Stiles is just (anickname) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-08-17 19:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !marvel comics, *log, bobby drake, stiles stilinski |
[Marvel: Stiles/Bobby.]
Who: Stiles & Bobby
What: Crazy possessed kid on the loose.
When: Recently.
Where: New York City, a poorer neighborhood.
Warnings: Violence.
Evening.
Once word of the cure spread, the population of New York City turned up in droves to get it. Most people were in the early stages of exposure, some farther along. The worst cases were already in extreme care, usually on life support or in one of the overcrowded hospitals. The clinic at the end of the block resembled nothing so much as a gorged spider, with the long lines of people stretching out from the dispensary acting as legs. Or it did until Stiles got to the front of the line.
Stiles got to the front of the line, that is, but he had company when he got there.
Panicked sufferers already seeing their worst nightmares scattered in all directions after the first chair went through the window. National Guard was on site, and to a one they were used to people who were acting crazy. No one was armed, as they were trying to avoid shooting anyone who was acting crazy because they were poisoned. Some of them were seriously starting to regret that decision, probably while they were following the chair out the window.
Within the small building, Stiles was struggling with the nogitsune in the center of the room. Shouts of mingled Japanese and Californian English were adding to the screams of people fleeing. Sparks from torn electrical wire and the rhythmic tones of phones left off their hooks were the background of the boy in the shredded shirt and stained jeans.
Stiles held a red ballpoint pen in one hand. He was screaming in the black shadows, face contorting into pain and then unnatural calm with abrupt, slideshow like changes. Black shadows contorted around him as his body seemed to twitch a few inches from its location, then twitch back, the coiled shrieks of what sounded like a wounded dog echoing with the wails of nurses and soldiers, all broken and bleeding in a radius of shattered furniture.