PLOT: WISE SNAKE'S EMERGENCE

[theearth]

Who: OPEN.
When: March 9th, Sunday, daylight hours.
Where: The business district of Locke City.
What: An enormous snake monster is pissed.
Warnings: Violence.

[The alien explodes silently - but it explodes.

First in a small cloud of hot (rose-scented) gas - those there to watch its final moments will want to step back.

A ripple in the air pulses - heavily - from where it once was, with absolutely no sound and color, but penetrating force. Anyone standing within two miles of the point of origin will feel a push, with those closest guaranteed to be knocked off their feet and temporarily dazed. Cars swerve and crash. Staff in the nearest office buildings launch into disarray. There’s no shielding from the blast - it can be felt through walls, through structures, in the air, and underground.

And it is felt underground.

The entire business district starts to shake, abruptly, jarred to a stir by some movement. It rises over the span of a long half-a-minute to the magnitude of December’s earthquake.

Tuning Towers experiences the worst of it - windows are smashing and objects are shaking loose and falling from the upper floors.

It finally ends - with screaming - as the head of an enormous pink snake breaks the lobby floor.

It flows its way quickly out of the hole it’s made, breaks itself another hole ever so politely through the main entrance doors, which were not meant to accommodate a twenty-foot-tall-and-wide exitor, and as it draws the last of its tail out after it, the quaking dies down.

It’s now roaring its way through the streets of Locke City’s business district - all several hundred meters of Wise Snake, emerged in the flesh (or stone?).

No regard for the walls of buildings, streetlamps, civilians, stopped and blindly pulled-over vehicles, anything else on its course - in a frantically-awakened, unrestricted rampage.]



[ OOC: This is part two of the Season 1's finale. The first - the assault on the farmhouse - is here; pertinent plot posts one and two. ]

Comments

[grannyfucker]

[And near the pile of rubble that she's currently sitting on is a weak moaning sound.

If Octavia chooses to look in that direction, she'll find some poor curly-haired loser flopping his head back and forth as he groans, trapped under a fair amount of rubble.]

[drama8om8]

[ Welp. There's nothing quite like the sound of someone in DIRE PERIL to snap any hero worth a damn out of a self-pitying funk, right? Fear not, oh most curly-haired of losers. YOUR SAVIOUR IS HERE.

Meaning yeah it takes her like ten minutes to notice anything.

When she does notice the poor unfortunate rubble-covered sap, she hops off the pile of debris so she can peer at him. ]

Hey! You okay?

[ AND THE AWARD FOR SHITTIEST QUESTION TO ASK SOMEONE BURIED UNDER A PILE OF RUBBLE GOES TO... ]

[grannyfucker]

[He flops his head over to see who's talking to him. He honestly wasn't expecting anyone to stop and actually notice him--no one else so far had.

What a dumb question. He doesn't even dignify it with a response, just a sarcastic stare.]

[drama8om8]

Don't look at me like that! For all I know you're crushed below the waist or something and if I try to move you you're going to bleed out and die.

Are you crushed to a pulp?

[grannyfucker]

[He sighs--this would be a lot more concerning if this conversation was happening several hours ago, when he first got stuck here.]

I honestly have no idea. I can't exactly check the state of my legs here or anything.

[drama8om8]

I guess not. You mind if I don't try pulling that stuff off you just in case? I already killed some dudes today and I think I'm kind of majorly done with that whole deal right now.

[ Said with the same flat, overly-casual tone as everything else she's saying. Hello, Octavia isn't all here right now. Leave a message after the beep. ]

I can do other stuff, though. You want a soda?

[ BEEP. ]

[grannyfucker]

[LONG, SUFFERING GROAN.




But then he considers it.]

Yeah, okay.

[drama8om8]

[ FUCK YEAH SPACED-OUT HELPING. Octavia decaptchalogues a soda she picked up from god-knows-where. Which to the non-Hamstank-literate means that she pulls a magic eight-ball out of nowhere, smashes it and produces a can of Pepsi.

The can is then offered to Jovan. It's probably going to fizzsplode in his face if he opens it right away. ]

I think I have chips in here somewhere. Hold on...

[grannyfucker]

[He has no idea what the hell he just witnessed but he's learned at this point that network shit is network shit, he shouldn't think too hard about it. Smashing an eight ball that materialized out of nowhere and getting a can of Pepsi out of it is not much stranger than being able to write down a series of numbers anywhere he wants and connecting to a secret Internet no one else can see.

He holds the can in his hand and glances between it and Octavia expectantly. Well, this is just peachy, isn't it. Is this for real?]

Am I supposed to be able to open this? [he gestures with his Pepsi hand to the other arm, a swollen mess lying limply in a pile of rubble.] Because I'm pretty sure I don't have a free hand for this.

[drama8om8]

You mean "thank you, Tavia." You're welcome, Rubble Stranger.

[ Sounding a little itty bitty bit more like her usual self there. And taking the can so she can open it. Which she does!

It does spray everywhere as promised. Octavia barely reacts at all beyond an initial flinch, which is a testament to how fucked her head is right now. No screaming. No covering her hair. Just a very disinterested stare. GJ. ]

[grannyfucker]

[While Octavia might be out of it, Jovan finds it amusing enough to quietly snerk at her soda misfortune. It's the first thing that's happened today that is even slightly amusing or just plain not horrifying or upsetting, so by god, he is going to take it.

It looks just like jizz, all over her hair. Not that he's going to say that aloud.]

[drama8om8]

[ She blinks stupidly, then offers the opened - and half empty - can. ]

Are you laughing at me?

[ Answer carefully, Rubbleguy, she just told you she killed dudes today jfc ]

[grannyfucker]

[And here is where Jovan differs from his predecessor: he at least has some form of brain to mouth filter, even if it's not necessarily very good.]

No! Of course not! It's just the--you know, the soda fizz. Everywhere. Soda fizz is funny.

[haha wow he tried to make that casual but instead it just came out super awkward, why does he have to be so shitty at talking. He just grabs the soda can and starts sipping from it before he makes it even more awkward.]

[drama8om8]

[ She just. Stares a bit. ]

Did you hit your head? Are you concussed and probably going to lose your arm and crushed to death? Soda fizz ain't funny. It's. Just soda.

But in fizz form.

[grannyfucker]

[He could try and defend himself here but he's pretty sure he can only dig himself into a bigger hole if he tries to explain how soda fizz is funny.

He hadn't considered concussion, though.]

...I might actually be concussed. I'm not sure.

[drama8om8]

If you ain't sure, that's a bad sign. Right? Because lack of concentration and memory loss and shit.

Do you remember your name? That's like. Totally a good place to start. Maybe.

[grannyfucker]

Uhhh...

[He furrows his brow in concentration and thinks about it. Is it bad that he has to think about it? Does thinking about your name mean you're concussed? What about thinking about thinking about your name? Surely that's--no, okay, focus. Names.]

Richard. Uhh--Jovan. Yeah, that one.

[drama8om8]

Okay. Then hi! I'm Tavia and I ain't really a terrorist but you might know me off the news.

[ A-ha! She's finally managed to find the chips stashed neatly in her inventory system. One more smashed eight-ball and POOF. One bag of Lays' finest salted potato snacks are opened and offered to Jovan. ]

There are like. Dudes around with super strength and healing powers and shit. You want me to go find them or are you going to freak out and panic and die if I leave you alone?

[grannyfucker]

[He already knew you and that you're not a terrorist, Tavia, this is OLD NEWS.

He's a lot more interested in her suggestion. He scoffs as he takes the bag of chips. He sets it down in the rubble and takes one chip out of the bag to pop into his mouth.]

Are you kidding me? I wouldn't even be trapped under all this shit if it weren't for those--giant super strength freaks in the first place!

[Honestly, he would never be this rude in person if he weren't so frazzled and terrified and in so much pain.]

[drama8om8]

Hey!

[ INDIGNANT FLAPPING AHOY ]

They're not freaks! They are super cool people who are also pretty hot when they ain't all giant and stuff. Don't be racist, dude. Racists get their chips taken away and their sodas poured over their heads.

[grannyfucker]

H-hey, they're the reason I'm stuck under this rubble in the first place!

[drama8om8]

Uh. Which one?

[grannyfucker]

The giant 50-foot rampaging one? He's the one who punched this building [he jerks his one good arm to point to the ruined remains of the building behind him] and trapped me under all this shit!

[drama8om8]

[ Please not Alan please not Alan please not Alan ]

Uh. There. Might have been more than one. Was it skinless? Or armoured-looking? Or a guy with like. Hella teeth and green eyes and abs and floppy hair?

[grannyfucker]

Well I couldn't exactly get a good look at his face from down here, but he definitely had a lot of teeth and dark hair.

[....wait.]

Oh, shit, you mean there's a bunch of them? Oh, Christ. [THE LITERAL LAST THING HE NEEDED.]