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Fiend: Thread Two, the Rethreading [Exalted/Worm]

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Robotninja said:
So now is like the best time for C to make their move. Pray that she does not meet Jack now.
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:3
gibbousmoons said:
Goddammit Logiccosmic, I will not let this goad me into a one-upmanship race!

. . . No matter how much fun it would be.
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Heh. You'll have to wait a bit, but I've got some things to one up this.
 
Worm is depressing enough already, I don't think a despair-off is the best thing to be doing for the stories. You've got to have some kind of relief from the terror.
 
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    • Ochre Fountain 4.7

    I landed on the body, whimpering as I felt blood squelching. My legs didn't help either. Even the jeans rubbing against my legs brought fresh agony. I retched, nauseous at the smells and sights, and what I had done.

    I hadn't felt anything. A brief snap of rage in the car, and then nothing. Cold, mechanical precision as I took 16 people's lives. No pity, no remorse, nothing. I vomited, covering the body I was on, along with my own legs. I groped, blind, for the knife. Blind, because I couldn't see out of eyes clenched shut. Covered in vomit, I found it. Hands dripping, from a variety of fluids, one closed around the knife, I pushed myself to my feet.

    A whimper, mirroring my own, alerted me that the woman was still in the car. I shuffled over to her, to see if she was alright. As I reached her, a cell phone lit up, faintly lighting the car door closed to me. I stepped into the light, and asked, "Are you alright?"

    The light traveled up my body, and stopped on my face. She dropped the cell phone, scrunching back, screaming, "Please! Don't hurt me anymore!"

    She might have needed the phone, but I didn't. I could see her in perfect clarity. Her face was bloody, already bruising, and I could see teeth knocked out. She crab walked out the other door, and crawled away, crying, and over her back, "Please!"

    Over and over again.

    I fell against the door, stunned. I watched her crawl away, remembering. I had pistol-whipped her, for no other reason than she had been there, a possible threat. I dry-heaved, nothing else coming out of my stomach. I pushed myself off the door. I could hear sirens approaching in the distance. Probably drawn by all the gunfire.

    I was only half a mile from the motel. I moved, mind blank.



    I fumbled with the keycard, finally getting it in, and leaving bloodstains on the door handle. I stumbled to the bathroom, and started washing my arms with a wet towel. The cold turning warm water came off red. It pooled in the sink, the drain insufficient for its task. My arms done, I threw my stained jacket over my shoulder into the shower/tub combination, and started on my face.

    I took my jeans off. It wasn't easy – they kept getting caught on my skin, pulling at it. Very painfully. I finally got them all the way off, and bit my lip at the sight. Burns, yellowish white covered my legs, skin blistered as well. Patches where the majority of burning alcohol had hit my right leg were darker, almost brown, and hurt less. But looked far worse.

    In the mirror, I didn't look any different. The same Taylor I had been all week. Different than the previous Taylor. Prettier, maybe. A monster? Definitely. How many of those people had kids? Family? Parents? Or dreams? Dreams of being something else, something more? How many people would be getting phone calls, that someone had died? I remembered all too well what it was like, with vivid detail.

    I waddled to the bed, in my underwear and shirt, not wanting to bend my legs. I still had to, minutely, grimacing at each new pain. I sat on the bed, legs straight, and pulled myself on with my arms. I lifted my legs up after, still hurting.

    On the bedside table, I had my purchases from the drug store. I pulled out the razor, still in its plastic wrapping. I fumbled at the packaging, ineffectually. I finally punctured it with a nail, and, cutting my hand as I did so, tore it apart. A faint line of blood on my palm, and a few droplets splattered my shirt.

    I pulled the razor out, throwing the ruined packaging away, off onto the floor.

    What would dad think?

    I wasn't even in control of myself anymore. I was a danger to everyone around me. The rage had subsided, but when would it come back?

    What would mom think?

    I sat on my bed, twisting the razor in my hand. Burnt, and still with faint traces of blood on me. Eyes blurry, I set the razor on my wrist-

    Bring-Bring.

    The room phone rang, and I reached for it, on instinct. I held it to my ear, and didn't say anything.

    "Ms. Hebert?"

    The razor dropped from my hand.

    "Ms. Hebert. Or Defiler. I would like to meet. I wish to propose a mutually beneficial arrangement."

    "Who are you?" I whispered.

    "Call me the Number Man. I will be at the Denny's across from your motel, at midnight."

    He hung up.



    A/N: Remember how TT said she was suicidal? Yeah. Also, she would have soaked the razor.

    Trauma Trauma Trauma Trauma, Trauma Chameleon. And shortest section, but next few longer.
     
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    • Odysseus2099 said:
    Good on her reaction to this. I'm kinda surprised she even picked up the phone with how depressed she would feel. Also, how much was she hit? I thought Scar-Writ Saga Shield increased her skin's hardness to "steel plate" levels. Unless that was from the fire+Skulking Shadow Shintai.
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    Fire + Skulking Shadow Shintai = aggravated.
     
    Zefferen said:
    Numberman has really good timing. It's almost as if he knew she'd do that.
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    Well, it's almost like he knew she was a depressed teenage girl, and that several bodies of a gang that had been attacked near her previous location were found brutally murdered.

    It's entirely possible he dropped everything after that calculation to make a call.
     
    SolipsistSerpen said:
    Well... I suppose the Numbers man might count as a moderating influence. At least I can feel smug about calling that.
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    Indeed, good call old bean.
    Auks said:
    And the plot thickens. I suppose Cauldron will provide resources in return for vaguely defined favors; not necessarily a bad thing if it lets her fight the Simurgh whenever she shows up.
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    Spoiler: yes
    Auks said:
    Still, Number Man isn't exactly the best suited to provide moral/emotional support. Though really, as long as he offers any sort of shot at redemption, I suspect she'll latch on to it like a man drowning at sea; she really doesn't have a lot to live for right now.
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    :3
    Auks said:
    Should be very interesting to see where this goes.
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    I agree.
     
    SolipsistSerpen said:
    Also, those little dinky razors would have taken forever to kill her- I can just picture her cutting away and getting more and more depressed as it fails to penetrate deeply enough to damage anything vital, just covering her in the equivalent of cat scratches.
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    I actually had something similar, and then she went for her knife.

    But I cut it, because that was even more depressing.
     
    I wonder, what are the chances that Cauldron doesn't yet know about the massacre and will be utterly unprepared for Taylor being suicidal? Because I believe them to be quite high.
     
    Yog said:
    I wonder, what are the chances that Cauldron doesn't yet know about the massacre and will be utterly unprepared for Taylor being suicidal? Because I believe them to be quite high.
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    Well...
    logiccosmic said:
    Well, it's almost like he knew she was a depressed teenage girl, and that several bodies of a gang that had been attacked near her previous location were found brutally murdered.

    It's entirely possible he dropped everything after that calculation to make a call.
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    Yog said:
    I wonder, what are the chances that Cauldron doesn't yet know about the massacre and will be utterly unprepared for Taylor being suicidal? Because I believe them to be quite high.
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    Police Radio. Spoiler (EDIT, not really) for next section: They knew her location, but were content to leave her be. After all, a psychotic murder spree was unthinkable. So when news hit, same gang she had attacked last time, and the police reported a gnarly murder scene, Number man ran the chances of a depressed 15 yr old girl killing herself after a psychotic break. Way too high for their liking.
    Rask said:
    Yeah, that was an appropriate reaction to limit-breaking like that.

    I also like to think that the Number Man has been caught completely off-guard as all his probabilities suddenly changed, and that he had to dash madly for the nearest phone and the rest of Cauldron was standing around him during the call, improvising.
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    Oh, there was scrambling. Which is why its NM making the contact.
     
    EarthScorpion said:
    Uh... not as written, no. Fire can hurt someone in SSS, and when close to fire you're basically taking -2 to everything, but it's "merely" lethal.
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    My mistake. Should it be though?
    Metaphysically, shouldn't it burn away like aggravated damage?
     
    logiccosmic said:
    My mistake. Should it be though?
    Metaphysically, shouldn't it burn away like aggravated damage?
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    No; it's the light which is the problem, not the fire. Some kind of hypothetical "black fire" (possibly in the Wyld) wouldn't do anything; likewise, neither would touching metal heated to just below the point that it started glowing, even though that's flesh searingly hot. The chain of logic is "fire gives off light -> fire burns you normally", to go with things like "anima flaring Exalts give off light -> they can stab you through the spleen".
     
    EarthScorpion said:
    No; it's the light which is the problem, not the fire. Some kind of hypothetical "black fire" (possibly in the Wyld) wouldn't do anything; likewise, neither would touching metal heated to just below the point that it started glowing, even though that's flesh searingly hot. The chain of logic is "fire gives off light -> fire burns you normally", to go with things like "anima flaring Exalts give off light -> they can stab you through the spleen".
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    Got it.
    Molotov's still hurt like hell then.
    I'll just consider her to have way more 2nd degrees rather than 3rd degrees.
     
    Harish said:
    Aggravated damage is damage that is difficult to heal with anything other than magic....or so I think. In this case it would be lethal as burns count as lethal not aggravated.
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    Thinking of WoD there.
    Agg heals at the same rate as Lethal in Exalted.
     
    DeAnno said:
    Also, freaking Dennys? Does anyone else find it ridiculous that this meeting is going to end up taking place at a Dennys? Just imagine how surreal it would be if some teenage cashier overheard part of the conversation.
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    No, actually it makes perfect sense: how many restaurant chains do you know of that are open 24/7?
     
    logiccosmic said:
    Thinking of WoD there.
    Agg heals at the same rate as Lethal in Exalted.
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    (A) causes the most grievous of injuries. This kind of damage is inflicted by the vilest and most destructive supernatural effects, or by exploiting the special weakness of a supernatural being, such as the Cold Iron vulnerability of the Fair Folk. Aggravated Damage is the most difficult type of damage to heal with magical effects.
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    Got this from the Exalted wiki.
     
    Harish said:
    Got this from the Exalted wiki.
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    From Core, pg 149
    "... This type of injury heals naturally at the same rate as lethal damage."
    gideon020 said:
    And the Grand Slamwich is very popular.
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    SolipsistSerpen said:
    I now have the humorous image of them eating at a Taco Bell (open until 4 AM) for their world-shaking clandestine plans.
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    Spoiler for tomorrow: Number man orders her a smiley breakfast.
     
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