Tommy Shepherd (speedofsass) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-02-24 21:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | !midnight channel, tommy shepherd / speed (616) |
Who: Tommy Shepherd and his TV friends
When: Backdated to the end of the Midnight Channel plot
Where: The Midnight Channel version of the Kaplan's house
What: Tommy has to deal with feelings. Which he still insists he doesn't have.
Rating: There's some creepiness with puppets.
Status: Completed Narrative, others in the plot can tag in with their own if they would like.
The prison’s cold and decaying walls gave way to a home. Everything was warm, well furnished, and clean. The Kaplan’s could really only be described as cozy. But the copy wasn’t perfect, missing the essential life that the house always seemed to have whenever Tommy had decided to stay for longer than a moment. And the illusion was entirely shattered in the living room, the puppets on full display. “Quick, quick, we need to fix the spare.” came a mockery of a voice, high and exaggerated like a cartoon. There were the doctors, wooden and with painted exaggerated faces as they moved on strings. The instruments of their trade were held in immobile hands yet were just as precise. Saws, needles, stitching. But the center was a doll of Tommy himself, held up by hooks hanging out of his wooden flesh and the strings that laced up to the ceiling to keep him hunched as the doctors kept at work. Despite the wood, the stitching worked all as well with pine seeping through as Speed’s costume was patchworked into Wiccan’s, pieces of Billy being sewn directly onto the doll of himself. “No one will miss it, this model will be far better.” wheezed another as more green slowly disappeared under stars. Dark, pitch black sap oozed through the doll’s hair as it lulled forward enough to look up. The eyes rolled in its head before focusing on Tommy with a toothy grin that was painted onto its face. White became stained, more sap staining Wiccan’s costume as the doctor’s worked tirelessly to complete the transformation. The darkness seeped down the doll’s face as it watched Tommy, refusing to look away. “Why can’t you just accept it?” Billy’s voice was clear from the doll, colder than he had ever heard his brother sound as that familiar glow came from the suspended hands. “I’mtheonlyone.” Lightning clapped and filled the room as the doll lunged towards him, held back by the hooks. “I’MTHEONETHATMATTERS!” Nothing they did stopped it. The doctors kept at work, lashing out at anyone who got too close as lightning crackled thick in the air, ready to singe flesh as the people trapped in here with him tried to fight back. But it was just like the guards, just like the shadows. There was no beating something that couldn’t be hurt. As hopeless as it seemed though his friend still kept fighting. All Tommy wanted was for them to get out of here, for his friends to be safe. Here he couldn’t protect them, the room was inescapably small and all he was doing was hurting them. "Just disappear! No one cares when you do. It was a fluke they even saved you back home, they'd forgotten entirely!" The Tommy/Billy puppet cackled in glee. "You should still be stuck there with nothing but the dark." Tommy fell to his knees, hunched over as he held onto his head in front of the puppet that screeched at him. “You’re right.” he admitted, a lurch in his chest as the dawning realization came through that this was him. Looking up he stared into the lifeless eyes as the lightning suddenly came to a halt. The strings jerked and the Tommy/Billy puppet was lowered closer to him. Tommy took a breath as he kept eye contact. The room was the same silence he knew so well, the silence that only happened when you were surrounded by people just as miserable as you that you couldn’t help you could only suffer with. “I don’t matter.” The puppet lowered again, the dead eyes watching him as it had this whole time. “I’m not...” his voice caught but he kept staring, refusing to blink. “I’m not Billy. People remember Billy. He sticks in their head. I’m just the spare. They could forget me and it wouldn’t really matter.” Slowly he got up, his face inches from the mutilated puppet as he reached out and pointed back to the people who had stood behind him, who had followed him into this hell. “But it’d matter to someone. They wouldn’t let me just disappear. They won’t forget me again.” The strings shivered and snapped, the puppet collapsed to the ground before melting away into dust. Tommy’s shoulders hunched forward, weak and defeated. |