Post by Sanctum Nocturna on Jan 6, 2016 16:54:06 GMT -6
::His vision blurred...he felt his head move as if it were filled with thousands of rocks...
If it moved at all, that is...::
Sanctum: What...
::The memories flooded back, an avalanche adding onto the pain that already surged through his increasingly desperate skull. Flashes of blinding light rocketed into his eyes whenever he dared open them. Sensations rolled in slowly, the only urgency joining with fierce stabbings.
The first recognizable sensation came only in a word that wouldn't make sense immediately...::
Sanctum: Concrete...
::He finally dared open his eyes, a scream welling up from deep within that wouldn't budge from its place in his stomach. The impulses weren't connecting. And finally...it hit...::
Sanctum: This...is what it is to feel?
::Hurried footsteps rocketed into his ears, a giant's thud as they came closer and closer to his desperate body.::
Voice: Holy shit...are you...alive?
::Alive...? Is this what it is to be alive...? To feel as thousands had felt over the years at his doing?
The lick of concrete against a battered face...a body barely able to function. Is this life?::
Voice: We need some help over here! HELP!
::The rush of thoughts quickly became too much, racing to the void from whence they came.::
::The sensation was suddenly back. It felt more stable this time, recognizable more quickly than before.
A vehicle. Moving very quickly. The voices spoke in hushed urgency, only in communication that seemed mandatory.
The pain was present, yet dulled beneath something he couldn't identify.
His eyes shot open, the gray reality of an ambulance resting into his conscious. Movement came more quickly than before, his fingers tingling only momentarily as he felt them curl into a fist. The fist resisted somehow, eyes darting to tubes leading to an IV bag.
It made as much sense as anything else that happened.
From something within him, he knew that he needed to take action. He had no clue if his body would respond appropriately, but now was the time.
He lunged upward, the IV bag nearly pulling his weakened arm back down. An EMT on his right sprawled backward in surprise, his eyes wide in shock as he stumbled into a nearby kit full of supplies. The vehicle swerved slightly as his weight flew against the wall and then the floor beneath.::
Voice: What the fuck is going on back there?!
::He was disoriented but resolved. From his off balance position, he whirled his leg with all the force he could manage. His body awkwardly spun, his entire weight behind the force of his leg slamming downward into the shocked EMT that now lay below him.
A sickening crunch answered, reverberating through the rapidly shrinking space...
Or was it just his reality returning?::
Driver: Holy...shit...!
::Sanctum Nocturna quickly realized that his left eye wasn't working. He pulled himself up from the disabled EMT, good eye focused on the driver. He noticed the driver was looking back at him with his mouth wide open.
Unfortunately, that meant he wasn't looking forward.
The ambulance lurched forward, the driver ejecting through the windshield neck first. His body flung forward past the point of impact, launching over the car and crashing awkwardly into the concrete below.
Now was the time to act. He was up to it...
He took a step toward the door, his entire weight being sucked downward as if caught in a black hole. His body crumpled, held barely by the IV that still dangled from his arm.
Without thinking, his teeth found the plastic tube and began to gnaw like a caged animal. As his teeth met the plastic, the left side of his body again gained the sense of draining. His good eye grew fuzzy, but the tube gave way allowing his body to slam downward. His face bounced against the cold metal, the sounds of screaming and horror unraveling from the gaping hole left by the driver.
Crawl...he could still crawl. A few inches forward, his body nearly cleared the EMT he had taken down. He looked up at the multiple instances of a door handle lingering above him. When his left arm didn't respond, he wriggled to free his right to grab at the dancing images before settling on one that felt firm. The door cracked open and his arm fell limply against the step.::
Voice: Are you...there's someone ALIVE in here! I think it's the patient...!!!
::Patient... His thoughts raced, doing the opposite. An impatient patient? He would laugh if he had humor.
Now, only panic. Only moments from...something.::
Sanctum: You...help...
Voice: There'll be more EMTs coming...
Sanctum: No...now...hospital...dying...
::His tongue went numb. He was uncertain that anything he'd mumbled even made sense to the doe eyed woman that stood before him, aghast at the carnage of the ambulance. She spoke in odd cadence into her cell phone, watching him try to will his way to from the ambulance.::
Woman: I...don't know how to help you!!
::The frothing anger returned. Finally, a comfortable companion amidst so much chaos.::
Sanctum: Fucking...hospital...
::Somehow, he staggered to his right leg, his left side still completely inoperative.::
Woman: This is INSANE. I can't...how are you going to even?
::It was no use. He thrust his body forward, useless left side pounding against her as the phone slipped from her grasp. It smacked against the ground, back down, the glowing screen becoming Sanctum's focal point. He grabbed at the light, squinting as he pulled it closer. The call had clearly dropped in the fall, the lock screen of butterflies transposed against the white glowing time and date.
January 6, 2016.::
Sanctum: What in the fuck?
::The woman said something he didn't care to hear, as he turned the light outward to guide him forward. He hopped, moving a half-step with each strange motion. The light danced before him, breaking into sets of 3 and 4 as he flopped off the ground.
A solid grasp on his shoulder.
Instinct set in. He threw his whole body weight at it, right fist and arm smashing against the offending arm.::
El Bastarde: Sanctum Nocturna. Really?
Dave Dudley: Who let this guy in here?
The Josh: He's still alive? You're kidding right?
::His face crumpled in confusion, he scowled at the strange faces, his focus returning. The woman collapsed downward, her shoulders bouncing off the pavement as he turned the other direction. In what felt like slow motion, the side mirror of a truck passed inches from his face. The reflection stuck in his mind...
Half of his face was crushed, soiled bandages wrapping around his deformed skull. His white hair was tangled in blood, strung against the bandage and his shoulder. His upper lip was torn open, revealing cracked teeth beneath.
The truck slammed into the ambulance, bouncing toward him as he threw himself backward into a car behind him.::
Jessica Hagan: There's a fine line, my friend. A fine line indeed.
Warrior: He never was much for looks anyway.
Sanctum: Why are you here? What is this?
Warrior: Was there ever a point? To any of what you did? To any of what you tried to accomplish?
Sanctum: Like accomplishment ever mattered anyway.
Dave Dudley: Seriously, you've finally lost it. The freak crumbled beneath the weight of what was...and look at you now. It's pretty hilarious actually!
El Bastarde: I think I like my humor to be a little less...funeral-like.
Warrior: What??? Funerals can be funny!
Sanctum: Whose funeral is it? Because it sure the hell isn't mine.
Jessica Hagan: It's like you to try to resist your own funeral. Not surprising at all.
Warrior: Of course it's yours.
Sanctum: I think not...
::The taste of blood welling up in his mouth, he spat foul liquid onto the concrete, filled with something solid and unidentifiable. The bright lights of cars surrounded him as everything became warmer. His head swiveled, no recognizable faces in sight.
Certainly not some washed up former fighters.
They just denied that they were the same as he was anyway. A whole group of freaks brought together to put on a sideshow for the entertainment of...themselves?
Or someone.::
Sanctum: I think not.
::He threw down the light that was guiding him, smashing face down this time. All of his energy pushed him away from the direction of the lights that had circled him. His arm guided him past the ambulance, the sounds of sirens growing louder and yet somehow quieter as his hearing muted beneath the warmth and pressure of his wounds.
January 6, 2016.
How did we get here...?::
If it moved at all, that is...::
Sanctum: What...
::The memories flooded back, an avalanche adding onto the pain that already surged through his increasingly desperate skull. Flashes of blinding light rocketed into his eyes whenever he dared open them. Sensations rolled in slowly, the only urgency joining with fierce stabbings.
The first recognizable sensation came only in a word that wouldn't make sense immediately...::
Sanctum: Concrete...
::He finally dared open his eyes, a scream welling up from deep within that wouldn't budge from its place in his stomach. The impulses weren't connecting. And finally...it hit...::
Sanctum: This...is what it is to feel?
::Hurried footsteps rocketed into his ears, a giant's thud as they came closer and closer to his desperate body.::
Voice: Holy shit...are you...alive?
::Alive...? Is this what it is to be alive...? To feel as thousands had felt over the years at his doing?
The lick of concrete against a battered face...a body barely able to function. Is this life?::
Voice: We need some help over here! HELP!
::The rush of thoughts quickly became too much, racing to the void from whence they came.::
::The sensation was suddenly back. It felt more stable this time, recognizable more quickly than before.
A vehicle. Moving very quickly. The voices spoke in hushed urgency, only in communication that seemed mandatory.
The pain was present, yet dulled beneath something he couldn't identify.
His eyes shot open, the gray reality of an ambulance resting into his conscious. Movement came more quickly than before, his fingers tingling only momentarily as he felt them curl into a fist. The fist resisted somehow, eyes darting to tubes leading to an IV bag.
It made as much sense as anything else that happened.
From something within him, he knew that he needed to take action. He had no clue if his body would respond appropriately, but now was the time.
He lunged upward, the IV bag nearly pulling his weakened arm back down. An EMT on his right sprawled backward in surprise, his eyes wide in shock as he stumbled into a nearby kit full of supplies. The vehicle swerved slightly as his weight flew against the wall and then the floor beneath.::
Voice: What the fuck is going on back there?!
::He was disoriented but resolved. From his off balance position, he whirled his leg with all the force he could manage. His body awkwardly spun, his entire weight behind the force of his leg slamming downward into the shocked EMT that now lay below him.
A sickening crunch answered, reverberating through the rapidly shrinking space...
Or was it just his reality returning?::
Driver: Holy...shit...!
::Sanctum Nocturna quickly realized that his left eye wasn't working. He pulled himself up from the disabled EMT, good eye focused on the driver. He noticed the driver was looking back at him with his mouth wide open.
Unfortunately, that meant he wasn't looking forward.
The ambulance lurched forward, the driver ejecting through the windshield neck first. His body flung forward past the point of impact, launching over the car and crashing awkwardly into the concrete below.
Now was the time to act. He was up to it...
He took a step toward the door, his entire weight being sucked downward as if caught in a black hole. His body crumpled, held barely by the IV that still dangled from his arm.
Without thinking, his teeth found the plastic tube and began to gnaw like a caged animal. As his teeth met the plastic, the left side of his body again gained the sense of draining. His good eye grew fuzzy, but the tube gave way allowing his body to slam downward. His face bounced against the cold metal, the sounds of screaming and horror unraveling from the gaping hole left by the driver.
Crawl...he could still crawl. A few inches forward, his body nearly cleared the EMT he had taken down. He looked up at the multiple instances of a door handle lingering above him. When his left arm didn't respond, he wriggled to free his right to grab at the dancing images before settling on one that felt firm. The door cracked open and his arm fell limply against the step.::
Voice: Are you...there's someone ALIVE in here! I think it's the patient...!!!
::Patient... His thoughts raced, doing the opposite. An impatient patient? He would laugh if he had humor.
Now, only panic. Only moments from...something.::
Sanctum: You...help...
Voice: There'll be more EMTs coming...
Sanctum: No...now...hospital...dying...
::His tongue went numb. He was uncertain that anything he'd mumbled even made sense to the doe eyed woman that stood before him, aghast at the carnage of the ambulance. She spoke in odd cadence into her cell phone, watching him try to will his way to from the ambulance.::
Woman: I...don't know how to help you!!
::The frothing anger returned. Finally, a comfortable companion amidst so much chaos.::
Sanctum: Fucking...hospital...
::Somehow, he staggered to his right leg, his left side still completely inoperative.::
Woman: This is INSANE. I can't...how are you going to even?
::It was no use. He thrust his body forward, useless left side pounding against her as the phone slipped from her grasp. It smacked against the ground, back down, the glowing screen becoming Sanctum's focal point. He grabbed at the light, squinting as he pulled it closer. The call had clearly dropped in the fall, the lock screen of butterflies transposed against the white glowing time and date.
January 6, 2016.::
Sanctum: What in the fuck?
::The woman said something he didn't care to hear, as he turned the light outward to guide him forward. He hopped, moving a half-step with each strange motion. The light danced before him, breaking into sets of 3 and 4 as he flopped off the ground.
A solid grasp on his shoulder.
Instinct set in. He threw his whole body weight at it, right fist and arm smashing against the offending arm.::
El Bastarde: Sanctum Nocturna. Really?
Dave Dudley: Who let this guy in here?
The Josh: He's still alive? You're kidding right?
::His face crumpled in confusion, he scowled at the strange faces, his focus returning. The woman collapsed downward, her shoulders bouncing off the pavement as he turned the other direction. In what felt like slow motion, the side mirror of a truck passed inches from his face. The reflection stuck in his mind...
Half of his face was crushed, soiled bandages wrapping around his deformed skull. His white hair was tangled in blood, strung against the bandage and his shoulder. His upper lip was torn open, revealing cracked teeth beneath.
The truck slammed into the ambulance, bouncing toward him as he threw himself backward into a car behind him.::
Jessica Hagan: There's a fine line, my friend. A fine line indeed.
Warrior: He never was much for looks anyway.
Sanctum: Why are you here? What is this?
Warrior: Was there ever a point? To any of what you did? To any of what you tried to accomplish?
Sanctum: Like accomplishment ever mattered anyway.
Dave Dudley: Seriously, you've finally lost it. The freak crumbled beneath the weight of what was...and look at you now. It's pretty hilarious actually!
El Bastarde: I think I like my humor to be a little less...funeral-like.
Warrior: What??? Funerals can be funny!
Sanctum: Whose funeral is it? Because it sure the hell isn't mine.
Jessica Hagan: It's like you to try to resist your own funeral. Not surprising at all.
Warrior: Of course it's yours.
Sanctum: I think not...
::The taste of blood welling up in his mouth, he spat foul liquid onto the concrete, filled with something solid and unidentifiable. The bright lights of cars surrounded him as everything became warmer. His head swiveled, no recognizable faces in sight.
Certainly not some washed up former fighters.
They just denied that they were the same as he was anyway. A whole group of freaks brought together to put on a sideshow for the entertainment of...themselves?
Or someone.::
Sanctum: I think not.
::He threw down the light that was guiding him, smashing face down this time. All of his energy pushed him away from the direction of the lights that had circled him. His arm guided him past the ambulance, the sounds of sirens growing louder and yet somehow quieter as his hearing muted beneath the warmth and pressure of his wounds.
January 6, 2016.
How did we get here...?::