KYLO REN (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
photophobic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2019-10-28 02:55 am
photophobic) wrote in maskormenacelogs2019-10-28 02:55 am
Entry tags:
[OPEN] IS IT REALLY MURDER IF THEY'RE ALREADY DEAD
WHO: Kylo Ren (and friends?) & a big ol buncha zombies
WHERE: a flying Fiero, later wherever there be zombies
WHEN: after this
WHAT: Re-deading some undead
WARNINGS: I mean, it's Kylo Ren and there are zombies
i. CLOSED TO:
Poe, Murphy, Whoever all else is involved in that mess (you presumably know who you are)
What is that, racing through the air towards the last recorded co-ordinates of John Murphy? Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No— it's... Kylo Ren's black Fiero, gifted to him over a year ago by his miraculously unmurdered father and granted the temporary power of flight thanks to the porter-given abilities of Poe Dameron: Kylo's former captive-turned-enemy-with-benefits, and it's rapidly getting closer. Any faster, and it would be breaking the sound barrier.
Behind the wheel but with his hands free to itch irritably for the promising grip of a weapon, Kylo pours his concentration into reaching out for the now-familiar presence of the boy on the ground. He doesn't glance over.
"There," he tells Poe sharply, indicating the car Murphy's taken shelter behind. "He's there."
ii. OPEN TO:
Anyone who wants to run into this oversized idiot with a laser sword hacking up zombies (sadly by this point the flying fiero is long gone...)
The only thing preserving any kind of sense of decorum here is that Kylo Ren doesn't look like he's having fun. And he isn't, really— it isn't fun that has his blood singing with power, his dark eyes quick and sharp with focus as he looses himself into battle with as many of the animated dead as dare approach. This isn't a game. It's clarity. It's what he was made to do.
Kylo's lightsaber blazes in weighty, crackling arcs of brilliant red fire as he carves a path through the horde, hurling and slamming broken bodies aside. There's no space for thought. Anything other than the surging energy of one attack flowing into the next would be a distraction.
...Which is what he senses now. His head turns, his body following smoothly. Somewhere in the midst of all this cacophony, someone is alive.
iii. WILDCARD:
If you'd rather encounter Kylo stalking onto the scene but before he's in battle-haze, for example, go for it! Feel free to hit me up for plotting/planning too—
plurk:![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
starktech // discord: cryloren#2195
WHERE: a flying Fiero, later wherever there be zombies
WHEN: after this
WHAT: Re-deading some undead
WARNINGS: I mean, it's Kylo Ren and there are zombies
i. CLOSED TO:
Poe, Murphy, Whoever all else is involved in that mess (you presumably know who you are)
What is that, racing through the air towards the last recorded co-ordinates of John Murphy? Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No— it's... Kylo Ren's black Fiero, gifted to him over a year ago by his miraculously unmurdered father and granted the temporary power of flight thanks to the porter-given abilities of Poe Dameron: Kylo's former captive-turned-enemy-with-benefits, and it's rapidly getting closer. Any faster, and it would be breaking the sound barrier.
Behind the wheel but with his hands free to itch irritably for the promising grip of a weapon, Kylo pours his concentration into reaching out for the now-familiar presence of the boy on the ground. He doesn't glance over.
"There," he tells Poe sharply, indicating the car Murphy's taken shelter behind. "He's there."
ii. OPEN TO:
Anyone who wants to run into this oversized idiot with a laser sword hacking up zombies (sadly by this point the flying fiero is long gone...)
The only thing preserving any kind of sense of decorum here is that Kylo Ren doesn't look like he's having fun. And he isn't, really— it isn't fun that has his blood singing with power, his dark eyes quick and sharp with focus as he looses himself into battle with as many of the animated dead as dare approach. This isn't a game. It's clarity. It's what he was made to do.
Kylo's lightsaber blazes in weighty, crackling arcs of brilliant red fire as he carves a path through the horde, hurling and slamming broken bodies aside. There's no space for thought. Anything other than the surging energy of one attack flowing into the next would be a distraction.
...Which is what he senses now. His head turns, his body following smoothly. Somewhere in the midst of all this cacophony, someone is alive.
iii. WILDCARD:
If you'd rather encounter Kylo stalking onto the scene but before he's in battle-haze, for example, go for it! Feel free to hit me up for plotting/planning too—
plurk:
ii
As it happens, nerve impulses in zombies don't work the same way as the living. He didn't expect them to, they clearly don't feel pain, but pain isn't the only thing Victor has learned to control through nerves. He's gotten it down to an art, able to physically stop others entirely and without contact, manipulate their bodies to his whims.
But zombies have an unusual, nonsensical nervous signatures with strange, irregular bursts that make grabbing hold of nerves like trying to find one's way in a pitch black building with lights that flicker on and off sporadically and each time Victor feels something light up it fades out and moves somewhere else, rendering his abilities virtually useless. It makes him hiss a curse under his breath in frustration. It's probably a good thing that as an EO his emotions are more dulled out than most or he'd be experiencing a decent amount of panic. Even more so because Victor isn't one for physical combat--not trained for it and not built for it. He has a gun, but not enough bullets on him for every one, or a clean enough shot.
What he does manage to do is position himself to back up and away from the ambling once-people, gun raised and shifting calmly between targets to make educated selection of which of the shambling undead seem especially energetic.
In the midst of this, Victor feels something--someone. A consistent, living energy signature.
"Who--?"
It's comparatively such a blinding presence that it momentarily distracts Victor from his shuffling hoard and when he glances back one of the more docile corpses picks up speed, forcing Victor to stumble back several paces at an inelegant speed, just about keeping his footing but only by sheer luck. If this is the way he goes out--chewed on by zombies--then that will be nothing short of embarrassing.
no subject
Not that Victor is likely in much of a position to appreciate it.
In fact, considering his predicament, the first Victor might really see of Kylo's arrival is the sharp, sudden freeze that seizes his immediate attacker in place— the imposed stillness made possibly more disturbing rather than less with the lack of reaction on its slackened, undead face. The thing stares at him uselessly for a split second, gaping, then suddenly snaps into ragdoll deformity with the violent whiplash of being hurled aside by the same invisible force. Behind it, with his hand still outstretched and weapon blazing in the other stands Victor's unlikely rescuer, framed by the regrouping horde.
Kylo sizes the stranger up quickly with a weight of focus almost tangible... and turns his absurdly broad, black-clad back to face the oncoming rabble. There is, he thinks, something decidedly unsettling about the way the Force ripples around Victor— but for now at least it looks like they're in this together.
"Are there others," Kylo asks without looking back, sharp with exertion and entirely lacking the intonation to indicate question over demand. "With you."
no subject
But in spite of this, this strange who appears as a black and red whirlwind of slicing through the animated corpses makes Victor stop. Granted, for a moment there is feels like everything stops to the extent where Victor wonders if he's caught in the freeze of time also, but when he shifts and the wet cracking sounds fill the air it becomes clear something else is happening.
When he turns to face the stranger, Victor does so just in time to hear him speak. That, however, gets pushed to the back of his mind in favour of trying to figure out what in the hell he is feeling from this mass of a man. It's like all his nerves are awash with more energy than anything Victor has ever felt surging through another person before. And more than that, it's like his nervous system reaches out beyond his body and into the world around him. And not only that, the energy curls in multiple different streams. All of which is impossible. What the fuck is this guy?
The sensation renders Victor so stilled for a moment that he almost overlooks a shambling horror to right. Almost. Victor is quick on his trigger though and the bang and crack of the bullet leaving the chamber and smashing through rotting flesh and skull is sobering. Partly, because Victor wonders if that is how he would have looked if left in the ground longer than two days.
"No," he replies finally, setting a pointed stare on the dark-clan man once more, "Why? Are you collecting?"
no subject
"I'm offering an evacuation," he says. "And you should take it. If this... infection is carried in the blood as they say it is, you risk becoming one of them. Firing that gun at close range."
no subject
Plus, Victor isn’t stupid: whatever this man is, he’s effective against the undead in a way Victor is not. If the infection is blood borne it’s not an unwise observation from the stranger either.
“It means it must have a very high transmission rate,” he muses aloud, stepping cautiously toward his rescuer—caution both aimed at the zombies and at this man. Luckily, Victor doesn’t need to look at someone who feels like an overpowered Christmas tree in Victor’s mind, meaning he can watch the rotting masses more closely.
“But I take your point. And the offer.”
Curiosities can be approached late, but the most pressing for Victor is: “Are you immune? Or inoculated?”
no subject
"No," he says in a tone that carries enough of I'm just that good at this that he can leave the qualifying statement unsaid. His eyes flick towards the shape of his (sadly now un-flying) Fiero waiting on the other side of the shuffling horde, and he indicates it with the fiery blade of his lightsaber.
"Your getaway car. Prepare yourself to follow me."
no subject
In fact, in the space of less than three full seconds, Victor's face does something it rares does: it goes on a bit of a short journey.
First, surprise of the utter bafflement variety, then tightened up skeptical confusion, and then finally settles where he probably should have started from which is finding the reply undisputably hilarious. Hell, he even laughs. It's mostly in a hard exhale, but it comes through parted lips with undertones of disbelief and lingers with a few rolls of the sound until he steadily shakes his head.
Seriously, what in the fuck is this man.
But there are, sadly, more pressing matters and the indication of the Fiero past the sea of undead is clearly the Point B from their Point A.
"The chariot awaits."
Shifting to stand aside and slightly behind the stranger with a vaguely dramatic (and probably intention) sweep of his black trench coat.
"At your leisure."
i
Murphy shoots a pointed look at Zelda but doesn't say another word. He can't anyway because she's taken them to another place just then, in a blink of an eye. Outside the pharmacy is quiet, no cannibals in sight (as far as Murphy can tell).
With a sigh, Murphy straightens himself, taking his hand back. "Thanks -- Oh shit!" They came out from the alley between the pharmacy and another building. Stumbling over each other mindlessly, groaning and hurtling towards them. Murphy, without much hesitation, cuts in front of Zelda to create some kind of barrier.
"Let's hope my little field works!" And he pushes that telekinetic force outwards.
no subject
"I certainly hope it does," she responds, although she's already moving to offer him back up. Whatever zombies his field can't hold back will be by her own telekinetic abilities, her hand clutched in the air as she concentrates on keeping as many of them still as she can.
"We'll have to come up with something better, this won't hold for long."
no subject
He only pulled back on the speed at the very last second, which meant the car skidded to a stop with a thump that rattled through his spine. He landed with Kylo's side towards their rescue targets, and his side - the passenger side - now surrounded with a hoarde of zombies. Great? Great.
Wait --
"I'm gonna have to climb on the roof or we're not going to fit."
no subject
Poe Dameron being forced to cling onto the roof of his car for the return journey would be enough in itself, really, but the fact that he'll also have to trust Kylo Ren to protect him while so exposed just in the effort to get there? Delicious.
"Then you had better hope I'm more nightmare than they are," he says, fingers curling around the hilt of his lightsaber.
And, just to be an ass considering Dameron's relative lack of combat ability when unarmed and grounded, he adds in a mild, performatively gracious tone as he goes to open the door: "Waiting here?"
( ii )
She isn't expecting a gang of zombies, however.
Haru has to rethink her strategy, ducking behind a mailbox that affords her an unnatural cover that makes her difficult to pick up on initially. Gifts of a Phantom Thief — the zombies don't sense her presence until she leaps out with her axe drawn, striking upwards into the chest of one and knocking it back.
That's when she realizes she isn't alone. She's quick to spot Kylo, towering above the undead that hunch in physically impossible ways, cutting them down with his own bright weapon. Her breath hitches and her heart skips a beat or two, steeling her determination to get to his side to assist him.
"Kylo!"
There she is, with a weapon almost comically too big for her stature, but she wields it with a brutal efficiency as she strikes down a zombie in her way.
no subject
She cuts a strangely impressive figure, he thinks, armed with her oversized weapon and the smooth, focused confidence of a fighter who knows and trusts in her own strength— her competency. He suspects it was hard-won.
He breathes, gathering himself, then launches into a surging incursion through the shambling mob towards her. Not because she needs his rescue or even his help, but because she called his name. It doesn't take him long to reach her side, just as it doesn't take him effort to find his place. The two of them covering each others' backs, facing the regrouping horde.
"I didn't expect to see you here," he says, his mouth pulling into an undeniably pleased curve. "Perhaps I should have. Considering the other times we've come together."
no subject
"We keep reuniting at such inconvenient times, don't we?" she adjusts the grip on her axe handle, raising it higher and shifting the weight on her feet so her stance is firmer. "These creatures... they almost killed my friend the other night."
Martin who had so valiantly defended Haru against an undead dog, leaving her feeling so powerless that time. Not tonight. She's ready and raring to go, a glint in her eyes.
"I'll cover you with Astarte."