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Entry tags:
I wish it was not true but that's the way it is
Who| Nick, Luke
What| It's finally Nick's turn to goand it's actually shown on screen this time
Where| One of the labs
When| Last week of the arena, sometime before Luke's death
Warnings/Notes| Gore and stuff. Death and thangs.
They had been here for so long that Nick wonders if this is even a game still and that they just need to officially call this space station their new personal hell. It isn't too different from what they're used to. The deaths, confusion, starvation and overall routine of having to hunt down supplies and coming up with almost nothing most of the time - it's as if they never left North Carolina at all. Today's supply run had been a bust and they both knew the moment they heard noise from the vents it was time to bolt. They practically got running away from danger down to an art but being chased by a horde of slow moving undead was cakewalk compared to being pursued by two fast moving xenomutts.
Nick really, really fucking hates these things, more so than those god damn voice imitation robots. At least those were slightly easier on the eyes and come off as more annoying to him than the aliens.
He keeps his running pace at Luke's. It isn't even about running for his life as it is to make sure his friend survives this. It's becoming apparent even to Nick that he could be left alone if the unthinkable happens. He won't let it.
What| It's finally Nick's turn to go
Where| One of the labs
When| Last week of the arena, sometime before Luke's death
Warnings/Notes| Gore and stuff. Death and thangs.
They had been here for so long that Nick wonders if this is even a game still and that they just need to officially call this space station their new personal hell. It isn't too different from what they're used to. The deaths, confusion, starvation and overall routine of having to hunt down supplies and coming up with almost nothing most of the time - it's as if they never left North Carolina at all. Today's supply run had been a bust and they both knew the moment they heard noise from the vents it was time to bolt. They practically got running away from danger down to an art but being chased by a horde of slow moving undead was cakewalk compared to being pursued by two fast moving xenomutts.
Nick really, really fucking hates these things, more so than those god damn voice imitation robots. At least those were slightly easier on the eyes and come off as more annoying to him than the aliens.
He keeps his running pace at Luke's. It isn't even about running for his life as it is to make sure his friend survives this. It's becoming apparent even to Nick that he could be left alone if the unthinkable happens. He won't let it.
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The spaceport’s warren-like halls are teeming with death, infinite possibilities tingling at the eager fingertips of every Gamemaker overseeing this frantic, messy rat maze. All it takes is one wrong turn, one split-second delay; all it takes is one of the Capitol’s bloodlusting crazies growing listless.
Air knifes into his greedy lungs, raw and burning, and Luke blinks away tears, trying not to think of chalky bones and the faultlines in them spidering wider and deeper with every struggling step. He hugs his sling-arm tighter to his side.
“In the lab, c'mon!” He gasps out, Nick no doubt sharing the same thought. Daily supply runs over the past several weeks meant they had most of the arena mapped out in their heads, and thank fuck for that. They’ve been on their feet and on the run more often than not and lost pursuers by knowing where to slip into and hide – and with any luck they’d shake off these xenomutts the same way before long. Luke has been getting by on bursts of adrenaline and he can imagine what his adrenals must look like now. Not that he had much of an idea of what they looked like before -- but it felt safe to assume they were just about wrung-dry and shriveled to sad little raisins.
no subject
Once they're both in, Nick moves to hide just under the glass window. He grips the pipe with his left hand, with his right one still recovering from being charred earlier. He keeps his breath low, heart is still beating like mad even though they're just waiting to hear the things pace on by.
Maybe, just maybe, a small part of him misses dealing with lurkers instead.
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Luke flattens himself against the wall, straining to listen past the roar of blood surging through his aching, tired body. He doesn’t have to try all that hard; the window is far from sound-proofed. A barely human shriek of pain rings out from the outside of the doors, snapping him into icy-sweat hyperawareness – Luke looks Nick’s way, chest rising and falling more quickly -- and then a terrible silence settles heavily for a moment before the patter of feet edges into his awareness. Not anything the boots of their spacesuits could mimic, the both of them have come to learn. This is a slicker, more pliant sound, claws clicking over tiles. Louder and closer. A sound that stops suddenly for what feels like an entirety. A time Luke measures in frantic heartbeats while he keeps rigidly still, his lungs tight and aching as he waits to breathe.
He gets his chance, air jerking out of him and a curse barely bitten back when something slams into the window with a thud that rattles the glass. Then silence again, sweat crawling down his back before the creatures finally move on and the padding of their feet fades out of earshot. He keeps his eyes on Nick all the while, willing him to keep hidden for a while longer. Needlessly so, maybe.
When a half-minute passes without incident he gives a faint nod.
They might have escaped those snapping teeth and sharp, calculating minds one more time. But not for the last time. His eyes catch the bright splash of blood over the window. The long, dripping streak below it.
Could have been them.
Could still be them if they don’t keep on the move.
Luke’s gaze sweeps across the room, taking in toppled stools, glittering glass shards, cabinets left open. They have come and picked this area of the labs clean once before -- but tributes leave things behind on occasion other than bloody handprints and red smears on the floors, the walls. And they have no choice but to be vultures, swooping in on the belongings of those whose mangled corpses have already been carried away.
"A'right," His voice is tense and low, carefully controlled, "I take that side, you get this one. Let's move."
no subject
He quietly licks his dry, cracked lips, holding the pipe still and just high enough to keep it from hitting the floor and making a noise that could cost them. Sweat runs down the side of his face as he hears the sounds of the claws along the tiles, nearly letting out a gulp at the thought of them running along his back instead. The bruised rib he suffered earlier when the arena started has healed some, but breathing still hurt, so he doesn't. His blue eyes soon widen in horror, still keeping his gaze on Luke like a spooked deer as he registers the scream they just heard.
He barely blinks at Luke even as he feels the impact of a body or whatever it could be slam against the window. He doesn't put it past these mutts to do that to root out any other tributes hiding out, but it won't be them. He's as still as still can get right now, with the exception of closing his eyes slowly with the faintest twinge of hope that this nightmare will end soon.
He opens his eyes to catch Luke's nod. He responds with a nod of his own as he slowly pulls himself up, hearing his bones crack for having to stiffen up moments ago. He takes one last peek at the windows before slowly backing up to rummage through the nearby cabinets with his bandaged hand, his left hand keeping a shaky grip on the pipe.
"Empty." He reports hoarsely, clearing his throat as he moves onto the next one. Empty too, not that Nick's expecting to find much. Someone just died out there and they're in here being the scavengers they need to be. Nick knows better than to think that they both should have ran out to help, especially the shape they're both in. He hates that he has to think that way now in order to function. There's no point in hoping right now. This nightmare isn't going to end when they want it to. They'll just wake up to a whole new one anyway. It's happened once before after all.
He only just realizes that he just mumbled the comment about the nightmare, but hopes that Luke's too busy checking his side. He resists every urge to just hit every piece of useless crap in the room with his pipe and instead moves onto the next task of checking the drawers through gritted teeth.
no subject
It won’t do them any favours, he knows that – but it’s growing harder by the minute to contain his rising frustration. Running on a burningly empty stomach and the bare minimum of sleep needed to be remotely functional is doing him no favours. He's nothing short of amazed they managed to outpace the xenomutts in the shape they're in and knows it has no doubt come at a cost. Would that they could afford to sit down a while and have a gulp of water.
“Find anythin’?” He asks while carefully stepping over a scattering of glass shards, giving the small, dry square of sponge in his hand a squeeze. Wrap cloth or a strip of spacesuit-material over it and it could act as a gauze pad in a pinch, at least.
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"Just moldy shit," he answers before shutting the drawer. How it hasn't been found by someone earlier he doesn't know, but this probably indicates that this room hasn't been occupied in a while. The number of tributes have dwindled considerably since all this stared. He has seen faces he wish he hadn't seen, including ones that belonged to those he recognized only in passing. His spirit's (or what's left of it) been drained since their recent losses and he doesn't know how long he can keep this up.
"We should go before those things decide to backtrack." Something lurkers don't do unless something gets their attention again. Nick knows he sounds impatient and that's because he is. If there's one thing he has learned since their lives were changed by the apocalypse, it's that they can never afford to stay in the same place for long.
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"Don' have to tell me twice. C'mon." Tucking it into his sling – it was rather versatile that way – he gives Nick a quick, stiff nod, turning towards the set of doors opposite the ones they entered.
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He stumbles to a stop when he realizes that the door just shut itself in front of him, with Luke on the other side.
"What the fuck?" He presses his hand against the door, as if to let the sensors know that there's someone trying to get through. The doors had always been automatic before and as far as he knows, stupid room puzzles don't happen until they get to the next room. Something isn't right, and it's difficult to hide the panic in his face at the thought of being alone again.
"Luke!"
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-- banging and banging, pale and starved for air, desperation etched into every line in his face --
He suddenly shakes off his deer-in-the-headlights daze, tearing his eyes from Nick’s to search around the doors. There’s a panel installed in the wall, unlabeled keys blinking like a string of Christmas bulbs. And against a twinge of misgiving, he tests each one, raising his head to peer out the window and waiting tensely between attempts. Saliva sticking in his throat when he swallows. But nothing happens.
For the better and the worse.
He carefully lets out a breath, his mind speeding towards the next course of action. It's a setback but not a disaster that they're dealing with. They could adapt. He looks back to Nick, holding his gaze steady, commanding his attention. Appealing to his sense of trust.
“Listen to me–" Luke's slipping into that quietly authoritative tone of voice becoming the de facto leader of their group has given him the chance to develop, as much for his own benefit as for Nick’s. And for just a moment, he can almost convince himself that he'd always have some semblance of a plan in mind and another ready to fall back on. That there'd always be a way out. “I need you to hold tight a minute, okay? I’ll come around for you, jus'... try to stay outta sight until then.”
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He just needs to trust him, which he shows that he does with an affirmative nod. This wouldn't be the first time for Luke to disappear and come back. "Hurry and be careful, man. I'll - "
There's that familiar patter along the walls that he can feel with his feet before his ears can register any sound. The tension that ran throughout his body earlier comes back as he grips onto his pipe and he finally lets out a gasp when one of the ceiling vents pop open. The creature quickly drops down, its mouth salivating like always as it launches its tail at its prey. Nick barely manages to dodge away by diving forward, though the pipe ends up getting knocked away from his hand lands across the room. Too far from Nick to reach, too close to the xenomutt. He'd look at Luke desperately now, but he can't so much as look away from the alien without it swiftly moving out of his sight.
It's his turn, he thinks. He's fucked.
no subject
His brain verges on tailspinning.
--fuck fuck fuck--
He grasps wildly for a plan, flicking a glance left and right. There’s no way he could get there in time. It’d take a few minutes at the least, it’d—
“Nick–!“
The end of that whip-like tail stabs through the air for Nick's head and Luke ducks low on instinct, bristling as it slams into the window instead. A hairline crack splits the glass. He swings his head up to see it, wide-eyed and sides heaving, his body feeling like a mass of overtuned piano wires ready to snap. Something clicks into place through the panic-haze. A flash of mental clarity.
“Hold on!”
He frees his arm from his sling, air puffing in and out his mouth as he tries to build himself up for the effort to come despite the pain squeezing his lungs in a death-grip. There's no time. He lunges for the nearest stool, grabbing it by the legs, and strains to hoist it up against every screeching nerve begging him not to, a white-hot bolt of pain ripping through his side and up into his shoulder. His brain fritzes and he almost drops the chair, letting out a high-pitched wheeze while clamping down on a scream. Broken bones pulse. That deep, raw sort of hurt like plunging his bare hands into ice water and keeping them there.
He shakes his head clear, setting his jaw stiffly to ready himself before cracking the stool against the window.
--thud--
The shock punches the breath out of his lungs and judders through his arms and it hurts so bad he can barely hold on, the legs trying to slip through his palsied, sweat-damp grip. But his knuckles whiten, eyes fixed and fever-bright with desperation. With maddened determination. Nick wasn't dying. Not here, not now.
--thud--
--thud--
Pain shoots up and splits his skull and the soft, trembling jelly of his brain, sound cutting out. Then it comes back, a tinny ringing in his ears. He gasps raggedly, his view of Nick and the alien distorted through a film of sweat and tears and the web-like cracks in the glass. And he raises the stool.
One more.
Battling waves of dizziness, Luke takes aim. His arms twitch pathetically.
Just one more time.
He squeezes his shut and roars through his teeth and gives it everything he has with a fast-twitch burst of uncocking muscle, feeling the gravely grinding of bone as he twists. The stool smashes the window open, glass spraying – and Luke lets it drop from his hands, nearly tripping over it as he stumbles into the doors, sagging heavily against them. The metal is cool against his skin, his face streaked with fresh sweat or tears or both. He can't tell. He doesn't care.
"Nick--" Luke gasps out, a strangled plea. Lights pulse behind his eyes and it takes everything just to swallow back a sudden surge of bile.
Nick could climb through the window. There wasn’t anything left for him to cut himself on.
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From the corner of his eye he sees the tail descending on him again as he rolls away, cold sweat meeting hot blood as it leaks through the cut on the worn spacesuit. It must have been pure luck on his part when he had been able to take out one of these things earlier because he doesn't see himself being able to repeat that past victory.
He sees Luke desperately trying to break the glass. Suddenly he's overcome with no desire to die and more than anything else in the present moment he wants to escape. The rage and grief that backed him up then is now overtaken by fear for his own life. All the built up fear from running and hiding for what seems like most of his life finally catches up to him. He finds the will in him to stand up, trying to gain his bearings as his eyes dart around to find something, anything!
The alien lets out a screeching roar, right at the same time as Luke manages to completely shatter the window. There's no time to be relieved, so Nick makes a beeline for the window. Just as when he moves to make a jump, he lets out another scream from something he can only equate to a burn. He falls again, hand just barely touching the edge of the window before it slips down along with the rest of his body. He can't feel either of his ankles, only the searing pain running through his bones. He barely lets a whimper escape as he struggles to stand, blinking away whatever tears that dare to flow. Boys shouldn't cry and big boys never do. That's how he was raised, however it may have fucked him over in the long run.
"L-Luke...!"
He isn't able to finish as claws greedily dig into his calves. The tears that he barely manged to contain finally fall as he let out a scream. Desperately, he pushes himself up enough to be able to look up at Luke with watered eyes that want say so many things that have been left unsaid.
Run!
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His head's swimming, lids drooping, heavy with sweat. The harsh sound of his own panting breath fills his ears.
move
There’s still a thread of energy pulsing through his arms to the tingling tips of his fingers and back, threatening to leave him fast as he shudders and strugglingly pushes himself away from the door. He straightens up with a choked grunt, his whole body throbbing, burning. But alive.
He blinks his stinging eyes clear, staring through the window. And when he sees Nick coming for him - wild-eyed, a fresh, dark blot of blood spreading over his suit - Luke doesn’t hesitate. He thrusts his better arm through the window, straining to reach. Waiting to feel Nick's fingers dig into his forearm, gripping him tightly. Waiting to clasp his hand around him in turn and help drag him through despite himself. He’d find a way.
But something's wrong.
And before he can begin to place the sizzle of cooking meat, there's a scream that knifes into the air and firmly lodges his heart into his throat. The smell hits him after: sulfurous-sweet and stuffing down his mouth like a rag. And despite near-constant exposure to a world of eye-watering stenches that come with substandard hygiene and sharing spaces with corpses ripe with decay and bloated with noxious gases, this - the smell of Nick burning alive - has bile swelling into the back of his throat. It washes over his tongue, sharp and vinegary, and he coughs and coughs and snatches for air, darkness edging into his vision.
"Nick!" He splutters, grasping for him and catching nothing. His heart thrashes madly against his ribs.
Nick's hand slides down the door, squeaking, slipping off, and Luke hears a whimper, hears the abject terror and pain and hopelessness in it, and feels his insides bunch into a knot that pulls tighter and tighter as time slips away from them. His eyes rip away from Nick's and dart futilely across the room for something to throw, breath coming harder and faster and his hands hovering half-raised, sweat-damp and quivering with the sudden jolt of restless, live-wire energy he can't do anything with.
Time's up. But they hadn’t any to begin with.
The alien's already lunging at them, at Nick -- and another scream tears its way out of Nick's throat. The sound of it runs through Luke's guts, stopping his thoughts cold. A sound he knows will live with him for the rest of his life.
It doesn't feel real at all, watching Nick being dragged backwards by the meathook-claws buried deep into his legs, blood smearing the floor. But then Nick turns pleading eyes on him - a look of pure, anxious futility that grips Luke by the throat and keeps him rooted there against every instinct screaming at him to run - and the stunned disbelief on Luke's face morphs into something lost and fragile and devastated. A look of a man desperate to bargain with fate and knowing he can't, that no one can.
no, no, no--
Nick is moving further and further away, dying all over again. Just like when he had left the trailer. And all he can do, this time, is watch it happen.
A bladed tail punctures the vent overhead and Luke jerks back, watching it lash around for a half-second before his gaze snaps back to Nick, searching his tear-stained face. He thinks he finds permission there. A forgiveness he knows he doesn't deserve.
The vent rattles.
Go, his brain urges. Luke's fists clench and unclench, his chest heaving. His legs quiver like jelly. Go.
He closes his eyes, lips pinching tightly for a moment. Then he twists around and takes off as fast and as far as his feet will carry him, wheezing and stumbling past counters, eyes burning, blurring. He doesn't look back.