( june event ) who's that pokemon?

[officialnotice]

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!

Comments

June 20th.

[shoplifter]

[Laura isn't the one getting healed, but she is nearby during the down time -- when the beasts have been getting pushed further and further back. She doesn't look like someone who should be on her feet, in theory, her clothes tattered and ripped up by the creatures' claws, splattered with blood that is both hers and theirs combined.

But despite her appearance, she watches with silent curiosity. She doesn't seem wounded at all. She's a healthy color and there's no pain in the young lines of her face. When the man's done, she makes herself known.]

Are you a mutant?

[You know. What with the healing.]

[appetitive]

[Magnus, hands glowing with blue flames as he works to heal yet another of the townsfolk he doesn't know, glances to the side at the question. The fire fades, and rather than leaving behind any kind of destruction, there's just unblemished skin beneath his fingers. With a word he sends the woman off—Diane or Deborah or some name he hadn't been listening for—and turns his attention to the girl who looks worse off than anyone else in the infirmary.]

I suppose that depends on your definition of a mutant. [Turning in his chair, he tilts his head to one side as he looks at her.] Are you here for healing?

[shoplifter]

[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.]

[appetitive]

[It's an interesting definition, but it's one that he can roll with since he supposes he's a mutant compared to humans.]

I'm a hybrid, half human half— [he chokes on the word 'demon' since it's not a fact one tends to advertise about themselves] —something powerful. It gave me magic, something you don't seem to be scared of. [He smiles at her, looking past the bloody clothes to see the girl wearing them.] Are you a mutant?

[shoplifter]

[She thins her lips, but inevitably, she nods.

It's not hard to tell something's weird with her, and she figures if he's given up his partial lack of humanity, she can give up her mutantisms. Even if it's done with some hesitation. She holds out her hand, making a firm first — then slowly lets her claws push through the skin between her knuckles, two a hand.

It looks painful, but she's relatively unresponsive to the pain.

Mostly because you get used to it, you know?]

[appetitive]

[When she holds out her hand, Magnus isn't entirely sure what to expect, but a pair of metal claws isn't immediately on the list. His eyes widen and then furrow into a frown, wondering if this could really be a mutation when everything he knows is telling him that metal shouldn't be naturally occurring within a human body.]

You must give very interesting handshakes. [He smiles, hoping she doesn't mind the joke.] Does it hurt?

[shoplifter]

[Well... natural is a bit of stretch, certainly, but it is a mutation.

Which is certainly good enough, even if she hadn't really asked for it growing up. She doesn't smile at the joke (and she gives off that aura, that she doesn't smile often), but she seems pleased at the thought. Does it hurt...? Well, her father's weathered features flash in her vision. She looks at the claws.]

Every time.

[Glancing back at him--]

But they keep me safe.