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Actually, nevermind.
Justin_Brett fucked around with this message at 22:47 on Jun 20, 2015 |
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Jun 20, 2015 21:31
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| # ¿ Apr 24, 2024 03:58 |
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Seems as good a time as any. Give me a Genre and Flash Rule.
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Jul 8, 2015 22:05
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I messed up and ran out of time, so I didn't get to the meat of things. Feel free to shame avatar me if you feel I've earned it, but here's what I came up with. “Hey, Shin.” The snoring continued. “C’mon. Wake your rear end up.” It actually seemed to get louder, like some kind of self defense mechanic for the lazy. Fine by him. Taking one hand off the steering wheel, Abe took hold of the night-stick next to his chair and swung it down. He didn’t need to look to see Shin’s foot jerk away to the side. “I’m up, geez,” the unkempt man muttered as he rose in the van’s passenger seat, blinking at the sun coming through the windshield. He looked like someone who’d had a bad night, a bad day, and a bad week. His dirty-blonde hair was messy, eyelids bloodshot, and clothes wrinkled. Your typical office layabout, in other words, but Abe didn’t think laziness was his only problem. Shin was still a young man, but there were older ones who took better care of themselves than he seemed to. “At my old job they’d at least try a few times before getting the stick out, y’know.” He smacked his lips. “I need a-” Abe pointed to the cup holders, where a cup of coffee was simmering on his partner’s side. The next few seconds had an indescribable noise. He sipped his own drink, a bottle of tea. “You should get off that stuff, you know. It’s bad for you.” Shin sniffed dismissively. “Don’t talk about what’s ‘good’ for me. For some reason I had a hard time sleeping last night. Wonder who’s fault that is, huh?” “You’d rather not know?” While the light ahead was red, grinding traffic to a halt, Abe looked out over the crowded sidewalk, looking casual but searching hard for the right signs. Compared to the former desk jockey next to him, he was more physically fit, more handsome, and just seemed more together in general. His black eyes, the same color as his hair, watched the pedestrians with the air of someone used to it. Another slurp. “You bet. Locking my door at night to keep people from breaking in was pretty nice.” Abe shook his head. “They’d have come for you anyway, sooner or later.” “Maybe, but we both know how far down the list I’d be. I’m a later rather than sooner guy, if you hadn’t noticed.” And how would you react when later came? Abe avoided asking the question, because in fairness there was really no way to predict something like this. He’d been certain the people who had contacted him were pranksters until he had seen the evidence. You couldn’t deny that, no matter how much you wanted to. A significant portion of the people the average person would see in day-to-day life weren’t, in fact, people at all: they were a lifeform wearing the appearance of one, like a suit. They or Them was the best title their group had come up for them, actually. A simple code name, but one that kept anyone not in the know blessedly ignorant. If the fact of their existence didn’t cause riots, how they assumed a human appearance would. It started with the person feeling a tiny pin-prick, like from a mosquito bite. That would be what they’d chalk it up to, and think no more on it. In broad terms, that was true: They began life as a tiny organism no bigger than the insect, and they were certainly after your bloodstream. That was what gave it the quickest access to your cells, which it would begin spreading through and rewriting. They were a careful species, and wouldn’t do anything major right away. Slowly, over the course of several days, they’d gain control over the limbs and arms of the person they’d entered. For the time being, the thing would use them to do whatever its ‘host’ wanted, to avoid arousing suspicion. There was only so long it could carry out these actions without them noticing, of course, and eventually the unlucky person would notice what was happening to them. That was when their limbs refused to move them toward a doctor’s office, or anyone else who could detect the parasite inside them. If someone asked if anything was wrong, they’d hear their own voice say that no, everything was fine. The brain always went last. From that point on, all the real owner of the body could do was sit and watch it go about their day to day life, while every last cell that made them who they were was erased. The process, already painful when it reached your vital organs, was excruciating for the brain. Most people didn’t last long before snapping entirely, if they got that far. Once They ensured the host couldn’t blow their cover, they’d usually begin to experiment. They had perfect control over their cells, and could mold them like clay into almost any shape imaginable, including many you wouldn’t want to. They had one odd quirk to their behaviour, though: they’d only choose to infect physically ideal victims. Weight-lifters, joggers, sports players. Even people who were just handsome or beautiful. It made sense - those were people who could rise high in society, and it was far less likely they’d come under suspicion by performing or acting differently than they normally did. Someone like Shin wouldn’t even be considered, and as for himself...Abe looked down at the brace around his left leg. People changed their self-image all the time, but no-one recovered from something like that. He was safe, at least from being infected. No-one was completely safe at the moment.
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Jul 16, 2015 04:42
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I'll try to do better next time. I would have had them run into one after that, but as I said I ran out of time.
Justin_Brett fucked around with this message at 17:16 on Jul 17, 2015 |
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Jul 17, 2015 17:09
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