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| Wrapped in a Mother's Care; Open, Thread 2 | |
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| Topic Started: May 9 2014, 10:22 PM (430 Views) | |
| Shepherd | May 9 2014, 10:22 PM Post #1 |
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May 11, 2014, Lunch time, following Behold the Hurricane God, Daniel needed a beer. No. Correct that. Not ‘A’ as in singular. He felt like he needed more than one. He kept shaking his hand to get the feeling back into it. A chill had run up his arm, through the elbow to the shoulder. He didn’t want to feel his hand. He didn’t want to feel the anger that drowned out the sorrow he had been feeling. He…just didn’t want to feel. The Texan felt like a fool for letting Alison get at him. They had both lost something unique and she was letting her feelings toward Daniel for his supposed transgressions skew how she felt about Brandon. Did Alison hate mutants that much? When Daniel revealed his gifts to save their lives from the approach of Famine Aly seemed distant. Brandon was quiet on the issue but Dan could tell there was something beneath the surface of Alison’s seemingly distracted demeanor. After they had left the shelters and returned to their home did she unleash her disgust. Daniel explained that he had used his powers to sense the arsonist in the high school, which had led to his fifteen minutes of fame in Small Town, USA. Alison had said that it was a betrayal. He had used his mutant abilities to trick her into liking him, falling in love. She reckoned their whole relationship was a lie. Daniel didn’t know if she had always harbored anti-mutant feelings or they were just spurred by the revelation of his powers and the upheaval of Aly’s life at the hands of Famine. Daniel just didn’t know. The history teacher passed by the open door of the ballroom. A large crowd had already gathered. It was Mother’s Day! There was a banner hanging along the wall and plenty of amiable conversation. Quite the spread had been laid out for everyone to enjoy. Daniel had forgotten about Mother’s Day until Alison had mentioned it and had forgotten about the banquet until he had passed by the ballroom. Maybe he really did apply himself to too many projects. Daniel looked down the hall, almost feeling the beer calling his name like a siren song. He then looked into the ballroom. He had tried to convince Alison that that school had become his safety net, that they were helping him navigate his own private Hell. He might have just wanted the beer but he needed support. Dan pivoted and turned into the ballroom. He shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced around. The room was filled with mutants and his ability was alive with their unique auras. He focused on one signature in particular and found it. A schooner rocking on the waves. The tracker navigated through the crowd giving brief greetings and hellos to those he met along the way. He finally found Dallas and tried to force a smile as he approached but his mood was poisoned by his earlier interaction. “Well. This has been a morning from Hell,” he said. “I’ve had a visit from my ex. Just when I thought I had made headway, she reminds me of how much farther I have to go.” Daniel rolled his head around his shoulders in an attempt to relieve the stress. “I didn’t know she could get under my skin like that. I taught the front door a lesson though. It won’t be giving any lip anytime soon,” the normally calm Shepherd said as he pulled his hand from his pocket and showed his scraped and slowly bruising hand. “I’m not a mother but I figured being among friends was a better alternative to numbing everything and staring into a tall glass of liquid lunch.” |
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| Specter | May 9 2014, 11:53 PM Post #2 |
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As he took a step back from the extended table laden down with food to check everything was to his liking, Dallas absently closed his hand over the breast pocket of his shirt, as he had done several times since entering the ballroom. Hidden within was his wallet, something he carried around with him pretty much everywhere, though not because he was concerned about having ready cash close at hand. Spending the bulk of his time at the mansion, he didn't have to worry about the need to pay for things unexpectedly, only when he ventured out into the big bad world. But the wallet was nearly always somewhere on his person. That was because, tucked into a clear plastic pouch within the wallet, was a photograph of his parents. They were laughing, flushed with excitement at the newborn son held swaddled in his mother's arms. Young, beautiful, eyes glimmering with hope for the future which would be denied them. They'd died in a house fire when he was small, their fates sealed by nothing more sinister than a faulty set of Christmas lights. Dallas had been the only one to escape with his life, his mother heroically sacrificing herself to reach him and get him out of the house. She'd died on the charred lawn outside the inferno of their home, her fingers still clawed into the folds of the blankets she'd hastily wrapped him in. He'd been so young that he'd grown to have no memories of the two people who brought him into this world. Well, that wasn't entirely true. When he thought of his parents, he saw images, blurry sepia figures, smiling at him, holding him, loving him. Maybe those memories weren't real at all, just constructs his subconscious mind had provided to give him something to hold onto, but it didn't matter really. They were real to him. They were precious. Just like the photograph in his wallet. Hardly any pictures of his parents survived, thanks to the original house fire and a second blaze later in his life, this time caused by anti-mutant hooligans in the days following the Apocalypse crisis, so almost all traces of Tamsin and Gregory Gibson were lost. But this one was always with him and Dallas liked that feeling, especially on a day like today. Chewing his lip, he leaned down to rearrange a selection of sausage rolls to make them more aesthetically pleasing but, in truth, there wasn't much he could do to enhance the food on offer. He and the rest of the kitchen staff hadn't had a hand in cooking most of it. As was usually the case with one-off events like this one, the buffet had been ordered in from an outside supplier, leaving Xavier's catering team to focus on their day to day work. Avery and Pietro's wedding had been an exception. Like everybody else at the school, Dallas and the kitchen staff had been emotionally invested in that particular big day since Avery was such a well loved member of the family, and they'd been happy to put in the extra hours to make their contribution to the mountain of mouth-watering goodies on offer that day. Today's event wasn't on quite such a dramatic scale though, so using a supplier was far more efficient. Happy that everything looked appealing, Dallas nodded in satisfaction before turning away from the table, intending to start mingling now that his work was done. The ballroom had been practically empty when he'd started laying out the food so it was heartening to see it filling up so quickly. A smile jumped to his face when his gaze fell on Daniel, snaking his way through the crowd to reach him. He was always glad to be in his company. Once he got a good luck at the man's face, though, his smile faltered. "Hey," he said in greeting, though the word came out uncertain, tentative. The history instructor tried to offer him a smile but it was unconvincing to say the least, but the look in Daniel's eyes alone was enough to tell Dallas that something was wrong. When his friend explained exactly why he was looking troubled, Dallas's jaw hung open for a moment before he could respond. "She was here? I... how come? I mean, why did she..." Dallas didn't finish his sentence before realisation struck. It was obvious why Daniel's ex-wife would want to see him today. Mother's Day. "Oh, right, because it's... yeah. Of course." He winced as Shepherd show him his bruised knuckles, almost reaching out to take hold of his fingers so he could get a better look but deciding against it in case he accidentally hurt him, opting instead to place a supportive hand on his arm. "You did the right thing coming here, man. I don't think being alone would do you much good right now." He eyed the battered hand for a moment more before taking a step back to the table and rummaging underneath it. "We put a first aid kit under here somewhere," he explained, his voice a little muffled. It was always a good idea to have such a thing handy around large gatherings of students. "Let's get a bandage on that hand." Finding what he was looking for quickly enough, Dallas tugged the kit open and began rifling through the contents for the desired bandages, or at least a band-aid or three. "So were you expecting her?" he asked, looking up at his friend with concern etched into his features. "I'm sorry, man, this must have brought so much stuff back to the surface for you. If it'd help, we can get outta here, go somewhere a little quieter?" He figured being among the hubbub of the ballroom might actually be the best thing for Dan right now, but if the guy needed to talk, or just needed to sit somewhere more peaceful, Dallas wouldn't hesitate to whisk him away. |
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| Chrysalis | May 13 2014, 08:20 AM Post #3 |
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Were Lucan a drinking man, Daniel would not have been the only of the Institute’s sizable family tempted to seek emotional refuge in the proverbial bottle. Fortunately, his past run-ins with alcohol, limited though they were, had given him the sense to stay away from the stuff; the night out with Franklin and the others had had at least that peripheral good effect. Lucan's relationship with his parents was worthy of a stoap opera; mother dead in childbirth, alcoholic father who disappeared before his only son was old enough to tie his shoes. Lucan could hardly care less about his worthless father; living or dead, he never gave the man a moment’s thought. His mother, however, was another story. Every now and then, when he was lonely, when he was somber, when his life was hard, he thought about her. He wondered what she looked like, what she was like, how his life would have been different if she had survived his entrance into the world. Occasionally, he thought about tracking down one of her friends or relatives, her parents maybe, but he never did. Partly out of fear of what he might find, partly out of resentment for their never having done the same for him, partly out of his being a dangerous mutant in dangerous world, he left the door to his past locked tight, turning only on occasion to glance at it and wonder what terrible truths it might hold. All this, coinciding with a remarkably poor decision to watch Steel Magnolias for the first time the night prior, left him in a distinctly melancholy mood that 11th of May. However, unlike the four Mother’s Days he had spent on the lam, today he was not alone. Sure, there were few among the mansionites he counted as truly close friends, but just to be able to go out and walk among them, and belong among them, meant so much more than he had realized in his youth. So he emerged from his apartment, in which he had been moping the weekend away, and headed over to the main body of the school. He didn’t have much of an idea where he was going, but thankfully that problem solved itself. As he passed the Mother’s day celebration, the sound of fraternization and the scent of victuals reeled him into the amiably crowded room. A nod here, a smile and wave there, and a mumbled apology for each of the minor collisions that were essentially unavoidable in such a space, he made his way to his real destination: the food. Loading up a plate with whatever looked good to him when he came across it (it was a holiday, after all), he made his way over to a corner bench to enjoy his repast in relative peace. Mercifully making it once more across the mutant-filled common area without causing an international incident, he settled down to enjoy his food. Especially the cookies; those looked good. So much so, in fact, that he had one of them first, because he was an adult, and he could eat his food however he pleased. |
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| Anole | May 21 2014, 02:51 AM Post #4 |
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Vic made his way down to the ballroom for the big Mother's Day celebration with a big smile on his face. He had just finished talking with his parents over Skype, wishing his mom a happy Mother's Day, and getting caught up with all the Fairbury gossip. Evidently Billy Burke, a kid who lived just down the street, had gotten arrested for stealing his uncle's Corvette and wrapping it around a tree. Vic had just rolled his eyes at that. Billy had never been much of a stable, responsible person, but then he was only fifteen and who is stable and responsible at that age. It seemed to Vic as if things had gone downhill for Fairbury since the events of Apocalypse. But it still couldn't ruin his good mood at having spoken with his parents. He filed into the ballroom with the others and looked around at all the people gathered there. Mr. Oliver and Dallas were over to one side of the room. He'd have to go and say hello to them, but first he was going to get something to eat. He walked along the buffet line piling food onto a plate that wasn't quite big enough. Then his eyes caught sight of his favorite desert. Ooooo....lemon cookies, he thought to himself as he snatched a couple. He stuffed one in his mouth as he grabbed a couple more. That's an unusual taste, he thought. Balancing the plate in one hand and a glass in the other, he made his way over to Mr. Oliver and Dallas. "Mr. Oliver," he nodded at each of them in turn. "Dallas. Happy Mom's Day!" He said with a broad smile. He lifted up the plate to his mouth and grabbed another cookie off it and began chewing. He tried to look at Mr. Oliver and Dallas but he seemed to be having trouble focusing on them. What's going on here? He thought. He stumbled a little towards Dallas as a wave of light-headedness swept over him. |
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| Shepherd | May 29 2014, 02:40 PM Post #5 |
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Dallas greeted Shepherd with a warm smile and a ‘Hey’ but his eyes quickly registered the fact that not all was well with the mutant tracker. Dallas began to question why Alison had come to the mansion at all but he quickly realized that it was Mother’s Day and put the pieces together. Daniel hadn’t even given a thought to Alison and what she might be going through on that holiday. The loss of their son was surely heavy for her. Part of this came from the fact that he had tried to distance himself from the painful memories and experiences of his recent past, which included his ex-wife. It wasn’t bred from malicious intent more of a sense of self preservation and care. Dan showed his friend the bruised and reddening fingers from the aftermath of punching the doorframe and Specter visibly winced. Dallas agreed that it was the right thing to have come and be among his friends and find the support of those that cared for him at the mansion. Trying to suppress his feelings and drink himself into oblivion in the middle of the day would be of no use to anyone. “Yeah,” Daniel agreed. “I’m trying to pick up new habits, you know? Learn to lean on someone else when things get too tough instead of shouldering everything myself. That’s a huge shift for me.” Dallas vanished under the table for a moment and rummaged around. He reappeared with a first aid kit and sorted through the contents. The shadow merger asked if Dan had been expecting his ex to which Daniel shook his head. “No. It’d be a lie if I said I hadn’t given her a second thought since I came to the school but I wasn’t expecting her at all. This is the last place I thought she would ever step foot,” the mutant tracker began. “My wife, Alison, she doesn’t like, that is, she hates mutants. She blames me and my mutant abilities for a lot of things. She felt that I was driving Brandon, a mutant, against her. I would have never thought she would come here.” Dallas suggested that if Daniel wanted to they could find someplace quieter to talk about this. Shepherd looked around the room. Everyone was enjoying the festivities. There was food to be enjoyed and fellowship among friends to be had. Daniel’s mood had been soured by Alison’s visit and he was sitting right in the middle of a storm of mutant signatures. His gaze scanned and he noted everyone in attendance. He saw Lucan, Chrysalis, enjoying some of the cookies from the banquet table. A sense of security. Anole’s signature was lost in the mix but he came up and joined the two staff members and asked what was happening. Dan raised his hand as he put on the bandages. “Not much, just lost my temper and my fist paid the price,” he explained wincing slightly as he applied the bandage. “What better way to start the day?” Daniel’s mind wandered back to Alison. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she had been hurt. There was anguish mixed with her anger. He remembered the arguments they had after they had settled back into their home after Famine’s attack. All he had seen then was her anger and rage while he was trying to defend himself. Daniel hadn’t asked to be a mutant. For the longest time he only knew he could detect other mutants, a very passive ability. He learned during his time in Jaeger’s world that he copied the powers of the dying. He hadn’t brought any of Jaeger’s abilities with him back home once his true body was attained so he was virtually powerless. Daniel had tried to explain that his ability to detect others like him was mostly useless since he didn’t yearn to seek others out; he only wanted to be with his family. In fact the ability had saved their lives before the arrival of Famine. Daniel’s explanations did not help his situation or his wife’s anger. Daniel was thankful for Dallas’s help and the suggestion that perhaps he’d feel better in a quieter place with fewer distractions to talk it through. Perhaps that was for the best. Daniel was about to excuse himself to Vic when he saw some strange motion nearby. One of the students, a boy named Callum had a strange look on his face. He looked upset and pale with a thin sheen of sweat across his brow. Callum braced himself against one of the tables set around the ballroom. Dan put a hand on Vic’s shoulder and quickly said ‘Excuse me’ and came to Callum’s side. “You okay, buddy?” Shepherd asked Callum. The young mutant looked up to the history teacher with a pained expression. Callum bent and purged his stomach down the brightly colored table cloth. Dan grimaced but rubbed the boy’s back to comfort him. “It’s okay. Let’s get you to the bathroom and cleaned up. How about some ginger ale?” Callum felt weak and heavy in Daniel’s hands. He cast a look around and saw that several other students had a similar appearance. Even Vic had seemed a different shade of green but Dan hadn’t noticed it because of his focus on his hand and the events with Alison. Nearby, one student collapsed. “The hell?” Daniel wondered as he felt a sense of dread well up inside him. |
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| Specter | May 30 2014, 12:27 AM Post #6 |
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"That's a good thing," Dallas replied, when Daniel said he was trying to lean on friends instead of shouldering all his burdens alone. "Every time I've tried to deal with things alone, that's when it's all gone wrong for me. We're all here to support you, man, however we can." Fingers finally alighting on a tightly would wad of bandages, Dallas lifted them out of the first aid kit and handed them to his wounded friend, before squirreling the kit back under the table again, out of sight. As the mutant tracker was wrapping his bruised knuckles, he talked about Alison's feelings towards mutants. Dallas listened quietly, forehead crinkling with concern, ignoring the chatter and laughter drifting around the ballroom to better focus on his friend. "My ex was the same. I wouldn't say she hated mutants but she was never... me being a mutant pulled us too far apart in the end. I mean, your situation is different," he was quick to add, not wanting it to seem like he was comparing his own failed relationship to the traumas faced by Daniel and his family. Breaking up with Keisha had been tough but it was a picnic next to the loss of a son. "I'm just saying I understand how tough it can be. It leaves you feeling so confused and frustrated and hurt and..." He trailed off into a head shake, wishing he was a little better with words. "I dunno. It's like they love you, but they don't. Like... they love the guy they wish you were and hate it that you're something else. The one thing we can't change. I know how unfair it feels." Before Daniel could respond to Dallas's offer of skipping out on the Mother's Day celebration to find somewhere quieter to talk things through, they were joined by Vic. Distracted by his worry over Shepherd's emotional state, the shadowy mutant failed to pay any real attention to Victor, instead just flashing him a quick smile. "Hey. Same to you," he offered. Under normal circumstances, he'd have been happy to chat up a storm with Vic Borkowski, he was a good guy, good company. Right now though, he just wanted to look out for his buddy. Dallas thought of pretty much everybody he met as a friend, and that included Vic, but there were a special handful he'd drop everything for with a moment's notice, and Daniel Oliver was firmly among them. Daniel unexpectedly excused himself though, slipping into teacher mode, probably without even realising it, and heading off to help one of the students who was looking a little poorly. Too much rich food, Dallas was betting. He watched his friend leave, concern in his eyes, before silently berating himself for paying so little attention to poor Vic. A smile returning to his lips, he looked back towards the young man just in time to see him swaying towards him. "Whoa there, cowboy," Dallas said, quickly raising his hands to take hold of Vic's arms and steady him. "You okay there? You're not feeling unwell too, are you?" From the corner of his eye, he spotted the student Daniel was looking after, Callum, losing his lunch and suddenly started to feel uneasy. Callum and Vic getting sick at the same time struck him as odd. "Come on, man, let's get you sat down for a minute, okay?" Still holding onto Anole, Dallas's eyes quickly darted about in search of a seat to plant the woozy guy into, soon spotting a chair a few footsteps away. As he began guiding Vic towards it, he saw another student collapse, too far away for Dallas to reach him. Unease turned to outright dread as he realised they were looking at a serious problem. Could this be food poisoning? This reaction seemed a little too fast-acting and widespread to be the result of a dodgy chicken leg. But what else could it be? "Okay, here you go, Vic," he said gently, lowering the emerald hued mutant into the chair if he was willing. "You're gonna be fine, don't worry. Looks like it's my turn to take care of you, huh?" he smiled, referring to the humiliating day when he'd run into a tree at 100mph and Vic had alerted the infirmary for him. Beside him, a young girl fell onto her knees with a thump, sweat glistening across her brow. She was mumbling but Dallas could catch enough words to realise that she was confused about where she was. A few steps away, another youngster had a hand clamped to his mouth but was unable to hold back anymore, the contents of his stomach hitting the floor with an unpleasant splat. Clearly, this situation was going south fast. Dallas felt fine himself, and Daniel looked like he was physically okay too, so hopefully there'd be others around who were unaffected, enough to take care of the sick. Glancing around quickly as he knelt down to comfort the disoriented little girl, Dallas searched the crowd for assistance, until his gaze fell upon Lucan Voss. He didn't know the guy well at all, but he had the impression that Lucan was a sturdy, reliable sort of chap, one of several people he'd been intending on getting to know better just because he seemed cool. Plus, he was a member of the Legacy Squad, so Dallas felt he could turn to him. "Lucan, hey!" he called, over the mounting distress in the ballroom. "Call the infirmary! Tell them we've got an emergency up here. Tell them it's... I don't know. Food poisoning?" That didn't seem quite right but hopefully it would be a description close enough to the truth that the medical staff would understand what they were walking into. And hopefully Lucan would remain healthy long enough to make the call. As he gently held onto the sniffling little girl, Dallas kept an eye on Vic in case his condition worsened and readied himself to run to the aid of any others who fell ill. What exactly was going on here? |
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| Chrysalis | Jun 6 2014, 04:52 AM Post #7 |
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Rhetorical questions can be dangerous things. They tempt fate itself, simply begging for one's fragile illusion of security and happiness to blown wide open. As Lucan sat in his chair, he wondered what could possibly go wrong with the idyllic, if unexceptional, day. Later that day, he would look back on the sentiment and mentally apply palm to face. One of his young students, a little, flickering Japanese girl by the name of Keiko, had come to sit by him, and they chatted amiably on and off for a few minutes; as much as one could chat with a pre-adolescent with a rudimentary grasp of the english language and the tendency to buzz intermittently in and out of existence. While Rahne was more of a mother figure towards the young ones (and a fierce one at that), Lucan tried to act more like a (significantly) older brother. He kept punishment to a minimum (usually the casual threat of 'telling Mrs. Russell' was deterrent enough), and tried to be open and friendly with the young ones. It was good for him, and, he hoped, it was good for them. Unfortunately, little Keiko was in for a bit of a shock. Not a gastrointestinal one, thankfully; her parents had raised her with enough sense to save the sweets for last. Lucan's, on the other hand, had rather failed by default on that one. The pain began as a dull, deep twinge. Lucan made a face, trying to will it away, but smiled and assured his young friend of his wellbeing when she adopted a concerned expression. However, it seemed that fate was determined to make a liar of him, as a few seconds after he thought the ailment had passed, it returned with a bloody vengeance. Lucan's eyes widened in shock and pain, and he bent over double in his seated position, the agony momentarily stealing his breath away. A moment later, he stumbled to a nearby trash can (he was that lucky, at least), and heaved. He was unpleasantly reminded of the incident on the bridge during the Illuminati attack, where, moments after being plucked from the collapsing infrastructure, he had lost his lunch in front of the mysterious, possibly attractive female vigilante. His audience was greater this time, but now he wasn't alone. Straightening shakily, he saw the sickness beginning to spread, and he stumbled back from the trash just in time to dodge a few victims making a beeline for the same. His intestines tried to empty again, but he managed to hold them back, if only temporarily. Glancing back at the bench, he saw Keiko in a considerably distressed state. Her outline blurred and shifted, and her disappearances began to lengthen in time and displacement; if she didn't calm down, she could do herself serious harm. Lucan tried to reassure her, but was somewhat prevented by a redoubling of his abdominal pain. Instead, he managed to wheeze out "don't eat the food!" Manaing to stand straight again, he repeated, this time a bit louder. "Don't eat the food!" He assumed it was the food. Hopefully, it had just gone bad, and everyone would be okay. Speaking of, one the kitchen members, whose name rather escaped him in his distracted state, called him out, asking to page the infirmary for help. He nodded, grimacing fiercely, and reached for his radio. "Possible medical emergency at the ballroom." Unfortunately, that was all he managed to get out before another surge of nausea had him reaching for the trash again. Wiping his mouth and shuddering, he held up the radio again. "It's like a stomach flu. People are throwing up everywhere. Please send help quickly." A final surge of pain struck him with such violence that he dropped the device and fell into a squatting position, hands across his stomach, back curved in a near fetal position. Whether due to the quantity of the cookies he had consume, or some obscure facet of his mutation, the toxin was hitting him hard. Dangerously hard. |
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| Anole | Jun 7 2014, 04:00 AM Post #8 |
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"Okay, here you go, Vic," he said gently, lowering the emerald hued mutant into the chair if he was willing. "You're gonna be fine, don't worry. Looks like it's my turn to take care of you, huh?" Vic tried to answer Dallas as he moved him to chair and sit him down, but a wave of nausea hit him. Luckily he'd only eaten those lemon cookies so not much else came up. He managed to spit out the contents of his stomach off to the side without hitting anyone. As Dallas sat him down, Vic looked at the cookie. There was something about it. His mind was going all fuzzy. The cookie..... He fought to gather his thoughts. ...was it the only thing I've eaten? "Don't eat the food!" He heard Lucan say something but his heart rate had sped up and the resulting high blood pressure was causing a buzzing sound in his ears that was keeping him from hearing anything. The pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place for Vic. It was the cookies, they were bad or poisoned. Even though Vic had a healing factor that allowed him to regenerate, it worked so slow that it wouldn't have any effect before he died. Right now whatever toxin was in the cookie was raging through his small body like a Mack truck on the Autobahn. He held up the cookie and tried to hand it to Dallas and tell him about it, but he was having trouble talking. He leaned forward trying to shove it at Dallas and finally managed to say, "I am slain." With that he watched as the floor rushed up at him. He thought, who is moving the floor? He hit the floor and then everything faded to black. |
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8:58 AM Jul 11