lydια #ɪᴀʟᴡᴀʏsғɪɴᴅᴛʜᴇʙᴏᴅɪᴇs мαrтιɴ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
immuno) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2015-01-21 03:42 pm
immuno) wrote in maskormenace2015-01-21 03:42 pm
005 ʙᴏʀᴏɴ ⚛ VIDEO (backdated to 1/18)
[ It happens like it always does—she doesn’t realize where she’s going until she’s already there. For all that Lydia had been planning to depart the university and make her way back to the parking garage, her body had other ideas, feet carrying her far from her car and into an unfamiliar part of the city.
She only notices the wrong turn when she looks up from her phone. By now, she knows what it means, and her stomach drops. Call Scott, her instincts bid, but Scott’s not here. The hair on the back of her neck prickles and stands on end, and without Scott to help, she creeps around the corner of the building, phone securely in one hand, wary of what she’ll find.
The burns on Dean Winchester’s corpse are still smoldering. This was recent. But the worst part isn’t the fact that he’s charred beyond all recognition: it’s the half of his head that’s been removed. Lydia drops her phone, and her hands fly to her mouth to muffle a curdled scream. ]
[ Another lonely night that Simon’s wandering Heropa alone. Normally he stays safe, stays toward the inner city, but he really just doesn’t want any company. Not right now. Or so he thinks; screaming and the very pungent odor of burnt flesh somewhere in the distance draw his attention. Curiosity overrides self-preservation, and Simon finds himself approaching with a strange calmness. He processes the sight—a charred body, male, jagged edges at the top of his skull—and decides it’s too different to be Lunatic’s work.
Not that it makes the scene less sickening. ] Oh, fuck.
[Here, he turns to the lady and has a million questions but tries to go for the important ones.] Hey, are you all right? Did you—did you see who did this, or…?
No.
[ Eyes wide, unerringly fixed on the body in front of her, Lydia shakes her head. She wishes she had. If she’d been a little sooner, maybe—
Maybe she just would have been another body. After a transfixed moment of silence, she turns her attention up to the newcomer, tilting her head at him. Something occurs to her and she crouches, grabbing her phone: this is obviously the work of a metahuman, and given that... ] But someone else might recognize it.
All right. [ His mouth’s gone dry, and he swallows to get a lump out of his throat. But he nods as he sees the girl pick up her phone. He, too, whips out his own phone to use the distress signal app that he’d downloaded from Barnaby last month. ]
[ Lydia composes herself and turns the video function on her phone, broadcasting her own face for a moment, body well off-screen. ]
We have a problem. If you’re squeamish, now would be a good time to stop watching.
[ Tapping the screen, she flips the camera, and instead of her face, the video captures an image of Dean’s body. ]
I don’t think I have to be the one to point out that an imPort did this.
[ Which means bad news bears for all of them: imPort crime has a way of lashing back to make all of them look bad. ]
[ Simon’s voice from off-screen adds, ] It doesn’t look like Lunatic’s work, not from what I’ve heard. Things don’t quite match up, and. I think. I think the victim’s head is… empty.
She only notices the wrong turn when she looks up from her phone. By now, she knows what it means, and her stomach drops. Call Scott, her instincts bid, but Scott’s not here. The hair on the back of her neck prickles and stands on end, and without Scott to help, she creeps around the corner of the building, phone securely in one hand, wary of what she’ll find.
The burns on Dean Winchester’s corpse are still smoldering. This was recent. But the worst part isn’t the fact that he’s charred beyond all recognition: it’s the half of his head that’s been removed. Lydia drops her phone, and her hands fly to her mouth to muffle a curdled scream. ]
[ Another lonely night that Simon’s wandering Heropa alone. Normally he stays safe, stays toward the inner city, but he really just doesn’t want any company. Not right now. Or so he thinks; screaming and the very pungent odor of burnt flesh somewhere in the distance draw his attention. Curiosity overrides self-preservation, and Simon finds himself approaching with a strange calmness. He processes the sight—a charred body, male, jagged edges at the top of his skull—and decides it’s too different to be Lunatic’s work.
Not that it makes the scene less sickening. ] Oh, fuck.
[Here, he turns to the lady and has a million questions but tries to go for the important ones.] Hey, are you all right? Did you—did you see who did this, or…?
No.
[ Eyes wide, unerringly fixed on the body in front of her, Lydia shakes her head. She wishes she had. If she’d been a little sooner, maybe—
Maybe she just would have been another body. After a transfixed moment of silence, she turns her attention up to the newcomer, tilting her head at him. Something occurs to her and she crouches, grabbing her phone: this is obviously the work of a metahuman, and given that... ] But someone else might recognize it.
All right. [ His mouth’s gone dry, and he swallows to get a lump out of his throat. But he nods as he sees the girl pick up her phone. He, too, whips out his own phone to use the distress signal app that he’d downloaded from Barnaby last month. ]
[ Lydia composes herself and turns the video function on her phone, broadcasting her own face for a moment, body well off-screen. ]
We have a problem. If you’re squeamish, now would be a good time to stop watching.
[ Tapping the screen, she flips the camera, and instead of her face, the video captures an image of Dean’s body. ]
I don’t think I have to be the one to point out that an imPort did this.
[ Which means bad news bears for all of them: imPort crime has a way of lashing back to make all of them look bad. ]
[ Simon’s voice from off-screen adds, ] It doesn’t look like Lunatic’s work, not from what I’ve heard. Things don’t quite match up, and. I think. I think the victim’s head is… empty.
no subject
Her still silence lasts all of thirty seconds before she rolls her eyes and scoffs. ]
There's nothing here.
no subject
At least there won't be any other violent surprises.
The media will catch on quickly, if the authorities already haven't.
no subject
no subject
Ah, politics.
[ and he quirks his head a bit. ]
An imPort does narrow it down, and motive more so. I suspect this isn't just Night of the Living Dead.
no subject
no subject
I've a likely suspicion that your victim is an imPort as well. How far down the rabbit hole did you want to go?
It's possible that you may be implicated. There are a few barbaric practices in mortal law.
no subject
[ She glances back over her shoulder, then heads over towards the body, taking delicate steps toward it. ]
I should be able to check, right? The tattoo. [ Crouching, she reaches behind her with one hand to smooth her skirt close to her butt, and to make sure that she doesn't touch the body while her other hand holds her phone. ]
no subject
It should be left in tact.
Freaky to think that there may be two of the same brain out there soon.
[ the second part is mostly to himself. ]
no subject
[ She reaches out to move his arm slightly, getting a better look at it. A frown tugs over her expression. ]
He was unsettled, whoever he was.
no subject
[ there's a frown that tugs on his lips. "with or without his brain." ]
Did you want to find out who he is?
[ as in, how deep do you want to chase this, Lydia? ]
no subject
ACTION.
he doesn't teleport to the ground, and instead, on the edge of railing of one of the fire escapes. there were a few ways to go about this, but he'd rather keep his feet off the ground to leave any distinct footprints. ]
No surprises.
[ he says, to make sure both of them know that he's there.
he's all scalemail and horns, his jacket on the loveseat at home.
with a few impossibly acrobatic leaps, he crouches on the lowest level of the fire escape. ]
Gruesome.
[ there's a bit of a wince. it looks worse off-screen. ]
ACTION.
[ She says it like a casual introduction, gesturing forward to the body. Raising the wallet in one hand, she holds it out for him to see what he makes of it. ]
Kate checked up on him. He's an unsettled imPort, but beyond that, we don't know much about him.
ACTION.
A good target, isn't he? Just so happens to fly a bit low under the radar.
[ and now he's curiously missing a brain. ]
ACTION.
[ said dryly, as that doesn't narrow it down at all. ]
The police will be here soon. Whatever you want to do ... [ do it fast. ]
ACTION.
[ and he holds out a hand, leaning forward until his fingers are outstretched above the body. he begins to mutter, but it quickly turns to a mantra. there's a dull green light, a flash of shapes spun in a green glow above the body, twisting until they seem to find the right interlock before disappearing as if they were dust. ]
ACTION.
What does that do?
ACTION.
ACTION.
[ Her eyebrows arch. ]
You might want to give him a day or two.
ACTION.
[ it's always good to have a backup of a backup if need be. if something happens and their murderer friend decides to show their face again, then there's a one-up in their court. ]
With a missing brain? We'll see how well the nanites provide.
[ he looks up from the mess that was Dean and over at her. ]
You're going to wait for the police?
ACTION.
[ you fucking— ]
Yes. I'm going to wait. Stiles said he was coming to get me, but I figure they'll beat him here.
ACTION.
Most likely.
[ his eyes go from her to the mess again, and then back to her and his expression softens somewhat. ]
Lydia ...
ACTION.
No matter what I do, I'm always gonna be too late.
ACTION.
his voice gets a little quiet. ]
You can't dwell on the people you couldn't save.
ACTION.
[ Logical Lydia has taken a vacation and put Kira out of her mind. Allison's back. She's thinking about Allison, and the specter colors her ability to be reasonable in this. ]
ACTION.
ACTION.
ACTION.
ACTION.
ACTION.
ACTION.
ACTION.
ACTION.
ACTION.
ACTION.
ACTION.