EVENT ∞ LOG — July 125

[thediadem]

Event ∞ Log

In the Flesh

Jump ⇅ :: Visits — First Contact — Hitchhikers — Notes

∞ Prologue ∞

It's not real, it's not real.

Somewhere in the Blocks, late at night, a young woman repeats the words over and over, fumbling with her room key. She doesn't dare look over her shoulder again, begging her hand to obey. Her fingers are stiff and smooth, and it makes each movement more difficult. Eventually, the door gives way. She stumbles into the apartment, slamming it behind her and locking several bolts.

Leaning back on the door, she lets her key ring fall to the linoleum as she holds her hand up to her face. It isn't just her fingers now. Painted plastic has taken over her entire right hand, spreading up her forearm toward a ball-jointed elbow that creaks painfully. She grabs her neck with her flesh hand, sucking in a sharp breath as she tries to steady her heart.

It's not real, it's not real...

She takes another breath, then turns on the light. The bulb flickers. Hazy light flood the room with an incessant buzz.

She freezes.

A figure stands in the opposite doorway. It doesn't move, stuck in a pose with an outstretched hand—one made of flesh and bone. Her hand.

She screams.

Info & Mechanics — NPC Forum Post — Event Interaction ::: ⇅ Top

Strange Visits

Panorama

For the first week or two of July, life goes on as usual. You have a lot on your plate—jobs, loans, rent, that creep who won't stop staring at you when you're filling up your car—and the last thing you've got time for is other people's problems. Or maybe you find room to listen, anyway? Whatever the case, it's mostly a lot of stories and pointing fingers: a shopkeeper accuses his friend of stealing from him, somebody claims their boss must've skipped town to avoid paying the employees, and a woman is frantic about her missing husband. He never goes anywhere without telling her.

If you decide to look into it, none of the incidents seem connected. After all, people frequently go missing in the Diadem, friends betray each other, and businesses often go bankrupt, leaving their workers to pick up the pieces. Funny thing, though: here and there, you swear you glimpse a figure who isn't entirely flesh. Their features are just...a bit odd. Is it your imagination? When you move in for a closer look, something gets in your way and the figure disappears.

On the other hand, you think to yourself, it's not as though everybody on this planet looks standard. If a man can have horns, why can't his skin also be a bit plasticky?

Use the Event Interaction comment any time you need specifics or some direction for an element you're engaging within the event. This can be an NPC victim your character is questioning, an aspect of the diffusion zone your character is testing, or anything along those veins. While you're encouraged to make things up on your own, too, if you're ever unsure of the results or the answers you might get, approach us there!

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First Contact

The Fringes

Inevitably, you take the risk and head back into the Fringes. It has what you need, and the bizarreness in Panorama isn't making the city feel like much of a refuge, either. Besides, long trips aren't unusual for anyone in the Diadem. As you drive, you might even find yourself reluctant to return to the city. After all, there's so much across the multitude of diffusion zones that regardless of how dangerous it can be, perhaps some part of you is attracted to the thrill of the unknown.

If the promise of loot isn't enough, a note on the Forum might be. Here, you'll scroll across a brief message from who else but the ever-eager Felix Bjurstrom, joined by his daughter, Olive "Ollie" Bjurstrom. (Looks like he's got a new phone again!) If nothing else, the investigative or curious nature in you gets you going. What if this is a piece of the puzzle you need to go home?

If you want your character to scavenge items, check how that works. The Map identifies where each Quadrant is located.

Among the Shadows — Abandoned Mall

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 10-hour drive from Panorama, a standard American shopping mall rises through the cracked and broken highway. A portion of its vast parking lot melts into the road ahead and behind. There are cars in the parking lot, each one perfectly preserved: no rust, no dust, nothing.

The mall's lights are on. The moment you step inside, you'll notice that you're not alone. Inside, shadow corpses are everywhere, frozen in time. Their bodies show no signs of distress. If you try to touch them, a dark, ashy residue coats your fingers. You see a young couple linking arms, a mother bending over to pick up her child, and a man ordering his last meal at the KFC. It's as though they all just...stopped. While eerie, whatever force swept through here is long gone.

The upside is that nobody will bother you while you look around—aside from other fluxdrifts, of course. The shops and their offerings are stuck in the 90's. Big electronics are cosmic touched, rendering them worthless, but smaller electronics like cassette tapes, CDs, and Walkmans are all viable. You can also grab clothes, snacks, and (cheap) jewelry.

And, as you pass by the store windows, you see many mannequins on display. That's normal, so you don't think twice. At least, until you swear one of them keeps moving around the store. Though its pose never changes, it almost appears to...follow you? That can't be right. You must be seeing things.

Zone Effects
Touching any of the frozen shadows will cause the victim to believe that their companion(s) have transformed into monstrous creatures. Attempts to approach you will only register as an attack rather than placating gestures, while words will sound like snarls or spoken threats. An induced panic will make it more difficult to think logically and see through the hallucination. The illusory creatures can take the form of anything that might frighten or threaten you the most.

You can break free of the illusion through a variety of methods, including your own willpower, being knocked out by your friends, or seeing/hearing something that makes you realize it isn't real. The hallucination isn't overly intense, but it can cause a bit of havoc among you and your companions...and increase the likelihood a mannequin might make contact unnoticed.

Wall of Refuge — Strange Temple

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 6-hour drive from Panorama—and on the way to the abandoned mall above—stands a geometric structure made of metal and stone. Sharp angles shoot up from the ground to form a distorted hexagon. The gateway is littered with sigils: some weathered by time, others freshly carved into the rocky surface. They glow when you drive forward, beckoning you closer. Come in, whispers an unknown compulsion in your mind. You are home.

You may succumb to the whispers for any number of reasons: sleep deprivation, desperation for a place to rest overnight, or a need to hide from raiders or dangerous creatures lurking in another nearby zone. Regardless, you give in and enter the triangular entrance. The stone gate lifts to grant you passage, revealing an effigy of a multi-limbed being. A deity? A symbol of power? Though you're unsure, you continue deeper. Your footsteps echo across the cavernous halls.

Behind you, the heavy gate slowly closes with a rumbling finality. Despite the chilly entranceway, the interior of the temple is warm and inviting. Candles line the walls. Fountains flow peacefully. You can enter one of the many rooms to find a soft bed, fresh cakes, succulent meat, and fine wine available for you. Behind a silk curtain is a steaming bath lined with soothing floral herbs and oils.

Meanwhile, throughout your explorations, you might sense a figure or a shadow in the passageway. A glimpse of shiny plastic appears oddly out of place in a temple of this kind.

Zone Effects

• If you are a believer and decide to trust the gifts bestowed upon you, then you may safely indulge. The wine will warm you up, the food will fill your belly, and you can sleep through the night. When you awaken, you can safely leave the temple refreshed. Your vehicle will be outside, untouched, as if some power within was protecting your belongings.
• If you are a heretic and doubt the offerings you've been graciously given, the gifts will begin to rot and all amenities will crumble to dust. The more your cynicism betrays you, the more the temple will take until nothing remains except the oddly textured walls bearing down on you. As you examine the surface, you realize the stone is built from a manifold of dozens—no, hundreds—of twisted bodies. Their arms are raised in reverence, piled upon each other like human bricks. Their gaping mouths are frozen in a silent scream. As for you and your companions...what fate will await the nonbeliever?

The Last Stop — Foggy Town

©

In Quadrant 4, about a 3-hour drive from Panorama, east of the currently unused train tracks, a thick mist rolls through the highway. Here, the sky darkens rapidly into night and the temperature drops. If you've traveled unprepared, presuming the heat in Panorama spreads into the Fringes, you'll find that's not so. A chill spreads into your bones and creeps up the back of your neck.

Then the ground rumbles. The tremors shake your vehicle. Maybe it even makes you lose control briefly or sends you swerving off-road, straight into the fields. And in the middle of the fog, you see it: a figure standing in the middle of the field. Behind it are a few houses, making up a tiny rural town. The houses are dilapidated, many crumbling. Supplies within are minimal, and many items are broken or spoiled.

Do you approach? Do you drive past? Merely staring for a second too long will be enough for the hitchhiker to choose you as its ride, but its appearance may not be all that keeps you in place. In the distance is another bigger shadow. A much bigger shadow. It looms in the distance without true mass or form. Within the void of its body, a searchlight sweeps over the misty town. It does not move. It simply looks while the ground shakes. Each time its light catches a glimpse of something that doesn't belong—an animal, a vehicle that drove too deep into the tall grass, a raider that went too far into town—a sonorous howl reverberates through the zone.

Then the shadow will teleport to its target and crush the intruder without mercy before retreating back to its watchful post. And the intruder is indeed crushed: any living organism caught by the Light Guardian will be flattened with a horrifying crunch of broken bones and squished organs.

Zone Effects
While the Light Guardian can't be defeated or confronted, you can outrun or hide from its sweeping beam. If you stop far enough on the side of the road, it won't notice you...but you can still watch as it mangles an unfortunate raider or traveler. Possibly, you see the spray of blood or hear the screams before you run. Perhaps you realize how easily you could've met your own gory fate.

If you've left your car and gone too deep into the town before you realize the danger, you can do one of two things: you can risk hiding in an abandoned house in the town and hope that the sunrise comes. In zones like this, the day/night cycle is unpredictable, and many places are permanently cast in darkness. Or, you can try to run back to your vehicle and pray you don't get caught.

Alternatively, you've plowed directly into the field when raiders in pursuit force you into the zone. Should fortune favor you, they'll be obliterated by the Light Guardian while you flee. The beam tracks quickly, but can only shine in one direction at a time so the key is to bob and weave.

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Hitchhikers

Anywhere

Not everyone who enters the diffusion zone will pick up a mannequin, but the possibility is there. Once you make first contact, you will gain a hitchhiker. Unlike most aspects of the diffusion zones, this one has gathered into a storm, meaning the effects will breach even normally stable and anchored strongholds like Panorama.

Some fluxdrifts will brush off your problems while a few might believe you. Others will offer solutions in their own way, including a doctor who'll pay to obtain strange plastic limbs. Not everyone will pitch in to help. The city's big, populated, and somebody on the street turning doll-like doesn't affect them (...until it does). They've got a job to get to and mouths to feed.

Unwanted Passenger

When do you first notice your passenger? At any point, really. Perhaps it goes like this:

You glance in the rearview mirror and glimpse a figure in the backseat. When you spin around, there's nobody there. Then it happens again. This time, you realize it's not a person, but a dummy. A mannequin. It's sitting upright. And is it...wearing a seatbelt? Or maybe it's thrown itself across the back bench as though somebody tossed it there, uncaring.

This time, when you look back, it's still there. You pull over and dump it on the side of the road. That's taken care of, you think. You drive some more. For a few hours or even a day or two—depending on how long you've traveled—you don't think much of it. Then suddenly, it's back. And it keeps coming back no matter how much you try to get rid of it.

Or it goes like this:

You return from a standard trip into a diffusion zone. It went pretty well, you think. You found some clothes at a creepy mall and now you're ready to get some sleep. When you open your trunk to retrieve your belongings, you notice a mannequin stuffed inside, limbs bent at odd angles. You're a little weirded out, but you decide to dump it on the street and move on.

You shower. In the bathroom mirror, the mannequin suddenly appears behind you. Over the next few days, this continues. The mannequin appears in a booth across the diner as you're eating your eggs. It's behind a shelf in the corner store. It's in your closet. Each time you check, it vanishes...but then, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it's right there in plain view. It'll even let you throw it away, burn it, anything you can think of. But it always comes back.

However it plays out, you realize that people around you do notice it...sometimes. That doesn't mean anyone will believe you that things are just that weird. Most people have better things to do. They don't know you, after all, and even if they did, well, this place does have a habit of driving people a little crazy. Witnesses casually push the mannequin aside and tell you that's a funny prank. Your regular waitress pats your shoulder and suggests you get some sleep. You're not looking well. The shopkeeper demands you take that thing before you go. He's not responsible for your junk.

But there's a small chance you run into someone who seems to be going through what you are. Unfortunately, they seem to actually have it worse and aren't making much sense. Still, you can try questioning them and see what answers you get. At least, before you lose them for good. For some of you, the victim you run into is in especially bad shape...and you have to wonder how long before you end up the same.

Trading Places

For some of you, the mannequins might not do more than be a nuisance. While that's not ideal, either, it doesn't completely upend your life. Others are less fortunate. If you're one of the latter, you'll begin to notice symptoms.

The first time it happens, you're startled to hear the mannequin speak. To begin with, its voice might be guttural and unnatural, incapable of stringing more than a few words together. Then it seems to learn. It talks in full sentences. Its voice smooths out. It starts to sound more and more like you...right down to your speech patterns and accent. As symptoms progress with varying intensity—over days or weeks—you realize with dawning horror that you're losing parts of yourself. When you wash your hands, you notice a part of your skin is smooth and shiny. The next time the mannequin appears, its previously plasticky appearance is more flesh and blood.

Eventually, the mannequin becomes independent. It shops with your money. It steals while wearing a face that looks nearly identical to yours, especially from a distance. It calls your friend and says the things you would never say out loud to them. They're thoughts you've had, sure, but you know better than to hurt your friend's feelings...except apparently, you have. And now you can't even use your own voice to explain yourself. Your leg has been getting stiff. Your joints don't bend properly.

Meanwhile, the mannequin is now striding around smoothly. Its appearance is still uncanny and odd if anyone pays attention, but at a glance, it easily passes as a part of the crowd. As its final act, it's even absorbed small bits of your abilities if you have any. Not all of them, but enough to cause trouble. Throughout everything, you cannot harm your hitchhiker. Some unknown force stops you any time you think about it. You simply can't.

Related Incidents

The impact isn't contained only to those directly affected. The hitchhikers' influence spreads through the city. For some incidents, it's difficult to trace back to the source. For others, that's a little easier. Regardless, these occurrences could help you determine how to solve your own situation. Alternatively, if you've escaped unscathed, you can still find yourself dragged into a situation involving someone else.

Return to Sender

July 11 — The Forum: An anonymous poster contributes this bit of information that might catch the eye of those affected. You can try the same method, but it's a risk going back into the diffusion zones. No one can guarantee the specific zone you found the mannequin in is still standing. Further, you have to remember where you made contact to begin with.

If you decide to try it, be sure to take a friend. The less independent the hitchhiker, the more likely it will stick to your side even as you return it home. If the assimilation has progressed too far, though, you might have to utilize methods such as duct taping inside your trunk or strapping it down with ropes. It may struggle and say vile things to you or your companion.

Victimless Burn Victims

July 14 @ 03:00 — The Pavilion (East End): A handful of troublemakers grabbed some freaky mannequins wandering the street and, in a drunken stroke of genius, set them all on fire for no reason other than that they wanted to. Not only has this resulted in damage to the corner store nearby, but Enforcers have linked the incident to four hospitalizations at roughly the same time. Doctors from Saint Margery's Hospital (located in the Blocks) report that all four individuals suffered massive shock and claim to have endured unimaginable agony as if they had been "set on fire."

Curiously, none of them bear any physical wounds and, by all accounts, are completely fine (trauma aside). Notably, all four individuals were also suffering from various stages of "joint stiffness" and "hallucinations"...which have since completely vanished. You might wonder, is this the solution? Or perhaps the better question would be, is it worth it?

The Sculptor

July 15 — The Pavilion (Medical Clinic): Around July 14 onward, word begins to spread that a Dr. Maggie Wright (who insists on being called the Sculptor, though nobody seems to heed this request) will not only do an amputation for free, she will pay you for your limb if you are boasting an "unusual trophic change to the skin, resulting in a smooth and shiny texture." All she asks is she gets to keep the sample. Her promise is that she will study it to find a more permanent cure and, if she does, she will return the limb to you for reattachment.

Some end up trusting her. You wonder, maybe she could help? Dr. Wright will happily accept you as her patient if you agree. Her methods are indeed proper and sterile: she'll put you under and provide you with plenty of pain meds. She appears to have all of the equipment required to preserve the limb, too.

If you're suspicious, you can also pay her a visit, but you won't have much luck getting her in trouble or sniffing out any evidence of nefarious deeds. Her office hasn't got anything strange, she is indeed a real surgeon, and there are testimonials from patients who've had success under her care in the past. Plus, nobody's going to her who isn't doing so voluntarily (they've signed waivers)—even if you could argue how much desperation plays into their decision. Still...the thing about her "title" is a bit weird, right?

Dr. Maggie Wright is 5'2, Caucasian with a light Northeastern accent and silver hair often worn in a bun. She's in her 50s and looks fairly good for her age. Her voice is soothing. She has intense, wide blue eyes, which some might find unnerving, but that's not necessarily her fault.

∞ Notes ∞

• Mannequin contact is not required. Not everybody who goes into the diffusion will make first contact, and many won't. Characters can explore the mall, the temple, and the foggy field without ever picking up a hitchhiker.
• The diffusion zones described are only examples. Others will exist where mannequins can be found, including grocery stores, gas stations, abandoned parks, and more. You can make up your own, but check with us if you have any questions about limitations!
• The speed and intensity of all mechanics are entirely up to you. Generally, the earlier a character makes first contact, the more severe their consequences.
• Investigating the zones or helping others are perfectly fine ways to participate! Since the hitchhikers are meant to be more insidious, it won't be strange if your character isn't in the middle of the action right away or notices things a bit late.

Questions? Ask here

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Comments

— scott.

[carcajous]

[ The missing girl might be getting attention from the storm chasers, but she's not the only one who goes missing in these parts. Seems like it happens a lot. Enough that Logan doesn't go chasing every mystery. But this one—well, this one's caught the eye of none other than Scott Summers. Teenaged boy, took off to look for medicine for his grandma, hasn't come back. Probably went east, she said. Logan already knows Scott's gonna want to go see what's out there. And he knows Scott's gonna tell him they should do it as a team.

Yeah, he comes. Is he happy about it? Not one bit, but he isn't about to let Scott run off without backup. He sends a text to Charles—they don't usually both take off at the same time—then kicks his bike into gear. Upside of riding this way instead of sharing a car? He doesn't gotta listen to Scott. Doesn't have to be stuck in a seat next to him, either. They just ride, side by side, Logan waiting to see if he picks up any scent worth following.

Few hours in, what they get is a dense fog that blankets the road, night descending like a dark curtain. Maybe Scott stops first or they both end up pausing, but either way, as his engine idles, the mist thickens.

He does have a scent. A strong one. Metal—and blood. A lot of blood. A little siren rings between his ears. Tiny pinpricks crawl up the back of his neck. Something tells him, abruptly, that slowing down was a mistake. ]

We need to move.

[opticular]

[ It was an easy enough reason to go, Scott thinks, when he decided on it. The grandma was incredibly worried and the boy had a noble cause to go and seek something beyond the safety of a stronghold. If he's on the boy's shoes, he himself would also go. The story tugged on his heartstrings. Scott feels like it's a no brainer. And he did tell Logan they should do it as a team, and that they should also let the Professor know they'd both be gone for a little bit to investigate.

The ride is uneventful and they barely exchanged a word, even when the night begins to descend like a cold, dark hand after a few hours. It makes Scott slow down and eventually stop, though, brows knitting together at the strange mist that's beginning to settle around them.

The same pinpricks Logan feels, Scott senses too, and it's enough for him to prepare to rev his engine, so they can resume the ride. Nodding in agreement with Logan's words, he turns to him. ]

Yeah, we should. I think - [ But then, Scott turns back towards the road and he sees something. It's initially a figure of someone standing by the road, the mist concealing their identity for a bit. Brows furrowing further, Scott narrows his eyes, gaze pointed so he can try and recognize who this person is.

The only thing he sees after the mist parts ever so slightly is red hair. ]

Jean?

[carcajous]

[ Think what? Logan's already revved his engine, a hair's breadth from taking off down the road when Scott doesn't move. Then he hears, Jean and his head snaps around. What—?

An icier chill slithers through his veins. Not because it is her but because Scott seems to believe he's seen her, and he already knows how this might go. It isn't, by the way. A woman with red hair, sure, but he'd know...he'd know if it was her. Right? He'd feel it. And God knows it wouldn't be this simple, Jean appearing outta the mist like a damn ghost. She's gone. She's been gone a long time.

(Scott came back, but that's different. He can't explain how it's different. It just is. There's an ugly, selfish part of him that doesn't wanna see Jean return, alive and well and from a time right before she lost herself and he had to stop her. He doesn't wanna deal with it. He doesn't need that wound ripped fresh open again.)

Besides, if she did show up this way—ethereal, otherworldly—then it isn't her. Not really. He's only seen her like that once, and he can't forget how that ended.

He backs up, lining his bike with Scott's. Scott can't smell it, but he does. There's something through that grass that isn't right, and he isn't talking about the silent statue in the fog. In the distance, he hears more engines coming up. Shit. They could be other travelers. Harmless.

They could also be raiders. ]

Hey, look at me. It's not her, okay? We gotta go.

[opticular]

[ Unfortunately for Logan, Scott doesn't look at him because he's so transfixed by the silhouette of a red-haired woman covered in mist. So much so that he even gradually turns his bike's engine off, parks it, and gets off. ]

No, Logan, it's Jean. It's really her.

[ He's already taking steps forward he's almost unaware he's taking. There's just something that's pulling him, and his mind's immediately going back to his memories of her. She's literally the last person he saw before arriving here. And the person he misses the most, selfishly. ]

We have to go- She might need help-

[ Does she? Will Jean even need help when Scott knows she can handle herself? But she's here, isn't she? She's actually here, and just a few steps more, he'd be able to hold her in his arms again. Tell her he misses her most days. Assure her that this place is fine if they just stick close together. ]

Jean...

[ His tone doesn't betray just how much he misses her. It has been way too long. ]

[carcajous]

Scott—

[ Damn it.

After a second, Logan switches off his bike and follows him into grass. The mist is so thick, he can barely see past a few feet ahead. He hears a rustle.

Scott's fixation is starting to make him feel crazy, like he's somehow not seeing her when he oughta be. Up ahead, the figure...he nearly says it moves, but that's not it. What happens is he blinks and then it's suddenly further back. Luring them deeper. Or rather, luring Scott deeper. Logan's not gonna leave him out here alone, though, so he curses, keeps up with Scott as they chase a phantom through the grass.

A rumble stops him dead in his tracks. Through the fog, a glaring beam, bright as a lighthouse, sweeps over the crumbling barn in the distance. The noise that echoes across the sky can't be called a roar. It's deeper. It practically vibrates from beneath their feet. A cold sensation sinks to the pit of his stomach. ]

What the hell is that?

[ Distinctly, he does not want to be here. He wants to be the opposite of wherever the fuck here is. Frankly, it isn't often his body urges him to flee. Usually, his impulse is to fight. So when his intuition kicks him into getting out of the way, he's inclined to listen.

You know what? He's done asking. He grabs Scott by the arm, intent on hauling the man the other direction if he'll let him. ]

[opticular]

[ Grabbing his arm has sadly not shaken Scott off of whatever the hell he's in right now. How can Logan not see what he's currently seeing? Jean is right there in the flesh and she's calling out to him. She is, right? That's her voice? Hitting his ears? Scott's one hundred percent sure of it.

And this certainty is what propels him to keep on going even when Logan grabs his arm. Logan's the stronger out of the two of them, and it shows because Scott isn't able to shove him away. Maybe because he's far too distracted, and too close now (he's not) to the image of Jean standing before him.

Even Logan's question doesn't register to him right away, but he does circle back on it, even while his focus is divided. Logan might still get on his nerves more often than not, but Scott listens to his team members whenever they're out in the field, and he makes sure to do it here, too. ]

What're you talking about?

[ What do you mean what the hell is that because Scott's not understanding it. He doesn't get what the other mutant is concerned about. Shouldn't he also be concerned about Jean who's just up ahead? He knows Logan has been seeing someone else (he has not confirmed this yet but he's about to) but Jean must've been important to this jerk too, right? ]

Come on, Jean's there.

[ She's far more important than whatever the hell Logan's worried about, right? They're just lights. ]

[carcajous]

[ What's he talking about? What does Scott mean, what's he talking about? Can't he hear it? The howl, the rumbling?

Here's the thing: Logan might not like Scott, and he might not like most of his decisions, but he can typically see the logic in them, can see what Scott's trying to do even when he doesn't agree with whatever that goal is. At the end of the day, they're both soldiers. That's what they have in common. He'll acknowledge that much.

He can't see what Scott's trying to do here. Except get both their asses killed. ]

Shut up. Listen to me. [ He steps in front of Scott, grabs him by the lapels, and gives the man a good fuckin' shake. ] That is not Jean, you understand? I don't know what the fuck's gotten into you, but you need to snap out of it right now.

[ What is it? A hallucination, hypnotism, something else? Logan isn't sure. He isn't sure if it's coming from the ghostly figure herself or from this place or something inside Scott's own brain, but for once, Logan's not annoyed and he isn't pissed. He isn't even being difficult. He's just desperate to get Scott outta here—because the longer they stand in the middle of this mist, the closer that light sweeps. And they're not alone, either. Those cars earlier? They've stopped, too. Occupants have gotten out.

Now they're also in the field, footsteps rustling as they whisper among themselves. The beam flicks left. Then left. Left. Steady, like a ticking clock. ]

[opticular]

[ Shaking Scott through his lapels combined with those words should've been enough to snap him out of whatever funk he's in. But as it is, The Funk is super strong and it's not letting Scott go, especially when he's convinced whatever that silhouette is is actually his girlfriend back home.

So, when Logan grabs him and talks down on him, Scott also grips Logan's arms, firm and strong. ]

You're the one who needs to listen, Logan. I also don't know what the hell's going on with you, but if you don't let me go right now so I can help Jean...

[ Scott's tone doesn't give way to any annoyance either, but it has a sense of finality, which is something he typically uses whenever he's on command. When he's out leading a mission in the field. Like right now.

Sure their actual mission is to help find a boy, but now that they've also found Jean, Scott's more adamant than ever. He has no plans of letting go of this lead. And he really doesn't want to shove Logan out of the way if it ever comes down to it. ]

[carcajous]

[ Any other time, Logan would've left Scott right then and there, let him do what he wanted while Logan takes care of shit his own way. But this isn't Scott being a stubborn jackass. It's something else. Something that's actually got him worried. Now they're at an impasse, Scott rooted to the ground, Logan refusing to let go, and the only solution he can come up with is to give Scott a good knock over the head and carry him out.

Fuck. Actually? He's about to do exactly that when a sharp crack splinters the air. Shotgun. As he thought: they weren't gonna be alone for long. He swings around. Attention divided, his grip loosens on Scott.

It happens fast. A split second, maybe less. The beam swivels back to the right, hones in on the blast. He hears the liquid crunch before he sees it, like wet clay and shattered pottery thrown against the ground, a scream cut short. There isn't much to see, really. Just a red spray that paints the grass, illuminated bright under the beam's flare. The massive shadow looms above, too tall for him to see all of it even when he cranes his neck, and for a moment, he's frozen in place, too, eyes fixed ahead. ]

Holy shit.

[ Okay, now can they get the hell outta here? ]

[opticular]

[ Scott fully expects Logan to retort something that'll most likely get the other mutant forcibly shoved out of the way, but it never comes. Instead, the sound of a shotgun firing momentarily snaps him out of his reverie. But this doesn't fully do the trick. What happens after is what ultimately gets Scott out of this funk he's in.

He also didn't see a lot, to be fair, but it was the sounds that accompanied it that really shook something out of him. It's the way he distinctly heard bones crushing and muscles squelching, as if something or someone was crushed to the ground in a matter of seconds, that has Scott immediately tightening his grip on Logan's arm. Not to shove him away.

But to grab him to the other direction. Away from all of this. ]

We need to go.

[ He declares firmly and without a single moment to waste. His hand is still around Logan's wrist, as if the other mutant even needs pulling. ] Sorry I don't know what came over me.

[ Scott's a bit too shaken to even think of letting go. Guilt starts to slowly wash over him. He doesn't know what he's even thinking when he parked his bike to pursue Jean? When she's most likely not even here? And now they're in a precarious situation, and as someone responsible for Logan, he won't forgive himself if whatever funk he was in would put the both of them in a dangerous circumstance. ]

[carcajous]

[ Thank fuck.

Logan shoves Scott along at the same time Scott tugs him forward. ] Save it, c'mon.

[ They can do the apologies after they're outta here. Problem is, Logan's not sure where out of here is. The road's disappeared behind the thick mist, the grass stretches into a yawning distance, and for once in his life, he finds himself turned around. He hesitates. It takes him a moment to reorient: barn to the right, blood to the left, and the highway up ahead. They're deeper into the fields than he thought. The earth groans. The beam shines for what feels like goddamn miles, and even as they're sprinting, he's struck with a singular realization:

They can't outrun it.

Like half the shit he does, he does it without thinking. Something makes him turn to look at Scott (a sound, a shift in the air), and he shoulders Scott out of the way. His ears pop. Silence engulfs him before he can hear himself scream. He doesn't notice they've popped 'til the ringing pierces through his skull, a sharp drill behind his eyes; when he sucks in a breath, the air sticks to the roof of his mouth, refusing to reach his lungs. Blood spurts from his nose, spills from his lips. Fuck, when did he hit the ground? Where the hell did Scott get to? He's caught between getting up and calling Scott's name, ends up doing neither because apparently his legs aren't working. Something's falling, slipping through where his hand's pressed against his stomach—wet and loose and coiled—even as the flesh begins to knit together.

He should get up. He should really get up 'cause he's got no idea where the fuck Scott is or if he's okay, and somehow, that's the foremost concern on his mind. ]

[opticular]

[ Things happened so fast, Scott wasn't able to process much of the events that occurred. One moment they're making a break for it, finding the most accessible way to escape where they are right now. The next, Logan's shoving him away from something. He doesn't know exactly what's transpiring. Due to whatever funk he was in, the last thing he remembered was spotting "Jean" while he's on his bike.

Next thing he knows, something, or more accurately someone, exploded (or were they crushed?) and they're running from the ensuing commotion. Is someone actively pursuing them? Is the explosion going to come after them next? He doesn't know. Couldn't possibly know with how thick the mist is.

And it's frustrating him in ways he can't fathom because he's supposed to know everything that's happening from every angle, and yet for some reason, he was prey to something that captured his full attention, distracting him from his surroundings and lulling him to believe Jean's actually here.

But Scott doesn't have the luxury of actually processing his emotions because as soon as he's shoved away, he sees Logan pop like a balloon right before his eyes. ]

Logan-!!

[ Logan's blood splutters everywhere. On his face, on his visor, on his hair. On his white tank top. On his zip-up hoodie. On his jeans. Everywhere. He can even taste some of it in his mouth when he screamed the other's name. Scott's so shocked, so taken aback, that for a split second, the leader of the X-Men doesn't know what to do. What's even happening? What caused this? What are they fighting against? What are they running from?

He drops to his knees, gathering whatever pieces of Logan there is on the ground. The man heals quick, yes, but is he quick enough? He'll know right now. And, for a brief moment, he's reminded this could've been him had Logan not push him aside. Fuck. He's so out of his depth here. ]

Logan, come on- I'm here. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere- Fuck, what's happening?

[carcajous]

[ Dully, it occurs to him Scott's freaking out. It also occurs to him that Scott is holding a wet chunk of meat, which. What? What the hell is that, where'd he get that? Somehow, Logan doesn't put together that it was once attached to him, but it doesn't matter 'cause he can see that Scott's fine. In one piece.

Great. At least one of them is.

Well, he's starting to be, too. Mostly. Give him...he doesn't know how long, but something squelches in his chest cavity where his lungs are, and when he hacks up another mouthful of blood, he can finally breathe again. It's the main thing he needs to get back on his feet. Or, tries to. Thoughtless, he grabs onto Scott's arm, the nearest sturdy object in reach. His fingers slip against what his sluggish consciousness registers as mud but definitely isn't. ]

I don't know. [ He hasn't got any answers for Scott, but he's no stranger to being chased by an unstoppable machine or entity or whatever that is. He's not gonna waste his time wondering. With a grunt, he hauls himself upright, probably relies more on Scott's help than he wants to admit. Kinda feels like a fresh pile of hot coals made themselves at home inside him. ] Just keep moving.

[ They just gotta get to the road. Right? Pretty sure that's what they were doing before all of him squirted out onto the ground like somebody jumping on a goddamn juice box. Survival instincts trump pride any day; he slings an arm over Scott's shoulder and stumbles forward. Every step he's healing, but it's not as easy as that. Still takes a fucking lot out of him. Adrenaline only keeps him afloat for so long, and he's gotten real good at telling when it's about to run out. ]

[opticular]

[ Just keep moving, he says, when Scott's mildly panicking at how he can effectively protect Logan from whatever that was while simultaneously trying to make sure the other mutant reconstitutes without missing a vital part of him. His attention's so divided he knows this will give him a headache later, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. Right now, the important thing is to make sure Logan's fine and they get out of here before something else happens.

He swallows down the guilt that's still rising within him like bile, as he efficaciously helps Logan up, providing himself as the ample support the other needs right now.

Eyes darting from side to side, making sure nothing's following them while also keeping his focus on Logan's well-being, Scott fruitfully hauls both of them together away from the scene. It's not as fast as he wants to be, not when he's confirming Logan's body parts are fixing themselves successfully, but it gets them off the blades of grass and onto the road.

Slowly settling Logan down on his bike, Scott takes off his zip-up hoodie so he can drape it over the other mutant. Not much of Logan's clothes survived that sudden outburst, never mind that his own clothes are filled with the other man's blood. Immediately crouching down before Logan to ensure he's alright, a hand gently finds itself on his shoulder, lifting to cradle his neck instead, while Scott hurriedly scans him. ]

You okay? Anything missing?

[ Body parts, he means, because he'd gladly return to pick them up if needed. ]

[carcajous]

[ See, one time, two years ago, while they were scouting east of Siberia for their next hideout, a train barrelled straight into him. Sent him flying off the side of a mountain into the jagged rocks a few hundred feet below. When they picked him up twenty minutes later and asked if he was okay, he said Could've gone better, then promptly laid down in the cargo hold for the next three hours. And y'know what?

Feeling like he could use a nap after this, too.

Anyway, staying on his bike is more effort than he cares for right now; he plants his ass on the ground and leans against it instead with a groan. Yeah, his jeans are a little shredded (haven't fallen off, at least) and his shirt's...not there anymore, but he can't bring himself to give a damn. Sure as hell not the first time. He does shrug on the hoodie. Doesn't bother zipping it up, though, which means Scott gets a real good look at the flesh knitting around his shiny metal rib cage. ]

Nothing that won't grow back. [ Limbs are still attached, so it's just meat and skin he needs. Even giant unknown horrors can't crush an adamantium skeleton, but what can? (Don't say Magneto.) He squints up at Scott, whose face is a lot closer to his than he's used to. He can see himself reflected in the wine-red lenses. Bits of gooey viscera drips down them. Man looks like he went swimming in a slaughterhouse. Suddenly too aware of the almost nonexistent gap between them, Logan gives Scott a slight push, waving him off. He's good, you don't gotta mother hen him. ] What the hell got you back there? Never seen you like that before.

[opticular]

[ Scott allows Logan to slightly push him aside. Probably the only time he'll take that without so much of a snark quip. This is all his fault and Logan's question just proves that.

Standing up, hands on hips, he lifts one up on his visor in case something pops up while he scans their surrounding area. Looks like the coast is clear. For now. He'll still be on high alert, though, scanning the area, distracting himself from watching Logan's flesh knit themselves. He's not squeamish, far from it, but staring feels a bit invasive. He'd like to, at least, give the other man the privacy to put himself back together.

That, and the question weighs heavily on him. He doesn't want to watch the reminder of his inefficiency back there. Doesn't want to see how Logan had to stitch himself back just because he let him down as a leader. As a comrade. Feels like his own gut is knitting itself back. ]

I don't know... Still trying to figure that part out.

[ His voice is a bit quiet, if not also a tad defeated. It's probably the first time Logan's hearing him like this, and Scott wants to make sure it'd be the last. ]

I'm sorry you had to shove me away, though. Got you... [ He turns to Logan and gestures to his situation, brows creasing in empathy. ] Like this. Won't happen again, I promise.

[ A beat. ] But I also wanna thank you. That could've been me. [ And he can't heal so that would've been his end. Scott knows when to give credit where credit is due, and right now, Logan just saved his life. That counts for something. Not even his own ego in admitting his own faults can outweigh his Boy Scout nature and doing good by his own team. ]

[carcajous]

[ Great. Now he's gotta watch Scott angst about it. Logan sighs, discomfort radiating from his every pore in the face of Scott being genuinely...nice. ]

Don't get all weepy on me, Summers.

[ Look, it's fine. This is what he does. When he told Scott he didn't wanna see another mutant in the ground, he meant it. And he meant it about Scott, too. Besides, he's already healed up, almost alarmingly fast. Sometimes he's not so sure healing is the right word so much as his body stubbornly erases any evidence of trauma before it can leave its mark. In another few minutes, it'll be like it never happened.

Doesn't feel as if he deserves the guilt or whatever, anyway, when he's the reason Scott's never going to see Jean again except in fucked up illusions like this one.

He glances to the left, where the field still sits only feet away, fog curling at the edges. How many more bodies are in there? How many were lured in, same as Scott? How easily could it have been him caught in the siren song instead? He's starting to understand that when it comes to this place, there's no real answers, only a dozen questions stacked on top of each other. ]

[opticular]

[ It's a good thing every roll of his eyes, Logan can't see them. Not that he'd want them hidden from the other man, to be fair. But this time, he actually wants to, only because Logan saved his life. It's a small, albeit only, nice thing he'd like to give the other mutant right now.

Oh, and maybe a small smile. ] Wouldn't dream of it.

[ Sure Logan gets under his skin most days, and he's still not convinced he doesn't dislike him, but right now, he actually doesn't. There's something to be said about how Scott's covered in the other mutant's blood and seems perfectly unbothered by it. Nothing like a shower later won't fix (that might introduce him to a "visitor" but that's for another thread.)

Watching Logan quietly as the other knits himself back, there's a brief moment where his gaze's a bit fixated on the other's torso, a bit fascinated by how his mutation works, only having seen it for the first time like this. But he quickly remembers giving him privacy that he looks away. ]

Let me know when you're ready to get going.

[ He doesn't want to linger here, not when he's unsure if something's going to come out, and how many bodies are out there unable to repair themselves back like Logan. ]

We can ride slow so you can rest a little. [ He means this genuinely, and not to undermine Logan in any way. ]