revivalproject | [Open] Run Boy Run

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[Open] Run Boy Run

WHO: Tommy Shepherd, Open
WHERE: Beach Area, Near Greenhouse
WHAT: Escaping Running Zombies, Fighting Zombies and Hiding Bite Status
WHEN: Beach: October 13th (Worst Birthday Ever, Again); Greenhouse: Vaguely late October
WARNINGS: CW: Discussion of hidden injury in Greenhouse thread

I. They're Dying To Stop You | Beach Area (October 13th)

Some part of him says this is punishment. That part of his brain ignores the fact that shit like this has happened, nearly reliably, around their birthday every year, that he really should have been prepared. But come on, yesterday was so magical and he felt like he was owed time to bask in that. Instead he wakes up to feel it. The sort of low tremble in his body that says his powers are long since gone. That he's been like this for hours. Has to have been for hours because his body feels the sort of sluggish that says he's been asleep for a while.

It took time to haul himself out of bed, to get Billy up and ready for the trip back to the city because the beach wasn't safe if it was a storm doing weird things. And then they had set out.

The zombies hadn't taken long to become a problem. They hadn't taken long to separate the boys either. Honestly, it was harder to stay together when being chased by running zombies. Which Tommy thought was distinctly unfair. He thought it really hard when he was running with all the speed and grace as one might find in an average high school track star, fleeing from Kate's mangled face. From a masked form that could have been Eli or Patrinot. From David. From his mother.

Too many faces. Too many fears.

Tommy can't help but sob as he runs. Which is a horrible choice, given it messes up his vision as the sand gives way to something a bit more plant rich and he trips. Falls. Ends up tumbled over the ground.

"Fuck," he whimpers before pushing himself back to his feet. "Fuck."

II. And Disappear in the Trees | Southern Temba (October 13th)

It takes more time than he'd like to make it into Temba proper. Normally, outside of a storm, it's barely minutes to cross the distance. Now it's hours sneaking in the trees and along the cleared path between the city and the beach to make it here. Tired. Scratched up more by plants than by zombies. Afraid.

It's only been hours. It's been hours since he went to sleep in peace and happiness. Hours.

Now what?

He stumbles out of the tree line and tries to figure out where he is in the fog. At last, despite the risk, he throws back his head and shouts. After all, he can always retreat into the trees if he needs.

"Is there anyone out there!?"

III. The Secret Inside of You | Near Greenhouse

These sorts of things didn't last this long back home, Tommy thought. A few hours. Maybe a day or two at most. There were just too many people with powers, magic and otherwise, for any serious undead incursion to linger. Maybe that was why there were movies and books about it. Because it was maybe the sort of disaster that humans could survive after powered people slaughtered themselves against it. Tommy didn't know.

David had always spoken about it with irritation, Tommy remembered that much. Back home the other mutant had dealt with too many instances of being attacked by dead people not to notice it and have opinions. The only time Tommy had run into it had been the day they found Mom.

That had been years ago. So many years ago. Billy had gone off and been stupid, Nate had shown up. Wanda had remembered himself. Cassie...

Tommy shunts that thought aside. He was getting too melancholy, which was foolish.

"Focus, Speed," he berated himself as he pushed through the doors of the greenhouse and then closed them back up behind him. "Focus. You've got to get the food to deliver. You've got no clue how long the storm will be nice enough to let you have your powers."

Probably not long enough to get back. He'd have to get to the mines in stages, just like he'd gotten here. At least the path should be mostly open given he'd blown up just about every zombie between here and the diner on his way over.

Not all of them fast enough, he thought as he adjusted the sleeve of the coat he'd grabbed from his apartment at the diner. Not enough to keep him from getting hurt.

But perhaps he wouldn't have to head back alone. His explosions were noisy things, and the path was temporarily clear. Maybe someone would come and join him. Find him. Walk back with him.

Maybe he didn't have to do this alone.

"You're a hero. You should be able to do it alone," he reminds himself as he picks up one of the supply crates he always left by the doors. "Which isn't important. Get a huge load of tubers, man. That's what you need to focus on. And some of that elfroot stuff. Come on. Focus. Get moving."

What else was he going to do, after all? Sit down and cry again? He was tried of that. Really tired of it. He was a super hero, dammit, and he was going to do his job.

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Maybe they really were He Rows. After a long summer of relaxing on the beach and an array of absolutely dogshit personality problems, Stu had started to be convinced that the whole 'hero' thing was some kind of appeal to the self-obsessed parts of the worst possible people these aliens could find across the universe. In a zombie movie, though, the heroes mowed down the undead, popping off heads wherever they went. There was no denying that the zombies were the bad guys; they were mindless predators. Even Stu was the hero and not the monster as he swung his bat and another zombie's skull burst like an overripe watermelon. And he was doing it all for no glory whatsoever; there wasn't even anyone else here by the fountain, the square eerily empty, though the road was slick with gore like a bomb had torn through it. This must have been where that noise had come from. Stu did his best to follow the trail, bat dangling by his side, the nails projecting out of it occasionally catching on a cobblestone or shedding the flaps of leathery skin that clung to them. It brought him up against the greenhouse, where he tried wiping at the glass with a sleeve, then pressing his face up against it to see through, against the fog and the grime on either side. His nose was pressed flat, and his breath fogged as he slurred, "Hello?"

Yeah. That shout was hard to miss, even with the fog. And Keith felt the fog... both physically by walking around in it, and with how it affected his senses. It was amazing to him just how much that silly weak bit of quintessence sense he had affected him. It was so little that he'd never considered himself different from a human for his entire life, and yet... here he was, feeling like everything was dulled.

But he still heard that. It was hard to miss someone yelling into the fog seeking someone out. And, he was fairly certain he recognized that voice.

"Tommy?!" he called back, trying to locate where the sound was coming from, but it was hard than usual for him to do that. "Tommy! Where are you?"

A face against the glass. Tommy about jumps. But hey, he can handle this. He moves to open the door. Not like he doesn't have the power right now to punch through someone. It'll be fine.

"Get in here, genius. So dangerous out there."

Oh. He knows that voice! A zombies don't seem to talk. So it's a good sign. He's got hope now.

"Keith!" he shouts back. "By the trees!"

he needs help. But can Keith even see the trees?

~~seeing the forest for the trees......~~

Keith's far enough that there's definitely a foggy effect going on, but he could what looked like a person in front of a blob of shapes, so that was good enough. The fog made it hard to pinpoint the sound exactly, but it seemed right, so he headed that way. His choice was proven right as he got closer and what he saw got clearer.

He had Kosmo with him, but even the wolf was having a bit of trouble. Granted, wolves naturally had stronger senses, but anything that was beyond normal for either of them had been cut off, and the two of them were definitely at more of a disadvantage than usual.

When Keith came into clearer view, he was a bit beat up, but not injured. Same for the wolf. He was carrying a 2x4 about the length of a baseball bat that had several nails driven into the side at one end. He was wearing his Paladin armor, but none of the lights were lit, and he didn't seem to have his bayard on him... hence the board.

"Hey! You alright?" he called once he was close enough to be sure it was Tommy. He was jogging a bit now that he was more sure and could see better.

"Huh, you doing the Harrington thing," Tommy says as Keith approaches. But he doesn't explain more.

"No, man, I'm not alright. I got separated from my boyfriend on the beach, I got chased by running zombies, and this is adding to the fucking run of terrible birthdays in this place. I'm in hell."

So no, he's not cool. And he looks bad. Scraped up, hair ruffled, in pajama pants and a t-shirt. Guy looks like a mess.

The door yanked out from under him made Stu startle back, heel slipping on the spill of gore that he had followed and sending him crashing down into it as his feet went out from under him. He hissed at the jolt to his tailbone, and his shoulders were still rounded pathetically as he lifted his hands that he had flung out to brace himself, slick now with congealed blood and dirt. "Someone's been blowing stuff up out here," he reported meekly, as if that much wasn't already obvious from the state of him now, or Tommy's warning, or the noise that had lured more than just him. When he turned his head to glance back the way he had come, there was already movement in the alleys and shuffling around corners. He had to whip his head around to spot the bat that he had dropped in his fall before he was struggling back to his feet.

"That was me," Tommy confirms. "Get in here to stay safe. They're probably not smart enough to come in."

Because he doesn't want more relying on explosions if he doesn't have to.

"If the storm picks up, I can't do it more, so it's better to be out of sight."

Stu did as he was told, as soon as he was stable enough to dart into the greenhouse, watching over his shoulder as he went. Even as he did so, and they were securely behind the doors, he whispered like he could sneak in under the orders, "I was trying to get to the hospital, man. Billy's hurt really bad."

"Which Billy?" Tommy asked, taking a cloth up from a pile near the door and starting to clean his hands off. "One of mine, or the guy I've heard helped that Robin girl?"

He looks at Stu, considers. And then seems to make a decision.

"Just gonna put it out there. I know people suspect you of possibly being involved with the attempted murders around here. I haven't seen any of the evidence, couldn't say one way or another what you did or didn't do. But on the off chance that you're guilty and you know it, you may have height and weight on me, but I'm a literal superhero back home with years of training, superspeed, and I can create explosions. So no funny business while we're surviving a zombie incursion. And hey, if you're innocent, it's not even an issue."

But he thought he should have it out there.

The real answer was 'the only Billy that mattered', so Stu's nose wrinkled and he looked put-upon for being asked to elaborate. Tommy must have felt the same way, just for the wrong Billy, and if he had any balls he'd answer honestly when Stu challenged, "Does that change whether you want to help me?"

Tommy didn't really need to answer, though, when he laid in with the rambling threats. Stu's eyebrows raised, then he lifted his free hand to splay in innocent surrender. "Really interesting theory--what's the word? Propelling, even. See, me, if I was watching the crime show, I'd say the guest star that showed up to bring up the crime unprompted and started threatening people was definitely the bad guy." He slid back the way he had come, hand back on the door, and offered, "How about I don't tell anyone this happened, and I'll see you later?"

There are three Billys in town, and only one of them is the wrong one in Tommy's mind. Which just so happens to be the right one for Stu.

"Nope. Really doesn't. But first I've got to get food here and get it back. Can't guarantee I'll be able to help you. Gotta save the most lives I can."

And they need food for that. And if his powers hold, then that's an answer. That's all he's got to care about.

Though now he's laughing at the idea that it was even remotely possible that he did the crimes. Dude is just too jumpy.

"If I wanted you dead, I could manage it before you could blink. And in a way that people here could easily chalk up to any number of other people or to the zombies. So yeah, go out there alone into a zombie attack if you really think you're better off without the guy you're safer with who can explode zombies without even touching them. Sounds really smart."

The more Tommy fantasized about Stu's death, the smarter it did sound to get the fuck away from him, no matter Tommy's taunting about it. Stu grimaced, eyebrow raised to ask if he was really the only one that heard that first part. Everyone in this city really was a violent psycho. "Yeah..." Stu said slowly, "Have fun saving people, dude." He was already pushing the door open, but he hadn't even finished speaking when it collided with something soft and a little wet. Stu had to stop and look down at his hand like he was maybe doing door wrong, then up to meet the yellow eyes of the zombie crushing itself against the glass.

There's a difference between being honest (which Stu himself was clearly not prone to), and being honest. And Tommy was no stranger to being brutally honest.

But then the sound and the eyes... God, was that Cassie? Tommy shudders and in a blink he's there by the door. He pulls Stu back a few careful steps before, in the blink of an eye, some crates were stacked in front of the door.

"Because of course it opens outward. Fuck I hate it when this shit happens. Well, at least these things don't seem to have people's powers. Because she could just shrink to come in through the gaps."

Stu didn't really want to be pulled back further into the greenhouse, but he stumbled back further yet while the crates appears, and Tommy grumbled more of his weird fantasies. This was the chance Stu had to glance around and try to spot another exit, away from the psycho and back on his path to helping Billy, and had to try to answer evenly though his voice pitched up, "Yeah, but then she'd be really small--if all of these guys were tiny, they wouldn't be a problem, ant infestation, just bug-bomb them."

Sorry kid, no other exit. Keeps the greenhouse more secure to keep warmth and moisture in to only have the one.

"Yeah, but she can also grow to about twenty feet tall. So that doesn't really help anyone. Come on. Best place to hide will be to head down into the mushroom rooms. The scents in there should hide us to let us stick around until they get bored and leave."

Keith gave Tommy a concerned look, not even bothering to acknowledge the first comment. He didn't understand it, but now wasn't the time to be asking what it meant.

"Are you hurt at all?"

"Uh..."

Yes. In ways that he normally couldn't get hurt. And he hates it. But admitting to it might make him seem weak.

"Nope. I'm fine for now."

Keith raised a skeptical eyebrow at that response.

"You look pretty roughed up." Please let it be that he at least didn't get bit. "We should probably get somewhere safe... ish..." Because, really, was anywhere truly safe right now? Keith wasn't sure at the moment, but at least he was somewhat armed and protected.

Next to him, Kosmo was on alert, but he gave Tommy a quick sniff over, like he, too, was checking for injuries.

Okay, yes, but did you have to have eyes to notice all of this? Because Tommy doesn't like admitting when he isn't good enough. Being merely human had never really worked out for him.

"Well, I can verify that the beach, especially by the caves, isn't safe. So, uh, any thoughts?"

Because Tommy's are mostly 'scared hurt where is billy'.

Though there's at least Kosmo. The one dog-like thing that doesn't freak Tommy out. He reaches out to lay a hand on his thick fur.

"Thanks Kosmo, for worrying."

That left Stu with many questions, the most immediate of which felt like it had to be, "They can smell us?" Tommy's threat was only started to feel more real, because Stu had killed a zillion of these things and it hadn't even occurred to him whether they could shrink, and he was pretty sure it wasn't his odour that was appealing to them. There really might have been bodies around here that conveniently looked like zombie casualties.

Keith glanced back towards the beach for a moment, but couldn't see anything thanks to the fog. He frowned and then nodded a bit.

"Then, we don't head that way," he said. Mr. Obvious over here.

Kosmo gave Tommy a slight tail wag, leaning against him momentarily before moving back to be next to Keith. He couldn't teleport with the fog, but he was still a working wolf trained to fight, and he knew Keith's signals and commands.

Keith nodded for Tommy to stay with him. Being in his armor and holding a weapon, Keith was definitely better prepared to take on anything that came at them then Tommy in his PJs. No offense. That was just a fact.

"We can head back toward town, maybe... try holding up in the diner for a bit. It's got food and stuff, so it's not a bad place to gather people towards."

"Yeah, why do you think zombies whose eyes are messed up can still find you when you're close? Pretty sure it's the blood."

And come on, they're full of blood. But he moves to walk deeper into the greenhouse, gesturing for the guy to follow.

Of course Tommy wasn't offended. Facts were facts. The storm meant that he couldn't be more dangerous in his pjs than Keith was just by being, you know, Keith. But dammit he wasn't going to be a hindrance if he could help it.

"Diner might work. I could leave a note for people."

Because he won't stay somewhere that's mostly just a building that could easily be broken into. All those big windows were a problem.

Stu did follow obediently, though from behind Tommy came a small voice, "I thought they could hear us..." Stu could manage how much noise he made. Most of the time. He didn't know how to manage what he smelled like. A 'mushroom room' wouldn't have even made his mindmap.

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[Open] Run Boy Run

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