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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.]
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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"Touch him and we take our satisfaction from your hide." Their wings spread behind them in display. They are larger than her. Stronger. More.
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Demona has never backed down from a fight no matter how much larger her opponent is. She isn't about to learn her lesson now.
Her own wings flare out behind her with a leathery snap. "You can try to stop me." With that challenge issued, she turns to swipe directly at Darcy with her talons.
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It's a good thing he learned the strength in teamwork early on.
"I don't even fucking breathe-"
So when Darcy retaliates, Demona might think it's aimed at her, but it's not. He's trying to trap a hand between his blades, leaving her open for Venom.
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For over a year now, Darcy has taught Phil how to use a sword, and Erin for a little less; and how to fight with someone next to you, across from you. How to listen. The symbiote has been with Darcy, then with Phil, both with a weapon in hand.
If there is anybody who knows how to move as one, it’s them. It’s Venom.
In time and tandem, tongues of black webbing whip out from its shoulders, its elbows, its skin. They lash towards her to blind her eyes, cover her nose and mouth, bind her limbs; they try to anchor her to the ground where she stands as it lunges with Erin’s borrowed blade to the sinew connecting her wings, because oh, this is a creature that knows those muscles.
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"Ag--!" She is blinded, and bound. Panic flares as her mouth and nose both close off at once. She abandons her attack in an attempt to claw her face free, succeeding in getting just enough air that she can scream in agony the moment his sword cuts into her wing.
She thrashes harder against those bonds, clawing wildly, tail lashing out behind her blindly. She has none of the finesse of a warrior now; she is reduced to a wild, hissing animal desperate to free herself before she is deprived of her limb for good.
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And then she screams.
All animal. Like a pig being slaughtered. Most people only scream to a certain degree, a certain volume, self-consciousness and concern for their vocal chords a limiter. But this is liquid fear. The sound that only comes from a disregard of your own throat shredding.
He feels sick.
But he can't slip up here, either. Phil- Venom needs him. He clutches the sword until it digs into his palm, pressing against his callouses, and stalks closer. Afterwards he'll see if he can still look at Phil. After this.
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Demona's scream is splitting, in more ways than one. Phil sees the look on his kid's face, feels it in his throat, and stops dead, for just a minute. Demona didn't make Darcy feel that way. He did. The symbiote tries to keep up its webbing, trying to prioritize the physical threat.
When did he and it stop being they?
WHAM
Demona's tail throws them backward, unravels them briefly. The symbiote does what it can to soften the landing on Phil's wings, quickly rebonding. It can't afford to split like that again if it wants to keep these two safe, so it goes quiet, keeps itself to Phil's spinal reflexes. It has a last resort in mind, but it hides that thought from its host.
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The door, there! She gallops on all fours, her damaged wing trailing blood behind on the floor. She won't look back and she won't stop, not even once she reaches the exit. Not until she reaches the safety of her enclosure in the Tommy Bahama.
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And it doesn't come. He miscalculated, and Demona flees. He should probably holler some threats to keep her away, but it's not like she'll take them seriously. It took a real blade for that.
Just as soon as she's gone, he hurries over to attend to Phil, a hand on his arm.
"Are you- Phil?- Ehn- Venom? You with me?"
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... she's run off. Does that mean it's over?
They notice Darcy then. Venom stands, collar of teeth rippling.
"I'm here." The words come from behind the "face," which constricts strangely. "Where did she go?"
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"We have to warn people. And we have to get you to Watson- are you- do you feel okay?"
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There's a sound like a great furnace makes when coal is thrown into its core. Venom bares their teeth one last time, a dog-like maw of needles and gums flaring between their neck and jaw, and then it unravels. Slick black sludge folds away, slipping and crawling across Phil's skin, wrapping tight around his elbow. Through the nasty-looking tear through the fabric of Phil's sleeve, Darcy can see the way it wound upwards.
"I'm fine." He stands like he may as well have not gotten hurt at all. "What about you? Did she hurt you?"
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"As if," he says, with altogether too much ego for how close that call was. Just as quickly, Darcy separates again.
"I've fought worse. Can you hear where she's going?"
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“Tommy Bahama. Keeps going further in fast.” He can hear the direction and location even from his position, and he can recognize the clatter and break of those clothing racks and wood displays with plastic veneers. Phil pulls out his phone. “I’ll text everybody it makes sense to. Skuls, Security, Ava, Erin, the patrollers, the works. Ship’s small, word should get around.”
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He can feel that it doesn't. It's the adrenaline, or probably frustration that Darcy has pulled him into some shit again. A hand still lingers at his arm. Not surprising that the new resident monster has taken up cohabiting with the rest of them- even if Siffleur is one with manners. Foolhardy to chase her in.
Odd how the residue of that dream still lingers. Each small section felt like an individually-wrapped forever, like he'd lived all the years roughly scribbled around the moment. There was a world where their roles were reversed, where Phil was the small thing that needed comfort. It's a pity that he didn't know what to say in that world either, that he couldn't cheat off that homework.
But first, something more important. Darcy presses their cheek to the black strip still wound around his arm, and whispers "thank you."
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That settles the knot, if only a little. A guttering flicker of warmth seen through a forest of stressed trees.
"Hey." He bumps Darcy gently with his wing. "We're okay. Let's sweep up the place and send some texts, and then let's think about what to do afterwards, yeah?"
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"We're okay," he repeats.
"Right, because the ghosts don't clean anymore," he grumbles, finally separating, "at least I don't have to clean burnt chicken out of the pot."
...
"I asked Max to cover what I was cooking while I was dealing with that bitch," let it never be said that Darcy had sensible priorities.
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... Phil just Sighs. At least Darcy called for help. Eventually. Phil also wonders how much he slowed down to send a message.
"We can go pick it up when we're done here. It shouldn't take that long." He walks off to go find a closet to fish a broom out of. "What were you cooking that was so urgent?"
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"It was searing the outside of chicken, which you have to do quickly otherwise it overcooks in the oven. For family meal. I used too many ingredients for it to go to waste. Plus it would probably catch on fire if it was left there. So."
He wasn't just thinking about himself, after all.
"... for a minute I fought her off with just the pot lid. It was kind of sick," even if nobody else was around to see it.
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Aaand wrap