[Captain] Jas. Hughes (jashughes) wrote in fableless, @ 2017-07-03 16:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log/thread, - hand of grimm, gideon choi, jason hughes, marty solverson, noel hu |
WHO: Marty Solverson, Noel Hu, Jason Hughes, Gideon Choi, and a Special Guest.
WHAT: The next moments after this log.
WHEN: Forward dated to Thursday July 6th.
WHERE: The Woods.
WARNING/RATING: Some violence.
As Marty tied another knot, the man’s adamant protests that he was Jason, that he need to go to a hospital (and what the bloody hell were they thinking) had abruptly died away. Looking up from the now still figure resting face down on the ground, Marty adjusted his weight off of the man and stood. “What happened?” He whispered to Noel. “That’s not Jason,” Noel repeated. Use your words. “He saw me. And he called me Shiwen. That was the name I once had in a past life, and it was deliberate, the way he said it to me,” she explained, her voice hollow but volume low. “There’s no way Jason would have known that. His Tale wasn’t in that life, and I never really discussed that scroll with anybody.” A pause. “It’s like he took one look at me and knew.” A thousand different questions bubbled in Marty’s mind, but he didn’t want to ask the kind of question that Noel wouldn’t be able to answer in front of their guest. The man with an arrow in his shoulder. “Feel like telling us why?” He asked instead, but there was no response and a second later Marty glanced back towards Noel with a sober expression. “We’ll find out.” Noel merely nodded in agreement. Until they had answers, the man’s protest would fall upon deaf ears. The grass rustled behind them. “—and damn if I didn’t want to punch the,” Gideon abruptly stopped his storytelling (which was quiet enough that one might doubt it even came from him) when he saw the scene in front of them, Actual Jason almost crashing right into him. His eyes passed from Jason, next to him, to Jason, tied up in the chair, and his eyebrows slowly inched upwards. “Looks like we have good timing,” he said as he approached Marty and Noel. “What happened?” “And who the fuck is that?!” Actual Jason demanded, pointing at the roughed-up version of himself. His stomach was turning several thousand improbable and uncomfortable ways, a sort of panicky-sickness feeling growing worse in him the longer he stared at this horrifying mirror image. Marty’s half muttered comment about Gideon and how he usually had good timing was interrupted when Actual Jason spoke. He studied the other man’s face with obvious curiosity before he replied. “We were just about to ask.” “Well, let’s get on with it, then!” Jason half-shouted, voice a little higher than usual. Turns out seeing a spooky clone of yourself with an arrow sticking out its shoulder is a pretty rattling experience. “Who ARE you?” The man didn’t move, didn’t speak, after a few seconds Marty approached and gave his leg a tap, he was still conscious if nothing else. “Let’s get him inside.” “Aha.” Jason pulled something from the imposter’s front jacket pocket, trying to ignore the horrible lurch in his stomach; the Fake Jason’s meticulously-researched appearance, down to the tatty corduroy coat, gave him the distinct impression of robbing his own corpse. Shaking himself free of it, he held his prize up to the light: an unmistakable glamour tube. “Well, then. If you don’t mind, I think one of me is quite enough.” And he broke the tube open with a decisive snap. It was at this point that Amara arrived, quietly since they were all very focused on what was happening at the moment. She didn't say anything, just a supportive presence for now. Near the door, Marty’s head turned just in time to see the bound man’s appearance change. Behind, Gideon stood with one oppressive hand on their captive’s shoulder, just as a reminder. His lips thinned into a hard line as he watched the transformation. Though the figure was still grimacing in pain, it was Samantha Cross who was now glaring up at Jason. “Christ on a bike.” Jason stared back, fully (if hopefully temporarily) dumbfounded. “Cross?” Samantha’s features relaxed, as if the shoulder wound was somehow eased by the shocked expressions of those around her. “Surprise,” she answered in a sing-song voice. Taking a step closer, Marty spoke to Jason in an undertone never taking his eyes off of their guest, “What else did you find?” “I--Just this. So far.” Of course Marty was right; nobody walked into a potential fight carrying nothing but a glamour. And the tiny pinging of his powers hadn’t yet subsided, suggesting there was more yet to find ...still, it seemed somewhat more…indecent to start suddenly patting down a woman than it was to frantically rip through the costume of what could’ve been an evil clone. Even if that woman was…. “Are--are you the bloody Adversary, then?” “Am -- Am I?” Samantha mimicked. “I’ve been called Adversary.” Her tone did it; Jason snapped out of his confusion and resumed his search of any pocket he could find, eying Samantha warily all the while. “Funny--my money was always on Monica as the brains of the Morning News Mafia. Never would’ve expected--” Frowning, he paused, pulling free what was clearly another glamour. His heart beat faster; were there more of them, already in the woods, already on their way? “Let me guess--you’re just holding this for a friend?” Without waiting for a response, Jason popped the tube open--if they were about to get ambushed, it would be better to know exactly whom (or what) they were up against. And suddenly it was Ian who was seated in front of them. “That’s right,” Ian winced, “a friend.” “The fuck,” muttered Noel, who stood near the doorframe. Gideon swore, loudly, his fingers spasming tightly around their prisoner’s shoulder. Amara paled, a hand unconsciously going straight to her heart, because the face felt like a punch directly toward it. She looked immediately to Marty, whose heart skipped a beat as he reached into his pocket and fished out his phone. Thankfully he and Ian had a system in place for situations like this -- he muttered something about texting Ian, just loud enough for Jason to hear. This wasn’t right, either--Jason didn’t need any supernatural ability to know at once there was something wrong. “Bullshit.” He resumed rummaging with renewed vigor. “Ask him something only the real Ian would know, anyone.” “I don’t need to,” Marty slowly replied before pausing long enough to show Jason and Gideon the text that had just popped up on his phone. It read: [1] Maroon.He turned back towards the figure seated in front of Gideon. “This isn’t Ian.” But they needn’t have worried. Perhaps the one thing the man--whoever he was--hadn’t counted on was the actual, real Jason showing up. Because the actual, real Jason knew exactly where the hidden pockets in this jacket were. And the actual, real Jason found the real prize: one final tube, tucked away in the lining, unearthed at last and broken open without bothering to wait. When next he looked up at the false Ian, his appearance had changed once more. Into the last person Jason would ever have expected to see. |