RP: Nighttime Swim Characters: Chase Time/Date: Near midnight September 4/5 Location: the water/the lobby Warnings/Rating: Narrative swears Summary: Chase goes for a swim and wishes he hadn't Status: Closed
He'd adjusted to the idea he had no power. He didn't like it, but he'd adjusted to it. There wasn't anything he could do about it, so beating the hell out of the wall wasn't going to help. But escaping might. He knew no one else was going to have the balls to try to swim it. He'd been the first one across the line (as far as he knew) so in keeping with tradition, he'd be the first one to swim away. Power or no power, he could still swim with the best of them.
He also didn't figure anyone would really care if he got himself killed in the process. At this point, he wasn't sure he much cared if he got himself killed in the process.
Chase crossed to the water and stood for a moment, listening to the waves. He pulled his shirt off over his head, folding it up and setting it down out of the reach of the water. He shucked his pants as well, along with his socks and shoes. Standing in his boxers, he looked around and removed his watch slowly before he slipped off his necklace as well. Leaving them all in a neat pile, he stepped closer to the water. He stretched and gazed out into the darkness, wondering what the odds were going to be he'd make it anywhere.
Shrugging to his thoughts, Chase started into the water. When it was up to his waist, he dove forward and started swimming. He tried to keep as straight a line as he could, trying not to think about distance from shore or eventual destination, or how long he could keep it up. He just focused on the steady pull of his arms through the water, the kicking of his legs.
All went well for roughly ten minutes or so, and Chase was starting to feel a little hopeful about the matter. And then ... he felt something wrapping around his ankle. He tried to kick it off, but it tightened, holding him in place. He inhaled, trying not to panic before he closed his eyes and ducked down under the water. Feeling around, he grasped what was wrapping around his leg. Grunting, he pulled at it, screaming under the water as spikes suddenly protruded from the ... chain or whatever the hell it was. He could feel them sinking into his calf as well, and then ... whatever it was faded away -- along with the feeling in his leg and hands.
So he could keep going, but he had no way of knowing if the stuff was going to continue to travel through his body. It might paralyze him completely, and then he'd drown. For a moment, he trod water, torn and indecisive. In the end, common sense won out, and Chase turned to head back toward shore. His leg was like a dead weight, and he wondered what kind of damages were being done. His hands were numb, and the numbness had traveled halfway up his forearm before he made it back to shore.
Chase wobbled when he got out of the water, stumbling to the sand. He looked down at his leg and grimaced at the puncture wounds that were slowly seeping blood. He laughed a little, reaching down to squeeze at them, but he couldn't feel his hands, or the leg he was squeezing. Which meant he may well be crawling back. Scrambling up to his feet, he shifted his weight to his good leg and waited a moment. Shuffling toward his clothes, he thought he could walk well enough if he dragged the leg along, but he wasn't sure he could manage getting his jeans on. So he'd skip the clothes.
Gathering them up in his hands, he laughed again when he realized that he couldn't curl his fingers. He couldn't feel them, he couldn't curl them, and he had puncture wounds on them. He almost thought about cracking a stigmata joke, but it ... wasn't really funny. Moreso because there was no one here to hear it, anyway.
Pressing his clothes against his chest, Chase shuffle-dragged himself back to the hotel. He had to hit the infirmary, but before that, he thought he'd send out a note to everyone else about his misadventure -- even if it would be more funny to watch and see how many people fucked themselves swimming through the ... dagger vines or whatever the fuck they were.
Once he made it inside, he leaned against the wall. Carefully, he extracted his Blackberry from the pocket of his jeans and sent out a note with a few misspellings that he wasn't going to bother correcting with his numb hands. Let them figure it out.
Remaining against the wall to catch his breath, Chase glanced around to see if there was any one present to notice his ... grand arrival.