pineslog | ( june event ) who's that pokemon?

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( june event ) who's that pokemon?

EVENT: WHO'S THAT POKEMON?

For the residents of Wayward Pines, the 19th is just your typical boring Monday. The sun is shining. The birds are chirping.

Until suddenly, they're not.

That's the first sign. Maybe you don't even notice — you're far too busy with your nine-to-five, or maybe even by poolside, blissfully ignorant to the trouble brewing just out of sight, or to the fact that SPF 15 is basically just water anyway. Or maybe you aren't quite so lucky. You notice the birds have gone silent. You feel the eyes upon you, unseen but still raising goosebumps on the back of your neck.

And then from the woods, that telltale scream.

No, two screams, then three, then five, then more than a dozen. You can't count them, can't figure out which direction they're coming from. It's like they're all around you now. Even above you. Now you spot them on the rooftops — god, they're huge, you can't even fathom how they made it up there unnoticed.

But they're not playing at stealth anymore. One leaps off the roof, a single fluid bound on long thick limbs, and barely lands on the sidewalk for a moment before it lunges at the nearest person — your neighbor mowing his lawn, or maybe the woman carrying that armful of bags out of French's Grocery — long claws slicing through their flesh like a hot knife through butter. Then comes another, and another. Into the streets, the backyards, and the ill-timed pool parties, tearing through every living soul they can find.

By nightfall, the creatures have retreated back into the woods en masse, but anyone foolish enough to wander too far from the safety of their homes runs the risk of being picked off one by one if they're not careful. The 20th and 21st follow a similar pattern; during the day, the Sheriff and a team of volunteers comb through the woods looking for survivors, and during the night, these creatures do much the same.

The morning of the 22nd dawns with the last of the vicious "murder potatoes" (as Linda had hysterically dubbed them on the first day while wielding a butcher's knife with astonishing proficiency) have fallen, and the danger is gone.

For now, anyway. The questions they leave behind, however? Those are here to stay.

MOD NOTES

This is a catch-all for any and all threads pertaining to the Who's That Pokemon event! It covers the battle on the 19th and the lingering danger over the course of the 20th and 21st.

PLEASE INCLUDE IN YOUR TOP-LEVEL SUBJECT LINE: Character Name, date, location, and open or closed, to help keep things a bit more organized.

If you have any questions regarding this event, feel free to ask them here!

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[It says how tired he is that he doesn't hear her coming. Usually he's too aware during missions for most things to sneak up on him. He's the one that always is watchful of his siblings' backs, making sure that nothing catches them by surprise, the protector to make sure that nothing creeps up behind the group while Izzy and Jace fight the monster in front of them.

But there's only so much he can do and it's been a long fight even if he'd had time to rest between patrols.

When he feels a hand on his shoulder, Alec jerks away, reaching for a weapon before reality settles over him. He's in the hospital. None of the monsters would be so polite about touching him.

Blinking owlishly at her for a moment, he tries to remember if he's seen her before, then notices the way she's holding herself.]

Hi. You're hurt? [Not the best attempt at conversation but he's still trying to wake up.]

[Though they had fought together on the way to the hospital, Magnus had sort of lost track of Isabelle at one point thanks to the different purposes they had served. She was a capable warrior, stronger than plenty of men and women he had known throughout his lifetime. But still, it was a relief to see her waking up from her makeshift bed, and he's quick to plop down next to her.]

Let me help. I know a thing or two about long hair. [It may be a surprise when he reaches up with both hands to help untangle the hair rather than snapping his fingers for quick-fix spell, but he's drained of every last drop of spare magical energy.] How are you feeling?

An out of the way corner of a waiting room wasn't the ideal place to sleep but every comfortable place was needed for victims and other fighters. Alec didn't need a bed or even a chair when others should have somewhere to rest. Especially when there were kids in the hospital who needed something normal that seemed safe to give them some sense of normalcy and hope.

After so many hours of patrolling, fighting, and offering Magnus whatever he needed to keep the wards up, Alec wasn't picky about where he finally slept.

It proved how exhausted he truly was when he barely registered that someone was beside him, automatically cuddling closer to his husband. Even asleep, he'd recognize Magnus. Making a quiet sound when he heard his name, he struggled awake, blinking slowly at Magnus when he finally pulled himself into consciousness. "'M okay." Looking down at their joined hands, he felt a pang of guilt. The stamina runes weren't working and he couldn't risk letting Magnus take more energy when he was so drained. "I need to rest before helping you again."

[As soon as Alec's sure the thing is dead, he steps away, offering one of the longer blades he's carrying to Izzy. The whip is effective but if she'll need something to finish them off or for close fighting.

Glancing up at the rooftops, Alec scowls when he realizes that his favored vantage point is probably overrun with monsters.] I heard the phone ringing but I was upstairs grabbing weapons.

[He should have taken the time to answer but he'd been thinking only of getting to Izzy and not getting cornered alone in the shop.]

This is going to be bad, Iz. Everyone's going to panic and they'll get slaughtered.

Iris nodded, a glint of determination reaching her eyes as she looked towards the streets, trying to map the quickest way to the hospital in her head. Which would be easier if her memories were fully back…

“Okay, we’re going to get to the hospital. The closest we get to it the safer we’ll be, I think. Do you think you can follow me?” She looked back at Blaine, giving him a gentle grin. “I promise not to jump over things and people too much.”

No.

[Iris says quickly, then she winces at herself when she realizes just how silly it must look for her to say that when her leg is all bandaged up. She just doesn’t do well with showing weakness, physical or otherwise and she didn’t want him to focus on her when he’s obviously so tired.]

I mean, yes, but it’s healing. I’ll be fine, people have treated it already. Wasn’t fast enough and one of them attacked me.

But I was honestly more concerned about you. Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable on a bed?

He was not too thrilled at the idea of going back to the hospital. But again, he knew Iris wouldn't leave him behind. So he masked his unease with a smile and tugged her along as they started to run.

He would find a way to sneak out later.

[The three of them are steadily making their way to the hospital, helping those they can and pushing forward through the seemingly endless wave of monsters. Distantly, Alec knows they're being followed, others relying on them to cut a path through the destruction to the only safety that they're certain of.

The creatures seem to be wary of his seraph blade, the brilliant light similar enough to fire to make them cautious. It also helps that Magnus' magical fire augments their attacks, giving the monsters another reason to keep their distance. As he fights, Alec can feel a familiar hum in the back of his mind, almost like his bond with Jace. It gives him an edge, but one that Alec hasn't wanted to rely on unless he's desperate.

Like when he sees a van he recognizes from the school parking lot. He's jogged by the site at odd hours enough and helped out at the school enough times to know where it's from. And who might be inside...

Max, bloody and broken, lying too still on the floor. The children he hadn't been able to save when demons overran a city that looked like it should have been the setting of a fairy tale. Not again. He isn't going to fail again.

Shouting a warning to his family, Alec starts running toward the van. Somehow the seraph blade glows brighter, looking white hot despite the metal being cool to the touch. He doesn't know if Izzy or Magnus follow but he trusts that they'll take care of each other. When he sees that one of the monsters is too far away to reach, the blade is swapped for his bow and he begins targeting the monsters that have finally noticed the van and decided it might be worth attacking. One falls from the rooftops. Another from where it lurks beside a parked car.

Sprinting to the driver's side, he shouts to get their attention.]

I'll clear the way. Just keep going.

[ The urgent tug is enough to get him on his feet, though with labored breathing and wincing as he continues to hold his side. ]

R-Right, right—

[ Wherever she leads him, he follows, keeping an eye out as they look for a place to retreat to. ]

In there.

[ A small house, which already looked like it'd been ransacked, beckons him inside. It looks hidden and sort of out of the way of all the action. He needs a moment to tend to his wound. ]

[ oh, this is better than a bearded man who makes a career out of reverse breaking and entering.

she stares at the wall, unflinching as the monster continues to throw itself at it. these things learn quickly and she knows that they don't have much time to gather themselves. ] Thank you. [ oh, elsa, always so polite even in times of danger.

she holds a hand out to him, her fingertips lightly frosted but otherwise safe to touch. ]

Are you alright?

[ the warrior look fits jyn like a glove but it looks alien on elsa, sporting two major gashes on her arm and calf. the pain is not easy to ignore but she has always tried to put on a brave face, jaw set, brow pinched. elsa closes her hands into fists for a moment, looking up when she sees several figures in her peripheral. ]

Jyn.

[ she can expl – no, she can't! she really can't, not right now anyway. but, goodness, is she happy to see her friend, loosening her hand to take the other's. relief creeps into her mindset when she rises to her feet and, as she finally takes in the other men standing behind her, the sight of that rabbit from their backyard nearly pushes her over the edge. ]

The bunny – [ elsa is on the verge of tears, but she doesn't actually cry, not in front of everyone like this. ]

[Arching an eyebrow at the 'no', Alec waits to see if she'll correct herself, smiling when he didn't have to argue that it's obvious that she was hurt in one of the forays with the monsters.]

I could say the same for you. You shouldn't be walking around if you can't put all your weight on it.

[He's used to siblings that do the exact same thing and having to guilt, bully, or cajole them into giving themselves time to heal.][His tone hints that she might be one of them that could use one.]</small. I've slept in worse places so I don't mind. As long as no one trips over me.

i. nothing that has happened so far has been anything we could control

Dirk feels ill. Time and a good deal of soul-searching have equipped him with a better understanding of these sorts of sensations -- or maybe better isn't the right word, exactly. Certainly nothing he can dredge up from his memory serves as any sort of explanation, gives him any sort of impetus to act -- on what, he certainly wouldn't know. What he does know now is what this sort of feeling tends to precede, and he is therefore endeavouring to ignore it with as much force as possible.

It's to that end that he sets out on a walk on his break. Maybe it's just the shop itself, something in the air, mixed in with the incense and the smell of potted earth and growing things that's giving him the distinct impression that something, somewhere, is terribly wrong. Something just over his shoulder, waiting patiently and with a grin for him to notice it. It's a warm day, but even under his jacket his skin is crawling.

Dirk smiles determinedly in the direction of anyone he passes, reasoning distantly that if it's cheer the universe is wanting for today, if nothing else he can provide. He's quite good at that: the fact that he's very much had to be doesn't do anything to dampen his spirits.

The death of the birdsong starts to, though. The sound falls out of the air, leaving him with nothing but the scuffing of the soles of his shoes on the pavement, and something else takes its place, something that catches at his lungs like it's scrabbling desperately to stay hidden in him rather than be expelled with the next breath. He sketches an abrupt about-face and starts heading back the way he came, more than a bit of hurry in his step. Break time over.

He's in enough of a hurry and sufficiently distracted that he bumps shoulders with someone going the opposite direction and comes to a stuttering halt long enough to offer a rushed but emphatic, "Sorry!"

Maybe it would've been more than that, but whatever explanation he's about to offer is cut short by the first piercing scream, and instead all he can do is stare wide-eyed and agape at whoever he'd collided with.

"Got to run." No, really. We've got to run.

ii. everything is happening at the same time [CLOSED TO KENZI]

Pure luck carries Dirk back to the shop. Pure luck carries him an awful lot of places, in fact; sufficiently many that he's not going to stop to consider this particular streak thereof: he's too busy secreting himself behind the counter, lungs and legs burning. He wishes... well, somebody were here. Anybody. It wouldn't have to be Todd specifically, but it would be very nice if it were. Also terrible. Is it always like that, having friends? He ponders the question distantly as he huddles beneath the not terribly reassuring countertop, breathing raggedly. Wishing they were somewhere, even if that somewhere is awful, and then feeling awful about the wishing because of the awfulness of the somewhere.

Probably it is. That comforts him not at all. A scream comes from outside, much too close, and he squeezes his eyes shut. His heart is, he thinks, going to beat its way out of his chest, probably scamper off to somewhere better-protected that the rest of him can't fit. He can't blame it.

"Right." His voice, though barely a whisper, is high and strained. What would Todd say? Probably nothing. Probably they'd sit here and scrabble at one another. Or this would be made out to be Dirk's fault, somehow, which is slightly cheering somehow.

"We've been in worse--" Lots of things. Many many worse things. He would, in fact, be happy to finish that sentence for himself, except that the door's just opened. No mistaking it. Been opened with some violence, in fact, judging by the clanging of the bells, and Dirk is damned if he's going to die sat here hugging his knees. Well, no, he could, but he's sparing a thought for Anders, who probably wouldn't appreciate the destruction of his counter, if whatever's burst into the shop should decide to have at him around or through it.

And so he stands, reaching for the nearest bit of weaponry -- which isn't, at all. All that comes to hand is one of the crystal-tipped 'magic wands' they sell for what Dirk can only imagine are novelty purposes, even if there's nothing particularly novel about a chunk of quartz, a length of cheap softwood, and some superglue. Still, he levels it in the direction of the noise threateningly, hoping it at very least looks impressive.

iii. take this thorn from my side, fix this chip on my shoulder [CLOSED TO ANDERS]

"I was waiting for you to get back." Levelled at Anders from the floor, where Dirk is slumped, squinting up at him with one eye. The other is squeezed shut as part of the grimace of pain he's pulling, that and the slump -- and, indeed, all of this blood -- courtesy the crossbow bolt currently protruding at a cheerfully jaunty angle from his shoulder.

"You know I've been minding the place by myself for ages? I know our hours are unorthodox but it's been just awful today." Just awful. Is still, in fact, just awful? Maybe more than just. Maybe absolutely. For one, there's all of that outside, and for another, he's had quite enough of mad-men and -women with crossbows, and it's left him sour in the way only a bit of particularly blatant universal bird-flipping quite can.

"For one thing those wands are absolutely useless." Not that they aren't both entirely aware of that fact, or thoroughly well-acquainted with the useless as a concept. Dirk is on the contrary intimately familiar with and usually quite enamored of it. Today is different. Today is different in a lot of ways.

"Maker's mercy," hisses Anders, rushing over to Dirk. It's....been a stressful day so far. He's not on his bantering A Game. He's still in his patterned trunks and open shirt, although his sunglasses are pushed up his forehead like a headband now. "I'm sure they're useful for something," he adds, setting his staff down next to Dirk and pausing for breath. Pounce tumbles down off of his shoulders when he bends and strides over to begin usefully licking beside Dirk's ear. Truly, a healer's cat. "A costume, possibly."

The injury could be worse, he supposes. The shoulder isn't a terrible place for it. "You might also use the wand for biting down on, I suppose. I can't...I can use a bit of magic on your shoulder but I can't do much until the bolt is out. I don't want to heal it into it by mistake..." It's aggravating. He wishes he remembered everything, that things had fully settled and weren't a confusing and distracting jumble.

He wishes, mainly, that he wasn't already so tired. "It's probably in my job description, I expect. First aid for the employees. I would end up working when I'm meant to be at a party. Hold the staff, or Pounce or my knee if you like. This is unavoidably going to hurt."

"It already hurts." Much as Dirk would like the opposite to be true, there's no ire in that statement, only resignation.

"Didn't even get to do anything interesting this time," he adds, rediscovering his pique. It's easier to be irritated with the universe than with Anders, who looks nearly as bad as Dirk feels. "Just a lot of running and screaming and, 'Hello, Dirk, remember me? Try not to bleed on the countertop.' Only I hadn't actually forgotten that one."

He's aiming his comments at the ceiling, which remains inscrutable. "Anyway you may as well go ahead. I think I was unconscious last time, but it hardly makes any difference."

Actually, he's going to go ahead and keep his eyes upwards, head resting against the front of the counter where he's slumped. That way one, he doesn't have to look at any of what's about to happen, and two, if he passes out he's already comfortable. It won't make any difference at all -- except that maybe he'd stop talking.

I never had the chance to read about any of this stuff, well, before. Physics is on my list of things to study up on too. If you know a good place to start with that, I'd be glad to hear it.

[She squints a little, still frustrated at not being able to talk openly about this sort of thing. Hopefully her new acquaintance will know what she means. How could she not, right?]

I'm Aloy, by the way.

Poe is still focused on Caroline as the nurses circle him, one of them touching the mostly-healed bite mark on his shoulder and saying he needs to get an inoculation. He barely hears her.

He knows better than to interfere with medical staff doing there work. It's how he keeps himself from asking if Caroline is okay, how he keeps from grabbing one of them and demanding to know what happened.

The nurses around him move back a moment before Cassian grabs his shirt.

"I was supposed to just leave the guy out there? There was no time."

Not that his attempted intervention made a difference. He looks at Caroline again. They're still working on her, which means she's still alive.

Edited 2017-06-25 04:58 (UTC)

[Mike had sagged with utmost relief when he hears the familiar voice. Sure, Skye had a hidden reason for being exasperated and Done with him, but at this point? He'll take whatever he can fucking get. And he liked Skye, for what it was all worth, especially when she'd been so willing to give him a hand.

He steps out from the shadows, smiling a little. He's got a few little claw marks across his shoulder — and it burns like a motherfucker — but they're not deep at all, and bled just enough. Got fucking lucky, is what he got. His injured hand is still bandaged up, healing slower than the rest of him, but he seems to be handling it well.]

Skye? Holy shit. You alright?

It's been fucking crazy out there.

[ he doesn't look good at all, and the blood on the back of his hand doesn't change that impression one bit. if anything, it only makes her stomach clench with anger. her memories of sleeping with david are probably not real, but she still remembers it and right now, she feels protective.

perhaps that's unwarranted. perhaps that's weakness. (khlyen would say that it is, but dutch doesn't have to listen to him anymore.) ]

Not a clue, but I'm going to go with "monster".

[Laura is apparently unafraid of launching herself right into one of the creature's bodies, jamming her claws into its sides — and unfortunately making it a hard shot for them, without worrying about hitting the kid, too. The beast throws its head back, howling in pain, and Laura swings her fist upward to try and get it in the throat —

Oh, but it's fast, faster than she can hit it this time. It throws its head back forward and sinks its teeth into her collar, jagged teeth tearing into the space between her shoulder and neck as it goes. Laura screams out in pain, shaken a bit like a rag doll. It won't kill her, she knows it, but it hurts—

... And... okay, maybe she could use some help here, instead of telling them to run.]

[Laura shakes her head, untroubled.

Clearly, she's more interested in him and his whole deal.]

Mutants have powers. Born with powers.

[... Made with powers, sometimes. But she doesn't say as much.]

[Turian? She's not at all familiar with that.

She glances back at him and gives a firm nod, before keeping to his back and watching ahead, too.

Both sides covered, she asks:]

What are cocktails?

[Nyx had gotten himself to the bathroom, trailing bloody footprints the whole way, and was just about to peel away his makeshift bandage when he hears Crowe's shout. He freezes, listening intently, but there's no answering sound of splintering wood or screams. Exhaling slowly, he moves back to his bedroom to peer out the door.

The hallway is empty so far, but depending on how fast she's moving Crowe must have made it to the center room. He stays low, one eye on his windows, and pitches his voice just high enough to carry.]

Crowe.

[By all account Nyx should have been wearing down by now. His short periods of safe rest have not been long enough to sustain the amount of running and fighting and warping he's been doing just to keep the creatures at bay, to say nothing about trying to kill them. The wound on his side burns beneath its bandage, he can feel the drain of magic pulsing under his scars, and exhaustion edges closer with every step, but...

But...

He doesn't know if it's just been awhile, but the adrenaline rush of battle isn't showing any signs of fading, which is just as well when he hears a familiar scream among the cries that never stop. Alarm strikes him when he realizes who it belongs to and he cuts his own course short to turn and find her.

(Nyx wishes she was just...stuck in a tree or something, remembering encouraging a tiny girl to jump; promising to catch her. It's foolish to wish this memories are real, but he's accepted being a fool long before now.)

Running along the roof towards where he heard the sound, Nyx casts around until his spots the creature tearing into its victim. Rage clutches his heart and he's throwing up his arm without thinking about it, the magic burning through his veins. The spell is concentrated onto one point, and the creature shrieks as suddenly it's on fire. It tries to run, but the spell flares, consuming it from the inside. Nyx doesn't bother waiting to see it die, he's warping to the ground.

It's with relief he realizes the poor soul dead on the ground isn't Iris. He recognizes them, one of the patrons of the gym, but doesn't pause to mourn their death. The fire spooked any other nearby monsters, so after a cursory glance he's calling out.]

Iris?!

[Nyx feels more like himself, now that he's got his Kingsglaive gear on. He hasn't had an opportunity to wear it all since he arrived. Had almost gotten used to not putting it on every day. Like he was actually retired.

People like him don't retire. And days like today are why.

So here he is carving his way between the streets: getting in between these creatures and their victims, playing defensively as he chips at them with twin kukri and spiriting away before they can sink their claws into him again.

He dashes across the street, jumping to roll over the hood of a truck, and turns in time to throw a blast of lightning at the creature leaping after him. It can't dodge midair and the strike launching it back to the other side of the street where it hisses at him and slinks back between buildings; no doubt planning on returning with friends.

Nyx slumps against the truck, taking a few seconds to breathe and look around.]

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Page 7 of 13

( june event ) who's that pokemon?

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Post-Battle

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June 19

it's all good!

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Dirk Gently | 19th | OTA (with closed starters)

it's anders!

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sorry for how long this took, my inbox is a niiightmare zoooone

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b - sorry it's so long /weeps

tag: the first! On the streets