- Location
- California
What if the person following is invisible?
Originator [Life Is Strange | Urban Fantasy Quest]
- Thread starter Alobomb
- Start date
- Fantasy Alt. History
- Location
- The Colored Room
- Pronouns
- TheOne
Hahaha, that's ridicul-
Hmmm... I don't want to think about that.
- Location
- California
It is Urban "Fantasy", so I don't think any possibility is off the table. Assume for a moment that there are likely other people with super powers, and some people possibly with magic. Even magical creatures such as fae.
I know how to drive manually, and to downshift, you'd go back-left-back form 5th to 4th, forward from 4th to 3rd, back-left-back from 3rd to 2nd, and forward form 2nd to 1st. Do the opposite when accelerating: forward-right-forward from 2nd to 3rd, back from 3rd to 4th etc. Neutral is dead-centre, reverse is back from 5th.Nope. ***(I mean I don't know, but it sounds right. I also don't drive stick)***
I couldn't have worded this better. Driving stick is an odd, jiggly kind of sorcery.
We'd only be taking a 9mm each, and maybe like four mags between us. He still has three revolvers, two shotguns, and another 9mm. Also, if he's the same as canon he's a domestic abuser so he deserves it.
- Location
- The Colored Room
- Pronouns
- TheOne
I think you read me wrong?
I was saying that's not ridiculous at all given the setting. I doubt it, but it's definitely not impossible.
Alobomb
Time Traveler
- Location
- Canada
Voting will close around around 9 or 10pm EST tonight
FYI people who voted for James C's plan last time will have their votes carry over to this one if they don't change it or post a new one, should have made that clear in the post.
At work, but will do my best to answer any clarifying questions that Max would obviously be able to know or find out should anyone have any.
FYI people who voted for James C's plan last time will have their votes carry over to this one if they don't change it or post a new one, should have made that clear in the post.
At work, but will do my best to answer any clarifying questions that Max would obviously be able to know or find out should anyone have any.
Hospital Omake
- Location
- The Colored Room
- Pronouns
- TheOne
Hospital Omake
A little kindness between besties never killed anybody, right?
After sitting in a hospital with barely anything to say, Victoria wasn't so sure anymore.
It felt nice to be nice, sure, on the odd occasion or every once in a while. But this hospital was getting to be annoyingly familiar. She'd made sure to visit every day after class just to give Taylor some company, and it was starting to have an odd effect on things.
On one hand it was just good strategy. (That's what she told herself anyway) To go far, you need a clique. If you're on your own, you get picked off. So if you have one, you'd best keep it up and people require maintenance.
Doing that last part was usually simple enough. "Be good to those close to you," was the motto she lived by, tried to anyways. It keeps them loyal.
A nice word here or a joke there is all it took (just not at their expense, it has to be someone else's). Remember their birthdays.
Little stuff like that keeps people in check, makes them stay close.
It's called networking. Mom always said it does wonders, and it costs nearly nothing.
But this?
This didn't fit into that, she was starting to realize. It was a bridge a bit too far. Her first instinct when Taylor brought it up was to give her a sweet word and sweep it under the rug. "That sucks hon, I'll keep your mom in my heart." Or something like that.
She had business to take care of and it's the 21st century, Taylor's mom was going to be fine. Worrying was just a waste of time. Obviously, saying that out loud wouldn't have played well. One look at Taylor told her that much, the girl looked like a wreck anytime the two of them had a moment's privacy.
She let her guard down so easily, if you act like you care about her she'll give an entire sob story. It was a scary habit, how many people would she go around telling that to? "It's between us," she said, but who knows with some people? Tight lips were a rare commodity as far as she was concerned.
Even if Victoria did care, it wasn't like it was smart to just assume.
The day they'd first gone to the hospital, Victoria had let the girl rattle off about all the things that had gone wrong for her in the last few days: a bad grade on a science test (C-minus), an argument with Courtney (easy to defuse) and finally that her mom was getting back surgery.
There were waterworks.
It wasn't cute.
By the end of it, Victoria was just glad she hadn't broke down around any other people. Weakness wasn't good for Vortex optics.
Besides, everything would be just fine. That's what she told her, and she meant that. It'd be silly to think that wasn't the case.
Of course, she's been coming back to the hospital ever since, like clockwork.
≅≅≅
It surprised her.
Victoria Chase, waiting at a stranger's bedside in a sterile hospital room?
It doesn't fit. That's not her role.
Yet here she was, whispering in her friend's ear not to worry too much, that the doctors did a good job, or that the worst part's over now.
There's no bragging rights in being a tear sponge. It didn't pay for laundry either. And making sure Taylor didn't turn into sobbing mess wasn't getting her scholarships. At least if it were her own mom she could take pictures of the hospital room and milk it out, but no.
She had to be respectful.
She was losing hours of her precious time every day, and it was just to make one sad girl happy.
She had a project due on local businesses for Jefferson coming up in a week.
She had photos to touch up.
Emails to write.
The end of the World Party was on Thursday.
That was her baby, and she had to hand it off to Dana and Juliet. So much on her plate and here she was, making time for wasting time. So many distractions.. and for what?
"Thanks for being here, it means… a lot. Really." Taylor kind of whispered under her breath.
"Mhmm, you're very welcome," she agreed while rubbing her back. She gave it some thought for a moment, and added an "Any time," just for good measure.
The sad girl smiled at that.
Alobomb
Time Traveler
- Location
- Canada
This is so good Tjakari! What a fascinating character study, Victoria has a lot of depth to her and it's so cool to see that explored in a really interesting way. What a character thinks is out of character for themselves tells us a lot about them, especially when they do it anyway. Your characterization of her is really interesting too, there's a level of calculation in what she does, but at the same time it's very much not without warmth either, even in her day to day actions. Really, really enjoyed this, threadmarking and adding to OP.
Without Nathan around, Victoria doesn't have a "peer" to be compared to, so a focus on her other relationships would make a lot of sense to me.
Last edited:
- Location
- The Colored Room
- Pronouns
- TheOne
Thank you, I tried my best. I was scared it would come off a bit too mechanical, but I'm glad you liked it.
I started on it after the Double Moon update, but it needed some revising.
Which is why I like Victoria so much. Cause she seems like the type that's maybe a few bad life experiences away from being a decent person. She's not rotten to the core, she's just really invested in her own toxicity because she thinks it will make her successful.
EDIT:
I do not know how you get their dialogue so damned right. Life is Strange-Speak is another language, and I can't even try to get close.
Last edited:
2.10
Alobomb
Time Traveler
- Location
- Canada
As you outline your plan to Chloe, the skeptical look on her face grows more and more incredulous.
"Max, you realize how much of this relies totally on David fucking Madsen being cool?" She sounds personally affronted, but you just shrug.
"He's saved my life before, and please, Chloe, don't misunderstand." You grab her shoulders and make her look you in the eyes. "I know he's a complete shithead to you. I know he makes completely unreasonable demands and bosses you around and is, in every conceivable way, the primordial form of an abusive asshole stepdad." You let go of her and lean back against the couch. "But… Chloe, he's-" before you continue something comes to mind. It's already more than a stretch, but you can't defend him if this is the case.
"Has he hit you before, Chloe?"
Her eyes widen. "Wha- No?! Does he? Oh that fuckhead, I wish he would, Joyce would totally kick him out."
That answers that. You're relieved, but also a little wary of the moral trap you've put yourself in.
"He does if he thinks you've stolen one of his guns. Which you did, but that does not mean hitting you is okay at all. Obviously. I'll always take your side against him Chloe, but if he hasn't gone that far yet, I need to think there's still time to convince him to… not be such an utter asswipe."
She sighs. "Damn, I was thinking of how easy it'd be to just take one, too."
You nod, "It would be, but we don't need him as an enemy right now." You hesitate, but decide to press your luck. "Whatever he says tonight, unless it's clear that like, I'm getting pissed off at him, could you tone down the sass?"
"Pfft, that's a big ask Miss Caulfield, I just don't know if it's possible."
You grin, "Well I hope you find a way, or we might have to shoot our way out of the next family meeting."
She laughs and nods. "Sure, sure, whatever. He should be home around two."
You nod and glance at the living room clock. Another half hour then. "Let's head into the garage and see what kind of cover we have to work with."
Your plan for defending the garage isn't complex, it's barely even a plan. You and Chloe scour the garage for anything to build a barricade out off, and eventually come up with a passable assortment of items. You have no idea what he was gonna use them for, but there's a pile of bags of concrete mix in one corner that make up the base of your barricade. Around them goes various pieces of wood, debris, some bags of rice, and a couple of large empty spools.
"Not bad, Max, looks like we're getting ready for a round of nazi zombies!"
You laugh. "I wish we had a pack-a-punch machine, or anything like that."
Chloe nods, "Being able to just wait for the red jelly to go away when we get fucked up would be great too."
"Pfft, you're telling me."
SLAM. You jump and see Chloe do so too next to you. Thumping footsteps make their way to the living room, and a familiar, square head peers into the room with an everpresent grimace. "What the hell are you doing in my garage? And who's this?"
You look from Chloe, who is very pointedly not saying anything, to David and his stern expression. Time to go, Super-Max. "David, let's talk."
Fortunately, David, for all his paranoia, basically wears his heart on his sleeve. You're able to tell plainly when you've said the wrong thing- or more often said something in the wrong way- almost immediately. This means that instead of a bunch of long rewinds as you gauge his mindset, the conversation is a bunch of shorter ones, which is exponentially less tiring. You'd been hoping to be able to convince him without the whole... time travel aspect, but he just wasn't willing to believe that you weren't in the wrong somehow for being pursued by someone or someones for no reason. Ugh, that means I'll have to tell Joyce too.
Eventually, you're all seated in the living room, David in the blue chair, facing you and Chloe on the couch. He sighs. "Time travel… people following you around… Jesus…"
"I- I'm sorry David, I know this is a lot to take in," it feels like you're saying that a lot lately, "but I wouldn't be coming to you if I- if we didn't need your help." Chloe shoots you a look, but you elbow her lightly. Now is not the time.
David just looks at you for a moment. He says, "And you know that someone's coming for you?"
You hesitate, seeing two ways you could go about this. No. No, I've lied enough. We can't make informed decisions without some honesty. "I don't know, not exactly. But… everything that's happened and everything I'm feeling is screaming that someone is after me."
He seems to look into the middle distance, and nods. "A soldier's instincts. It's a different kind of war you're fighting Max, but that just means your gut is trained for the battles that you fight."
He sighs, and looks you in the eyes. "Alright Max, what can I do to help?"
You look at Chloe, unable to suppress a grin. That was easier than I thought. She grins right back, and looks at David. "Guns." She says as David's face falls. "Show us how to use'em."
He looks helplessly between you and Chloe for a moment, begging you with his eyes to say that's not what you want. "Hoh boy… Joyce is gonna kill me," he mutters with a sigh. "Let's go."
A few minutes later, you're situated in the garage. David is preaching about gun safety, mostly to Chloe, you tuned him out almost immediately. You've used the guns yourself more than enough times. Chloe's eyes are sullenly fixed on David as he talks, and you stride over to the cabinet.
Hmm, what am I feeling today? Shotguns were right out, in your estimation. They're already unwieldy and in the cramped space of the Price household they'd be nigh unusable. The magnums? You know Chloe prefers them, but you could never get a handle on the recoil, and you shudder to think about how your arms would handle it in their atrophied state. That leaves his Smith and Wesson M&P's, the most common handgun in America for a reason. Reliable, not massive stopping power, but more (way more, in your opinion) than enough stopping power than any civilian should need. You pull out the second one from the top, it needs cleaning, but that's partly why you chose it.
David's explanation falters as the sound of metal being placed onto metal breaks his focus. He and Chloe both look over at you curiously. You only dimly notice though, you're focused entirely on disassembling the handgun. In less than a minute, you have body of the gun, the guide rod and recoil spring, the barrel, and the now emptied slide laid out on top of the tool box before you.
David whistles. "You know your stuff there Max."
You shrug modestly, "It's not like it's a very complicated teardown, not exactly a lot of moving parts."
"True," he nods, then goes back to lecturing Chloe about trigger discipline.
You fish his cleaning solution and pads out of the little drawers on the bottom of his gun rack, and get to work. It's a mindless kind of activity, but a zen one. You had eventually learned to get by without guns, but it seems your muscle memory stayed sharp.
A few minutes later, you hear the front door unlock, and Joyce stride down the entry hall. David and Chloe don't seem to notice, too focused on discussing the actual mechanical workings of his revolvers, which Chloe seems to be pretty intrigued by. Cute, she's always been into engineering.
You give Joyce a wave as she curiously peers into the back-room of the garage from the living room, cognizant of the gunpowder staining your hands. "What on Earth?"
David and Chloe both start guiltily and turn to her. "Hey mom."
"Evening Joyce."
She peers past the three of you towards the garage proper, and takes in the makeshift barricade you've built there. She stares at it for a moment before turning to David.
"Now I won't say I ain't happy to see you two getting along," Chloe starts to protest but Joyce keeps talking, "but I would appreciate it if you would tell me what exactly is goin' on."
"I-I don't know about all this Max." Joyce is staring at you, wide-eyed. This conversation… isn't going quite as well as it did with David. You eventually have to rewind less and less, you don't want to exhaust yourself or start a nosebleed before anything even happens.
"Joyce, I promise I'm not like, a criminal, I have no idea why these guys are after me or how they even know about me." She nods, but hesitantly, you're still not through to her.
You don't rewind, but you decide to try a different angle. "Look, I know-"
She interrupts you. "Max. I…" She sighs. "I don't know about all this. I won't say that I don't believe ya, or that I can't, but…" You shrink a bit as she eyes you carefully. "I can tell you're real scared, and I know my husband and my daughter, Chloe would do anything for her friends, and David loves to be a knight in shinin' armour."
Your mind is brought back to Warren for a moment. Your other "knight."
"If you don't mind… I'd like to call the hospital tomorrow and see what they say about your parents." You hesitate, but nod. If it comes down to it, you can outright demonstrate your powers or go full rewind mode to convince her not to. Problem for tomorrow. "Tonight… well, how about I make us all a quick supper, and you can get back to what you're doin'." She smiles a little sadly, "It really is good to see David and Chloe gettin' along."
As much as you still aren't exactly David's biggest fan, you can't help but agree. You nod solemnly. Joyce stands with a flourish, clearly trying to put your arcane explanations of time travel behind her. "Anywho! I'll put somethin' quick on, maybe pasta? It'll be ready in thirty, let your other gun-nuts know."
You smile and nod, "Thanks Joyce." She regards you warmly for a moment, then trundles into the kitchen.
You glance at the kitchen clock again. 4:12. An early supper for the Price (Madsen? You're so used to calling it Price) household. It's good though, and you have a feeling this might be the most amicable supper they've had together in months.
"How do you know so much about this shi-" Chloe starts.
"Language!" Everyone but Joyce laughs as she looks sternly at Chloe.
"Heh, sorry mom. About this stuff?"
David grunts and spools some spaghetti around his fork. "It was just the dream of a dumb kid, but I wanted to be a gunsmith before I joined the military and found a greater purpose."
Chloe snorts and David looks momentarily incensed. They stare at each other for a quiet second and you see Joyce freeze out of the corner of your eye. But the tense silence fades as they both seem to deflate.
"It's… cool," Chloe says, carefully, as if trying each word for size, "I like engineering and mechanical stuff like that…"
David blinks at her, eyes wide. "I- uh. I'd been thinking of taking night classes for it, once the job at Blackwell steadied a bit."
Chloe chews slowly, and swallows. Then a single, brief nod. "You should, it's cool."
The two of them hurriedly go back to eating, apparently unwilling to acknowledge what might be the first completely non-confrontational supper talk they've ever had. Next to you, Joyce starts humming in between forkfuls of spaghetti, practically beaming at her husband and daughter.
But you've been distracted for too long too, you quickly dig into your pasta as conversation begins anew, Chloe and David both talking individually to Joyce, and pointedly ignoring each other.
Feel free to ask as always if you have any questions!
Also I know this isn't how decimals work but I wanna keep with the vague decimal chapters names.
"Max, you realize how much of this relies totally on David fucking Madsen being cool?" She sounds personally affronted, but you just shrug.
"He's saved my life before, and please, Chloe, don't misunderstand." You grab her shoulders and make her look you in the eyes. "I know he's a complete shithead to you. I know he makes completely unreasonable demands and bosses you around and is, in every conceivable way, the primordial form of an abusive asshole stepdad." You let go of her and lean back against the couch. "But… Chloe, he's-" before you continue something comes to mind. It's already more than a stretch, but you can't defend him if this is the case.
"Has he hit you before, Chloe?"
Her eyes widen. "Wha- No?! Does he? Oh that fuckhead, I wish he would, Joyce would totally kick him out."
That answers that. You're relieved, but also a little wary of the moral trap you've put yourself in.
"He does if he thinks you've stolen one of his guns. Which you did, but that does not mean hitting you is okay at all. Obviously. I'll always take your side against him Chloe, but if he hasn't gone that far yet, I need to think there's still time to convince him to… not be such an utter asswipe."
She sighs. "Damn, I was thinking of how easy it'd be to just take one, too."
You nod, "It would be, but we don't need him as an enemy right now." You hesitate, but decide to press your luck. "Whatever he says tonight, unless it's clear that like, I'm getting pissed off at him, could you tone down the sass?"
"Pfft, that's a big ask Miss Caulfield, I just don't know if it's possible."
You grin, "Well I hope you find a way, or we might have to shoot our way out of the next family meeting."
She laughs and nods. "Sure, sure, whatever. He should be home around two."
You nod and glance at the living room clock. Another half hour then. "Let's head into the garage and see what kind of cover we have to work with."
≅≅≅
Your plan for defending the garage isn't complex, it's barely even a plan. You and Chloe scour the garage for anything to build a barricade out off, and eventually come up with a passable assortment of items. You have no idea what he was gonna use them for, but there's a pile of bags of concrete mix in one corner that make up the base of your barricade. Around them goes various pieces of wood, debris, some bags of rice, and a couple of large empty spools.
"Not bad, Max, looks like we're getting ready for a round of nazi zombies!"
You laugh. "I wish we had a pack-a-punch machine, or anything like that."
Chloe nods, "Being able to just wait for the red jelly to go away when we get fucked up would be great too."
"Pfft, you're telling me."
SLAM. You jump and see Chloe do so too next to you. Thumping footsteps make their way to the living room, and a familiar, square head peers into the room with an everpresent grimace. "What the hell are you doing in my garage? And who's this?"
You look from Chloe, who is very pointedly not saying anything, to David and his stern expression. Time to go, Super-Max. "David, let's talk."
≅≅≅
Fortunately, David, for all his paranoia, basically wears his heart on his sleeve. You're able to tell plainly when you've said the wrong thing- or more often said something in the wrong way- almost immediately. This means that instead of a bunch of long rewinds as you gauge his mindset, the conversation is a bunch of shorter ones, which is exponentially less tiring. You'd been hoping to be able to convince him without the whole... time travel aspect, but he just wasn't willing to believe that you weren't in the wrong somehow for being pursued by someone or someones for no reason. Ugh, that means I'll have to tell Joyce too.
Eventually, you're all seated in the living room, David in the blue chair, facing you and Chloe on the couch. He sighs. "Time travel… people following you around… Jesus…"
"I- I'm sorry David, I know this is a lot to take in," it feels like you're saying that a lot lately, "but I wouldn't be coming to you if I- if we didn't need your help." Chloe shoots you a look, but you elbow her lightly. Now is not the time.
David just looks at you for a moment. He says, "And you know that someone's coming for you?"
You hesitate, seeing two ways you could go about this. No. No, I've lied enough. We can't make informed decisions without some honesty. "I don't know, not exactly. But… everything that's happened and everything I'm feeling is screaming that someone is after me."
He seems to look into the middle distance, and nods. "A soldier's instincts. It's a different kind of war you're fighting Max, but that just means your gut is trained for the battles that you fight."
He sighs, and looks you in the eyes. "Alright Max, what can I do to help?"
You look at Chloe, unable to suppress a grin. That was easier than I thought. She grins right back, and looks at David. "Guns." She says as David's face falls. "Show us how to use'em."
He looks helplessly between you and Chloe for a moment, begging you with his eyes to say that's not what you want. "Hoh boy… Joyce is gonna kill me," he mutters with a sigh. "Let's go."
≅≅≅
A few minutes later, you're situated in the garage. David is preaching about gun safety, mostly to Chloe, you tuned him out almost immediately. You've used the guns yourself more than enough times. Chloe's eyes are sullenly fixed on David as he talks, and you stride over to the cabinet.
Hmm, what am I feeling today? Shotguns were right out, in your estimation. They're already unwieldy and in the cramped space of the Price household they'd be nigh unusable. The magnums? You know Chloe prefers them, but you could never get a handle on the recoil, and you shudder to think about how your arms would handle it in their atrophied state. That leaves his Smith and Wesson M&P's, the most common handgun in America for a reason. Reliable, not massive stopping power, but more (way more, in your opinion) than enough stopping power than any civilian should need. You pull out the second one from the top, it needs cleaning, but that's partly why you chose it.
David's explanation falters as the sound of metal being placed onto metal breaks his focus. He and Chloe both look over at you curiously. You only dimly notice though, you're focused entirely on disassembling the handgun. In less than a minute, you have body of the gun, the guide rod and recoil spring, the barrel, and the now emptied slide laid out on top of the tool box before you.
David whistles. "You know your stuff there Max."
You shrug modestly, "It's not like it's a very complicated teardown, not exactly a lot of moving parts."
"True," he nods, then goes back to lecturing Chloe about trigger discipline.
You fish his cleaning solution and pads out of the little drawers on the bottom of his gun rack, and get to work. It's a mindless kind of activity, but a zen one. You had eventually learned to get by without guns, but it seems your muscle memory stayed sharp.
A few minutes later, you hear the front door unlock, and Joyce stride down the entry hall. David and Chloe don't seem to notice, too focused on discussing the actual mechanical workings of his revolvers, which Chloe seems to be pretty intrigued by. Cute, she's always been into engineering.
You give Joyce a wave as she curiously peers into the back-room of the garage from the living room, cognizant of the gunpowder staining your hands. "What on Earth?"
David and Chloe both start guiltily and turn to her. "Hey mom."
"Evening Joyce."
She peers past the three of you towards the garage proper, and takes in the makeshift barricade you've built there. She stares at it for a moment before turning to David.
"Now I won't say I ain't happy to see you two getting along," Chloe starts to protest but Joyce keeps talking, "but I would appreciate it if you would tell me what exactly is goin' on."
≅≅≅
"I-I don't know about all this Max." Joyce is staring at you, wide-eyed. This conversation… isn't going quite as well as it did with David. You eventually have to rewind less and less, you don't want to exhaust yourself or start a nosebleed before anything even happens.
"Joyce, I promise I'm not like, a criminal, I have no idea why these guys are after me or how they even know about me." She nods, but hesitantly, you're still not through to her.
You don't rewind, but you decide to try a different angle. "Look, I know-"
She interrupts you. "Max. I…" She sighs. "I don't know about all this. I won't say that I don't believe ya, or that I can't, but…" You shrink a bit as she eyes you carefully. "I can tell you're real scared, and I know my husband and my daughter, Chloe would do anything for her friends, and David loves to be a knight in shinin' armour."
Your mind is brought back to Warren for a moment. Your other "knight."
"If you don't mind… I'd like to call the hospital tomorrow and see what they say about your parents." You hesitate, but nod. If it comes down to it, you can outright demonstrate your powers or go full rewind mode to convince her not to. Problem for tomorrow. "Tonight… well, how about I make us all a quick supper, and you can get back to what you're doin'." She smiles a little sadly, "It really is good to see David and Chloe gettin' along."
As much as you still aren't exactly David's biggest fan, you can't help but agree. You nod solemnly. Joyce stands with a flourish, clearly trying to put your arcane explanations of time travel behind her. "Anywho! I'll put somethin' quick on, maybe pasta? It'll be ready in thirty, let your other gun-nuts know."
You smile and nod, "Thanks Joyce." She regards you warmly for a moment, then trundles into the kitchen.
≅≅≅
You glance at the kitchen clock again. 4:12. An early supper for the Price (Madsen? You're so used to calling it Price) household. It's good though, and you have a feeling this might be the most amicable supper they've had together in months.
"How do you know so much about this shi-" Chloe starts.
"Language!" Everyone but Joyce laughs as she looks sternly at Chloe.
"Heh, sorry mom. About this stuff?"
David grunts and spools some spaghetti around his fork. "It was just the dream of a dumb kid, but I wanted to be a gunsmith before I joined the military and found a greater purpose."
Chloe snorts and David looks momentarily incensed. They stare at each other for a quiet second and you see Joyce freeze out of the corner of your eye. But the tense silence fades as they both seem to deflate.
"It's… cool," Chloe says, carefully, as if trying each word for size, "I like engineering and mechanical stuff like that…"
David blinks at her, eyes wide. "I- uh. I'd been thinking of taking night classes for it, once the job at Blackwell steadied a bit."
Chloe chews slowly, and swallows. Then a single, brief nod. "You should, it's cool."
The two of them hurriedly go back to eating, apparently unwilling to acknowledge what might be the first completely non-confrontational supper talk they've ever had. Next to you, Joyce starts humming in between forkfuls of spaghetti, practically beaming at her husband and daughter.
But you've been distracted for too long too, you quickly dig into your pasta as conversation begins anew, Chloe and David both talking individually to Joyce, and pointedly ignoring each other.
≅≅≅
Current Point: October 10th, 2013. 4:15 PM.
Heya everybody, this update is running... incredibly long. Depending how I decide to split it up, it could be divided into as many as three separate posts. I've been picking away at it in a pretty out of order way, so I suspect the second will be ready tonight, if not the third as well a bit later. I could just post them all together later tonight, but I think for readability and not overwhelming people with what'll probably be a 6k word update in total, I am gonna split it up. No in-between votes this time, already a lot to do with James' plan. Current Point: October 10th, 2013. 4:15 PM.
Feel free to ask as always if you have any questions!
Also I know this isn't how decimals work but I wanna keep with the vague decimal chapters names.
- Location
- The Colored Room
- Pronouns
- TheOne
Awesome update, and a nice twist on how I assumed that it was going to go.
I thought there'd be more pushback on the whole superpowers deal, but I guess that was just me anticipating conflict.
I'm glad Ms. Price isn't being too difficult. It's nice that everyone can get along for an afternoon.
I thought there'd be more pushback on the whole superpowers deal, but I guess that was just me anticipating conflict.
I'm glad Ms. Price isn't being too difficult. It's nice that everyone can get along for an afternoon.
2.11
Alobomb
Time Traveler
- Location
- Canada
CW: Fairly graphic violence.
Joyce is in the middle of describing the first time she and David danced together when she's silenced by three heavy, ponderous knocks at the door. The four of you all look between each other.
"Joyce," David says in a low voice, "Go upstairs, stay quiet." She nods and gives him a quick peck on the cheek, then hurries off. Another three loud, heavy knocks. "Girls, you wait around the corner, by the doorframe. If they're hostile, wait for me to run past you, then turn out and shoot, we don't need any friendly fire. Understood?"
You gulp and say, "Gotcha." You see Chloe hesitate, then give a single nod from the corner of your eye.
"Good, let's see who's here." You and Chloe scamper to take your positions by the kitchen doorway closest to the front door.
"Coming, coming!" David shouts as another three knocks pounding through the house make you jump.
You can't see anything besides Chloe in front of you, you're holding her hand tightly.
You hear David unlatch the door and open it. A pause. "Mark? Can I help you?"
Oh.
Oh no.
"David? I didn't know this was your house." Jefferson's voice. You squeeze Chloe's hand.
"Well, it is. What are you doing here? And with-" He pauses, and you hold your breath fearfully for a moment. "Hmph, those guys are ex-military."
Jefferson chuckles. "Not 'ex,' David. I do some work for the Department of Homeland Security. We're looking for a young woman who lives at this house, blue hair? We have reason to believe she's sheltering another girl her age who has information about an active terrorist threat on US soil."
You hear David exhale loudly. "Well now, that's a pretty big deal, isn't it? Homeland Security, eh? You got a badge on you?"
Silence. Jefferson is hesitating. Anyone else, that'd be a sign David had the upper hand. But you know Jefferson. This is just him being backed into a corner.
"We're undercover, David. No identifying marks, plausible deniability if we're kidnapped by a cell member."
David snorts, dismissive. "Right. Get the Hell off of my porch."
"David," Jefferson sounds irritated now, "are you really going to obstruct a terrorism investigation? Where's your sense of duty to this country?"
"Get off of my property." David's voice is full military-mode now, tense and commanding. "The kids aren't here, anyway."
Quiet for a moment, you don't hear movement, they must just be staring each other down. Finally, Jefferson sighs. "So much for the patriot angle."
You hear a smack followed by David grunting, and are about to leap out to see what happened when you're stopped in your tracks by a loud CRACK followed almost instantly by a wet splat and a spray of blood getting painted across the floor. You stagger backwards with Chloe and put your backs to the kitchen counter as time seems to slow, not due to any sort of powers, but just the basic human chemical response to seeing something that horrifies you. Fear and adrenaline. You'd never heard a silenced gunshot in real life, you think. Silence is too strong of a word for it. It's still a gunshot, just robbed of all that bassy violence that's made it into the cultural signifier for death. Maybe that's why it's effective? Without the depth to the sound, most people assume it's just that, a random sound. Silence in anonymity. Fitting, you guess.
"Wait here, watch for nosy neighbours." Jefferson orders.
Despite feeling as though everything is in slow motion, you realize that's just your perception when the person you'd been dreading turns the corner. His face mirrors the surprise on yours for a moment, before his expression relaxes into a cool superiority at yours melting into abject terror.
"Maxine, right?" He asks, like it's a question. "What a small world! It turns out I have a friend who'd like very much to speak with you."
He blinks and peers a bit closer at Chloe, who's huddled next to you, holding her gun behind her back. "Oh shit, a small world is right. You're one of Rachel's friends, aren't you?" He leans against the doorframe casually. "I wonder why he didn't tell me. Maybe he doesn't know? Ah well, anyway." In a single, slick movement, he draws a small handgun of some kind with a stubby extension to it's barrel and-
CRACK
CRACK
Chloe doesn't even have time to fully raise her own gun before two bullets are lodged in her chest and she's sinking to the floor and you drop your gun with a clatter so you can try and break her fall and-
"Wha-!" Joyce's voice. From the stairs. "You- you shot-! You…"
Jefferson turns to her, lightning fast, genuinely surprised, already leveling his gun.
"MONSTE-"
CRACK
The rest of Joyce's shout is drowned out by the report of Jefferson's weapon. You squeeze your eyes shut as Joyce's body falls the rest of the way down the stairs with a pair of heavy thumps. You still hear her ragged breathing, alongside Chloe's. You turn back to your friend and open your eyes. Her gaze is glassy, she's in shock from the pain. You stand and face Jefferson.
Every movement you're making feels empty. Like you're doing them just for the sake of doing them, moving, expending energy, breathing, barely. Blood staining the ground of the Price household. Staining the walls. Trying to scrub it out mentally.
Jefferson stands staring at Joyce's body for a moment, then his head flickers to look at where you assume David's is. Then he turns again in a flash, staring at Chloe's. "SHIT!" He slams one latex-gloved hand against the doorframe, making a solid smack.
He points at you suddenly, accusingly, eyes wild. "You did this, y'know? If you hadn't talked to that idiot security guard, none of this-" He gesticulates, flinging his arms around himself, spinning on the spot, before grounding himself staring at you, "Would have happened!"
He produces a needle from somewhere in his blazer. Your eyes fix on it, your mind numbly following along. "Come on, before you make any more trouble for Mr. Prescott."
Prescott… He approaches you fast, but your mind catches up with what your eyes are seeing just before he reaches you and suddenly you feel everything at once. He hesitates and actually steps back as you scream in impotent rage and fear and grief and reach towards him with one burnt, scarred hand, before you settle instead for grabbing the threads that all feel like piano wire under your vice like grip and you close your eyes and you twist.
You twist and you just keep twisting and pulling with all of your strength until your lungs cry out for oxygen from holding your scream so long and your throat burns with exertion and then you hold it all just a bit longer anyway-
And then you collapse, pulled down by the weight of everything you just witnessed. It didn't happen. You made it not. Wait- shit. When did you rewind to? You cough weakly and look up from the kitchen floor to see-
"Jayzus almighty!" your ears are still ringing but Joyce's startled exclamation manages to fill you with hope anyway. I can still fix this… obviously. I guess. Just… holy shit. You take a few deep breaths and wipe your face on your sleeve. It comes away bloody, not yours though.
You force yourself to look up. "H-hey Joyce."
She's looking at you with wide, concerned eyes. "How the Hell didya get down there Max?"
"Uh. Time travel."
She looks up into the middle distance and puts her hands on her hips. A long exhale. "I guess so, huh?" She glances back down at you. "What on- How did you get so bloody? C'mere dear let's clean you up."
From the garage, you hear "Max? MAX!?" Chloe. Hah. You glance at the kitchen clock. Almost twenty minutes before supper… Wow. Did I rewind that far? How? You don't feel any worse for wear. I hope it's not just the adrenaline.
"In here Chlo!" Joyce yells, and a second later Chloe and David come bounding out of the garage.
"Holy Hell Max." David says, putting his hand to his forehead, "What the Hell happened? One minute you're there showing off your gun know-how, next you fuc- sorry Joyce- friggin' disappear."
Chloe's next to you almost instantly as David talks, rubbing your back. Joyce is dabbing at your face with a warm, wet cloth, wiping Chloe's blood off of you. I wonder if that blood is still in Chloe, or if it teleported like I did? That's… worrying.
A few minutes later, and painfully aware of those few minutes, you're bundled with a blanket wrapped around you at the kitchen table, explaining as briefly as possible what had happened.
"Jesus…" David mutters. "All of us, just like that?"
Chloe is staring at the table, pale. See what I mean about the realities of time travel, Chlo?
Joyce's eyes are flickering around from window to window, she's nervous.
"This Jefferson fucker, I've seen him a few times at the school, he just up and shot me? Just like that?" David asks. So he's not gonna come clean about investigating him for the Dark Room. I wonder if he even is investigating him here?
You nod. "Jefferson is like a cornered coyote," you start, "he can more than hold his own in a fight, but he only does it when he thinks it's a last resort, when he thinks he's between a rock and a hard place." You look at David, and he hesitantly looks up to meet eyes. "You count as a rock to him David, and whoever he's working for? Apparently enough of a hard place to justify murder."
Joyce looks like she's about to cry from fear, and Chloe looks like she's trying to shake herself out of whatever stupor seeing you coated in her blood put her into. I hate seeing them like this. You sigh. "I'm… I'm sorry guys. I didn't know they'd be so… like that." You shake your head. "I didn't even know for sure that I was being followed until just now…"
A fist slams on the table making you jump and whip your head to look at the doorframe but- it's just Chloe. "It is not your fault Max." She has steel in her voice, you turn to look at her and see deep blue eyes practically burning under similarly blue hair. "Those assholes started this, I dunno why, but they fired the first shot, and they came after us. Fuck this, Prescott isn't going to get you on my watch."
Chloe… You smile at her gratefully. "Thanks Chloe, really." You gather your thoughts, and launch into them, "So, Mark Jefferson and at least one other dude- actually, you said 'those' guys David, probably two, maybe 3 others, all ex-military except for Jefferson- are coming here, with silenced guns, apparently ready to kill to get to me, because they're dicks, I guess." Everyone nods. "My first idea is to jump back to the morning, or even afternoon, and leave town with Chloe, and maybe with some of your guns, David." Joyce and Chloe nod, but David shakes his head.
"It sounded like you said they were following you. They'll be coming after you either way, at least here they can't just barge in and surprise you, we know that they knock first. Besides, this is home turf. It's always better to fight a battle on familiar ground than unknown terrain." He shifts into what you've come to think of as his 'military' tone of voice in the last sentence.
You frown, he makes some points but… you're not sure if you're comfortable endangering Joyce like that. "Do you think we can take them, David?" You ask. You don't love relying on him for anything, but… well, he has taken down Jefferson before, albeit under radically different circumstances.
He nods, rubbing the stubble on his blocky jaw with one hand. "Now that they've lost the element of surprise, definitely. The real goal of the operation is gonna be sending a message, and not giving them the opportunity to call the police on us."
"Right, so we kneecap'em!" Chloe says loudly, she looks excited, almost. You grin at her enthusiasm.
"Chloe." David says, that annoyingly familiar stern edge creeping into his voice. "How easy do you think it is to shoot a moving target, who doesn't want to get shot, in the knee?"
Chloe starts with a (justifiably) petulant response, but you interrupt, "Mr. Madsen, I've done shooting with Chloe… before. As long as I'm guiding her and you can hold your own, she can hit anything." Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but you want to head this argument off.
The ex-soldier bristles for a second, and you worry momentarily that you're about to have a confrontation. But he swallows and nods. "I can hold my own just fine." You sigh a bit then. I had to go back, but it really sucks that I erased whatever progress the two of them talking over dinner represented.
You come back to yourself and nod back. "Good, go start setting up in the garage. Joyce, I know it'll be really worrying, but no matter what you hear, don't come downstairs. I promise that I'll keep them safe, but it'll be that much more difficult if I'm trying to keep an eye on you too."
Joyce smiles wearily at you. "Max, I don't know what awful things you've gone through to getcha like this, but you have grown into a fine young woman." She stands up and leans over to pull you into a warm hug. You hug her back, tightly. "Take care of them, kapish?"
You nod into her shoulder. "Promise."
She lets go of the hug and turns to her daughter. "You give'em the what for, got it dear?"
"Pfft, they won't know what hit'em." Chloe manages to spout off with a cocky grin, but you can tell from the way she blinks and flushes that she's startled by the sudden confidence and… positivity about violence… from her mom.
"Be safe y'all." Joyce says, and makes her way upstairs. I hope she does stay put this time…
Only the quiet omnipresent hum of a suburban home's appliances reigns in the kitchen after she leaves. You sit there, thinking, Chloe watching you think.
You glance up, her lips are pursed and she looks away from your gaze. Something on her mind. "What's up?" You ask.
"This is… the second run through now… right?" She seems hesitant to ask.
You nod, "We'll get it right in one Chloe, now that we know they're coming."
She relaxes at that. "Was Jefferson involved with the Prescott fuckos in, uh, I guess the time you remember?"
You purse your lips. "It's… weird. He was but not nearly as overtly. The Prescotts were more like his… sponsors. Under the table." You briefly consider coming clean to her about the Dark Room, but… maybe right now isn't the best time.
"Max… I think there's something bigger, much, much bigger going on here," Chloe says with a frown.
You nod. "I think if we get out of this okay, and- God. If the storm doesn't come tomorrow- we might need to… scale up a bit."
"Hell yeah dude," Chloe grins, "You've got time powers, think about what we could do with a single ATM? We could get our own place pretty easily I bet, if we really wanted."
You laugh and flutter your eyelashes at Chloe. "Oh? Asking me to move in already? How forward of you, Miss Price."
She snorts. "Says the chick who broke into my room and asked to sleep with me."
"Pfft, you wish that's what I was asking." Aaand oh yikes this is getting uncomfortably close to the truth. You blush suddenly and look away, trying to think of a topic change. You're slightly gratified to see that Chloe doesn't answer, aside from a similar reaction to yours.
"A-Anyway," she says, "What's the deal with the storm, anyway? Do you think it'll come?"
You sigh and pick at your nails, glad for the topic change. "I… really don't know, Chloe. The anomalies all happened- well, I think they did, I didn't see any dead animals- and I associate them happening pretty strongly with the storm, but…" You look up, out the Price house's back door, to the calm late afternoon sky. "Last time, every last time, I had dreams, and- also visions of the storm the whole week long. This time? Nothing. I haven't had a single memorable dream, let alone any visions of it." That's not entirely true. In your sleep, your dreams are almost always tormented by memories of the storm, different storms. But there's something else to visions and prophetic dreams, a kind of overwhelming realness, something about them is incredibly grounded, to the point that reality almost feels less so when you wake up. And yes, you haven't had any of those types of dreams since you woke up in the hospital. Which reminds me…
You lay out your encounter with the glowing lady in the hospital to Chloe, hoping for some insight. As you finish and describe her saying 'wish me luck, you'll need it,' Chloe gapes at you.
"Max."
You blink at her. "Hm?"
"You had an encounter with your future self and you didn't tell me?"
You blink at her again, this time cocking your head in confusion. "Future… self?"
Her eyes go wide and she buries her face in her hands. "Oh Max. Max, Max, Max. That is such a textbook future self encounter! You even kept saying how familiar she was, but that you couldn't quuuite place her? Well duh, it's you dude!"
Hm, this feels like an existential crisis ready to go.
"But… I'm me." You say weakly.
"I- I mean, yes Max, you are. But like, time powers dude, is it really all that surprising there's at least one other 'you' out there?"
You sigh and lean back. "I guess not…"
Chloe's grinning now, "And you said she yelled to someone you couldn't see, and called them 'Punk'? Fuckin' guess who I bet that is!"
You giggle. "Huh, I guess I manage to keep you alive… however long that is away."
She smirks, "You better, hippie, I've got a feeling I'll save your life too a few times before we get there."
You decide to stop thinking about it too hard until you can talk more with Chloe. Something about seeing your future self who is that much older is reassuring… but just the same… I wonder how many of… me… never get the chance to do that.
No. You have more important things to think about right now. Like getting out of here alive.
"Right," you say, "let's get ready."
Post two of three ladies and gents, bringing this update to a nice 5.3~k words now. I wrote that whole Jefferson scene first, then the rest of this update kind of grew around it to either side. He's a dick, but he has a way of stealing the show when he shows up. Final post of this update could be either tonight or early tomorrow morning, depends how well writing the action goes.
Here's the picture I'm using for reference of the Madsen household floorplan. It's concept art, but mostly accurate from what I can tell. Either way, I'm using it in conjunction with screenshots from the game that I took for reference.
Also this is Max talking about her future self.
Joyce is in the middle of describing the first time she and David danced together when she's silenced by three heavy, ponderous knocks at the door. The four of you all look between each other.
"Joyce," David says in a low voice, "Go upstairs, stay quiet." She nods and gives him a quick peck on the cheek, then hurries off. Another three loud, heavy knocks. "Girls, you wait around the corner, by the doorframe. If they're hostile, wait for me to run past you, then turn out and shoot, we don't need any friendly fire. Understood?"
You gulp and say, "Gotcha." You see Chloe hesitate, then give a single nod from the corner of your eye.
"Good, let's see who's here." You and Chloe scamper to take your positions by the kitchen doorway closest to the front door.
"Coming, coming!" David shouts as another three knocks pounding through the house make you jump.
You can't see anything besides Chloe in front of you, you're holding her hand tightly.
You hear David unlatch the door and open it. A pause. "Mark? Can I help you?"
Oh.
Oh no.
"David? I didn't know this was your house." Jefferson's voice. You squeeze Chloe's hand.
"Well, it is. What are you doing here? And with-" He pauses, and you hold your breath fearfully for a moment. "Hmph, those guys are ex-military."
Jefferson chuckles. "Not 'ex,' David. I do some work for the Department of Homeland Security. We're looking for a young woman who lives at this house, blue hair? We have reason to believe she's sheltering another girl her age who has information about an active terrorist threat on US soil."
You hear David exhale loudly. "Well now, that's a pretty big deal, isn't it? Homeland Security, eh? You got a badge on you?"
Silence. Jefferson is hesitating. Anyone else, that'd be a sign David had the upper hand. But you know Jefferson. This is just him being backed into a corner.
"We're undercover, David. No identifying marks, plausible deniability if we're kidnapped by a cell member."
David snorts, dismissive. "Right. Get the Hell off of my porch."
"David," Jefferson sounds irritated now, "are you really going to obstruct a terrorism investigation? Where's your sense of duty to this country?"
"Get off of my property." David's voice is full military-mode now, tense and commanding. "The kids aren't here, anyway."
Quiet for a moment, you don't hear movement, they must just be staring each other down. Finally, Jefferson sighs. "So much for the patriot angle."
You hear a smack followed by David grunting, and are about to leap out to see what happened when you're stopped in your tracks by a loud CRACK followed almost instantly by a wet splat and a spray of blood getting painted across the floor. You stagger backwards with Chloe and put your backs to the kitchen counter as time seems to slow, not due to any sort of powers, but just the basic human chemical response to seeing something that horrifies you. Fear and adrenaline. You'd never heard a silenced gunshot in real life, you think. Silence is too strong of a word for it. It's still a gunshot, just robbed of all that bassy violence that's made it into the cultural signifier for death. Maybe that's why it's effective? Without the depth to the sound, most people assume it's just that, a random sound. Silence in anonymity. Fitting, you guess.
"Wait here, watch for nosy neighbours." Jefferson orders.
Despite feeling as though everything is in slow motion, you realize that's just your perception when the person you'd been dreading turns the corner. His face mirrors the surprise on yours for a moment, before his expression relaxes into a cool superiority at yours melting into abject terror.
"Maxine, right?" He asks, like it's a question. "What a small world! It turns out I have a friend who'd like very much to speak with you."
He blinks and peers a bit closer at Chloe, who's huddled next to you, holding her gun behind her back. "Oh shit, a small world is right. You're one of Rachel's friends, aren't you?" He leans against the doorframe casually. "I wonder why he didn't tell me. Maybe he doesn't know? Ah well, anyway." In a single, slick movement, he draws a small handgun of some kind with a stubby extension to it's barrel and-
CRACK
CRACK
Chloe doesn't even have time to fully raise her own gun before two bullets are lodged in her chest and she's sinking to the floor and you drop your gun with a clatter so you can try and break her fall and-
"Wha-!" Joyce's voice. From the stairs. "You- you shot-! You…"
Jefferson turns to her, lightning fast, genuinely surprised, already leveling his gun.
"MONSTE-"
CRACK
The rest of Joyce's shout is drowned out by the report of Jefferson's weapon. You squeeze your eyes shut as Joyce's body falls the rest of the way down the stairs with a pair of heavy thumps. You still hear her ragged breathing, alongside Chloe's. You turn back to your friend and open your eyes. Her gaze is glassy, she's in shock from the pain. You stand and face Jefferson.
Every movement you're making feels empty. Like you're doing them just for the sake of doing them, moving, expending energy, breathing, barely. Blood staining the ground of the Price household. Staining the walls. Trying to scrub it out mentally.
Jefferson stands staring at Joyce's body for a moment, then his head flickers to look at where you assume David's is. Then he turns again in a flash, staring at Chloe's. "SHIT!" He slams one latex-gloved hand against the doorframe, making a solid smack.
He points at you suddenly, accusingly, eyes wild. "You did this, y'know? If you hadn't talked to that idiot security guard, none of this-" He gesticulates, flinging his arms around himself, spinning on the spot, before grounding himself staring at you, "Would have happened!"
He produces a needle from somewhere in his blazer. Your eyes fix on it, your mind numbly following along. "Come on, before you make any more trouble for Mr. Prescott."
Prescott… He approaches you fast, but your mind catches up with what your eyes are seeing just before he reaches you and suddenly you feel everything at once. He hesitates and actually steps back as you scream in impotent rage and fear and grief and reach towards him with one burnt, scarred hand, before you settle instead for grabbing the threads that all feel like piano wire under your vice like grip and you close your eyes and you twist.
You twist and you just keep twisting and pulling with all of your strength until your lungs cry out for oxygen from holding your scream so long and your throat burns with exertion and then you hold it all just a bit longer anyway-
≅≅≅
And then you collapse, pulled down by the weight of everything you just witnessed. It didn't happen. You made it not. Wait- shit. When did you rewind to? You cough weakly and look up from the kitchen floor to see-
"Jayzus almighty!" your ears are still ringing but Joyce's startled exclamation manages to fill you with hope anyway. I can still fix this… obviously. I guess. Just… holy shit. You take a few deep breaths and wipe your face on your sleeve. It comes away bloody, not yours though.
You force yourself to look up. "H-hey Joyce."
She's looking at you with wide, concerned eyes. "How the Hell didya get down there Max?"
"Uh. Time travel."
She looks up into the middle distance and puts her hands on her hips. A long exhale. "I guess so, huh?" She glances back down at you. "What on- How did you get so bloody? C'mere dear let's clean you up."
From the garage, you hear "Max? MAX!?" Chloe. Hah. You glance at the kitchen clock. Almost twenty minutes before supper… Wow. Did I rewind that far? How? You don't feel any worse for wear. I hope it's not just the adrenaline.
"In here Chlo!" Joyce yells, and a second later Chloe and David come bounding out of the garage.
"Holy Hell Max." David says, putting his hand to his forehead, "What the Hell happened? One minute you're there showing off your gun know-how, next you fuc- sorry Joyce- friggin' disappear."
Chloe's next to you almost instantly as David talks, rubbing your back. Joyce is dabbing at your face with a warm, wet cloth, wiping Chloe's blood off of you. I wonder if that blood is still in Chloe, or if it teleported like I did? That's… worrying.
A few minutes later, and painfully aware of those few minutes, you're bundled with a blanket wrapped around you at the kitchen table, explaining as briefly as possible what had happened.
"Jesus…" David mutters. "All of us, just like that?"
Chloe is staring at the table, pale. See what I mean about the realities of time travel, Chlo?
Joyce's eyes are flickering around from window to window, she's nervous.
"This Jefferson fucker, I've seen him a few times at the school, he just up and shot me? Just like that?" David asks. So he's not gonna come clean about investigating him for the Dark Room. I wonder if he even is investigating him here?
You nod. "Jefferson is like a cornered coyote," you start, "he can more than hold his own in a fight, but he only does it when he thinks it's a last resort, when he thinks he's between a rock and a hard place." You look at David, and he hesitantly looks up to meet eyes. "You count as a rock to him David, and whoever he's working for? Apparently enough of a hard place to justify murder."
Joyce looks like she's about to cry from fear, and Chloe looks like she's trying to shake herself out of whatever stupor seeing you coated in her blood put her into. I hate seeing them like this. You sigh. "I'm… I'm sorry guys. I didn't know they'd be so… like that." You shake your head. "I didn't even know for sure that I was being followed until just now…"
A fist slams on the table making you jump and whip your head to look at the doorframe but- it's just Chloe. "It is not your fault Max." She has steel in her voice, you turn to look at her and see deep blue eyes practically burning under similarly blue hair. "Those assholes started this, I dunno why, but they fired the first shot, and they came after us. Fuck this, Prescott isn't going to get you on my watch."
Chloe… You smile at her gratefully. "Thanks Chloe, really." You gather your thoughts, and launch into them, "So, Mark Jefferson and at least one other dude- actually, you said 'those' guys David, probably two, maybe 3 others, all ex-military except for Jefferson- are coming here, with silenced guns, apparently ready to kill to get to me, because they're dicks, I guess." Everyone nods. "My first idea is to jump back to the morning, or even afternoon, and leave town with Chloe, and maybe with some of your guns, David." Joyce and Chloe nod, but David shakes his head.
"It sounded like you said they were following you. They'll be coming after you either way, at least here they can't just barge in and surprise you, we know that they knock first. Besides, this is home turf. It's always better to fight a battle on familiar ground than unknown terrain." He shifts into what you've come to think of as his 'military' tone of voice in the last sentence.
You frown, he makes some points but… you're not sure if you're comfortable endangering Joyce like that. "Do you think we can take them, David?" You ask. You don't love relying on him for anything, but… well, he has taken down Jefferson before, albeit under radically different circumstances.
He nods, rubbing the stubble on his blocky jaw with one hand. "Now that they've lost the element of surprise, definitely. The real goal of the operation is gonna be sending a message, and not giving them the opportunity to call the police on us."
"Right, so we kneecap'em!" Chloe says loudly, she looks excited, almost. You grin at her enthusiasm.
"Chloe." David says, that annoyingly familiar stern edge creeping into his voice. "How easy do you think it is to shoot a moving target, who doesn't want to get shot, in the knee?"
Chloe starts with a (justifiably) petulant response, but you interrupt, "Mr. Madsen, I've done shooting with Chloe… before. As long as I'm guiding her and you can hold your own, she can hit anything." Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but you want to head this argument off.
The ex-soldier bristles for a second, and you worry momentarily that you're about to have a confrontation. But he swallows and nods. "I can hold my own just fine." You sigh a bit then. I had to go back, but it really sucks that I erased whatever progress the two of them talking over dinner represented.
You come back to yourself and nod back. "Good, go start setting up in the garage. Joyce, I know it'll be really worrying, but no matter what you hear, don't come downstairs. I promise that I'll keep them safe, but it'll be that much more difficult if I'm trying to keep an eye on you too."
Joyce smiles wearily at you. "Max, I don't know what awful things you've gone through to getcha like this, but you have grown into a fine young woman." She stands up and leans over to pull you into a warm hug. You hug her back, tightly. "Take care of them, kapish?"
You nod into her shoulder. "Promise."
She lets go of the hug and turns to her daughter. "You give'em the what for, got it dear?"
"Pfft, they won't know what hit'em." Chloe manages to spout off with a cocky grin, but you can tell from the way she blinks and flushes that she's startled by the sudden confidence and… positivity about violence… from her mom.
"Be safe y'all." Joyce says, and makes her way upstairs. I hope she does stay put this time…
Only the quiet omnipresent hum of a suburban home's appliances reigns in the kitchen after she leaves. You sit there, thinking, Chloe watching you think.
You glance up, her lips are pursed and she looks away from your gaze. Something on her mind. "What's up?" You ask.
"This is… the second run through now… right?" She seems hesitant to ask.
You nod, "We'll get it right in one Chloe, now that we know they're coming."
She relaxes at that. "Was Jefferson involved with the Prescott fuckos in, uh, I guess the time you remember?"
You purse your lips. "It's… weird. He was but not nearly as overtly. The Prescotts were more like his… sponsors. Under the table." You briefly consider coming clean to her about the Dark Room, but… maybe right now isn't the best time.
"Max… I think there's something bigger, much, much bigger going on here," Chloe says with a frown.
You nod. "I think if we get out of this okay, and- God. If the storm doesn't come tomorrow- we might need to… scale up a bit."
"Hell yeah dude," Chloe grins, "You've got time powers, think about what we could do with a single ATM? We could get our own place pretty easily I bet, if we really wanted."
You laugh and flutter your eyelashes at Chloe. "Oh? Asking me to move in already? How forward of you, Miss Price."
She snorts. "Says the chick who broke into my room and asked to sleep with me."
"Pfft, you wish that's what I was asking." Aaand oh yikes this is getting uncomfortably close to the truth. You blush suddenly and look away, trying to think of a topic change. You're slightly gratified to see that Chloe doesn't answer, aside from a similar reaction to yours.
"A-Anyway," she says, "What's the deal with the storm, anyway? Do you think it'll come?"
You sigh and pick at your nails, glad for the topic change. "I… really don't know, Chloe. The anomalies all happened- well, I think they did, I didn't see any dead animals- and I associate them happening pretty strongly with the storm, but…" You look up, out the Price house's back door, to the calm late afternoon sky. "Last time, every last time, I had dreams, and- also visions of the storm the whole week long. This time? Nothing. I haven't had a single memorable dream, let alone any visions of it." That's not entirely true. In your sleep, your dreams are almost always tormented by memories of the storm, different storms. But there's something else to visions and prophetic dreams, a kind of overwhelming realness, something about them is incredibly grounded, to the point that reality almost feels less so when you wake up. And yes, you haven't had any of those types of dreams since you woke up in the hospital. Which reminds me…
You lay out your encounter with the glowing lady in the hospital to Chloe, hoping for some insight. As you finish and describe her saying 'wish me luck, you'll need it,' Chloe gapes at you.
"Max."
You blink at her. "Hm?"
"You had an encounter with your future self and you didn't tell me?"
You blink at her again, this time cocking your head in confusion. "Future… self?"
Her eyes go wide and she buries her face in her hands. "Oh Max. Max, Max, Max. That is such a textbook future self encounter! You even kept saying how familiar she was, but that you couldn't quuuite place her? Well duh, it's you dude!"
Hm, this feels like an existential crisis ready to go.
"But… I'm me." You say weakly.
"I- I mean, yes Max, you are. But like, time powers dude, is it really all that surprising there's at least one other 'you' out there?"
You sigh and lean back. "I guess not…"
Chloe's grinning now, "And you said she yelled to someone you couldn't see, and called them 'Punk'? Fuckin' guess who I bet that is!"
You giggle. "Huh, I guess I manage to keep you alive… however long that is away."
She smirks, "You better, hippie, I've got a feeling I'll save your life too a few times before we get there."
You decide to stop thinking about it too hard until you can talk more with Chloe. Something about seeing your future self who is that much older is reassuring… but just the same… I wonder how many of… me… never get the chance to do that.
No. You have more important things to think about right now. Like getting out of here alive.
"Right," you say, "let's get ready."
≅≅≅
Current Point: October 10th, 2013. 3:54PM.
Current Point: October 10th, 2013. 3:54PM.
Post two of three ladies and gents, bringing this update to a nice 5.3~k words now. I wrote that whole Jefferson scene first, then the rest of this update kind of grew around it to either side. He's a dick, but he has a way of stealing the show when he shows up. Final post of this update could be either tonight or early tomorrow morning, depends how well writing the action goes.
Here's the picture I'm using for reference of the Madsen household floorplan. It's concept art, but mostly accurate from what I can tell. Either way, I'm using it in conjunction with screenshots from the game that I took for reference.
Also this is Max talking about her future self.
- Location
- The Colored Room
- Pronouns
- TheOne
And keep it that way. He's a headache and needs to go down.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Can anyone please clarity his statement? What set this chain of events off, and why?
Why David being a security guard prompted such a response?
- Location
- The Colored Room
- Pronouns
- TheOne
I think what Jefferson is saying is that by involving the rest of Chloe's family, we made this situation 10x messier, more than it had it to be.
If it was just us, or us and Chloe, we could have just been disappeared. (Chloe might not have even been shot?)
But we brought too many people into it, people who could talk, people who will definitely be noticed when they're gone.
The Two Whales gets some of the most traffic in the town. David is the security guard for a Preppy Art School.
From his perspective, we made his life really damn hard.
- Location
- London, 1935. August.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Am...I the only one getting a stronger and stronger One Way Trip vibe the longer this fic goes? I'm not super up on LiS fics, so maybe there are just a bunch with similar settings/premises.
- Location
- The Colored Room
- Pronouns
- TheOne
One Way Trip Summary said:
This sounds like it's way beyond the scope of this quest. I honestly don't get the comparison.
Alobomb
Time Traveler
- Location
- Canada
One Way Trip and it's sequel are actually my favourite pieces of Life Is Strange fanfiction, so I can't deny that there's definitely gonna be some inspiration leakage (I've definitely had to stop myself from using some terms or lingo that specific to that fic, just because they've become pretty ingrained in my internal lingo for certain concepts that LiS deals with), but I intend to stay on a somewhat smaller scale than OWT and Near Light. There'll definitely be crossover wrt themes and, to an extent, premise, but only because they're both based off of the same work, and there are indeed a lot of LiS fics that start on similar lines (Better Then is another great example.)
If any of you like Life is Strange fanfics and haven't read One Way Trip and Near Light, I highly highly highly recommend them. If you read them on Ao3 then around Chapter 18 of Near Light you'll see me start popping up in the comments gushing about how much I love the fic. So, so good.
Understandable! The description of the fic is very meta-plot focused but most of that stuff doesn't show up until the last quarter of One Way Trip, that's mostly just the framing device and hook.
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- Location
- London, 1935. August.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yeah, the summary and premise of that fic are pretty far out there, but that fic is a lot more about an immediately post-storm Max dealing with suddenly finding herself with a much broader set of time-related powers and drawing the attention of the superpower illuminati/secret-supercorperations, while slowly integrating the new memories and trying to figure out what is up with her "new" powers.
Edit: now that I think about it, I kinda want to describe One Way Trip as the To the Stars of the LiS fandom, but I'm not familiar enough with the LiS fandom in general to say that for sure. Also, that's, like, an incredibly niche reference so is unlikely to clarify anything for anyone who isn't already familiar with both fics and both fandoms.
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- Location
- The Colored Room
- Pronouns
- TheOne
Okay then, my apologies. I understand the comparison now.