pineslog | ( 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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The creatures seemed to be gone, but Blaine kept an eye out just in case. He still had some leftover meat from his and Peter's little round-up that he could toss at any stragglers.

He heard something and drew a little closer to investigate. Strangely, the sight of a boy gnawing into a dead dog did not disgust or horrify him. It was like Blaine expected it, or at least a scene very much like it. He watched for a while, the vague memories that had been bothering him since this all started becoming more clear.

Zombie. He'd come across them before. It was his job to feed them. He knew this now with certainty, but also with a sense of dread. He'd been in the hospital, and then at the butcher shop. He hadn't been feeding his zombie customers for days.

Maybe this one was still okay, just desperately hungry. He took out a juicy liver and tossed it. He needed to see the zombie's face to be sure...

There's a horrible wet but snarling noise as Carl became distracted by something moving at the corner of his eye. He sees the liver and it lands near his knees. He grabs it slowly and began to tear it apart with his teeth, not even fully swallowing the meal.

And then his eyes turn and sees Blaine, and he stands up. For a dead kid, he's very limber, getting up as quickly as he did. He snarls blankly, teeth bared while blood drips down his chin. He reaches for Blaine as he shuffled toward him, hands outstretched.

He sucked in a breath when he saw the face. Romero. The word came to mind easily, and with it the implications: this zombie was beyond his help. The guilt and dread sank low into his stomach. If only he remembered sooner... But nothing he could do about it now. Blaine just had to hope he could find any infected before they met the same fate.

He would've liked using a gun, but he didn't have one. All he had was the meat cleaver from the butcher's shop. Doing that to a kid... A part of him balked from it, but another part felt like he'd done such things before.

"Don't worry," he said to the boy. "I'll make it quick." He kept out of range of the grabbing hands as he pulled out the meat cleaver, them quickly swiped forward, straight for the kid's forehead.

Carl only heard nonsense noises, noises that only confirmed one thing - there's living flesh, its near, and he must consume it. Snapping his jaws, he stumbled his way to Blaine, unaware of the danger of the meat clever he was holding. One step over the dog's corpse and Carl stumbled and lost his hat finally, but continued onward, toward Blaine and his meat clever.

A hard, wet whacking noises fwapped within the room, and Carl stood absolutely still as the meat clever struck his skull, the noises he was making disappeared. His arms dropped down, and his jaw slackened.

Blaine saw flashes in the back of his mind of teenagers not much older than this kid. Kids trying to run away, kids hanging dead from meat hooks... He stepped away from the Romero. The least he could do for it was make sure it didn't die alone.

Without Blaine to hold his head up, Carl collapsed in a crumbled heap, dead blood just barely pouring out of the wound.

And without any pramble, the flies started to come in, first on the dog, then on Carl, starting the natural process of life and death.

( june event ) who's that pokemon?

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i am so sorry for the slow ;;

no worries

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