Death Tally - 2

[ceasetoexist]

 [He’s on fire. That’s the very first thought that goes through his head. He’s on fire, and he’s dying. Slowly. Painfully. It wasn’t like the first death he’d experienced here. That was relatively quick. Not painless. But there wasn’t the disorientation or feeling of drag like this.

And then, it ultimately catches up with him that he isn’t, in fact, burning. He’s back in bed. What’s left of it, anyway. It’s really hard to tell what’s up with his house at the moment, except for the fact that it’s been smashed to shit for the most part. But at least he’s alive. Alive and safe. For now, at least. Still, his brain is having a hard time fully locking on to that fact, and his body still feels like its burning. Though at least now it’s fading. Memory sure isn’t though.

He tries to move, to get up, to force his body to remember it’s still alive. And he can’t. Not really at least. His body just won’t permit it for some reason, and he doesn’t know why. So he just lays there. He will not cry. He will not cry. He will not.

A few minutes later after he finishes crying into his pillow, he finally gets enough control over his body again to move out of the bed. His first instinct is to check the window. Which he does, and immediately moves away when he sees the hazmats swarming the streets. He back pedals, tripping and falling to the ground as he just thinks about getting away from the window. It takes him a bit to right himself, once the shaking subsides.

He’s stuck. He could maybe try and use Josephine to get out but…probably not. And he’d just lead them to wherever he was going. There really wasn’t any escape. If he wanted anything, he’d probably have to use the phones.]



[Filtered from the Mayor/Grady/Drones/ect.]

[Pokey’s voice is unbelievably small. Shaken. Terrified. Pretty much any of the bluster, or agitation, or smarminess it usually contains has been utterly wiped away. In its place is the voice of a scared, helpless twelve year old.]

I don’t know who’s still out there. Or here. Whatever. I don’t care who you are, or what you think or do. Just talk with me. About something. Anything. Please.

[Filtered to Tak’s Communicator]

[This call goes out about a hour or two after the first. Hope you got that personal communicator you were talking about earlier on you, because Pokey’s going to be calling it, Tak. His voice, instead of being scared or little, is instead simply dead. The bluster and smarminess and all the factors that generally make Pokey sound like Pokey are gone, but so is pretty much anything else that could be in his voice. He’s just dead. And get ready for one of the funniest things you’ve ever heard, Tak.]

If you’re dead or hurt, I’m going to kill you.

Comments

[wolf-faerie.livejournal.com]

[Guess who's just as terrified, if not more?]

...Pokey?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

Aisling?

....Where are you?

[help-me-eirin.livejournal.com]

Very well. Since you asked so politely, I shall keep you company.

But what shall we talk about? The weather? The economy? Politics?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[Well, his initial attempt at being polite is getting strained.]

I don't care. Just...any topic. Whatever you want as long as it isn't about here. Just something.

[miltianbunny.livejournal.com]

That voice... You're the boy I met before, who was working on the dispenser, right?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

Yeah. ...You're the, uh...scientist...lady...Shion or whatever, right?

[enviousmath.livejournal.com]

[Oh Pokey. The cheer is noticeably absent from his voice from the last time they talked. Kyrie sighs away from the receiver and tries to be as soothing as possible. Mothering mode in on be very afraid.]

This coming Sunday is Halloween.

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

...Yeah, it is. Thankfully.

[He sounds at least a little better at the actual mention of Halloween.]

[dodo-master.livejournal.com]

...Pokey?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

H-Hey Cynric....

[child-abuser.livejournal.com]

...Sure, kid. Tell me more about that PSI stuff.

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

What? Oh.

Well, again, it's...what happens, is that someone attuned enough between their body and mind can harness matter and energy to cause supernatural effects. Like, making it incredibly cold, or picking people up, or healing...

PSI user actually healed my fingers after the last time we talked.

[weiss-tank.livejournal.com]

[Well that is definitely the voice of someone who's had something go very wrong]

Pokey? Did something happen?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

....I'm fine. I'll be fine.

[ra-ra-razputin.livejournal.com]

Hi?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

H-Hey.

[insectoidalien.livejournal.com]

[She does indeed have it. And frankly, she's terrified.

Not of the Hazmats; Back on her homeworld, she was trained to deal with this sort of situation. It was a literal education requirement, every little smeet practically from birth hooked into training simulations for decades on end. On top of that, she had trained to be an elite soldier in the Irken military, the most feared power back in her world.

Tak can deal with this. The Hazmats and mortal danger and possibility of burning death are simple obstacles to be dealt with. And she had assumed that others felt the same. Others of her own species certainly felt the same; they inflicted these exact same tactics on everyone else in the galaxy. It was, as far as she was concerned, normal. And the victims deserving of it.

But... She almost considered you an equal. Even though you're a disgusting, terrible human you still rival her in so many ways and make this place tolerable. When she saw your house, she was a lot more preoccupied with Josephine than you, with the danger and the need to shut out her feelings long enough to get her past all danger. Even though you had to know that is exactly how she would have reacted, you're honestly expressing concern while she expected ranting and death threats.

She hasn't the faintest clue how she should react or what she should feel. And that terrifies her.]

... You're back.

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

[His voice at least lightens a bit back to normal at that. He has no clue why he's so concerned about your well-being. Your a useful resource and "ally", but he never would've been this concerned about one of those before. And that just infuriates him to no end.]

Sure am. Worst vacation of my friggin' life.

I probably shouldn't have to tell you this, but if any of the others arestill talking about taking the fight to the Hazmats? Tell them they're idiots. Shooting hurts them, but just barely, and it doesn't slow them down. If we were smarter, we would've thought to start making explosives more then anything.

I'll assume you're at the treehouse. Have you people even begun to think of a viable escape route if things get worse?

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

[Saw what happened to your house. Hasn't been outside since.]

So.

Do you like... [LENGTHY PAUSE] ...chocolate pudding?


[Worst question ever. Why is he even doing this? He should be over there beating your skull in again, but... it still stinks outside like burning human, and there are Hazmats out there, and... and maybe he sort of owes you one.]

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

..........

Slugger, that was a god awful conversation starter.

....Naw. It looks like someone took a crap in a little plastic cup.

[yournewoverlord.livejournal.com]

[It's not Laharl's problem this loser got traumatized. What would they even talk about?]

...

So what do you do with your free time?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

For the most part?

Read. Invent. Destroy property and annoy people. I'm fairly simple to keep entertained.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

. . . Are you afraid of death, Porky?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

For the last time, my name is Pokey!

And golly jeepers, that's the LAST question I want to answer after-...whatever. It's a stupid question.

[ninemelodies.livejournal.com]

You ever hear anything by Bobby Darin, little dude?

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

.....Who?