germany, the book became an International sensation among those with a very high tolerance for pseudoscience, pseudohistory, and bullshit in general..
In 1970, German director Harald Reinl made a documentary based on von Daniken’s book, and it, too, became a big hit across Europe. As sillyassed as the whole thing was, I’d argue the film was even more effective than the book thanks to the visual presentation of all the supposed evidence.
Well, after seeing how much money Chariots of the Gods? Was pulling in overseas, and interested in such topics himself, American TV producer Alan Landsburg acquired the U.S. rights, re-edited the filmn, brought in Rod Serling to narrate, and broadcast it in 1973 as In Search of Ancient Astronauts. It would be the first of a trilogy of TV documentaries about ancient astronauts produced by Landsburg and narrated by Serling.
Noting the ratings that Landsburg doc brought in, as well as that European box office, Sunn obtained the US theatrical rights to In Search of Ancient Astronauts, changed the title back to Chariots of the Gods? And began four-walling it around the country in 1974. It didn’t matter that by that time countless articles and books had completely debunked all of von Daniken’s claims, nor that critics had savaged the film, in some cases even calling it racist for purporting indigenous people in Mexico, Africa an elsewhere could never have created these wonders by themselves. The picture made money. It may not have been Grizzly Adams money, but enough to leave Sellier and Jensen convinced they might be onto something with these documentaries about weird shit. Documentaries were even cheaper to make than nature films, and the demographic they were aiming at seemed eager to believe in monsters and aliens and conspiracies, so there you go. For the next five years, along with the wilderness adventures and wholesome TV adaptations of Huck Finn and Gulliver’s Travels,  Sunn gave the half-wits like me what we wanted.
Tumblr media
In 1975, Sunn picked up the theatrical distrobution rights To The Outer Space Connection, the last of Landsburg’s ancient astronaut trilogy (as well as one of the last things Rod Serling worked on before he died). This final entry argued not only that aliens had visited earth thousands of years ago, but had planted humans here in the first place and had been guiding our evolution ever since. This wasn’t exactly a new idea, and could be traced back, so far as I’m aware, at least to Nigel Kneale’s 1958 BBC miniseries Quatermass and The Pit. But the film, directed by Fred Warshofsky, went several crazy steps beyond Kneale, claiming we know exactly where the aliens came from and why, that the Mayans were themselves aliens, and that these same aliens would return to Earth on Christmas Eve, 2011.
The TV documentaries made enough of a splash for Landsburg that he parlayed them into the above-mentioned weekly In Search Of… series, which began airing in 1977, right around the same time Grizzly Adams hit the airwaves.
Both Chariots of the Gods? And The Outer Space Connection helped cement the template that would define the rest of the Sunn-produced High Strangeness documentaries that would follow, making them so effective on the young, the susceptible, and the merely desperate. The real key, it seems, far beyomd the film’s actual content, was conscripting an authoritative host/narrator who can present the most insane pseudoscientific theories and shaky evidence with a straight face while repeatedly using terms like “indisputable,” “Proven beyond a doubt,” and “scientists agree.”: “It’s an incontrovertible fact these ancient carvings prove alien visitors walked on Earth over five hundred centuries ago.” It was the simplest of carnival sideshow techniques, but one that kept drawing suckers to the theaters.
The same year they released The Outer Space Connection, Sunn also released The Mysterious Monsters, which was less a documentary than a series of vignettes about Bigfoot, the Yeti, and The Loch Ness Monster. Director Robert Guenette had been making what you might call speculative Sunn-style documentaries long before Sunn even existed, so he was in familiar territory. In fact, The Mysterious Monsters includes scenes borrowed from Guenette’s 1974 TV movie, Monsters: Mysteries or Myths?, which coincidentally had been narrated by Rod Serling. The (mostly) new and expanded Sunn production was hosted by Peter Graves, who was as straight-faced as they come. In between shots of Graves and ten other men in cowboy hats wandering the forest on horseback looking for Bigfoot, we get eyewitness accounts from those who claim to have actually seen Bigfoot, Nessie, or the Yeti. Unlike most Bigfoot films of the era (and there were a bunch), The Mysterious Monsters infers a decided fearlessness and hostility on Bigfoot’s part, claiming he not only terrorized innocent victims, but wandered into the suburbs to terrorize them. The recreated Bigfoot encounters here are kind of fun, and in fact the film contains two solid scares, at least if you’re nine. Nessie and the Yeti get short shrift, and those scenes of Graves riding through the forest with that hopeless hunting party are interminable, but the picture was another big hit,arriving at precisely the right time given 1975 was a banner year for Bigfoot cinema. In the end, and where he got his information who the hell knows, Graves announces there is a community of some two hundred Bigfeet living in Northern California, though Graves and the hunting party find none of them.
Another hallmark of Sunn’s documentaries was that most inevitably ended with an outlandish, shocking, unexpected, and wholly unsubstantiated claim. The influence of mondo films—Mondo Cane, Africa ama and the like—on Sunn’s documentaries is undeniable. But while mondo films aimed to shock grindhouse audiences with footage (whether real or created) of bizarre and extreme human behavior, Sunn aimed to leave family audiences womderstruck at the possibilities of a mysterious world of magic and monsters just beyond our perceptions.
Tumblr media
In 1976, Sunn followed up The Mysterious Monsters with The Amazing World of Psychic Phenomena, also directed by Guenette, this time narrated by Raymond Burr. The film is less a cohesive documentary than another shaggy dog series of vignettes exploring extrasensory perception, astral projection, and telekinesis as well as ghosts and spiritualism, featuring an all-star cast of celebrity psychics including Jeanne Dixon and Uri Geller. Not surprisingly, Burr, who doesn’t seem terribly convinced himself, informs us that there is irrefutable scientific evidence that all these powers are absolutely real and for true.
That same year also saw the release of one of Sunn’s more patently ridiculous outings, In Search of Noah’s ARk, a film which, in many ways, proved a turning point. The film was the first to be hosted/narrated by character actor Brad Crandall, who would go on to narrate most of the remaining Sunn Classic documentaries, as well as appearing in a few of their TV shows. It was directed by James L. Conway, who quickly established himself as Sunn’s go-to in-house director, churning out five or six features and TV movies a year.
Apart from turning to mostly in-house staffers to make their films instead of bringing in outside directors and celebrity hosts, In Search of Noah’s ARk also marked the point at which Sunn further fed their demographic by adding a decidedly fundamentalist Christian focus to many of their films, from Noah’s Ark to their TV series Greatest Heroes of the Bible to two documentaries about near-death experiences to 1979’s (and grammar be damned) In search of Historic Jesus.
In business terms it was a savvy move. To this day, films aimed at a fundamentalist audience, especially if they support a strictly literal interpretation of the Bible, can bring in more money than most Hollywood films. They certainly bring in more than most Mormon themed films, and apparently the more patently ridiculous the involved claims, the better.
The supposed “scientists” who lay out the evidence that the remains of Noah’s honest-to-God ark are still sitting up there on top of Mt. Ararat (should anyone care to take a look) aren’t, um, scientists at all. One, a supposed physics professor, argues there’s a mountain of geological evidence proving the world was deluged by an all-consuming flood, um, five thousand years ago. Another claims the ark was first discovered by a Russian expedition sent by Tsar Nicholas II in 1916, but all the reports and evidence were destroyed by dirty communist revolutionaries, um, two days after the expedition returned. It all goes downhill from there, and you have to feel some pity for the poor gullible fools who believed all this nonsense.
I saw nearly all of Sunn’s documentaries in the theater when I was a kid, and now feel sorry for my mom, dad, and older sister, who I suspect drew straws to see who had to take me whenever a new Sunn picture hit town. When I was ten I bought every last nutty claim. Going back and watching them again four decades later, I find myself blurting, “Wait, what?” Aloud after nearly every scene. They do, however, remain fascinating artifacts and a mirror of a certain psychological makeup. They’re also still fun as hell for all their crazy dumbness, if you keep your critical thinking skills at the ready.
Sunn found themselves in the middle of a shitstorm in 1977 with the release of The Lincoln Conspiracy, also directed by Conway. Historians, critics and the media at large attacked the film for presenting as fact a convoluted conspiracy claiming the assassination of President Lincoln was an inside job, closing, as Oliver Stone’s JFK would years later, with a demand the investigation be reopened. Conway would later claim the film was just a silly speculative docudrama based on a couple recent books, but even the authors of the books denounced the film. Still, a little controversy has never been known to hurt the box office.
Over the next few years Sunn continued to release two or three pseudoscientific documentaries  a year, including Beyond and Back, Beyond Death’s Door, and The Bermuda Triangle, the latter of which claimed all those ships and planes vanished after being zapped by a malfunctioning Atlantean particle bean that was lost somewhere on the ocean floor near Bimini. Bimini? Well, I gotta say, as explanations go, it makes about as much sense as any other.
A personal favorite from the late Sunn era for its sheer nihilistic simplicity was 1979’s Encounter With Disaster, this time directed by Charles Sellier himself. Using his patented market research techniques, he brought a test audience into a theater and showed them dozens of newsreel clips of fires, earthquakes, The Hindenberg, race car crashes and the like, measuring responses to see which were considered the most exciting. He then strung all the most popular disaster footage together and released it as a feature.
Encounter With Disaster was perhaps the one true mondo film Sunn released during their brief heyday, and a definite anomaly. Toward the end, instead of documentary footage, talking heads and manipulative narration, films like The Bermuda Triangle, Beyond Death’s Door and In Search of Historic Jesus cane to rely more on speculative recreations with actors, sets and scripted dialogue. Although a narrator does pop up occasionally to say, in essence, “Yup, this really, really happened!,” the films come off more like splintered docudramas than documentaries, which somehow makes their assorted theses seem even less plausible.
It’s worth pointing out here that In Search of Historic Jesus, as delightfully awful as it is, does, without saying as much, offer a clear case study of the effect Sellier’s marketing machinations could have on a film.
Directed by Sunn’s in-house cinematographer Henning Schellerup (who prior to Sunn had worked on everything from softcore porn to Corman productions) and again narrated by Brad Crandall, Historic Jesus clearly began life as a documentary aiming to present all the independent historical evidence proving the Biblical account of Jesus’ life was accurate. Given there was precious little of that to be found, it became a documentary about the Shroud of Turin. Given there wasn’t really ninety minutes worth of material about the Shroud of Turin, they shot an interview with a fake scientist offering some, um, plausible scientific explanations for the Star of Bethlehem, then plundered some footage from the Noah’s Ark movie (though oddly the data offered in the latter somehow changed between 1976 and 1979). All this left them with a film that was about twenty minutes long.
The film was saved when Sellier gathered a test audience of fundamentalist Christians. After showing them a few scenes, he quickly learned they didn’t need any scientific or historical proof that Jesus really existed. They just wanted to hear more Jesus stories.
Taking their advice, the bulk of the film became a  string of recreations of Jesus’ Greatest Hits acted out by amateur actors playing Jesus, Mary, Herid, Pontius Pilate and assorted disciples. No effort whatsoever is made to prove these recreated scenes actually happened. So instead of a pseudoscientific, pseudohistorical account of the, um, historical figure known as Jesus of Nazareth, it became another Sunday School-ready Jesus movie, all primed and ready to be rented to church groups across the country. In short, then, calling the film In Search of Historic Jesus actually makes sense.
By 1979, Sunn’s documentaries seemed to be running out of gas. They were still turning a profit (especially that Historic Jesus thing), but the profits weren’t what they once were, and the films were costing more to make. Also, other production houses had picked up on the Sunn Classic formula and began releasing High Strangeness docs of their own. In 1978, for instance, Amran Films and RCR released The Late Great Planet Earth, based on “Biblical scholar” Hal Lindsey’s massive bestseller which claimed all the prophecies in the Book of Revelation were coming true, and the long-promised Apocalypse would arrive any day now. If I remember correctly, the world was supposed to end in 1986. The film was hosted and narrated by Orson Wells, who had once been asked to narrate a Sunn film, but was so horrified by their marketing practices he turned down the job.
(A few years later in 1981, Welles would also narrate a documentary about Nostradamus’ prophecies, which was directed, coincidentally enough, by Sunn Classic alumnus Robert Guenette. Just to illustrate how influential Sunn’s experiment had been, The Man Who Saw Tomorrow was distributed by goddamn WARNER BROTHERS, of all places.)
What struck the real death knell to Sunn’s hugely successful string of pseudoscientific and pseudo historical extravaganzas was a changing culture. We were own the brink of Morning in America and the Reagan Era. Interest in silly monsters and psychic phenomena was waning as everyone put the ’70s behind them, focusing instead on the stock market, the threat of nuclear war, cocaine, designer clothes and other tangible real world issues.
Tumblr media
Charles Sellier
In 1980 Sunn Classic Pictures was bought out by Taft Enterprises, a Cincinnatti-based conglomerate.  The suits in Taft’s entertainment division had a few ideas of their own about what American moviegoers wanted. When they correctly saw that the days of four-walling were about over as the business ties between the major studios and national theater Chains grew stronger, Charles Sellier walked away to continue writing, producing, directing and marketing films on his own terms. In 1984 he directed the notorious holiday slasher film, Silent Night, Deadly Night, a picture remembered more for its ad campaign than anything in the picture itself. Sellier also later converted from Mormonism to evangelical Christianity.
When Taft likewise decided family friendly entertainment was a dead end, that the market for G-rated wilderness adventures simply wasn’t there anymore, that a film had to be rated PG or R if it hoped to make any money, Jensen and a few other original American National Enterprises refugees quit in disgust, and once again formed their own production company to offer honest American families wholesome entertainment options. Their first film was 1981’s Private Lessons, a teen sex comedy starring Sylvia Kristel. It made a lot of money.
Director James Conway stayed with Taft for awhile, helming several pictures, including the monster movie The Boogens . Interestingly, the very first Taft/Sunn release, perhaps formulated to attract Sunn’s core audience, was the Conway-directed Hangar 18, starring Darren McGavin, Robert Vaughn and Gary Collins. It was the perfect transitional picture, a sci-fi conspiracy thriller loosely based on what might well have been the subject of the next Sunn Classic documentary: Roswell and Area 51. Conway later went on to become an executive at Spelling Entertainment, overseeing a mountain of wildly successful crap.
Over the subsequent decades there were more sales and acquisitions, with the various companies overseeing the Sunn Classic brand themselves being gobbled up by even larger faceless corporate entities. Sunn vanished, then reappeared, then vanished again. Today there are vague, mysterious hints that Sunn Classics Pictures has been re-launched after Rayland Jensen teamed up with Lang Elliott, original founder of Tri-Star Pictures. But if Sunn really has risen from the grave, would it matter?
For good or ill, over the course of that five-year stretch between 1974 and 1979, Sunn Classic Pictures illuminated one strange facet of a very strange era, warped millions of impressionable minds (like mine), fully capitalized on a nation’s despair and collective neuroses, and left an indelible mark on the culture. Take even a cursory glance at what’s airing on the History and Discovery Channels, or at how the marketing departments of any movie studio large or small operates today. They simply wouldn’t be what they are In the second decade of the twenty-first century had it not been for Sunn Classic Pictures., and fore that we can thank the Mormons, a right-wing kook, and Bigfoot.
by Jim Knipfel
2 notes · View notes
Text
All Eyes on You
Maybe it could have been a regular weekend for me, but there’s no way for me to tell if I was the one who screwed everything up. I was a bit hungover from the night before, so my head weighed a ton and every source of bright light made me cringe in pain—whether it was the fluorescent neon tubes overhead or the daylight streaming in through the store’s front windows.
Every single beep of the cashier running items over the scanner at checkout was like a tiny knife being stuck into my skull, over and over and over again, even though I was fairly far away from it, browsing the unnecessary amount of different brands of laundry detergent.
I grabbed some random one that had nice soft colors and chucked it into my shopping cart. It caused the whole thing to shake and rattle and a person pushing past me gave me a dirty look.
Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t have wasted any thought on this, but today was different. Now, everything was different. Now, as I looked up, and past that guy shooting me the disparaging glance, I realized that everybody in the store was looking at me.
“Feeling watched” would have been the understatement of the century.
It was so weird and jarring that I forgot about the effects of my hangover for the next few minutes. In part because my heart was racing, in part because my mind was going wild with conspiracy theories and rampant paranoia.
Although I pretended to not care or not notice, I could tell that everybody in the store was looking at me at one point or the other. Normally, I would have chalked this up to something silly, like one of my friends having written something on my forehead with a magic marker while I was passed out.
But with what had happened the night before, I knew better. I knew something was wrong. Horribly wrong.
It didn’t help that some of these people would pretend to not be looking at me, either—furtive glances, eyes quickly darting down to study a shopping list on their phone, or to act like they were looking over grocery items on the shelves. Anything to avoid eye contact with me.
I know what you’re thinking. Just allow me to dial back and explain before you make up your mind.
The night before, I was feeling pretty depressed. I was still pretty new in this town and knew nobody around there. Just some backwater town in the middle of nowhere. The rent on the apartment I had found there was cheap, and the commute to my workplace only an hour which was a vast improvement over my last home.
So I grabbed some beers, drove up to a lonesome little picnic area on the forest’s edge that I had seen on the first day I had visited town when I went to go scout out the apartment a few months ago, and decided to chill out there and watch the sunset after a tedious Friday at work.
The whole day had dragged on at a snail’s pace and I just wanted to unwind and not stare at any screens for a few hours.
I sat there, nursing my first beer, sitting on top of the backrest of the bench like a rebel, when I spotted a mansion near the forest’s edge. I mean, I had seen it before when I first took a drive through this town, but it was only now that I noticed a few funny details about it. And when I say “funny,” I don’t mean the amusing sort.
It had a large red brick wall encircling the entire yard—and that place was as big as a football field. The large mansion matched that appearance, also featuring red bricks and sandstone and wood in its construction, and a lot of unusual details like a tower built into the corner of it. Everything was overgrown with lush green ivy, and there were some nice-looking trees on the property.
So far, so idyllic.
The weird part were the men in green camo clothing, carrying what I think were assault rifles. They patrolled around the inside of the walls, so it was no wonder I hadn’t seen them when I drove through town earlier that year, but being up on the hill at the forest’s edge gave me some elevation and allowed me to see over the walls somewhat.
They were all pretty big-looking dudes. I pegged them for soldiers or something like that—though my imagination wandered to this being a mafioso’s estate and these guys being some well-armed thugs.
It would make sense for some gangster boss to be living well out on the countryside where everything’s nice and quiet, right?
I downed two whole beers and while I had been trying to distract myself with unpacking everything that had happened over the course of the week—both at work and in my personal life—my curiosity got the best of me.
I had to know what the hell this mansion was.
With a simple plan in mind, I packed up everything, and drove back down from the picnic site, now taking a detour so I could casually roll past the mansion. A large steel gate obscured any way of seeing into the mansion’s premises, which was frustrating. In my mind’s eye, I had expected one of those metal fence gates that you can see through, but this one was just a solid surface instead.
Tossing out my original plan, I parked my car across the road by the grass, got out, and walked over. You may be thinking that I was crazy, and I can assure you I am. I was always a bit of a tomboy growing up, and I possessed a fearlessness that got me into trouble every now and then—and because I always got away with playing dumb or innocent, I always got away with my shenanigans and I never learned. Not until this day.
I pressed a button by the gate that I figured to be a buzzer and waited.
Within seconds, a small metal slot opened on the gate, from which a man wearing sunglasses peered through, and it was so sudden and swift in response to my pressing that button that I nearly choked in surprise.
“Yes?” asked the man behind the gate.
“Uh, I was, uh, I was,” I started stammering until my wit finally kicked in. “I was up at the picnic site up here to relax and I had no reception on my phone whatsoever, but I need to make an important call. I figured I could ask here if I could use your land line, or something?”
I slung out my phone and waved it around like a magic wand while flashing this man a dumb smile and shrugging. He looked over his shoulder as if he was responding to someone behind him, but he didn’t say a word. I think he looked up at the picnic site and I could feel the blood draining from my face. Because he turned, though, I saw a weird tattoo on his neck: just a single eye.
Not like I know anything about ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, but if I had to describe it, that’s what it reminded me of. No fancy elaborate details, just a simple eye. Wide open.
His head turned back with a painful slowness. I could sense the gears churning behind his forehead.
“My phone’s got reception just fine,” said the man. “Here, you can borrow mine.”
I guessed my charm had worked its magic. He held out his phone through the small slot, offering it to me.
Realizing way too late that all of this was a terrible idea, I glanced at my phone and flicked its display on, then chuckled—way too nervously, I presume, “Hey, look at that! I got a bar back. Maybe it was just up at the woods that was not working out for me. Thanks, though.”
The guard slowly withdrew his phone and even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could have sworn he was glaring at me. I smiled back at him, hoping to disarm any ill will, and started getting really scared about this being some sort of gangster hideout.
“Have a nice day,” he said. But it sounded more like a threat.
He shut the slot with lightning speed and I turned to leave, holding up my phone and pretending to make a call. I yapped away into the void of the non-existent phone call, cringing at my pathetic attempt at emulating a one-sided conversation and the resulting blandness, until I had gotten into my car and slammed the door shut behind me.
My palms were sweaty and cold when they clasped the steering wheel and stick, and I drove away. I was pretty rattled for the rest of the evening although I got back home without any further incident. On the whole ride home, I kept looking into my rear-view mirror to see if I was being followed. And in my paranoia, I thought that some people on sidewalks were shooting me looks, but I dismissed it at the time.
Back at home, I drank the rest of my beers and distracted myself with lousy TV shows until fell asleep.
Then I woke up the next morning, sporting the splitting headache, and decided that things couldn’t be so bad. Because, hey, when it feels like gremlins are pounding the inside of your skull with a jackhammer and your brain’s a funny soup, a lot of worries stop existing. With that state of mind, I went to do my grocery shopping for the week.
And now—this. Everybody watching me. In the confines of my own head, I was calling myself names and cursing myself out for being such a paranoid idiot. There was no reason to be afraid.
But my heart wouldn’t stop racing. Even outside, as I put my groceries in the trunk, I knew that even the people driving in and out of the small parking lot were looking at me.
Watching me.
Worse: I saw that tattoo again. On someone’s forearm. Some lady returning an empty shopping cart to the storefront. She never looked at me directly, but with my back turned to her, I had felt a burning gaze transfixed upon me.
What the hell was this? As an avid reader of strange fiction and horror movie enthusiast, I immediately thought they had to be some sort of cult. What if this entire town was run by a cult? Stranger things have happened.
This was all so surreal. I felt very small and like I was just a passenger in my own body. Everything tingled. My fingers felt numb.
I drove home and shut myself in for the rest of the weekend. I tried to distract myself with TV and video games and even talking to a friend who lived halfway across the country, but nothing helped. I couldn’t help it. I kept thinking that this entire town was crazy and that I was being watched now. I even started getting paranoid if they could tap into my phone or hack my computer, so I avoided telling my friend about anything I had witnessed here.
Just shot the breeze about how life had been for her lately, and put up a good show in pretending that everything was normal on my end.
Come Monday morning, I snuck out of my home and got into my car. Paranoia got the better of me again, so I started checking my ride quite thoroughly, not caring if I would be late for work that day. I had watched too many stupid shows to not think that someone might have tampered with my car. I checked to see if the brakes were working, if there were any bugs, pawing underneath my seats for foreign objects, you name it.
I’m not any sort of professional and if anything was there, I probably missed it. But hey—I tried. Still, I found nothing.
After wasting half an hour on this exercise in futility, I drove off. I never felt so exhilarated to go to work as that day. Because work, for the first time, felt like an escape from something worse. It also felt like an escape from my own head, because I was questioning my own sanity. Surely, the whole town couldn’t be in a cult, right?
I cranked up the music on my radio and sang along to a song I normally hated. And I felt good. For a short while, at least.
It stopped when I drove down the road I usually take to leave town to go to work. A nice narrow road meandering through the wooded area, just like the ones you see in horror flicks.
There was a roadblock in the way once I rounded a curve, with a small jam of cars lined up in front of it. Two police cars obstructed the path and there were some officers standing beside them, one of them talking to the driver in the car at the front of the line. My heart sank, plummeting right into my gut region. I could feel my belly pulsing with my accelerated, anxious heartbeat.
I wonder—does everybody get as nervous as I do whenever I see cops nearby? It’s not like I’d ever done anything wrong, but it had always made me nervous. Even under normal circumstances. Even before this weekend.
But today was different. The events of this weekend had multiplied my paranoia—they had mutated it. If this whole town was run by some weird cult, what if the cops were in on it? What if they were looking for me?
Right when one of the cars was let past the roadblock and drove off, I panicked. I steered out of line and made a U-turn, swerving back onto the road with screeching tires and driving off. It took me a few moments to realize in retrospect that this made me grind my teeth and may have been a stupid move, but I started speeding up and driving away.
The trembling started when I saw a cop car show up behind me, half a minute later. They let the siren wail at me for a split second to grab my attention, and used their blinker to signal me to pull over.
With growing dread, I planned to play along, but step on the gas if things went south.
Even with all the adrenaline rushing through my body, and my attempts to stop my trembling by gripping the steering wheel way harder than natural, I gently steered the car as best I could, driving it onto the roadside and letting it roll to a stop. But I kept the engine running.
A police officer emerged from the car behind me and approached. His hand was resting on the gun at his hip and I wondered if my running motor had anything to do with that.
Or because of this damned cult. Or whatever the hell was going on here.
I rolled down my window once he had arrived there and he looked me up and down. My resolve crumpled and I cut the engine as a token of good will.
“License and registration, please?” asked the police officer in a gravelly voice.
His whole posture was rigid, like a statue—his body language tense. So was I.
Remembering what can go wrong in such an encounter, I carefully leaned over to retrieve the documents from my purse and hand them over. I could feel him watching me all the while, and for the first time in days, I felt like someone watching me was the appropriate action, given the circumstances.
I handed the cop my license and papers and he looked them over, his hand now finally away from the gun, and taking off some of the edge. He studied my face after inspecting my ID.
Then he handed back everything.
“Pardon the interruption, ma'am. Have a nice day,” he told me, and swiveled.
Right when he was walking away was when I saw the tattoo on his neck. The eye—staring at me. Almost as if the damned tattoo itself was watching me.
I never believed in the supernatural or UFOs or any such bunk. But my paranoia was really taking me for a ride now, and I questioned everything I believed in.
When I revved up my engine again and drove off, I still felt the officer’s eyes on me.
Anyway, now you know. That’s how—and why—one day, I bounced from that awful little town, leaving all my belongings behind. How I drove halfway across the states, and started a new life after changing my name.
I’d tell you the town’s name so you can avoid it, but I keep seeing that tattoo in my nightmares. In some of them, it’s like people have an extra eye on their body where there shouldn’t be one, in place of that tattoo. Like the skin breaks open and some bloodshot, weird eye stares at me. Always the same eye.
I still feel watched out in public sometimes. Hell, sometimes I even feel like someone’s watching me at home. I know I should talk to a therapist about this, but I’m afraid they won’t believe me. Or worse.
I got an anonymous call from someone telling me not to talk about what I had seen, but I had to get this off my chest, and maybe nothing bad will happen if I don’t tell you where this was.
—Submitted by Wratts
3 notes · View notes
lilulo-12fanfiction · 4 years
Text
Wonder of You- 7
Goodbye To You
This one was kind of a struggle. I wasn't sure where and when to end the chapter. Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated
Requests & Tag List also open!
Masterlist
Tag list: @deans-baby-momma @fandom-princess-forevermore @magssteenkamp @blancastans @jn-wolf​
Tumblr media
They had been back on the road for about a week now, with no idea where John Winchester actually was. He wouldn't return calls and they had no hints as to where he had headed. Sam had been insistent that they find another case until they got a lead on John's whereabouts. Blake had pleaded that they just keep looking, but even Dean had to agree with Sam. They were chasing a shadow I and they needed to do something. They needed to keep busy and keep moving. Blake finally relented and that was how she found herself freezing inside of a Colorado motel room. The warm weather had quickly taken a downturn, being in Colorado hadn't helped.
She had traded her shorts for jeans and boots. Sam had suggested she trade in her one shouldered tops for "full shirts" and pants that covered all of her legs instead of the distressed ones she wore so frequently, which only furthered her irritation. They hadn't stopped in Sioux Falls so she could grab different clothing. She was on edge and overly anxious. She continually dreamt of the locked room and herself and young Dean. It made her heart ache to think of all the other memories of him that she had forgotten. Blake needed answers. She didn't want to be in Colorado, she knew she was being bratty about it, but she was desperate to find out what John Winchester knew, what he was keeping from her. She had thought about sneaking off in the middle of the night and going to look for him on her own, but she couldn't do that to Dean.
Dean...he had been amazing since their time in Ocean City. He was the only thing abating her horrendous mood. If it was possible, he was more attentive than before. He always had a hand on her if she was near. He even forced Sam to sit in the back seat so she could sit with him, though Sam was happy to. He was thrilled that things seemed to be moving in the right direction for Blake and Dean. As mad as she was at Sam for pushing them to take this job, she couldn't help but appreciate how happy he was for the two of them. She knew things were hard for him after Jess died. He had spotted a tiny dark spot towards behind her ear that Dean had left that she didn't notice...and though he teased her relentlessly about it when Dean wasn't around, the grin on his face made it okay.
She felt the tip of Dean's nose cross back and forth on the expose sink from her neck to the tip of her shoulder and then felt him plant a kiss near her back. She shivered and goose bumps popped up all over her skin. "Here sweetheart." She felt Dean drape one of his canvas jackets over her shoulders. She turned to see a grin on his face. "Can't have you catching a cold."
"Again- if she'd just buy real clothes..." Sam started to needle her again but cut himself off when Dean gave him a look. “Sorry. We can stop in Sioux Falls after this. Recharge, get your stuff and then find Dad.” Blake gave Sam a half smile and then rolled his eyes at Dean as he buried his face into Blake’s neck. She flipped Sam off.
“Come on, let’s go to this Elkin’s place and see what’s what.” Blake felt Dean slip the keys to the Impala into her hand. Both Sam and Blake scrunched their foreheads. “What are you doing?”
“You’re driving the getaway car. If he was a hunter God only knows what we’re walking into, we might need to make a quick get away.” Dean shrugged and headed out of the motel room.
“Well, I guess sleeping with him has perks.” Sam grinned at her and then doubled over when her fist flew into his stomach. She glared at him as she walked by him to go out to the car.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Blake nervously tapped on the steering wheel as the boys went into the Post Office. She thought she saw someone outside at the cabin but she chalked it up to paranoia. Then again, maybe she was paranoid for a reason. She let out a breath of relief when she saw the two of them heading out back to the car, envelope in hand. Blake impatiently waited for them to get settled back in the car.
“Well? What is it?” Dean handed her the letter and her eyes bore into the initials.
“J.W.' You think? John Winchester?” Sam finally spoke up.
“I don't know. Should we open it?” Blake cried out in surprise when there was a banging on the window. Dean, ready as always to defend them stopped when he saw John Winchester’s grinning face. Blake could feel her blood bubbling beneath the surface. John opened the back spot and climbed in behind Dean. Sam was the first one to speak again.
“Dad what are you doing here? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I'm ok. I read the news about Daniel, I got here as fast as I could. I saw you two at his place.” Blake felt better that she wasn’t loosing her mind.
“Why didn’t you go in?” She finally demanded.
John gave her a pointed look. “You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren't followed...by anyone or anything. Nice job covering your tracks by the way.”
Blake watched as Dean puffed his chest out with pride and rolled her eyes at his response.
“Yeah, well, we learned from the best.”
“Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam was confused. For him being on the run, it seemed risky.
“Yeah. He was...he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting.” Blake could see a look of hurt in Sam’s eyes.
“Well you never mentioned him to us.” Apparently there was a lot John had kept to himself.
“We had a...we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years. I should look at that.” He took the envelope from Blake and opened it, reading a portion out loud. ‘If you're reading this, I'm already dead'...that son of a bitch.” Blake and Dean looked to each other for answers but had none and waited for John to elaborate. “He had it the whole time. When you searched the place, did you see a gun. An old revolver, an antique, did you see it”
Dean shook his head. “There was an old case but it was empty.”
John clenched his jaw. “They have it”
Blake had no idea what John was talking about or who. She was growing irritated and ready to rip into him about her mother. Dean’s grip on her thigh helped quell the urge. Dean looked to John again. “You mean whatever killed Elkins?”
John started to climb out of the car before he looked to the three of them. “We gotta pick up the trail.”
Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Wait. You want us to come with you?”
John nodded his head at Sam. “If Elkins was telling the truth we gotta find this gun.”
“The gun, why?” John wasn’t making any sense to any of them. Sam was the only one willing to question him.
“Because it's important Sammy, that's why.”
Sam ran his hand down his face and continued to push. back. “Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet.”
“They were what Daniel Elkins killed best, Vampires.”
Blake and Dean gaped at each other. “Vampires? I thought there was no such thing.” Dean finally said.
“In all of these years, you never even mentioned them” Blake scoffed. John looked over at her and noticed her change in demeanor towards him and he swallowed hard before answering her.
“I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped them out. I was wrong. Most of the lore is crap. A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late. C’mon. Let’s get back to your motel. We’ll talk more then. Blake, sweetheart, you want to ride with me?”
“Nope. Good where I am. See you back there.” She ignored the look of hurt in his eyes. She was pissed at him. It took all of her self control to not rip into him. She wouldn’t be able to do that alone in the car with him. The three the Impala into drive and headed back to their motel. Neither Sam or Dean had the guts to say anything to her on the drive back.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Blake was sitting on the couch in the motel room, her knees drawn to her chest. She had been uncharacteristically quiet. Dean had begged her to wait until they took care of the Vampires before she started in on John, so she was trying.
Dean and Sam were asleep. It was painfully awkward between her and John. She couldn’t sleep and she knew that if she opened her mouth she’d be breaking her promise to Dean, but she could feel John’s eyes on her. He had the scanner in his hand trying to get a lead on the vamps, but his eyes were burning a hole in the back of her head.
“So...you and Dean?” John’s voice finally rang out. Blake looked over her shoulder at John and gave him a half smile. “I’m glad. God...he’s been in love with you for as long as I can remember.” Screw her promise.
“And how far back does your memory go?” Blake brought her knees down and turned to face him.
“I don’t understand the question.” Blake scoffed.
“Well let me lay it out for you then. See, Dean swears the first time he laid eyes on me was when you brought me home with you, the night my parents died. I believed the same thing....until I started having memories come back. Of Dean
and I were much younger than the day my parents died. And I’ve been having all of these terrible dreams of my dead mother telling me I have to find something to save him. I’m assuming the him is Dean. But it could be Sam. I don’t know. But what I do know is that someone made me forget my best friend. The person I loved most. And I know you know why. And I know you’re hiding something. And I really just want you to tell me the truth. For once I just want the damn truth.” John ran his hand down his face as Blake’s stomach did summersaults. She expected him to be angry, to deny that he had been lying, but he didn’t. She watched him opening his mouth, trying to find the words that he wanted to tell her, but then the radio went off.
“Unit 22 let me confirm. Mile marker 41,abandoned car. You need a workup?....... Copy that. Possible 207. Better get forensics out here.”
“We’re going to have to finish this conversation later baby doll. I promise I’ll tell you everything.” Blake let out a sigh in exasperation. “Sam...Dean!
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Blake’s patience was waning. They had killed the vamps and gotten the Colt and John was tight lipped. Blake slammed her hands down on the table and stood up.
“Bee...what’s the matter.” Her arms were crossed, her hip jutted out to the side.
“I’m not making a move to find the Yellow Eyed Demon until you tell me the truth.”
“Blake...c’mon, now isn’t the time.” Dean tried to get her to stand down, Sam could tell by the look in her eyes she wasn’t backing down.
“No, now is the exact time. Going after this Demon...we all might not walk away from it. I need to know the truth. I need you to tell me the truth.” Her voice was shaking. She shook the hand Dean put on her shoulder away.
“She’s right.” John’s hand ran down the front of his face and he sat down. “Truth is...I’ve been dreading this day. I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to tell you. I should have known your mother would find a way where I would have to. Cecile was, well she was exactly like you. Smart, fierce and she didn’t stand down from what she wanted. Your parents were helping me try to find this demon. Your father was a hunter, that was true. But your mother was something more.”
“The room Dean and I broke into, her office...that really happened?”
“Yes. Your mother was a witch. Not like the witches we hunt.” He said it like a run on sentence. He didn’t know who looked more horrified Blake or Dean. “Your mother was born with magic. It was natural. It was in her blood like it is yours. The witches we hunt get their powers from Demons. In your case, when you become of age, I think it’s 18, there is a ritual that is performed for you to come into your powers. But your mother died when you were 10. So...I didn’t think it would matter if you knew. But she clearly wants you to.” Dean put his arm around Blake’s waist to steady her. The color has drained from her face.
“Why...why did she mess with my memories? Our memories?” Blake blinked away a few tears.
“She was tracking the Demon. She was afraid if you knew anything that it would make you a target. You and Dean broke into that room and you became obsessed . We decided it was better for you to forget. She thought that if you didn’t forget everything, including me, Dean and Sammy that she wouldn’t be able to remove the memory.
She wanted to keep you safe. Your father and I fought her on it but she insisted. When she died...while you were getting your things I packed her grimoire and her spell books. They’re hidden at Bobby’s. He doesn’t know. He just knows the books are important. If you decide that you want to do the ritual...get your powers, we will have to find another natural witch to do the ritual. I’ll help you find one. I just have to find this demon. We are SO close Blake. I promise you we will do whatever you want to do. Can you focus on this for me?” Blake was sitting on the end of one of the beds.
“So you decided to keep it from me since my mother was dead. Why wouldn’t you tell me? What gave you the right to keep it from me?” Dean had expected her to rage. Her voice was quiet. That made him more worried.
“The more time went on, the easier it was to just not say anything. I’ve been so obsessed with finding this demon...and then you started to go off and live this normal life. I wanted you to have that...I know your mother wanted you to have something that was normal. It’s not an excuse. I should have told you.”
“It’s not because you thought you’d have to kill me like any other witch? Natural or not...still a witch.” John knelt down in front of Blake and took her hands.
”Listen to me...your mother was one of the best people I ever knew. You are exactly like her. Your mother taught me that things aren't always black and white. Most of the time they are...but she was the exception to the rule, so are you. You hear me? That had nothing to do with it.” Blake nodded her head and wiped her tears.
”We’ll deal with this after?”
”Blake, you have my word.” she nodded her head.
”She wants me to get my magic, so I have to.”
“We will.”
“Okay...let’s get to work then.”
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Blake was sitting beside Dean in the Impala on the way to Salvation, Idaho to hopefully catch the Yellow Eyes Demon. Blake felt numb. Did she really want to be a witch? It clearly had gotten her mother killed. But maybe it could help them. Her mother clearly knew something was coming and knew she would need it. Would the nightmares stop once she completed the ritual? What if she didn’t? Would her mother give up if she knew Blake knew the truth but didn’t want it?
“So are we going to pretend that didn’t happen?” Dean finally spoke. The car had been painfully quiet.”
“Dean...” Sam scolded him.
“Dean...I don’t even know what to say. I don’t know what to think or what to do. I mean...we kill things like me.”
“Blake. Stop it. You heard what he said. If my father can be convinced that your mother was different, then it’s the truth. And even if he didn’t, I know you, and I know how amazing you are. Whatever you decide...I’m with you, okay? No matter what.” Blake took his hand and squeezed it. She felt like her whole world had been flipped upside down...but as always, Dean was the steady in her storm. She felt Sam’s hand on her shoulder.
“He’s right Bee. Look at my visions. They don’t make me a monster. Your mother clearly wasn’t a monster. It’ll be okay. We’re with you, no matter what you decide. Blake nodded her head.
“Let’s just worry about this yellow eyed douche bag. John is right, we can tackle this next. But seriously...I love you both so much. You have no idea.”
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Searing pain and hot white lights was all that Blake knew. Everything hurt. She had never known pain like this. She felt the panic rising in her chest. Where was she? What the hell happened? She heard a consistent beeping that slowly brought her to consciousness. As she slowly opened her eyes she saw the white walls of the hospital. She tried to move and was struck with searing pain throughout her whole body.
“Hey, hey, don't try to move” Sam’s frantic voice matched the frantic look in his eyes. ”We were in a nasty accident.”
”What happened?” Blake's voice was barely a whisper. She felt like she had swallowed glass.
”Demon took over the body of a trucker and crashed into us.” Blake nodded. Blake smiled when she saw Dean walk in and it quickly faded from her face when she saw the look in his eyes.
”How long have I been out?”
”Just a few days. You took a piece of glass to the gut and lost a lot of blood. That’s why you can’t sit up so well, the stitches. You have a few broken ribs and a lot of bruising but other than the abdominal wound you were pretty lucky. It could have been a lot worse.”
“What aren’t you telling me? Where’s John?” Sam couldn’t tell her. Him looking away from her was all she needed to know. Dean sat down next to her and took her hand as she cried. Sam had to leave the room. Dean ran his fingers through her hair and told her about his miraculous recovery and out of body experience. Blake barely registered what he was saying to her.
Dean wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“I know baby. I know. We’ll get through this.” Dean didn’t know if he was crying because of Blake’s sobs or his own feelings. He knew in his gut that his father traded his life for Dean’s. Blake would eventually figure it out too. She would resent Dean and the loss of a second father. He didn’t understand why Dean was healed but Blake was suffering still. Maybe John could only pick one and he knew Blake would pull through. Dean wished John had told him more. He was supposed to protect Blake if she decided to embrace her witch heritage. He was supposed to take care of her and Sammy...and apparently take Sam out if need be. He felt helpless, so he did the only thing he could do. He held Blake and told her everything would be okay, even if he didn’t believe it himself.
5 notes · View notes
clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 years
Note
I just saw on your blog the Drake meme and I thought, if that aint me... so I was wondering if you could write a angst with a happy ending (with daniel)? like something regarding his anger issues and how hes trying to manage his emotions (like hes breaking stuff at the house or he lashes out in front of you) just crying and conforting and cuddling my poor boi pls
Yeah that is VERY relatable since it’s tough for me to write pure angst (unless we’re talking about Machine!Connor).
But I’ve been meaning to write something about Daniel’s temper issues. So here ya go~
“Where were you?”
The moment you closed the door was the moment you heard those three words, full of nothing more than anger and paranoia. You looked back to see Daniel glowering at you, arms crossed and his LED spinning red.
Of course, you know how he sometimes gets whenever you leave him home alone. But it wasn’t even noon yet and he was already in a bad mood for some reason.
“Glad to see you, too,” you mumbled under your breath, taking off your shoes. “I just went to the coffee shop to get my fix-”
“I saw you and Connor out on the driveway.”
You shot him a look, annoyed that he interrupted you. However, you knew better than to get angry at him, so you sighed softly and took a swig of your hot drink. “We just said “hey” to each other and hugged. I haven’t seen him since the uprising, you know.”
“Maybe it should’ve stayed that way,” Daniel growled in response, before he turned and stormed into the kitchen.
With a frown, you followed, setting your coffee down on the counter. “Daniel. I know you both have an unpleasant history. But you gotta understand that it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t tell the snipers to-”
“I don’t wanna hear it right now!!” He spun back around to face you, clenching his fists. “He promised me I wouldn’t be hurt!! HE MADE A PROMISE AND HE LIED TO ME!!” Then he violently shoved a chair to the floor, and you cringed at the loud clattering noise it made. “A LIAR IS ALL HE IS!”
You put your hands up and slowly backed off as he advanced towards you, eventually cornering you. His grayish blue eyes turned to ice, and for a few moments you were scared he was going to lash out at you next.
Even now he was still trying to get use to all of these emotions that surged through his systems: anger, frustration, loss, confusion, sadness, heartache, discontent…it was a lot for him to handle. And all too often it triggered violent outbursts of rage.
Fortunately he never resorted to using anything as a weapon to attack you with. But to see him seething with rage and being left with nowhere to run was still a terrifying ordeal.
“I-I’m sorry for bringing that up..okay?” You told him softly, your voice quaking a little. “I didn’t think..m-me just catching up with him would upset you this much. If you don’t want me hanging out with him anymore that’s fine.”
For a few seconds longer the PL600 just stared at you. But after taking in your slightly panic-striken features, he blinked, his furious expression dissolving into a remorseful one as he realized what he was doing.
“O-Oh no..no.” He backed away, putting his hands to his head, before he looked at the chair and went over to shakily set it back upright. His scanners quickly assessed the damage, although he was grateful to see there was none.
“Daniel..”
Feeling your hand on his shoulder, he glanced back at you, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I’m s-sorry, [y/n]. I…I-I don’t wanna stop you f-from hanging out with him..I-I just…I can’t-”
“Shh..let’s go sit down, alright? I know how to help you feel better.” You said, taking him to the living room where you both sat down on the couch. Then you turned to him and placed a hand on his cheek, gently brushing your thumb over the small, blue scars, the only remnants of those gunshot wounds you patched up a while back.
The simple gesture was enough to make his tears finally overflow, as he felt so guilty to lashing out at you when you’ve shown him nothing but kindness and care ever since you brought him into your home.
With a smile you kissed the bridge of his nose, hearing a small whimper escape from him. You wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back. Daniel hugged you tight in return, his face now hidden in the crook of your neck as he started sobbing and apologizing, the guilt becoming too overwhelming. But you reassured him that everything was okay, and that you forgave him for getting angry.
Despite his flaws..despite his outbursts..you still loved and cared for him.
He didn't understand why you continued to let him stay with you, but either way, he wasn’t sure what he’d do without you.
234 notes · View notes
theonyxpath · 5 years
Link
Hi all! Meghan Fitzgerald here, to give you the rundown on how the Deviant: The Renegades playtest went at Midwinter. Since neither Eric nor Dave could make it, Eric provided me with an excellent playtest to run, in which we were mostly testing out the Variations (powers) and Scars (power drawbacks). I had four players, but two of them couldn’t make it, so our very own Dixie and Neall stepped in to play in their places. Keep in mind the game is not in its final form and I’m not including all the details.
The player characters were:
Sister Laura Clements (Coactive), an elderly nun who hulked out into a giant monster and couldn’t control her murderous urges;
Kenneth Post (Invasive), a cyborg politician with nanites constantly rewiring his brain to make him omnicompetent with a built-in sensor array, who was overwhelmingly paranoid and came across as completely untrustworthy;
Natalie Brown (Mutant), a nurse who lost her family to the conspiracy, who could make copies of herself and short-range teleport but sometimes hallucinated or mentally glitched out;
And Daniel Thompson (Cephalist), a body snatcher and face thief with a genetic disorder that made him sick and constantly exhausted.
Their goal was supposed to be simple: infiltrate a cruise ship, find the man working for the conspiracy that’s after them, and get information out of him that would let them take the conspiracy down.
Getting on board was easy: Kenneth (and his nanites) hacked the ship’s database to reserve cabins for the group and get the layout of the ship, Daniel possessed one of the ticket checkers and then one of the luggage checkers so they could pass unmolested and Natalie could smuggle her gun aboard, and away they went. They disguised themselves to avoid getting recognized as former test subjects. They spent some time eavesdropping subtly and poking around to figure out where the places were onboard that guests weren’t supposed to go, and then went there, either stealthily or pretending to be innocent, confused tourists.
They learned that the man they were looking for — Aleksandr Mogilevich, an internationally wanted white-collar criminal who lived out at sea to avoid arrest — wasn’t on board yet, and that the ship had an off-limits helipad where presumably Aleksandr would arrive once they were far enough from land. They also learned that this ship had much stricter security than a normal cruise ship ought. Since Natalie could teleport through doors and walls as long as her DNA was present on the other side, Daniel possessed one of the guards and took a piece of her hair into the comm tower so she could later get in easily. They tried to investigate the lower decks, too, where a creepy lab held a bunch of prisoners, but that effort was interrupted when…
Having been keeping an eye and ear out for signs of Aleksandr’s arrival, Kenneth heard the helicopter touch down from belowdecks and, resolving the Spooked Condition (which he got from using a Deviant-specific Merit) and giving in to paranoia, ran off to try to handle it alone in the middle of the night. This was where things started to go…downhill. (In the best way!)
The rest of the cohort realized soon enough what he was doing and went after him, but in the meantime he chose to dramatically fail a failed roll that led to him shooting himself in the foot and getting himself knocked out by guards. Everyone else arrived just in time to see a guard dragging him into a stairwell…and Sister Clements hulked out, flew into a murderous rage, and killed all the guards in a messy few seconds of pure carnage. (She was Size 10 at the time. The corridor got awfully cramped.)
They used a dead guard’s corpse and keycard to bypass all the security leading into Aleksandr’s private quarters, including fingerprint scanners and retina scanners, the works. They only had a minute or two before backup would arrive, since monitored security cameras were everywhere and they hadn’t dealt with those yet. They used that time to investigate, looking for dirt on the conspiracy. They found that! They also found out that a Russian submarine working for the conspiracy was following the ship, ready to torpedo it into oblivion should it become compromised. Yes, with a couple thousand clueless civilian guests on board. And maybe Aleksandr, too.
The cohort intercepted a communication from the people on the submarine, who had received word that Renegades were on board and making a mess of things. The players chose to dramatically fail an attempt to convince the Russians they were guards and the disturbance had been taken care of. So, while the Russians did believe them…the response was “Oh…but we already fired the torpedo.” A second later, the ship rocked with the impact.
The cohort rushed up to the helipad, where Aleksandr was getting ready to take off again and a swarm of guards protected him. Natalie created a slew of copies of herself to dash out into the fray and cause a distracting chaos, while Daniel possessed Aleksandr, and Sister Clements carted both his insensate body and Kenneth’s unconscious one through the battle as she sliced her way through guards. Natalie teleported into the helicopter, and managed to avoid getting shot by the pilot! …but her mental glitching meant she couldn’t spend a Willpower to enhance her Firearms roll. She failed it and chose to make it dramatic, which meant she shot the control panel instead and the helicopter went haywire — no longer an escape option. During all this, the Russians fired a couple more torpedoes.
Daniel, as Aleksandr, ordered all the guards to stand down and mercifully succeeded on his roll. In the meantime, Natalie teleported off to ready a lifeboat for the cohort, while the penultimate torpedo tore into the ship, the helicopter tumbled into the sea, and the civilians poured onto the upper deck to get into lifeboats of their own in a panic. Natalie managed to stave off tourists trying to get into the cohort’s lifeboat by making a bunch of copies of herself and populating the entire boat with them. “Sorry, it’s full!”
Sister Clements barreled through the crowd, leapt into the lifeboat followed by “Aleksandr,” and then transformed back into a naked old woman. (They gave her Aleksandr’s suit to wear, once Daniel got back to his own body.) Natalie performed some first aid for Kenneth and woke him up, and then they tied Aleksandr up and started the interrogation. They promised not to kill him if he ratted out the conspiracy and told them everything they wanted to know, so he did.
Then they dumped him into the ocean and let him drown, lifeboating off into the sunset to take down a conspiracy, while in the background the final torpedo demolished the cruise ship, sinking it with almost 2,000 souls aboard.
We had a ton of fun and the feedback was highly positive! Everyone loved how varied and powerful the Variations were, and felt like they always had lots of interesting options, while their Scars were always there to threaten their subtlety, safety, or sanity. (Or everyone else’s.) They definitely felt the sense ofisolation and uphill struggle that lies at the heart of Deviant, and were legitimately invested in destroying the conspiracy that had in turn destroyed their characters’ lives.
Many thanks to those of you who played!
A note from Dixie:
Hi all! I just wanted to add that this playtest was so much fun, and really gave me context for Deviant I was lacking previously (how the different types might work together, the scope of their powers, and the common causes uniting them). Meghan is a fantastic Storyteller, so if you ever see her running demos at a convention, you should try one out! Many thanks to Eric for putting the packets together, Dave for all his hard work on the line, Meghan for running the game, and my fellow players for really embodying their characters.
I played Natalie Brown in this game and finding ways to use my clone and teleportation powers was extremely exciting, even if I both ruined a perfectly good helicopter with a dramatic failure and doomed several innocent tourists to death by filling a lifeboat with six of me. Also, I think we cut off a guy’s hand — or was it his head? We definitely talked about doing it (fingerprint and retina scanners, you know).
Hey, it’s all for the cause, right?
Right?
4 notes · View notes
tarysande · 6 years
Text
Fic Update: Any Four Walls: Pantomime
Also on AO3
#
Pantomime
When she installed herself on the flight deck, Joker only nodded and offered a brief grunt of greeting. If she hadn’t already known how distraught he was, that grunt would’ve been a dead giveaway. His hands flew over the haptic interface, adjusting their approach vector just enough—she hoped—to give them a moment of surprise. Kaidan sat at the station to Joker’s right, manning communications. For a moment, she saw the slightly-different cockpit of a different Normandy and half-expected the voice of a dead man to summon her over the comms.
Instead, Joker hissed an expletive that would have shocked even Jack and said, “We’ve got a situation.”
She leaned over his shoulder, scanning the stars. There. The ship was small against the vastness of space, looking like a toy discarded by a child when something newer and shinier came along.
No.
She couldn’t think about children.
“Kaidan?”
“Sorry, Shepard.” His hands were moving now, too. “No—there. It’s sending out an SOS. Turian frequency. Pretty weak.”
“Is it the Enixus?”
She already knew, though. Kaidan’s nod only confirmed what her gut was screaming.
They drew near enough to see the atmosphere venting into the dark from a gash in the ship’s starboard side.
“Life signs?”
“Too much interference.”
She remained locked in parade rest because what she really wanted to do was punch something. A wall. The piece of equipment whose news was always bad. “Of course.” When she had the urge for violence under control, she said, “Bring us in quiet, Joker. I’m going over.”
Kaidan turned in the seat, fixing her with his dark, too-perceptive gaze. “We are.”
“Everyone likes to forget my background. N7 Infiltrator, remember? In and out, no biotic explosions necessary.”
But Kaidan was already rising, expression as close to mutinous as she’d ever seen it. “Garrus said you’d try and pull something like this, you know. I thought you’d consider how long you’ve been off active duty and go with common sense.”
“If you’re suggesting I stay—”
He held up a hand to stop her. She added his face to her list of things she’d consider punching, though his words went some little way to redeeming him. “I wouldn’t dare, Shepard. I mean that. But we have no idea what’s going on over there. Don’t go in alone.”
Joker hunched in his seat as if pretending a Spectre showdown wasn’t happening above his head. Shepard sighed. “You gonna question every decision I make, Alenko?”
“Only the stupid ones. Ma’am.”
A very, very faint smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. “Fair enough. Suit up, Alenko. And find Jack.”
“And Garrus?”
She shook her head. Kaidan winced. “I’ll talk to him.”
#
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You almost died a few—”
“Don’t,” he snapped.
Shepard crossed her armored arms over her chest, meeting her husband glare for glare even though she had to crane her neck a bit to do it.
“Do you honestly want me to pull rank here, Shepard? Is that it?”
“No,” she said. “I want you to run the op from the ship.”
“You want me to sit on the sidelines. They’re my kids.” The way his voice broke nearly broke her resolve; she had to look away.
“Garrus,” she said, softly.
“Don’t Garrus me. Not about this.”
“Fine.” She brought the heels of her hands up to her eyes and pressed hard enough to momentarily see stars. “I need you on my six.”
“That’s more like it.”
Lowering her hands, she said, “That’s here. On the ship. Running the op. Waiting for Liara’s intel. And manning the Thanix as only you can if the bastards try and pull something that needs the big guns. Which they probably will.”
“Because this is obviously a trap.”
“Obviously.”
He shook his head, but not in disagreement. That fight had gone out of him the second she said on my six. He took a step toward her. She took two, wrapping her arms tight around him. One of his hands cupped the back of her head gently. “I hate it when you’re right.”
Shepard snorted. “Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual.”
“You told Alenko you were going in alone?”
She said nothing. Didn’t have to.
He brought the side of his face to the top of her head and nuzzled it. “Bring our kids home, Shepard. I’ll watch your back.”
#
Shepard wasn’t sure what it said about her that all her nerves and anger and panic settled the second her boots hit the floor. The weight of her gun grounded her. Despite Kaidan’s—and even Garrus’—fears, having a mission with a clear objective focused her. Get in, get out. Rescue mission. Keep a low profile.
She’d done dozens of these over the years.
And Aratoht didn’t count.
They’d entered through the gash in the side of the ship instead of aiming for the airlock; no use announcing themselves before they had to. She gestured silently and Kaidan arced out to her left, omni already up and scanning, in case proximity could provide better readings. Behind his mask, his brows furrowed. She didn’t need the shake of his head to know he’d had no luck.
She clipped her pistol to her side and peered through the scope of her rifle. The thermal scope picked up Kaidan and Jack’s signatures, but couldn’t see through the walls.
Good walls, then. She frowned. Traders usually dropped their credits protecting the exterior of their ships; having the kind of interior walls that could defy an even more top-of-the-line thermal scope than one could currently find even on the blackest of markets—unless they, too, were personal friends of Solana Vakarian—smacked of paranoia. At the very least.
She brought up her own omni, then, and ran the scanning program that had gone not only through Solana, but through Tali and Garrus and herself, as well. Like the scope, it read the current room clearly—the surveillance camera over the door was obvious; the three different bugs running on completely different frequencies, less so—but everything outside was dampened.
Using signals instead of words, even on their private frequencies, Shepard directed Kaidan to one side of the door and Jack to the other.
Shepard knew damn well that her omni-tool was fitted with the best tech money (and connections) could buy, and then some.
It still took her decryption program an agonizingly long time to crack the door’s code.
Definitely a trap.
Definitely not just traders.
Shepard activated her cloak the moment the door began to slide open, waiting for the immediate attack that never came. After a slow count of five, she ducked into the corridor. Lights flickered above, casting half the hallway into stark shadows, but no one waited for them. No shots pinged off her shields. Kaidan and Jack followed as soon as her tactical cloak shimmered and vanished. Once again, scanning revealed nothing. An empty hallway; walls that kept their secrets close.
No cover.
No debris at all.
Her frown deepened. Any attack that could leave damage like the destruction of the room behind them should’ve had more of an effect elsewhere. Even with impenetrable walls. She began flicking through frequencies until she found the one the ship was using to send out its weak cry for help. After listening to the generic SOS three times, her earpiece crackled. Music, loud enough to cause pain, blasted. Fighting the instinct to shut it off completely, she turned it down as much as she could.
The melody was familiar. Human, definitely. Something full of pomp and military bravado.
She went cold when she recognized it.
A very particular anthem. One rarely heard. One she’d heard twice. Once after Elysium. Once after—after everything that had happened later.
One she’d tried to avoid hearing both times.
They played it when they bestowed the Star of Terra. Only then.
Jack touched her arm; Shepard shook her head, tapping the side of her helmet and signaling them to wait. She didn’t miss the look Jack and Kaidan exchanged.
When the last triumphant note roared and faded, the desperate, wailing cry of a child replaced it.
Her child.
“Rose? Rose?”
But Rose wasn’t the child who answered. With the screaming still raw in the background, Tyrra, breathless, subharmonics practically screaming her terror, said, “Sh-shepard? Shepard? Is that—you have to—they’re going to—she promised she’d give Rose back—I don’t know—I don’t know what they’re doing to her!”
“Shh, honey,” Shepard said. She didn’t brush off Jack’s hand this time, though she did signal for Kaidan to keep his eyes on the scanner. “Where are you? I’m here. I’m coming to get you.”
Tyrra began to speak again, but was replaced Matta Casarus’ harsh whisper. “Admiral Shepard? Thank the Spirits. They’ve got us pinned—”
“Cut the shit,” Shepard snapped. “I’m here. Just like you wanted. Walked into your elaborate little pantomime, just like you wanted. If you don’t release my daughters immediately, I will kill you. Do you understand me? I will put a bullet in every body that stands between me and them. Without mercy.”
Casarus’ voice changed at once. Cold, smooth. Too smooth. “This is how Earth breeds heroes, then? I prefer turian ones. They understand honor.”
Shepard inhaled sharply. “Is that what this is? You’re torturing my kid to prove some kind of point? I don’t know what the fuck I ever did to you, lady, but if—”
“You killed someone important to me. As important to me as these foundlings are to you. More important.”
Her stomach twisted. She ignored it. “Then take it up with me. They’re innocent. They are innocent. Let them go and you can have me. No contest. No fight.”
Even the woman’s laugh was cold. Bitter as the wind on Noveria. “So noble. No wonder they love you.” Casarus sighed. As if she was bored. With Rose screaming. “You said it yourself, Shepard. It’s pantomime. It’s theatre. Time to give the audience what they want.”
Before she could do more than open her mouth to reply, the line went dead. Rose’s cries stopped so abruptly, Shepard clapped her hand to the side of her head, as if this would bring her closer, tell her where to go.
“What the fuck, Shepard,” Jack breathed.
“Can we get a message back to the Normandy?”
Kaidan shook his head.
Shepard swallowed, shuffling plans in her head and rejecting them before they could finish forming. “Then we move. She’s already proven she’ll hurt the children. We have to hit them harder and faster than they expect.” Shepard lifted her Widow. “Jack. Point. Don’t hold back. Make them show their faces so I can remove them.”
64 notes · View notes
mirkwoodshewolf · 6 years
Text
Chapter 4; I am Bad Wolf
Here we go guys, now you all get to see Bad Wolf in some serious action. So detailed slaughter, mentions of animal abuse WHICH I DON’T SUPPORT YOU HURT AN ANIMAL, YOU SHOULD BE IN PRISON FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!!! Anyways besides those warnings I hope you guys enjoy it and up next is the moment you’ve been hoping for. Yes it’s the MAXIMOFF TWINS coming up next!
________________________________________________
You know who I am. I am the thing that keeps you awake at night, the reason why you lock your children inside your homes. The reason why I make you weary to go out into the woods. I am the Beast that everyone fears when they hear the very sound of my name, I am the Beast that stalks you from the darkness. I can smell your fear so don’t say you’re not afraid, I can hear your heart beat faster as you run and the blood pumping through your body is just simply waiting to drip from my fangs.
You can try to run and hide but you will be caught within a matter of seconds for I am able to outrun even the fastest car. My teeth are daggers just waiting to pierce and rip your flesh apart, my claws are swords and always out ready to claw and dig into your body, you may try to fire your bullets at me but my howl is a special kind of howl, it resonates and can redirect your piety bullets as well as throw your cars back if you think I can be taken down by something bigger than a bullet.   
My Super bark is in a way like my howl but it can destroy everything in its path like an earthquake rumbling from beneath your feet. 
I was created for one reason and one reason only, to be Hydra’s favored pet and take their orders.  To send a message to all of Mankind that dares to try and stop them that if you get in our way, a Monster will come for you. 
In this form, I am called, Bad Wolf. Are you afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?
Shortly after Zola had completed his project, he immediately went back to the testings’ I was submitted to do for a month and all of them proven successfully. When I was then introduced to Karpov, he only smirked and said.
“Hydra finally has its Bad Wolf”.
“We’ll be sure to monitor that she never shows any human life or even tries to turn back into a human again. The girl is nothing to us now, we have what we need”. Zola said to Karpov. 
And so it was said and done. 
For the next year I was to remain their Bad Wolf for the rest of my life.  If I even showed any signs of humanity they stripped it from me with my spiked shock collar that not only sent over 10000 volts into me, but would also inject me with more serum to ensure that my wolf side stayed.  After six months of into the one year surveillance, all trace of humanity was gone and all that was left was the Beast.
*November 24th, 2008; Nome, Alaska*
At a secret base in Nome Alaska, a group of large military cars were driving cautiously alone the snowy winter roads on the country road heading towards a secret base.  Inside each truck were advanced weaponry of teargas bombs, grenades, bazooka guns, MK-47’s, the whole enchilada of Military weaponry you can think of. 
As they drove on silently through the road without so much as a problem, suddenly a huge flash of black ran across the lead car making the two officers scream and swerve their car along the icy road. The other trucks followed trying not to crash their trucks into one another or edging off the road into a tree setting off the bombs in the back.
When all 15 trucks successfully stopped, the officers all soon got out and headed towards the leading truck drivers and one of the officers stated angrily.
“What in the hell was that about Sargent!? You could’ve caused these weapons to set off!”
“We’re sorry Colonel, but something huge just ran in front of us! If we had hit it we would’ve caused to bombs to set off so we thought of the next best thing” said the driver of the car.  The Colonel turned to the other officer that was with the driver and said.
“Is this true Private?”
“Yes sir, it was huge and black”.
“Must’ve been a bear, these woods are not unknown to bears, wolves and mountain lions. Well we best hurry and get these weapons back to base and report them to Director Fury”.  The Colonel said.  But before they all could head back to their respected cars, a twig snapped loudly and all the men froze in fear.  A large figure suddenly ran behind them alerting the officers to turn around.
“Colonel what was that?!” Asked one of the soldiers fearfully.
“Steady men. Slowly draw out your weapons and wait for my command”. The colonel whispered softly as all the officers withdrew their rifles and just stared straight ahead of them.
Paranoia and fear drove the soldiers almost to the brink of insanity as they kept hearing twigs snapping and the sound of feet running behind and all around them but the Colonel kept his men calm and steady. 
Suddenly they saw two glowing orbs staring straight at them.
“Hello? Listen we were just heading towards your base but something got in our way. Are you here to help us?” The Colonel asked but as the lights only got closer and from the headlights of the trucks that were still on plus the light of the full moon, when the figure stood before them their faces all turned to fear as they beheld a sight they’d never forget. 
A giant black wolf glaring and growling softly at them. 
“FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!” The Colonel screamed out. Gunshots fired repeatedly but the wolf howled loudly stopping the bullets and redirecting them all over the place.  The soldiers all panicked and ran off but the wolf snarled and lunged at each man pinning him down and tearing him to pieces.  If they tried to fire at her, she’d take their guns and snap them as if they were twigs then devour the hunter behind the gun.
Screams and snarls were all that were heard in the dead night as the snow soaked up the blood like a sponge tainting the pure white a deadly blood red. When all that was left was the Colonel who Bad Wolf still had pinned down.  
The Colonel shook violently as he stared into the soulless black eyes of Bad Wolf.  Her fangs dripping red from the blood and intestines of his fellow soldiers and soon he met the same fate when she lunged for his face.
Bad Wolf let out a howl and soon pouring in from the woods were Hydra soldiers who took over and emptied out the trunks.  A Hydra general soon came up to Bad Wolf who was still eating the remaining pieces of the Colonel.
“Excellent Bad Wolf”.  Bad Wolf turned towards the general snarling angrily for interrupting her meal.  Bad Wolf turned towards the General and lunged at him but her collar sent her 10000 volts and forced her down on the ground whimpering in pain.  “Now you really didn’t think we’d let you off so easily if you turned on us. Get the weapons into the trucks and Bad Wolf back in her cage!” 
It was then the Hydra officers loaded their trucks of the weapons and several men picked up Bad Wolf while she was still suffering from the aftershocks of her collar and put her into her cage and they drove off leaving behind a bloody scene that looked like it came out from a monster movie. 
*December 16th, 2009; Swiss Alps, Switzerland*
Hidden within the Swiss Alps was a secret SHIELD base that stored the secret files of everything that SHIELD would make on any incoming threats, incoming agents, future candidates, etc.  In order to guard these secrets well, the base needed super advanced security systems and guarding techniques, so provided by Tony Stark himself, the base had military robots circle all over the base even as far as 100 square miles away.
One of the bots that was just below the hillside of the base was making its usual night runs when out of the dead silence of the night, a wolf’s howl pierced the silent night.  As the robot turned it suddenly saw a giant wolf leaping right for it and it bite down hard onto its camera face.  The bot twisted and then shook off the wolf to reveal that this wolf was Bad Wolf.
She snarled then took off running up the side of the mountain as the bot kept its eye scanner on her identifying her as a treat and set all weapons to Extermination.  
Once it had its orders it broke apart one portion of itself and revealed out explosive canon shooters as it let out a loud hiss and immediately rolled after it. While the bot chased after Bad Wolf, Hydra agents swept in and snuck up the opposite way up the mountain to infiltrate the base and gain all the files they wanted while Bad Wolf kept the bot busy. 
One of the bot’s many guns rapidly fired at Bad Wolf as she ran up along the side of the mountain but she skillfully and with ease jumped from rock to rock avoiding any bullets that could pierce her. 
 The bot then fired a small bomb at her and from where she was, her spot exploded into rubble and smoke only to reveal Bad Wolf coming down with a shard of ice in her mouth.  
The bot fired its gun at her again but only one bullet managed to skim her front left shoulder but that didn’t stop her as she now placed the shard of ice straight into the robot’s gun, shoving it deeper and deeper until she knew it would be destroyed.
Even though Hydra wanted Bad Wolf to be a Beast, they also wanted her to be intelligent, even problem solving intelligent so that even as a wolf she could figure out how to destroy machinery in the best way, figure out how to open locks on strong titanium steel doors, you name it. 
When the bot began to short circuit at the sudden damage it had done, Bad Wolf leap off the robot just as it exploded and fell down about 30-40 feet down below while Bad Wolf flew the same height distance onto a ledge as she watched the bot fall further down the gorge of the mountainside with a wolfish grin.
As the snow dust cleared the robot came back on as its eye scanner glowed red again.  It got up and raised its head up high and coming out under its neck was an M134 Minigun and it fired right at Bad Wolf who tucked herself in and leaped away from her ledge and ran up the side of the mountain then vertical and the bot kept firing at her but missing every single time until finally it lost sight of her. 
Once it ran out of ammo, there was nothing but dead silence then suddenly there was a crack and a deep rumble.  The bot turned and its eye scanner dilated the receded as an avalanche was heading towards him fast.  It then swept the bot away and buried it within hundreds of feet of snow from all the shooting it had done just to terminate Bad Wolf. 
Another mission success for Hydra, all thanks to their beloved Pet. 
*HYDRA BASE; MOSCOW, RUSSIA*
General Rasputin stood before the glass cage that held Bad Wolf who was pacing around in her cage snarling and growling at everything and everyone.  He smirked and said.
“Almost as many kills in Hydra history next to our beloved Winter Soldier, if only we could see what the two of them would be like working together?”
“I created this creature to be twice as better than my father’s Winter Soldier. She stays as a solo act, we can’t risk SHIELD finding out about HYDRA just yet. Not to mention that she is now becoming so dangerous we can’t control her anymore even with the collar. We’ll need to keep her under lockdown until I can come up with a new improved collar to keep her under control” Felix Zola stated.
“Very well doctor, if you say so”. General Rasputin stated then as it was for the next 3 years Bad Wolf was kept on lockdown but even then she could not be contained as she devoured anyone who came within her cage. 
When Zola figured out how to fully control their Bad wolf after the 3 years were up, Bad Wolf was then taken back onto missions like Germany, the Americas’, Italy, Romania and various parts in Africa. 
But on May 2012, when the Asgardian God Loki tried to rule over Earth and the Avengers Assembled together for the first time, unaware that for over 70 years Hydra had been planted like a parasite inside SHIELD since Felix’s father Armin Zola was recruited by them when Shield was first started. 
Hydra swept in and took charge of Loki’s scepter to develop new and advanced weaponry, as well as create miracles like Bad Wolf.
When HYDRA’s number 1 lead scientist Baron Wolfgang Van Strucker came to the plate, he offered to Zola that he could further enhance Bad Wolf’s abilities with Loki’s scepter along with all his other experiments he wanted to delve into. With Zola’s health and old age catching up with him, he allowed Strucker full custody of Bad Wolf but he had to be there to release her to him at his base in Eastern Europe of Sokovia. 
*July 7th, 2013; Eastern Europe Sokovian, Hydra Research Base*
youtube
It was late that night on July the 7th when Sokovia’s HYDRA base would soon gain their newest and most prized possession in all of HYDRA history. Hundreds of Hydra soldiers were outside the base with guns and Tasers fully ready as coming up the hill was a forklift truck carrying a large steel cage with small holes surrounding the cage.  The soldiers knew they couldn’t see Bad Wolf but they knew that she was in there.
Sokovian declares were called out as the forklift got closer to the base.  What they planned to do was that on the East side of the base, it would lead instantly to Bad Wolf’s new cage where she would be kept in and when the time would come she’s be released and used to either contain Strucker’s experiments or used to defend the base.  
Once the forklift reached the ground level of the pathway towards Bad Wolf’s cage, the Sokovian scientists proclaimed for the forklift drive to gently lower her cage down as the soldiers moved on closer.
Inside her cage, Bad Wolf could see the men surrounding her as she panted and growled lowly especially as Strucker came into her view.  It was then Strucker proclaimed. 
“Pushing team move in there”.
“Move it!” Proclaimed the Head of the loading team and soon men surrounded on all sides of the cage.  Zola who was standing beside Strucker stated to the men.
“Sent all tasers on full charge”.  Bad Wolf then let out a fearsome snarl scaring the loading team especially as her massive body shook the cage begging for release. “Come on, step back in!” Strucker proclaimed to the loading team.  Hesitantly they all surrounded the cage once more as more orders were barked at them to do it quickly. “And push!” Strucker stated as the team got a good grip on the cage and they all steadily pushed the cage right into the base.  
When the lights next to Bad Wolf’s door turned from red, to yellow to finally green and made a buzzing sound for it being fully connected to the base Strucker then stated. 
“We’re locked. Loading team step away.” The loading team backed away as Strucker then turned to Doctor Zola, “Doctor Zola”. Felix Zola then walked towards the cage of his creation and carefully climbed up the stairs.  Within the cage, Bad Wolf eyed her creator and snarled knowing that she’d finally get her chance now that he was weak and old, he wouldn’t even dare fight back this time like he had before.“You’re all clear Doctor, raise the gates!” Strucker proclaimed.  Zola then knelt down and slowly raised the cage so that his creation could finally be passed over to Hydra’s next generation and be improved now by Strucker’s brilliant mind. 
That’s when things went south very, very fast. 
As the gates of her cell opened just far enough, Bad Wolf let out a mad snarl and charged forward and head-butted the cage so hard it not only knocked the Doctor off the cage but pushed the cage back away from the base a couple feet knocking some men off their feet who thought they could stop it in time. 
When Zola thought all was safe, he felt dagger like teeth pierce his leg as he was suddenly dragged at lightning speed toward Bad Wolf’s cage as he screamed in agony as she began ripping and tearing him at the hip.  Hydra soldiers poured in as the alarms set off and Strucker went and grabbed Doctor Zola from Bad Wolf.
“Block the opening! Don’t let her get out!” Strucker claimed as he gripped onto the Doctor but Bad Wolf played a hard game of tug-of-war with Strucker.  Hydra soldiers fired their tasers at her and shock after shock hit Bad Wolf’s fur but she was not letting go of her victim just yet.
This was personal, after all these years of being tortured and being used in his experiments, Bad Wolf’s conscious turned vengeful as she didn’t want to kill Zola like all her other victims, she wanted him to experience a slow and painful death as she would slowly tear his limbs off. One. By. One.
Bad Wolf managed to take Zola away from Strucker and lift him up above him but Strucker gripped onto him again as more Hydra soldiers poured in frantically shouting commands in Sokovian and English at each other.
“Work her back!” Strucker shouted.  Bad Wolf’s barks and snarls pierced the base over their pathetic screams as she slowly dragged Zola out of Strucker’s arms. As the more tasers fired and struck light within the cage, Strucker finally got a good look into the eyes of Bad Wolf and he was shaking in fear.
Eyes so black they weren’t even there. Her eyes appeared almost soulless black like a doll’s eye like she were even alive, except when she bites into her prey. Her snarls and thrashing as she was now ripping Zola out of Strucker’s arms slowly, soon Strucker had no choice but to cry out as loud as he could through all the commotion.
“SHOOT HER!” All that Strucker had of Zola was his arm waving around frantically for help. “SHOOT HER!!” Guns fired, Zola’s arm slowly went lifeless as it escaped from Strucker’s grip and Bad Wolf’s snarls filled the air.
20 notes · View notes
Text
In the Heart or in the Head?
closed starter for @imthcboss​
Fitz looked over at his companion when he thought he heard a small noise but when he saw nothing amiss, he guessed he must’ve been wrong as the car came to a stop in front of his building.
He thought of it as “his” since he was the Director of Science and Technology for Hydra. It hadn’t been easy getting to the top by such a young age but he’d managed through his intellect and cunning. 
Now he had everything he wanted.
“Everythin’ alright?” he asked her, smiling.
Then the driver opened his door. He stepped out, straightening the wrinkles from his expensive suit before he offered his hand to his girlfriend and the only person he trusted to run his lab to his exacting specifications. 
Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he walked inside, deep down enjoying the fearful looks he got from his employees as he passed by on his way to his office. 
His secretary, Gretchen, was just getting back with the tea tray when they arrived at the door to his office. He gave her a chastising look and she immediately apologized. 
“It’s alright,” he said magnanimously, placing his hand on the biometric scanner by the door and then looking into the retinal scanner. He’d learned not to be too careful when it came to his personal files and work. He paranoia was rather legendary among certain circles. It was often spoken of admiringly.
Gesturing for the women to go in first, he followed them into his office and sat behind his desk, watching as Gretchen poured the tea. When she was finished, he nodded to release her, a tiny smile coming to his lips as she skittered away. She was new, she’d get used to him. 
Taking his teacup, he waved a poison detection scanner over it because you couldn’t be too careful when you worked for Hydra. He did the same for his amour’s tea. Then he waved a bug detector over the entire tray. 
“All clear,” he said cheerfully, when there was nothing awry. He picked up his tea and, leaning back in his chair, took a sip. “So, what were you goin’ to experiment with today, my love? Another way to determine if you can detect Inhumans that haven’t been through terrigenesis?” he questioned. 
14 notes · View notes
wavenetinfo · 7 years
Link
Warning: This story contains major spoilers from the Prison Break revival finale. Read at your own risk!
Michael Scofield was finally able to take down Poseidon during the Prison Break finale — but not without some losses.
While it appeared that both Michael (Wentworth Miller) and Lincoln (Dominic Purcell) had perished in the penultimate, the brothers survived with a little ingenuity.
First, we learned that though Jacob (Mark Feuerstein) initially went rogue to help the country by cutting through the red tape, the Yemen mission was purely to get Michael out of the way so Jacob could keep Sara (Sarah Wayne Callies) all to himself. While Sara was able to sway Poseidon henchman Van Gogh against Jacob, A&W shot him in retaliation — that’s who was shot in the penultimate.
Lincoln also survived his wounds, but Jacob took Mike Jr., leaving Sara and Michael on their own to get him back. Fortunately, T-Bag (Robert Knepper) still owed Michael a favor, delivering a jar of blood — what Whip (Augustus Prew) fished out of the lake during the penultimate — and agreeing to kill Jacob.
Michael’s tattoos finally came into play in the finale, forming a replica of Jacob’s face, thus allowing Michael to access Jacob’s facial scanner to get access to his hard drives and make a trade for Mike Jr. Unfortunately, during the standoff, Whip is killed, and T-Bag is subsequently arrested for A&W’s murder.
Sara and Lincoln are then able to save Mike Jr., while Michael is able to re-frame Jacob for the murder of the Deputy CIA director, thus clearing his name and getting Jacob arrested — Michael had planted blood evidence in Jacob’s office. While Michael, Lincoln, and Sara get their happy endings, Jacob meets a grim fate at the hands of T-Bag in Fox River. EW turned to executive producer Paul Scheuring to get scoop on that grim, but hopeful finale.
ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: The main trio make it through the revival mostly unscathed. Did you do that because you wanted to leave open the possibility for more or because you wanted to course-correct how the original ended? PAUL SCHEURING: Neither. I don’t have any intention of bringing the show back necessarily, but after the end of season 4, Michael was technically dead so we always know that you can bring it back, so we didn’t have to have a happy ending just to bring people back. My feeling was that, in the way that the Odyssey ends with the man who’s gone through hell to be able to be with his family as a reward, I thought that was something never seen on Prison Break. So I wanted everyone to, for a moment, feel like life is normal again, because we’ve never seen that in the show. That makes the audience uncomfortable, which I like and moreover, we actually had a slightly different ending, but it ultimately wasn’t shot exactly how we wanted.
What was that alternate ending? The idea was Michael comes back and he’s apparently got a normal life, but with that comes a creeping paranoia that things can’t stay good like this. Unfortunately, that’s not on screen, but the idea that he’s always going to be looking over his shoulder. There was a scripted page where they said, “Michael, you can stop looking over your shoulder now, you’re free,” but then he looks over his shoulder and you can see the whole world out there and all the people in the park and everything, and any one of them might be a threat and you realize that a man like this could never go back to a normal life, but again that didn’t end up happening exactly how we wanted it so this is what we got on film. I think it still emotionally lands them in a good spot, and hopefully the audience gets the subtext that life will never be normal for Michael Scofield.
Would you want to bring the show back for more? I don’t make the show go on just because we want the show to go on. I have a fairly high standard to what the stories need to be, and it’s a very hard show to come up with new stories for because it’s Prison Break and how many prisons can you break out? How do you make it not redundant? I felt this season was different in that it was based upon the Odyssey. I felt like that was a strong narrative to do for nine episodes. To do again, I think we’d have to find an equally strong or even stronger narrative and I think that’s very hard with Prison Break. Never say never, but we’re just not going to do it just to do it; it has to be great. I know that the actors are very keen on doing it, but at this very moment, I don’t have an idea what it would be. It’s possible it could come from other sources, but right now there’s nothing in the old noggin.
What came first, the bad guy or the method of how to use Michael’s tattoos this time around? I think the bad guy was probably born out of designing the tattoo idea, because ultimately the tattoo is a misdirection. The whole idea of the Pygmy owl through the whole story is that idea of strategic deception and making the antagonist think that you’re doing one thing so that they go down the wrong road when, in fact, you’ve been manipulating them all along. Prison Break has a history of a man with his plans and his tattoos, and subsequently other shows have used encoded plans or information in tattoos. So it’s kind of an old idea, and so I felt like you couldn’t just play it straight forward. It has to be, “Oh no, the entire thing was a lie to manipulate an antagonist who thought he was smarter and Michael knew was very shrewd,” so I like the idea that the tattoos are supposed to be legit, but the very end you realize it’s a misdirection, because I felt like that was new. So I guess Jacob was born out of that.
Is it safe to say Lincoln ended up with Sheba? Lincoln’s always tough with women, you know? He’s not too forthcoming emotionally and so we want to make sure that the possibility is there. But the other thing is that it’s very hard for them to have a legitimate romance over the course of the season because of the chaos. It’s just not realistic to go through all this and see a woman for a few days and be madly in love and consummate that love over the course of a few days they’re together. But clearly they have a chemistry, so at the end of the season the insinuation is maybe there’s something here, but let’s find out. I mean, she’s also in America as a refugee and that’s something she had to do with her family members from Yemen. I don’t know that it’s going to be the Sheba and Linc team if there’s another season, although Inbar Lavi is just unbelievable. She’s one of my favorite parts of the season, so she’s one of those characters that would be welcome back in a heartbeat, so maybe I’ve answered my own question.
Can you talk about why you decided to kill Whip? Well, that was irony. It was that I wanted Jacob to think that he’d outsmarted the system again and that he was going to get away even when he went to prison. I wanted this final moment where it’s a poetic ending where we’re back in Fox River, where we started the season, and Jacob is now in Fox River. Irony of ironies, who’s his cellmate but T-Bag. We infer that T-Bag has killed Jacob in the cell, which is nice in a lot of ways than just seeing him die on camera, but T-Bag’s truly got to be motivated. You have to have no doubt in that scene that T-Bag will kill him, and if Jacob has done something so insidious as to kill the son of T-Bag, who just found out he had, then you’re pretty certain that T-Bag’s going to kill him. Also, in a lot of ways, you could never have a happily-ever-after moment for T-Bag. He’s too cursed. So it’s supposed to be heartbreaking, but it also leads the ultimate justice for Jacob.
You semi-redeemed T-Bag at the end of the revival, though he kills Jacob in the end. Did you not want to fully redeem him? No. There’s no fun in T-Bag if he’s wearing a button-up shirt and he’s the good dude down the block. He always has to be the broken man. He has to be the sinner, he has to be the criminal and a killer. I think that’s what makes people keep coming back for him. With that, at the same time, the duality is that you have empathy for him. In a lot of ways, we accomplished a lot at the end of the season, which is, “Oh wow, we feel so bad for this man who lost his son he just realized he had. Well, he’s a killer again.”   Is there anything you wish you had gotten to do this season? That’s a good question. No, this was all outlined pretty copiously before the season started, so we shot exactly what we intended. Obviously you always want bigger action sequences and more time to film and that sort of stuff, but I feel like given the very tiny window we had to make this, I think we’ve got to do what we want to do, so I feel pretty good about that. One thing that’s funny is, I will say that a lot of fans are really clamoring for Sucre because they haven’t seen him since episode 1. I love Sucre, I wish he could’ve been in the season more, but again, all characters had to be organically within the series and he didn’t really have a role other than being the sidekick running around in Yemen, which he really didn’t have a skill set for. So I guess I wish there could’ve been more Sucre, but that would have been creatively disingenuous to include him more than that, but if there’s another season maybe there’s way more Sucre.
31 May 2017 | 2:00 am
Natalie Abrams
Source : EW.com
>>>Click Here To View Original Press Release>>>
(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); May 31, 2017 at 08:30AM
0 notes