Helena is the (lionessrises) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-06-17 06:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | !silent hill, *narrative, helena wayne |
Helena Narrative
Who: Helena and a Lying Man
What: A bloody fight
Where: Streets of Silent Hill
When: A few days ago
Warnings/Rating: Creepies? Blood? Murder of a monster? Language? All present.
Discharge from the hospital meant finding somewhere to stay and maybe she could have left, gone somewhere else, but what was the point? The only one that had checked on her was Bruce and that was evidence enough that there was nothing left to return to. Just hand her the gasoline and a match and she'd set the proverbial bridges on fire.
So she stayed. She found a little apartment (Greenfield Apartments, that was perky wasn't it?) that was the size of her bathroom at the Manor and for the first day, she sat in her kitchen, on the cheap linoleum floor and stared at her equally cheap oven. The journal remained quiet and dark where she'd left it on the tiny counter space. Throwing it away meant getting one back, but leaving it there, within her possession but ignoring the damn thing? That was something akin to peace.
The second day, she emerged from her dingy cocoon to find the streets empty. Strange enough for a town this size, but worse was the thick fog. There had been plenty of fog in Gotham, but none of it seemed like this. And when the hair on the back of her neck prickled, she listened. Her steps slowed, and something ahead of her moved.
"Hello?" She tried, she honestly tried. But there was no response as the figure lumbered closer. Were they wearing white? She frowned, took a step closer and realized no, they weren't wearing white, they weren't wearing anything but moving skin stretched over bare branch bones, flexing as limbs caught inside tried to break free. It stepped forward, making a sound like two dried cicada shells being rubbed together over rusty metal.
And then the fucking thing screamed, a slit in its belly opened up and something sprayed the fuck out.
She'd seen a lot of weird shit in her life, growing up in Gotham could do that to a person, but she had never seen anything like this. Nothing. It screamed again and shambled closer to her as she backed up, stumbling over the curb. Where the hell was she? What the hell was this? Green and black murk sprayed from its' belly again, and this time when it landed, she watched as the concrete sidewalk began to smoke.
Acid.
It'd scar her, maybe kill her if it touched her. Maybe. She could die here at the hands of a monster that spit fucking acid, but what was the difference between here or at the hands of some Gotham goon? What was the difference in letting this thing kill her instead of the Joker? Crane?
No way in hell would she give them the satisfaction.
"Fuck you," she snarled, even if it couldn't hear her. "Fuck! You!" Fuck this.
Snarling, she took off, nearly running past an alleyway full of garbage and more importantly, garbage cans. Yanking the lid off one, she used it as a shield as the damn thing kept coming. And when it sprayed this time, she was ready. And even as the lid smoked, she slammed it into the creature once, twice, again, as it shrieked and fell down. That door was opened though, the light switch flipped on, and she crouched over the thing as she slammed the metal lid into it again (crunch of bones) and again (slurp of flesh) and again (pap-pap of flung off blood) until the damn thing was closer to being into two parts than one.
She stood, swayed, off balance and there was something goddamn buzzing between her ears because it felt good, didn't it? All that rage finally finding an outlet? And even as she shook above the brutalized body of the monster, blood and ichor and flesh staining her scrubs, she knew she wouldn't have made a different choice.
Wherever she was, there were monsters.
And now she was one of them. Her breathing slowed, no longer the fast panic of a prey animal and into something slower, deeper. The buzz in her head slowed, cleared, pressure easing off her brain pan and the ruined lid clattered to the ground.
She needed something better than a garbage can lid. She'd find it.