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TEST DRIVE MEME #10
a. that's where we both belong
[you wake up.
it doesn't matter where you were before. going to bed? dying? opening the door to face a great evil? same result. you wake up in a soft bed with starched sheets in a cool, darkened room, sunlight peeking out from behind thick curtains. maybe you're alone; maybe you aren't. maybe you immediately notice the folded paper on the bedside table near your head. if you don't, you better fix that real quick: you won't be able to even open the door before you read it.
the note itself is written in a neat hand on white card stock; there is a stylized logo of a ship with the words SERENA ETERNA printed underneath. the note reads as follows:
Dear Passenger(s),
As your cruise director, it is my great honor to welcome you aboard the Serena Eterna, your destination for fun and adventure! We know you could have chosen any cruise line for your vacation, and we're very grateful you chose ours! On behalf of the Captain, I would like to assure each and every passenger that will we do whatever it takes to fulfill all your needs and desires during your journey with us.
At your earliest possible convenience, please attend the mandatory lifeboat drill by the end of the day. I'm sure everyone is very eager to get started on all the fun and sun, but safety always comes first! You can find your life jacket in your cabin's closet; carry it to your assigned muster station on deck one, where I will take you through the drill. If you can't find me in the crowd, just look for the gal with the winning smile!
See You Real Soon!
Sincerely,
Gal Friday
you walk to deck one. you have no other choice: every time you try to step in a direction some unseen being considers "not towards deck one," you find your legs no longer move, staying stock still, frozen. whether compelled quickly by curiosity, or delayed by pure stubbornness, the result is the same, and you are left milling around with other similarly curious or stubborn people.
you see someone in uniform near the front of the crowd. she seems to be a gal, but is missing the winning smile, along with most of her other features. she seems to see you, though, rushing to your side and placing a lei around your neck with great formality. a voice, cheery but artificial, sees to come from nowhere and everywhere.]
Welcome aboard! I'm so happy you could join us!
[you touch the lei. rooster feathers, lotus seeds, and a carved circle of something white and hard, linked onto a silk string.
after the drill is completed, you are seemingly free to go. or, well, your legs work, now. and maybe that's as good as it's gonna get.]
b. and there's plenty of that down by the sea
[it’s strange to think about, isn’t it? how all those new passengers, the ones grumbling or shouting their way through the forced muster drill, have absolutely no idea what happened just last month. no idea about the labyrinth. no concept of why anyone around them would be a bit more hesitant around shadows.
they’ll learn.
sometimes a shadow is darker than it’s supposed to be. very rarely does anything come of that; just a vague sense that someone is watching you, and little more. sometimes, though, the shadows move. sometimes they grab at your ankles as you walk. sometimes they give you a shove as you go down the stairs. sometimes they pull your hair, or pinch your arm.
sometimes you feel something sharp cut into your lower leg.
that’s not a shadow, though. that’s a fiddler crab. you see the crab, sometimes. the cut isn’t from its claws, which don’t look very intimating; it’s not a very large crab. the cut is from the large kitchen knife crudely taped onto its back. it’s probably fine. it's not chasing you. there isn't evil in its heart. probably.]
c. think I'll go back to the Keys
[one day, in the atrium, two pedestals suddenly appear. on each is a large button: one green, and one blue. pressing the blue button gives you a little treat, popping out of thin air next to you. pressing the green button sends a small electric shock through your body. weird, but, hey, pretty avoidable, right?
except, it seems to be spreading. to every other button on board.
in the elevator. on the soda machine. the arcade. your phone. the bell on Friday’s desk.]
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Still, Darcy's glad he didn't even try the stairs, because otherwise three days would be plenty of time for his loved ones to come up with increasingly inventive ways to ask 'why didn't you call for help'.
Which he's still not doing, because now his ego has been invoked, and he's so fucking tired of relying on other people for his shit.
"Fucking nobody!" Darcy hollers back, scrambling into a sprint from the stairs out onto the promenade, "I just don't want my fucking food to burn!"
With any luck nobody on the deck likes them enough to try and interfere, and the odds for that are pretty good these days. They're bee-lining for Chatterbox, although with any luck the general noise of the promenade should throw her off.
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Recently, she's lived in both Paris and Manhattan, so the general noise of the promenade isn't going to throw her off. She's learned to block out worse. Consequently, she's gaining on him.
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The rock bitch is fucking fast, and Darcy can hear how she's gaining on him even without turning around. But that's okay- the chasing up until now was the point, there's a reason he didn't just turn invisible and try to hide somewhere.
Once again, Darcy vanishes. This time just at the entrance of Chatterbox. An odd tactic, considering there's no other exits inside. Maybe he thinks he can lose her in the seating?
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He's gone? Demona slides to a stop, nails digging gouges into the flooring, at the entrance to Chatterbox.
"Where are you going? Do you think you can lose me so easily?"
Still on all fours, she stalks slowly into the venue scanning the seats.
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She charges at the stage, leaping at the curtains with her talons out like a cat taking a running leap at the drapes.
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The room is silent and still.
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"You can't hide in here forever."
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Darcy rematerializes perched atop the karaoke machine, the microphone dangling loosely from a cord he's holding. He presses play on the machine, and swings the mic directly into the speaker.
Hope Demona likes ear-splitting feedback.
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"No-AHHH!" She clasps her hands to her ears, doubling over as the earsplitting noise drives pain into her skull.
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"You gonna back off or do I need to do it again?" he asks into the mic, his voice echoing out just as loud. Maybe his own ears are ringing but it's fine his hearing should reset the next time he dies.
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Rather than answer, she sweeps her powerful tail around and swipes at the entire karaoke machine, intending to push it and the brat atop it off the stage in one sweep. Fuck your music machine!
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"Shit shit shit shit shit-" he repeats, abandoning the karaoke machine to scramble his way to the door- who can he call- Security? Skully? Who's a big enough fish to fight her?
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"Yes. Run like the prey you are."
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"HEY-" to whoever hears him, "NEED A FUCKING HAND HERE-"
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She can tell he is slowing, so she slows too. Can't help but draw this out a little, for the fun of it.
"How does it feel to be alone and helpless? Defenseless. Are you laughing now?"
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So Darcy stops in place. Has she been baited, yes. Undoubtedly. But now that's Demona's problem as he turns and his blades shimmer into his hand.
"Oh definitely. Me? Defenseless? I've never heard anything funnier."
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Actually, it's getting louder.)
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But, her head twitches to the side subtly as a new sound catches her attention. Something is coming. She scowls, and readies her claws. Let them come.
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Darcy backs up, not letting her draw to close. His fighting style relies on his ability to move in and out quickly, he doesn't want to get caught too close.
guil is so powerful
"Darcy!!"
holy shit HOLY SHIT
Yes. Yes, it is.
Rapidly.
"WHAT?!" Demona cries as that beast barrels into the room and throws itself in her path. It could almost be a gargoyle. It isn't. But she doesn't know what it could be instead. Some kind of demon?
"What are you?" She demands, even as she's backing up a few paces.
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"That's my da-aad," he sing-songs, suddenly vanishing from behind Venom to block Demona's exit behind her. He learned to fight as part of a pair, it all comes back to him- like a sheepdog moving with their shepherd.
"Now you fucked up."
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A dull orange light casts across it, flickering and guttering. The stark white “face” remains.
“We are Venom,” it hisses, every syllable falling like a gavel on the block. “Stand down.”
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Demona catches herself about to back up again and forces her feet to stay planted in place instead. She will not be ordered!
"Not until I gain satisfaction. Your progeny attacked me in my sleep."
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Aaand wrap