goingclean (goingclean) wrote in reality_crisis, @ 2011-12-28 22:35:00 |
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At some point, it occurred to Mitchell that he might no longer be in Purgatory. He was never completely sure, but the thought struck him at odd times, and for a few hours at a time, that thought would stick. He'd been walking for awhile; the sun was starting to peak in the sky, and it was at least noon. He was walking in a wooded clearing that even George wouldn't dare transform in. The presence of the sun didn't serve to make it any less creepy.
As far as Mitchell could see, there wasn't a door of any kind. After abandoning the shed, stake tucked into his denim back pocket, he hadn't seen anything beyond rubble. The radio on his shoulder didn't blurt to life, though he wished it would, and he probably looked like a twat teenager in the nineties carrying a boombox. All he needed was for his jeans to sling too low on his arse to complete that mental portrait.
For the first time since blinking awake in this place, he'd heard a sound come from up ahead. There was a snuffling, guttural grunting that belonged only to a creature voraciously consuming something too large to eat politely. "Whoa," he slowed to a sudden stop, lowering the radio and peering curiously at the supernatural in front of him. It was crouched over the sprawled and eviscerated body of something that Mitchell could no longer identify by sight. In a hundred years, Mitchell had never seen the creature's equal outside of the telly. It looked demonic, green skinned with ridges over it's face and black filmed eyes. It was eating... just as he had guessed. Strings of sinew and atrophied muscle were stuck in it's teeth. Whatever it was, it wasn't after the blood.
Mitchell's nose turned up in disgust, his sense of smell picking up enough to alert him that the scavenger was feeding off of something that had been dead for a while. What really turned his stomach was that the single whiff led him to believe that whatever it had been eating may have been human at one point.
It's head snapped up once Mitchell came to a stop, and when it drew up to it's full height, Mitchell stood his ground. He really wanted to run, but where would he even go? Behind him was nothing, ahead didn't look much better off. He had no idea what this supernatural even was, let alone if it posed a threat to him. Running might just... offend it.
"Clear off," he tried, watching vigilantly as the creature circled closer. It darted into his personal space, but never for long. It was close enough that he finally sorted out what he was smelling, and Mitchell pieced together a puzzle that didn't really need solving. His forehead crinkled as his face contorted in exaggerated disgust. "Yeah... that was human alright."
"Do you talk?" he asked, turning slowly on his heels, not letting the demon get full access to his back. The demon said nothing, it only inhaled deeply and paused. "Of course you don't."
It seemed that the universe wasn't going to provide any answers. Slowly, he bent at the waist to rest the radio in the dirt, eyes watching the supernatural. The creature looked unsure if it wanted to charge, and Mitchell took a few cautious steps away from the radio in the event that it did. He nodded appreciatively once the demon followed. This time, when he stopped, the supernatural lunged forward and grabbed Mitchell by the lapel.
"You barmy--" Mitchell shoved the creature back. He was a Type One. Whatever this type was, it wasn't at the top of the food chain, no matter how badass it wanted to seem. For Christ's sake, it wasn't even capable of speech. "Don't get bite-ey with me you fucker," Mitchell shouted indignantly. "I'm warning you."