catinthemask: (05)
Zacharie ([personal profile] catinthemask) wrote in [community profile] entrancelogs2017-03-12 04:36 pm

[Open] The inevitable "creepy lab" level in video games

Who: Zacharie and you.
Where: The True Labs
When: Throughout the event.
Rating: PG for now. Will adjust if needed.
Summary: Zacharie got turned into a child (again). So what better to do then do some puzzles, chat up a weird thing in a bath tub, meet Endogeny and price out the DT Extractor?
The Story:

A) They see me puzzling.

[So Wonderland appears to get some measure of joy in turning Zacharie into a child. Maybe it was because the NPC never had a proper childhood, maybe it was because he was adorable as a kid or simply because it liked reminding him he was doomed to be short regardless of whether or not he was an adult or a child. Who knows? Either way, he's a kid again and in a lab that is somewhat of a staple of every single horror video game.

Not that Zacharie's particularly frightened. Coming from a game that was surreal horror itself, he feels right at home. Just needed a few ghosts and a baseball-themed purifier and he'd be good to go. He's still got his backpack full of items but it was doubtful anyone was going to buy from him right now. So onto the next best thing: puzzles.

Honestly, Zacharie likes these kinds of puzzles. They're pretty easy to do and the pictures turn out nice, even if that's clearly not the objective here. So anyone can find a small child in a mask bent over one of the puzzles, snapping the pieces together. Those who know Zacharie will probably notice his mask is a different one once again. This time around it's blank with a wide smile drawn on it and nothing else.

Don't ask how he can see without eye holes. You don't want to know.]



B) At least it isn't in a toilet.

[Once the puzzles are done Zacharie takes a walk to find the keys. The lab is a heck of a lot bigger then it looks and he knows it's going to take awhile before he finds anything, or someone will simply beat him to the punch. It doesn't really matter much but it'd be fun to be the one to find a hidden item rather than just hand out hints and watch things unfold. Be a bit more productive, step out of your comfort zone.

Or something like that.

Eventually his wanderings lead him to a long hallway with a tub at the end that had its curtains drawn. And a...thing moving back and forward. Weird. Zacharie simply stares at it before speaking.]


Hello there, my friend. I hate to interrupt your rhythmic swaying but I wish to take a look in the tub. Do you mind vacating it for a moment?

[It doesn't respond and continues swaying away. Zacharie stares a bit longer before asking again. He's been paying attention to the network so he knows these creatures are harmless for the most part, so maybe he has to talk it out.

Or he could just walk forward, but Zacharie doesn't know that.]



C) The immortal stalker...?

[So apparently having more meat then you know what to do with on your person attracts dogs when it's not attracting a certain pair of cats.

Zacharie stares up at Endogeny, who has been following him for a good while now. Again he knows that the Amalgamates are harmless but the size difference is unnerving, along with ago-old instincts were starting to creep up on the merchant. Ah to be young again. But the melting dog(s?) kind of takes priority here.]


Yes, I certainly agree that the Meats of Alma are excellent but sadly I cannot give you everything that is in my bag. Ah, but! [Zacharie sees the Amalgamate's ears droop and drops his bag, digging around for a moment before producing a cut of Silver Flesh.] I can give you this.

[It kind of engulfs Zacharie's arm in an effort to get at the Meat but he pulls back fast enough that he doesn't lose too much there. That appears to make Endogeny happy and it quickly bounds into a play bow, tail wagging. Not quite what Zacharie had been hoping for but what the heck. He'll play.

He's not from the right game to say he equipped a stick but he tosses it away and watches Endogeny give chase. Hopefully nobody was in that direction or they're going to be in for a surprise!]



D) And the dark secret of the whole level.

[The post on the network explaining about things mentioned a machine that looked like a skull and Zacharie wanted to take a look. Not touch it, just look. Maybe price it out for giggles because he can.

It takes a bit for him to actually get into the area, however. Someone was standing guard and Zacharie didn't have firm control over his abilities at this point. So he more or less had to wait until they left and then slip in.

The machine is much, much bigger than he thought it would be and there's a childish urge to climb it. Brought back a number of memories of climbing around Zone 0 even if you didn't get anywhere. But instead of doing that Zacharie clasps his hands behind his back and walks up to the machine, inspecting it without touching.

He's clearly looking for something, but what? Feel free to ask if you want. Or just kick him out of the room since "kids" shouldn't be in here.]



E) We need more horror troops.

[ooc: Got a different prompt in mind or want something specific? Hit me up at [plurk.com profile] embracetheweeb
postictal: (strawberry jam)

[personal profile] postictal 2017-03-16 05:43 am (UTC)(link)
[Hypocrite.

The word nets easily into Tim's vocabulary. He knows what he is; what he has to be, after everything he's said and done. After the lives he's doomed and the people he's hurt, after the sheer inescapability of his purpose, it's just - what he is. Its puppet, Its plaything, a liar, and a hypocrite.

A hypocrite who utterly destroys everything he touches.

For all his warnings and fears and anger, he's still the one that hits the switch. He's the one that sends it all downward-spiraling, unintentional or no. Can't help being born broken, but shouldn't he at least be able to prevent himself from inflicting that same brokenness on everyone else?



The machine awakens like some lumbering, sentient thing, and he gets almost no time to react whatsoever. There's nothing but the blinding impression of something pulling at the thin thread of a Something buried in his chest, and his hands flutter weakly over his ribcage, over the absurd, cartoonish heart shape that briefly flits out.

Red as madder, and stained ever darker.

The thing isn't making the sound when his thoughts finally settle into some form of alignment. The place is silent but for the ragged syncopation of their breathing, pitched upward with apparent terror. His cheek stings where it hit the damp tile. He must have, at some point - hit the ground. The blood roars in a pulsing, arrhythmic thud that echoes in his ears with an unnerving immediacy, like he's approached and then passed an asymptote of some kind, like he's done something - something very, very Wrong.

He jerks to his feet with an alarming alacrity, staggering back, his eyes wild.]


Z-Zacharie?

[He's...on the floor. Lying there like he's hit something important. Shit. No.

He swallows hard, scrambling to his side.]


N-no, no no no no no, c'mon, I didn't - I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to, I swear!
postictal: (this is not a dance)

[personal profile] postictal 2017-03-16 08:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[He's done something wrong. He's done something very, very wrong and he's going to keep fucking up, because that's what he does, that's what he's always done. There's something warping his chest, hammering in his throat like his vocal cords are torn and bleeding, sending something hot and wet dribbling down his esophagus. Something that makes him feel, bizarrely -


Better.

Until he looks at the man's face.

A face of what should look like a child, a human child, but doesn't. But doesn't, because it's just something black and empty and rancid and dripping thickly to the ground, two scintillating white dots and an empty white slash of a mouth and he jerks backwards, mouth gaping in a soundless cry of terror.

He was so afraid.

He was so afraid It would find him, and twist him into Its puppet the same way it did to Tim.


He was so afraid.

But nothing else would ḽ̛̩ŏ̧͚o͙̅͠k͚̏̅ ļ͙i͚̲ͣk̓̔̋e͌ t̩͒̈h̸̹̉ȁt͚͋͌ unless I̻ͣͩt̯̑᷁ ẁ̼ͩa̦͒̿s᷆̍ -




A litany of apologies to people Tim doesn't know and doesn't understand, but he does understand the need to ground yourself, to remind yourself of what's real, something to ground you, something to dig you fingers into and pull so that it never dissipates and never dies, so that you know that you're alive.

Even with the layer of static laid flat over his skull, the bright pins-and-needles tingle of having looked at something he never should have seen, the rapid-fire stutter of his thoughts trying to pierce through the patina of that bleak, surreal emptiness, he recognizes it.]


C-c'mon, Zacharie. Talk to me. P-please.
postictal: (clawing at the walls)

1/2

[personal profile] postictal 2017-03-17 04:22 am (UTC)(link)
[None of what he's saying makes any sense. If it was unnerving to see the implacable merchant so scared the first time It advanced on the pair of them, it's even more so now - watching him convulse, a long list of nonsensical, seemingly unrelated phrases tangle out of his mouth.]

It's - I didn't - I didn't mean to, I swear!

[He can't return to his cradle. They should've burned the thing down, but they didn't, and now he's here. And they should all hate him for it, they should all -

And then he looks at him.

And then he looks at him.

The full force of a face that shouldn't exist, a face that isn't a face, and words that cut beneath the skin and a chill that races up his spine.]


N-no. No, I didn't -

[He didn't mean to.

He never does.

But It gets to everyone in the end. It gets to you, It's gotten to him, and now It's inside him, and whose fault is that, exactly? Whose fault is that, Tim?

He can't look at that face, that face that looks so horribly like a photo-negative of the thing that has to be talking, that's using him the way it used Alex, and he did it, he did this, he ruined it all over again and oh god oh god.]


I'm sorry. I'm sorry!

[The shriek rebounds off the walls as he scrambles back, retreating. Trying to make a break for it. His limbs should be locked up, frozen in indecision - but he feels about ready to scale a mountain, tear across the face of the earth.

He almost feels -

determined.


Almost like he isn't afraid anymore.]
postictal: (not today binch)

[personal profile] postictal 2017-03-17 04:26 am (UTC)(link)
[Like he's about to drag himself forward, until he's facing that thing and staring it down again. Because It's taken everything from him. It's taken everything.

It won't take this too.

He doesn't have any of that synthetic courage, a fistful of medicated willpower he could choke down. But for a moment, for a moment - it feels like he doesn't need it.]


I'm not scared of you.

[He's not scared of you.

Do you hear him?

He watched them all burn. Jay. Brian. Alex. Seth. Sarah. Amy.

He lost them all. He watched them all fall to pieces. Watched nameless men get their skulls caved in, for the simple crime of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. He watched them fall, one by one.

So maybe, for once in his life - maybe he's got the determination to do something about.]


I'm not scared of you.

So you let him go.
postictal: (goddamn tired)

[personal profile] postictal 2017-03-17 06:44 am (UTC)(link)
[He's not making any sense.

He's still not. Or maybe he just never was. There's a whiff of something hard and sweet, cutting through the air, almost stinging his nostrils with the intensity of it, and he says another word Tim doesn't understand.

From now on, there will be no more darkness. No more...love?

He opens his mouth. To shout It out, to tell It to leave, or maybe just to ask what's happening, why he feels like this, to say that he's sorry he ruined everything, stumbling into that stupid machine after all the insisting he did that it would go wrong, catalyzing things going wrong in the first place like he always does.

But before he can say anything at all, Zacharie's gone.

There's no spritz of static, no distorting of the world, no rippling folds of some plane shifting while everything else stays the same. He blinks, and that unnatural smile sears itself into the dark of his eyelids with every blink that follows.

For a long moment that follows, all he can do is drag in breath after rattling breath as the scattered pieces of himself struggle to ascribe some sense of meaning to what just happened.


But he doesn't.

And he can't.

He just has to leave before anyone else finds him here.]