Hunter (WormxBloodborne)
- Thread starter UnwelcomeStorm
- Start date
-
- Tags
- bloodborne worm
Taylor (14)
UnwelcomeStorm
BARK! BARK! BARK!
- Location
- United States
Taylor (14)
May 20 - May 24
I think Dad and I aren't so different, when it comes down to it. When times got tough, we buried ourselves in our work. Mine used to be the task of surviving Winslow. I suppose now it was still a task of survival, of keeping in the Hunt long enough to accomplish any other goals I set for myself. Reaching Byrgenwerth seemed like a good distraction away from Brockton Bay.
The Forbidden Woods wasn't as much of a slog as I'd been led to believe by Alfred, but that might have been because I'd broken open the cargo elevator by Master Valtr. It was still a slog, certainly, but between my well-worn saw and the pleasing heft of my Boom Hammer, the snake shrubs and greater snake shrubs that lurked around the path were of little consequence. The infested villagers were considerably harder to deal with; with so many heads it was easier for them to notice me before I could sneak up, and their reach and the unpredictable movement of their many necks made attempts to parry their strikes with pistol or hammer unreliable. I eventually got the hang of it, but they slowed down my trek enough that I decided to simply push through rather than explore more thoroughly. I added the woods to my growing list of places to come back to. I still couldn't believe I'd left my grappling hook behind, snagged on Hookwolf's shoulders.
I still couldn't believe I'd hit Armsmaster.
I couldn't believe that he'd hit me.
I tried not to think about it. I pushed forwards. I reached the bottom of the forested mountain.
The woods had slowly given way to wider spaces, with rocky outgrowths and, more and more often, puddles. In the largest such opening, ringed on all sides by massive headstones, I saw the path ahead blocked by three figures. They were still and silent until I approached, close enough to attempt to make out their features: they had none. They were darkness, just shapes that happened to resemble men. When I approached, they drew weapons as one. Were they guardians of the forest? Of the college? Perhaps the vengeful dead, even? It didn't matter. I drew my saw.
"Get out of my way."
They hissed at me in response, and fanned out, seeking to flank me. It was good strategy, as until now I'd had only a little experience in fighting multiple combatants. I didn't count the angry beastmen, who moved in packs; they clustered together for the safety of numbers, fearful. These three were not a mob, but a team. And, to my surprise-- they were capes, or something similar. Excellent: I needed practice fighting capes. How delightful that they were willing to oblige me. I came at them, and disregarded the burns and cuts, and I fought and fought and fought until they broke. They did not bar my way again.
It was a quiet hike after that. Even the trees seemed unwilling to disturb me, but the closer I got to the college, the more my skin crawled. I felt as though I were being watched by many eyes, from all directions. The feeling did not abate when I reached the grounds of the school itself, and I was feeling so unnerved that I battered down the gate with my hammer, rather than wander any further. It was a sturdy gate, but Djura's work was excellent; eventually, the lock gave, and I rushed to get away from the woods.
Byrgenwerth was smaller than I'd imagined, just a single building hugging the last of the cliffs above a lake, but I reasoned that there must have been more of the school situated underground. I wasn't entirely wrong, but not right, either. It wasn't an issue for the moment, however. The building that was visible to me was some manner of research hall, the walls covered in shelves of books, and the floorspace dominated by tables and jars and cabinets of specimens. There was a rank smell of formaldehyde permeating the air, but I didn't let that stop me. The building was deserted, so I took my time.
I couldn't find a mathematics section anywhere, but I found a great many books on anatomy of all sorts of creatures, as well as handwritten journals detailing dissections and experiments. One table still had its last experiment on it, sitting on a tray: the shell of some mollusk, I presumed. It was full of an oddly luminescent, pale slime, and it smelled... odd. Something not quite like moonlight. Starlight, I decided, after I held the shell to my nose for a minute or two, breathing it in. It smelled of starlight. I took it with me. The second floor was much like the first, except with a selection of moth-eaten couches. Just an abandoned student research building.
Except every single specimen jar was filled with eyes. I was careful not to knock over any more jars, after my coat caught the first. The gelid globes rolling on the floor looked resentful of me. I apologized, but I don't think it helped.
The second floor also held a large double-door, and I took the time to find the key to this one rather than destroying it; the key was labeled 'Lunarium,' but rather than hiding a machine, the door opened to reveal my quarry. I was surprised, to say the least. I only recognized Master Willem from that blood-colored vision I'd taken from the altar, in the Grand Cathedral. In truth, I hadn't expected him to be alive. He might not have been. But he was here, and that was what mattered. He was an old, old man, sitting in a rocking chair and so swathed in robes and embroidered cloths of station that only half his face and the tips of his fingers were visible. I approached him cautiously.
"Master Willem? It's you, right? I need to ask you something." He only continued his sedate rocking, but I felt his attention on me. It made my skin crawl.
"Do you know Gehrman? He's... stuck in a dream. The Hunter's Dream. I think I am too. Do you know how to stop it?"
His attention turned from me--I nearly shuddered with relief--and I felt his invisible gaze move back to the open expanse of the balcony. With one withered hand, he pointed. I followed his direction, but it led only to the edge of the balcony.
"Master Willem?"
His breath rasped heavily. He kept pointing. I walked to the edge of the balcony and looked down.
We were above the lake, and the moon was below us. I checked the sky, just to be sure, and saw the full moon hanging low in the sky as it always did, here. But it was not above us, it was too far to the horizon to produce such a reflection. I looked down at the lake, and then to Master Willem. He must have known I was watching, because he lifted his hand again and pointed. A leap of faith, then. I nodded, gripped my saw more tightly, and stepped off the edge.
I woke in the Hunter's Dream, disoriented, and with a sharp ache over my ribs as thought I'd been stabbed. I prayed at one of the graves to return to the college for another try, but it happened again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, I woke, with my flesh remembering the lake but not my mind. It was like the Tombs down below, the dream was too deep for me yet. It was frustrating to no end. So much so, that I left the Dream entirely, deciding to return to the Bay and see if I was still in time to go to school. I woke, my mind and body sluggish, and rolled over on my bed.
"Oh holy SHIT!"
There were people in my room.
"Backup, call for backup!"
"Get out of here, RUN!"
Five or six men, their forms obscured by wide helmets and baggy clothes... I squinted. They looked like they were wearing HAZMAT gear. I could barely make out the logo of the PRT, emblazoned on their chests as they stumbled over each other to flee. I sat up as they thundered down the stairs. My closet door was open, my desk had been half cleared off--
My heart gave a painful thud. The PRT was in my house.
I scrambled off of my bed, kept one hand on my saw and the other on the wall to guide me downstairs. "Dad?" I called out. "Dad!"
There was no answer. I stumbled through the living room, then to the kitchen. There was a stir-fry on the stove, long cold and congealed and ringed by police tape.
"Dad! DAD!" He was gone. He had been taken. A black fury coiled in my gut.
I kicked open my own front door, splintering the wood and knocking it off its hinges. One bound took me off the broken porch. I could hear sirens, but that was a distant concern. It was night in Brockton, I thought, and rain pattered gently on my hat. The full moon had come and gone, and taken much of my sight with it, as it always did. The yard and street around me were blurry, their colors pale and washed-out as the Hunter's Dream. I could barely see ten, maybe fifteen feet, anything beyond it was fog. I cast my gaze about anyway, hissed breath between my teeth, until finally a light bloomed a few feet away from me. A couple of the Little Ones poked their heads out of the sidewalk, their features crisp and clear as the Yharnam moon, and they made curious moans at me.
"They took my dad!" I yelled at them. "They took him! Help me! Find him for me!"
They moaned, and sank into the ground again, but another one rose up some distance away, illuminating a small patch of the blind fog. Another rose up beyond that, just barely in sight, as the Little Ones traced out a path of moonlight for me. I grinned behind my cowl (at least, I think it was a grin), then tore the cloth away from my face, the motion violent enough to dislodge my hat as well. The rain was soaking it, making it harder to breathe through, and what did a mask matter anymore? I snapped my saw out to its full length, and ran after the Little Ones.
I heard a few people, just shadows at the edge of my sight, scream and run from me. The sirens got closer, until finally a PRT cruiser swung to a stop right in front of me, nearly hitting me, but I darted to the side at the last moment. There were shouts, people yelling orders. Meaningless animal noises.
"Get out of my WAY!" I slammed my saw down on the car's taillight, producing a hellish shriek and a spray of broken pieces, then I vaulted up onto the trunk and back onto the street. I heard shots fired; inconsequential. I ran.
They pursued me, but what were they compared to Gascoigne? They tried to box me in with their cars, until one man left his vehicle too close to me, and I spun on my heel to add momentum. My saw passed through his flimsy vest and buried itself in the cruiser nearly a foot behind his spine. No one got within reach of my saw and lived. I followed the trail of the Little Ones until I reached a wide open space, the painted lines of a crosswalk barely visible under my feet, before I had to slow for my breath. I must have been somewhere downtown. How long were the police and the PRT going to throw their bodies at me?
I heard the whup-whup-whup of a helicopter close in, somewhere above me, and a sharp crack of a heavy switch. I felt light on my skin, a searchlight, but it didn't illuminate for me. I only saw by moonlight. I looked up anyway, my hair around my face in scraggly dripping lengths, my jaw frozen in a grimace. A loudspeaker crackled to life up above me.
"Bloodmoon! This is the PRT! We have you surrounded! Drop your weapon and surrender!"
Bloodmoon? Was that what they called me?
I fired a shot from my pistol at the voice. It seemed answer enough. I turned to follow the Little Ones again, but the helicopter's blades didn't quite drown out the very rapid footsteps behind me, sending up twin waves of rainwater. I spun around with my saw braced in front of me. Velocity skidded, slowing down with a yelp before he could split himself in two; that was a mistake. I sprang forward, my open hand closing over Velocity's mask. "You don't get me twice, you don't!"
I brought up my saw, slicing through his belt of foam grenades and felt my weapon's teeth scrape lightly against his ribs. He cried out-- I shoved him away from me, tucked the broken belt into my coat's pocket. "You don't get me twice."
"BLOODMOON! DROP YOUR WEAPON AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!" A roar shook me to my bones. It could only be Triumph. "THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!"
I bared my teeth and snarled back at him. "You took my FATHER!" People were entering the limit of my hazy vision; I saw Armsmaster, and the glowing lines on Battery's costume, and the less distinctive shapes of Triumph and Assault. "You took my FATHER!"
Armsmaster charged forward. I dodged backward, but Battery surged forward with a colorful flare and slammed her fists into my side, staggering me. I swung at her wildly, and she backed off. "What did you do to him! What did you do to my dad?!"
"You mean what did YOU do!" Armsmaster made a sharp jab at my legs, using the haft of his weapon like a quarterstaff. I blocked it, my saw's teeth screaming on the tinkertech metal. "Your father is practically braindead!"
What?
"Your blood twisted him! It's killing him! You're killing him, like you killed Shadow Stalker!"
"I-- no! No, no, I never!" I rolled away, feeling one of Triumph's shockwaves roar over me. A small jar of red flashed in my memory. "I never hurt him! NEVER!"
Battery surged towards me again, but I was already on my feet. She was unarmed, she may as well be made of tissue paper. But...
But she was a hero. The heroes were fighting me. I dodged her charged fists, brought my saw against Armsmaster's halberd again. "Never never never never--!"
"H-hey! Kiddo! Taylor!"
"No! No no no you're lying! You're lying what did you do to him!" Stop it. Stop it stop fighting me.
"Taylor! Stop this!" I swung at Armsmaster again, my strike just a couple inches too far right.
"NO! NO NO NO no no noooo!" Triumph's yell staggered me back. I held my saw up like a shield.
"Taylor, please!" His voice was right behind me, perhaps three feet, far too close. I brought my saw around in a vicious arc. The teeth stopped a full six inches before they met Assault's flesh.
"...Mr. Ethan?" My voice was raw.
"Oh thank God. Yeah, it's me." I saw him hold up a hand. "C'mon, kiddo. You recognize me, yeah?"
"Mr. Ethan, they're... they're lying, I didn't hurt my dad I swear..." I heard footsteps, circling around me. A tremor shook my hand.
"Taylor, your dad is very sick. We're gonna try and help him, but that'd be a lot easier if you'd put down your weapon, and came with us."
Assault put his hand on the back of my saw and pressed down, lowering it away from him. His eyes were wide. "It-- it's okay, Taylor. Just... put down the weapon, okay?"
A tremor shook my whole body. "C'mon, it's easy. Just... put it down. We'll help your dad, and-- and we can go get coffee again. Maybe some muffins. You remember, right?"
I hiccoughed, and my shoulders started to shake. My saw slipped from numb fingers, landing with the splash and a clatter. I heard a gasp. "I... I know you w-wouldn't lie, Mr. Ethan... my dad, is he...?"
Assault looked uncomfortable, but he nodded. "Your pop's in a bad way, Taylor. We're gonna try and help him, I promise."
Mr. Ethan wouldn't lie to me, even if he was wearing a mask. I started to cry. What had happened to my dad? Had I, somehow, hurt him without noticing? Everything without the moon was hazy. I didn't know. I didn't know.
"Mr. Ethan?" I whispered, just barely louder than the rain. "I remembered what you said. I-- I tried to get away. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. But I can't get out. I'm trying so hard, Mr. Ethan...!"
My legs gave way beneath me, and I sank to the concrete. I saw Assault crouch down in front of me, keeping a cautious distance from me. I sobbed.
"A-and now-- now I can't stop. And I can't get away, and you-- you can't stop either, you can't stop hurting me because-- because I'm the bad guy, Mr. Ethan! But I can't stop, I'm trying but I can't stop!"
"Sure you can-- you didn't hit me, right? You can always stop, Taylor." But I shook my head, my hair flying in a blackened halo.
"You don't understand! You don't understand, I'm trapped and I can't get out! I'll just go back, every time, and I can't stop it!" My voice left me, my throat too clotted with grief. My thoughts were crashing in on themselves, I couldn't think clearly with the moon so far away. And I was so tired.
Footsteps again, and I saw Armsmaster approaching, one hand on his halberd the other holding two loops-- cuffs, of some design. I almost laughed. I couldn't be kept here, I'd vanish as soon as I slept. Sleep... it sounded good. I turned to Assault again, and blinked my eyes clear. I gave him a small, sad smile. He really was a hero.
"You'll... take care of my dad, won't you?"
I still had my gun. Assault saw my hand move and he yelled-- "No wait don't!"
"It's okay, Mr. Ethan. I'm only sleeping."
I drew my pistol and swallowed the bullet.
* * *
I returned to Byrgenwerth, and climbed the stairs to the Lunarium. Master Willem was there, still rocking. I screamed at him.
"Help me! Help me, I know you can hear me!" I felt his blind gaze on me. Good.
"I can't go back anymore, do you hear me? I have nowhere to go, nowhere to run! I'm not coming back from this anymore, I know it!"
My voice was raw. I flung out my arm and pointed at the moon, the real one in the sky. "You know what this is, this Hunt! I know you do! How do I stop it! How do I stop everything?! TELL ME!"
His withered face twitched, then creased in a smile. I leaned in closer, and heard him speak.
"Thirds," he rasped. "Three thirds."
May 20 - May 24
I think Dad and I aren't so different, when it comes down to it. When times got tough, we buried ourselves in our work. Mine used to be the task of surviving Winslow. I suppose now it was still a task of survival, of keeping in the Hunt long enough to accomplish any other goals I set for myself. Reaching Byrgenwerth seemed like a good distraction away from Brockton Bay.
The Forbidden Woods wasn't as much of a slog as I'd been led to believe by Alfred, but that might have been because I'd broken open the cargo elevator by Master Valtr. It was still a slog, certainly, but between my well-worn saw and the pleasing heft of my Boom Hammer, the snake shrubs and greater snake shrubs that lurked around the path were of little consequence. The infested villagers were considerably harder to deal with; with so many heads it was easier for them to notice me before I could sneak up, and their reach and the unpredictable movement of their many necks made attempts to parry their strikes with pistol or hammer unreliable. I eventually got the hang of it, but they slowed down my trek enough that I decided to simply push through rather than explore more thoroughly. I added the woods to my growing list of places to come back to. I still couldn't believe I'd left my grappling hook behind, snagged on Hookwolf's shoulders.
I still couldn't believe I'd hit Armsmaster.
I couldn't believe that he'd hit me.
I tried not to think about it. I pushed forwards. I reached the bottom of the forested mountain.
The woods had slowly given way to wider spaces, with rocky outgrowths and, more and more often, puddles. In the largest such opening, ringed on all sides by massive headstones, I saw the path ahead blocked by three figures. They were still and silent until I approached, close enough to attempt to make out their features: they had none. They were darkness, just shapes that happened to resemble men. When I approached, they drew weapons as one. Were they guardians of the forest? Of the college? Perhaps the vengeful dead, even? It didn't matter. I drew my saw.
"Get out of my way."
They hissed at me in response, and fanned out, seeking to flank me. It was good strategy, as until now I'd had only a little experience in fighting multiple combatants. I didn't count the angry beastmen, who moved in packs; they clustered together for the safety of numbers, fearful. These three were not a mob, but a team. And, to my surprise-- they were capes, or something similar. Excellent: I needed practice fighting capes. How delightful that they were willing to oblige me. I came at them, and disregarded the burns and cuts, and I fought and fought and fought until they broke. They did not bar my way again.
It was a quiet hike after that. Even the trees seemed unwilling to disturb me, but the closer I got to the college, the more my skin crawled. I felt as though I were being watched by many eyes, from all directions. The feeling did not abate when I reached the grounds of the school itself, and I was feeling so unnerved that I battered down the gate with my hammer, rather than wander any further. It was a sturdy gate, but Djura's work was excellent; eventually, the lock gave, and I rushed to get away from the woods.
Byrgenwerth was smaller than I'd imagined, just a single building hugging the last of the cliffs above a lake, but I reasoned that there must have been more of the school situated underground. I wasn't entirely wrong, but not right, either. It wasn't an issue for the moment, however. The building that was visible to me was some manner of research hall, the walls covered in shelves of books, and the floorspace dominated by tables and jars and cabinets of specimens. There was a rank smell of formaldehyde permeating the air, but I didn't let that stop me. The building was deserted, so I took my time.
I couldn't find a mathematics section anywhere, but I found a great many books on anatomy of all sorts of creatures, as well as handwritten journals detailing dissections and experiments. One table still had its last experiment on it, sitting on a tray: the shell of some mollusk, I presumed. It was full of an oddly luminescent, pale slime, and it smelled... odd. Something not quite like moonlight. Starlight, I decided, after I held the shell to my nose for a minute or two, breathing it in. It smelled of starlight. I took it with me. The second floor was much like the first, except with a selection of moth-eaten couches. Just an abandoned student research building.
Except every single specimen jar was filled with eyes. I was careful not to knock over any more jars, after my coat caught the first. The gelid globes rolling on the floor looked resentful of me. I apologized, but I don't think it helped.
The second floor also held a large double-door, and I took the time to find the key to this one rather than destroying it; the key was labeled 'Lunarium,' but rather than hiding a machine, the door opened to reveal my quarry. I was surprised, to say the least. I only recognized Master Willem from that blood-colored vision I'd taken from the altar, in the Grand Cathedral. In truth, I hadn't expected him to be alive. He might not have been. But he was here, and that was what mattered. He was an old, old man, sitting in a rocking chair and so swathed in robes and embroidered cloths of station that only half his face and the tips of his fingers were visible. I approached him cautiously.
"Master Willem? It's you, right? I need to ask you something." He only continued his sedate rocking, but I felt his attention on me. It made my skin crawl.
"Do you know Gehrman? He's... stuck in a dream. The Hunter's Dream. I think I am too. Do you know how to stop it?"
His attention turned from me--I nearly shuddered with relief--and I felt his invisible gaze move back to the open expanse of the balcony. With one withered hand, he pointed. I followed his direction, but it led only to the edge of the balcony.
"Master Willem?"
His breath rasped heavily. He kept pointing. I walked to the edge of the balcony and looked down.
We were above the lake, and the moon was below us. I checked the sky, just to be sure, and saw the full moon hanging low in the sky as it always did, here. But it was not above us, it was too far to the horizon to produce such a reflection. I looked down at the lake, and then to Master Willem. He must have known I was watching, because he lifted his hand again and pointed. A leap of faith, then. I nodded, gripped my saw more tightly, and stepped off the edge.
I woke in the Hunter's Dream, disoriented, and with a sharp ache over my ribs as thought I'd been stabbed. I prayed at one of the graves to return to the college for another try, but it happened again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, I woke, with my flesh remembering the lake but not my mind. It was like the Tombs down below, the dream was too deep for me yet. It was frustrating to no end. So much so, that I left the Dream entirely, deciding to return to the Bay and see if I was still in time to go to school. I woke, my mind and body sluggish, and rolled over on my bed.
"Oh holy SHIT!"
There were people in my room.
"Backup, call for backup!"
"Get out of here, RUN!"
Five or six men, their forms obscured by wide helmets and baggy clothes... I squinted. They looked like they were wearing HAZMAT gear. I could barely make out the logo of the PRT, emblazoned on their chests as they stumbled over each other to flee. I sat up as they thundered down the stairs. My closet door was open, my desk had been half cleared off--
My heart gave a painful thud. The PRT was in my house.
I scrambled off of my bed, kept one hand on my saw and the other on the wall to guide me downstairs. "Dad?" I called out. "Dad!"
There was no answer. I stumbled through the living room, then to the kitchen. There was a stir-fry on the stove, long cold and congealed and ringed by police tape.
"Dad! DAD!" He was gone. He had been taken. A black fury coiled in my gut.
I kicked open my own front door, splintering the wood and knocking it off its hinges. One bound took me off the broken porch. I could hear sirens, but that was a distant concern. It was night in Brockton, I thought, and rain pattered gently on my hat. The full moon had come and gone, and taken much of my sight with it, as it always did. The yard and street around me were blurry, their colors pale and washed-out as the Hunter's Dream. I could barely see ten, maybe fifteen feet, anything beyond it was fog. I cast my gaze about anyway, hissed breath between my teeth, until finally a light bloomed a few feet away from me. A couple of the Little Ones poked their heads out of the sidewalk, their features crisp and clear as the Yharnam moon, and they made curious moans at me.
"They took my dad!" I yelled at them. "They took him! Help me! Find him for me!"
They moaned, and sank into the ground again, but another one rose up some distance away, illuminating a small patch of the blind fog. Another rose up beyond that, just barely in sight, as the Little Ones traced out a path of moonlight for me. I grinned behind my cowl (at least, I think it was a grin), then tore the cloth away from my face, the motion violent enough to dislodge my hat as well. The rain was soaking it, making it harder to breathe through, and what did a mask matter anymore? I snapped my saw out to its full length, and ran after the Little Ones.
I heard a few people, just shadows at the edge of my sight, scream and run from me. The sirens got closer, until finally a PRT cruiser swung to a stop right in front of me, nearly hitting me, but I darted to the side at the last moment. There were shouts, people yelling orders. Meaningless animal noises.
"Get out of my WAY!" I slammed my saw down on the car's taillight, producing a hellish shriek and a spray of broken pieces, then I vaulted up onto the trunk and back onto the street. I heard shots fired; inconsequential. I ran.
They pursued me, but what were they compared to Gascoigne? They tried to box me in with their cars, until one man left his vehicle too close to me, and I spun on my heel to add momentum. My saw passed through his flimsy vest and buried itself in the cruiser nearly a foot behind his spine. No one got within reach of my saw and lived. I followed the trail of the Little Ones until I reached a wide open space, the painted lines of a crosswalk barely visible under my feet, before I had to slow for my breath. I must have been somewhere downtown. How long were the police and the PRT going to throw their bodies at me?
I heard the whup-whup-whup of a helicopter close in, somewhere above me, and a sharp crack of a heavy switch. I felt light on my skin, a searchlight, but it didn't illuminate for me. I only saw by moonlight. I looked up anyway, my hair around my face in scraggly dripping lengths, my jaw frozen in a grimace. A loudspeaker crackled to life up above me.
"Bloodmoon! This is the PRT! We have you surrounded! Drop your weapon and surrender!"
Bloodmoon? Was that what they called me?
I fired a shot from my pistol at the voice. It seemed answer enough. I turned to follow the Little Ones again, but the helicopter's blades didn't quite drown out the very rapid footsteps behind me, sending up twin waves of rainwater. I spun around with my saw braced in front of me. Velocity skidded, slowing down with a yelp before he could split himself in two; that was a mistake. I sprang forward, my open hand closing over Velocity's mask. "You don't get me twice, you don't!"
I brought up my saw, slicing through his belt of foam grenades and felt my weapon's teeth scrape lightly against his ribs. He cried out-- I shoved him away from me, tucked the broken belt into my coat's pocket. "You don't get me twice."
"BLOODMOON! DROP YOUR WEAPON AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!" A roar shook me to my bones. It could only be Triumph. "THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!"
I bared my teeth and snarled back at him. "You took my FATHER!" People were entering the limit of my hazy vision; I saw Armsmaster, and the glowing lines on Battery's costume, and the less distinctive shapes of Triumph and Assault. "You took my FATHER!"
Armsmaster charged forward. I dodged backward, but Battery surged forward with a colorful flare and slammed her fists into my side, staggering me. I swung at her wildly, and she backed off. "What did you do to him! What did you do to my dad?!"
"You mean what did YOU do!" Armsmaster made a sharp jab at my legs, using the haft of his weapon like a quarterstaff. I blocked it, my saw's teeth screaming on the tinkertech metal. "Your father is practically braindead!"
What?
"Your blood twisted him! It's killing him! You're killing him, like you killed Shadow Stalker!"
"I-- no! No, no, I never!" I rolled away, feeling one of Triumph's shockwaves roar over me. A small jar of red flashed in my memory. "I never hurt him! NEVER!"
Battery surged towards me again, but I was already on my feet. She was unarmed, she may as well be made of tissue paper. But...
But she was a hero. The heroes were fighting me. I dodged her charged fists, brought my saw against Armsmaster's halberd again. "Never never never never--!"
"H-hey! Kiddo! Taylor!"
"No! No no no you're lying! You're lying what did you do to him!" Stop it. Stop it stop fighting me.
"Taylor! Stop this!" I swung at Armsmaster again, my strike just a couple inches too far right.
"NO! NO NO NO no no noooo!" Triumph's yell staggered me back. I held my saw up like a shield.
"Taylor, please!" His voice was right behind me, perhaps three feet, far too close. I brought my saw around in a vicious arc. The teeth stopped a full six inches before they met Assault's flesh.
"...Mr. Ethan?" My voice was raw.
"Oh thank God. Yeah, it's me." I saw him hold up a hand. "C'mon, kiddo. You recognize me, yeah?"
"Mr. Ethan, they're... they're lying, I didn't hurt my dad I swear..." I heard footsteps, circling around me. A tremor shook my hand.
"Taylor, your dad is very sick. We're gonna try and help him, but that'd be a lot easier if you'd put down your weapon, and came with us."
Assault put his hand on the back of my saw and pressed down, lowering it away from him. His eyes were wide. "It-- it's okay, Taylor. Just... put down the weapon, okay?"
A tremor shook my whole body. "C'mon, it's easy. Just... put it down. We'll help your dad, and-- and we can go get coffee again. Maybe some muffins. You remember, right?"
I hiccoughed, and my shoulders started to shake. My saw slipped from numb fingers, landing with the splash and a clatter. I heard a gasp. "I... I know you w-wouldn't lie, Mr. Ethan... my dad, is he...?"
Assault looked uncomfortable, but he nodded. "Your pop's in a bad way, Taylor. We're gonna try and help him, I promise."
Mr. Ethan wouldn't lie to me, even if he was wearing a mask. I started to cry. What had happened to my dad? Had I, somehow, hurt him without noticing? Everything without the moon was hazy. I didn't know. I didn't know.
"Mr. Ethan?" I whispered, just barely louder than the rain. "I remembered what you said. I-- I tried to get away. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. But I can't get out. I'm trying so hard, Mr. Ethan...!"
My legs gave way beneath me, and I sank to the concrete. I saw Assault crouch down in front of me, keeping a cautious distance from me. I sobbed.
"A-and now-- now I can't stop. And I can't get away, and you-- you can't stop either, you can't stop hurting me because-- because I'm the bad guy, Mr. Ethan! But I can't stop, I'm trying but I can't stop!"
"Sure you can-- you didn't hit me, right? You can always stop, Taylor." But I shook my head, my hair flying in a blackened halo.
"You don't understand! You don't understand, I'm trapped and I can't get out! I'll just go back, every time, and I can't stop it!" My voice left me, my throat too clotted with grief. My thoughts were crashing in on themselves, I couldn't think clearly with the moon so far away. And I was so tired.
Footsteps again, and I saw Armsmaster approaching, one hand on his halberd the other holding two loops-- cuffs, of some design. I almost laughed. I couldn't be kept here, I'd vanish as soon as I slept. Sleep... it sounded good. I turned to Assault again, and blinked my eyes clear. I gave him a small, sad smile. He really was a hero.
"You'll... take care of my dad, won't you?"
I still had my gun. Assault saw my hand move and he yelled-- "No wait don't!"
"It's okay, Mr. Ethan. I'm only sleeping."
I drew my pistol and swallowed the bullet.
* * *
I returned to Byrgenwerth, and climbed the stairs to the Lunarium. Master Willem was there, still rocking. I screamed at him.
"Help me! Help me, I know you can hear me!" I felt his blind gaze on me. Good.
"I can't go back anymore, do you hear me? I have nowhere to go, nowhere to run! I'm not coming back from this anymore, I know it!"
My voice was raw. I flung out my arm and pointed at the moon, the real one in the sky. "You know what this is, this Hunt! I know you do! How do I stop it! How do I stop everything?! TELL ME!"
His withered face twitched, then creased in a smile. I leaned in closer, and heard him speak.
"Thirds," he rasped. "Three thirds."
Last edited:
- Location
- Canada
Looks like Taylor is going to transcend the hunt.
I hope we get to see her grow a bit
And her humanity
as an infant Great One.
The Stormbringer
Worm Fanfic & Crack Connoisseur
- Location
- Spaaaaace~!
This fic... the things you do to me, UnwelcomeStorm.
Lord Scoro
Welding Dragon
- Location
- The void
Holy epic fucking shit
Worm to the extreme
On other note how will they react to her committing suicid in front of they only for her to disappear and reaper in a few days
Worm to the extreme
On other note how will they react to her committing suicid in front of they only for her to disappear and reaper in a few days
UnwelcomeStorm
BARK! BARK! BARK!
- Location
- United States
Fridge Horror realization about her 'disappearing acts.'
It won't surprise and of the viewpoint characters(they've know about this aspect since the first Hookwolf encounter). It might be a shock to the public, depending on how much information is revealed.
It's also interesting how this is the first time she really went against people that she doesn't view as beasts(like the PRT trooper/s that she killed). I think we can say goodbye to the "hey she's only going after terrible people more power to her" crowd now.
- Location
- Your heart
why Hello there umbilical cords! Yum Yum yum Yum Yum Deliciaso!
Minor Typo:
Anzer'ke
Anarchism Ho!
Still pretty horrifying to see a teenage girl blow her brains out a foot from you.
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
Damn, shit just got real. The scene between Taylor and Assault was great, though it will be interesting to see how the situation in Brockton Bay evolves now, sice Taylor only has the Hunt left. Also:
So here's a thought. Pretty sure this is the first time Taylor has used her gun in Brockton. Not just on herself - she also shot some guy in a helicopter, and maybe some PRT mooks. And her bullets use Blood. What if, say, a shot connected in a nonlethal fashion? Then they could recover the bullet as well as observe it's effects on survivors. There's no indication in-game of lasting effects, but then, nothing has survived long enough to know.
I'm sure it will be an insightful experience for all involved.
Also, loving the story! And if this is how you write a strength/arcane character, I shudder to think what a bloodtinge character would look like.
I'm sure it will be an insightful experience for all involved.
Also, loving the story! And if this is how you write a strength/arcane character, I shudder to think what a bloodtinge character would look like.
Last edited:
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
This isn't the first time Taylor has used her gun in Brockton. She has used it at least during the night she ran into Velocity for the first time.
Revlid
blob of bugs
- Location
- England
My voice was raw. I flung out my arm and pointed at the moon, the real one in the sky. "You know what this is, this Hunt! I know you do! How do I stop it! How do I stop everything?! TELL ME!"
His withered face twitched, then creased in a smile. I leaned in closer, and heard him speak.
"Thirds," he rasped. "Three thirds."
I blinked, and rummaged in my pockets. Surely he couldn't mean...
I held my hands up before him, clutching the three thirds of that throbbing, eye-lined alien organ, tied with twine like a bundle of sticks. Something about the trio suggested fertility or sustenance, broken and trisected – an umbilical cord, sliced at stillbirth with surgical cruelty. It was-
Willem's face twitched, unbelieving. He seemed irritated.
"Four," he rasped. "Four thirds?"
I checked the bundle again. Huh. Yeah. I'd picked up four thirds. How was that possibl- I mean, I suppose if you- it couldn't exactly- but three meant three, not four, and five was right ou- I mean, the angles just didn't- there was no way to- it didn't even make any- oh nooooooooo
EYES ON THE INSIIIIIIIIDE
See that now. Still some possibilities though. There's no indication they've got a good look at them, or a survivor. It's not clear how they work either; normal bullets don't work on beasts, and quicksilver does. Do they just hit harder, or is it something else?
Well, they may or may not be noteworthy in this story.
It's been noted in story that her gun does wildly disproportionate damage from what it should considering its size and appearance.
JefLebowski
[Not Copaceptic]
- Location
- R'lyeh's Partner City
...which made her suicide look even worse, I bet.
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
Probably took her entire head off.
Anzer'ke
Anarchism Ho!
It's uh...maybe a good thing her Dad is firmly OD'd on Insight.
esseresse
R'lyth Power Make-up
- Location
- divorceville, state of depression
- Pronouns
- They/Her
*happy giggles*
The Stormbringer
Worm Fanfic & Crack Connoisseur
- Location
- Spaaaaace~!
I require the next chapter... the cliffhanger is killing me!
Note: this is not an actual demand of the author, I just REALLY wanna know what their reaction was, and what's going to come next. :lol
Note: this is not an actual demand of the author, I just REALLY wanna know what their reaction was, and what's going to come next. :lol
Last edited: