Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 8:36 pm Post subject: The Body Snatchers
Warning: Adult language below. Also, if unfamiliar with the process, writing in first person is hard.
That morning started pretty typically; the alarm went off, I slapped it and I rolled over. Everyone knows I'm not a morning person. I often make deals with myself, sometimes promise my right arm to whatever higher power might doubtfully be listening if I can just stay in bed for another hour. When I lived at home I regularly had to be dragged from the bed, by the leg, just to get me up for school. Once or twice my father actually resorted to throwing a cold, wet facecloth on my head to get a response from me. Needless to say that never went down particularly well. On those rare occasions I merely threw the sopping material back at him, and surrendered once again to lovely, lovely sleep, wet face and all.
I reached out, half asleep, and felt around the empty side of the bed. Of course, Chuckles was already up, had been for hours. No doubt he'd hopped out of the bed and gone happily about his morning routine. Chuckles didn't need an alarm. He woke up five minutes before he was due to, every bloody morning. Chuckles is a morning person. It baffles me; it's all he can do not to leap up and click his heals together when he vacates the warm, cosy bed every morning. He gets dressed, has his Wheetabix and heads off to work, humming a merry tune as he does so. Weird.
Back into sleep I fell, as I always do, and as he always does Chuckles calls roughly an hour before I'm due in work. And as always I answer my phone in my pleasant, bubbly way.
“Fuck off.” I contemplated turning my phone off, but then I knew I wouldn't get up and I'd be late for work. Such the dilemma really.
“Are you awake?” He asked me, as though he doesn't know the answer already. I could hear the background noise of the busy delivery office where he works, where I had once worked. I winced as the shouts and roars and teasing of the predominantly male environment came through the speaker.
“I am now,” I replied, my tone bad tempered.
Now I have to say here that I'm not always that cranky. It's solely a morning issue I have. As soon as I manage to raise myself from the bed, hop into the shower and get a cup of coffee into me I'm all sweetness and light. A regular pageant contestant. Mostly.
After Chuckles wished me a good day I clasped the phone shut and held it in my hand while I mustered up the enthusiasm to move. Then the delicious thought occurred to me; it was Friday. Not only was it Friday, but I was meeting one of my oldest and best friends that evening after work for a liquid beginning to a winning weekend. These thoughts spurred me into action.
Quick shower and change later I was in the kitchen, gulping down a coffee and forcing one of those mini chocolate bars into my mouth. I never ate a proper breakfast. I never gave myself enough time. And that would probably also explain why I was always starving by 11am. Nevertheless I left our place with more of a spring in my step than usual, fueled by coffee and cocoa and thoughts of winding down that evening after a long week full of work and an oddly large amount of bills. Blatantly I remembered the broadband bill, lying with it's other billy companions on the hall floor. Strangely enough I always paid my broadband and phone bill first, before even those necessities like electricity and gas. This was probably because I knew I couldn't live without them, and lived in constant fear of getting cut off.
I walked passed my own parking space, where the Jerk in the Merc from next door was, as usual, parked. I decided to forgo my usual barrage of muttered cursings in his direction as I walked around the corner to where my own baby was sitting. I didn't want to ruin what seemed to be a growing good mood. And I have to admit, even after two months, my new car still managed to draw a smile from me.
She was a Mini Cooper called Ginge. She was red with white stripes, and something I'd wanted since I was a kid. Having nabbed the job I'd been gunning for a couple of months ago I'd decided to push the boat out and buy one. Although the repayments were crippling and seriously eating into my social fund I didn't care. I loved her and she loved me. I swear, she purred when I drove her.
I stepped into her and gunned the ignition. Grinning to myself I switched the radio on, put her into first gear and took her out of our small estate. I drove, half listening to the background noise of the radio and thought, as I generally did when I was driving, about one or two of my prevalent characters and possible storylines. I tend to get the majority of my creative thinking done while I drive. It is one of those activities you can do on autopilot, and as normal, my mind drifts when I'm not giving my full concentration to anything in particular. And as can be expected, bad things can happen when you don't give an activity that can go so wrong, so quickly, your full attention. That lesson I would have to learn the hard way.
I didn't notice the stop sign at the junction. I was driving too fast and by the time I realised what was happening it was too late to apply the breaks. The other car came from my left, it had the right of way, and I inconsiderately hit the side of it at speed. After that time seemed to slow. Those stories I'd heard about people in accidents, when they said time stood still and they were detached from their own bodies, looking down at the scene from outside, well, now I could relate. The car I'd hit started to spin, and my head hit the steering wheel. My last thought was that my lovely new Ginge had faulty airbags.
*
When I woke up it was quickly, and with a start. My first thought was that I was actually awake, and that I was alive. I sat up quickly, my hands touching my face and my legs kicking. If I was horribly disfigured or paralyzed I wanted to know immediately. My second thought was that I was naked on a bed that wasn't my own, in a room that wasn't in my house or even in a hospital. Also, my legs looked weird. They didn't look like mine; they were too tanned. The generally temperate climes of Ireland left me pale usually and my skin hardly sun kissed. I bent my knees slowly and then straightened both legs. They felt different. Come to think of it, my face felt different too. Perhaps I was injured in the crash, and that was why my face felt alien to my touch, perhaps it was swollen. Or I'd had to undergo surgery to repair any damage the steering wheel had done. Maybe that's why my legs felt different. They obviously weren't my own and they'd been transplanted.
I shook my head fervently, dispelling any such notions. Human technology certainly hadn't developed that far. The motion of my head caused loose strands of blonde hair to fall over my bare shoulders. I breathed a sigh of relief. I still had hair, they didn't shave it so I didn't have brain damage. I frowned, wriggling my alien toes. Apart from a niggling sense of disassociation I felt fine. In fact, I felt fantastic. No headache, no obvious trauma, full use of my limbs. I must have been out for a long time.
The niggling feeling only grew as I looked around the small, cramped bedroom. At least that was what I assumed it was. It was sparsely furnished, with only a small bunk, something that looked like a wardrobe with various items atop, a mirror and a pair of odd looking boots in the center of the room, along with random clothes littered across the floor. They certainly weren't my clothes; not exactly my style. The room itself was strangely familiar, almost as though I'd seen it before. Well I probably had, I had woken up in it after all. I moved cautiously from the bed, pushing myself away from it and walked barefoot toward the mirror with the intention of inspecting myself for any injury.
When I caught sight of my reflection a pair of strange eyes looked back at me. Not my own eyes, but familiar eyes all the same. My heart thumped rapidly in my chest, so hard and so fast I thought I could actually hear it struggling. My wide eyes traveled the length of the foreign body that stood before me in the mirror. Shock settled in as realisation dawned. I was standing there looking at the reflection of a character's play by. I was looking at Tylana. Not only was I looking at her, it appeared I was her. I roughly pinched her. I grabbed a handful of her ass and pinched it hard. I jumped, scared and awed all at once, and stared at the red skin where my hand had been.
“Fuck. Me.” Startled I turned my head back to the mirror. My voice didn't even sound like my voice. It was deeper, huskier than mine. But the accent was the same. It was an odd sound I was producing. So there I was, stuck in Tylana's body, stuck in some convoluted dream I was having. Albeit an extremely surreal but realistic dream. My brain had finally cracked under the pressure of my regular trips to fantasy land and had granted me the wish of permanently putting me there.
I stood, still staring, mouth agape, as I poked and prodded the body I was currently inhabiting. I didn't belong in it. Something was terribly wrong. My own brain's fault or not, it was all wrong. I didn't want to be a character. Sure, there was elements of myself in Tylana, but fundamentally we were very different. She liked to be alone, drinking. I liked to be with other people, drinking. She was a smuggler, a criminal, I was an employment lawyer. She was nifty with knives, I almost chopped my index finger off last week while dicing an onion.
I eventually decided I had no choice but to find out what exactly was going on. First though, I'd have to get dressed. _________________
"Back in black! I hit the sack! I betcha know, I'm glad to be back. I'm-"
"Shut the fuck up!" I muttered as I grabbed the blue Razor phone, opened it up and deactivated the alarm. Looking at the time I grimaced. Four o'clock in the mornin...thank you Muhammed for dawn prayers. Don't get me wrong, I'm a religious person, especially since I converted to Islam a few months ago, but seriously, is it too unreasonable to just let me sleep? Not like I don't have to get up early enough for school anyway. Muttering to myself under my breath and not meaning any of them, I went and jumped in the shower, did my usual thing, hit the jew-fro twice with shampoo, once with conditioner, soaped down the rest, rinse hair and body, turn off shower, get out, dry off, get dressed. Jeans and a t-shirt, that's my dress code. The shirt was black with a large picture of Eddie, the mascot for Iron Maiden on the front of it. After that I did my morning prayer; I won't bore you with the details cuz if you're a Muslim then you know them and if you're not you probably don't care.
Now it was about five in the morning, and I didn't have to be at school until seven-thirty. Wonderful. Of course I did what any other American teenager would do this early in the morning. I went downstairs and took over the computer. Email, nothing new. Star Wars Enchanments bore a few new replies, I read through those but I still had to wait on a few more people before I could reply with Darin. After that it was off to glorious Facebook.com, the god of wasting time. I went and got my little brother up at six, went back fifteen minutes later to bodily drag him from his bed before I returned downstairs. Seven o'clock and it was time to go. Trevor was ready, I was ready, I stepped in to my mom's room and woke her up long enough to tell her I was leaving and that I had to work that night, five to nine as usual, thank you Sears. Grabbed my backpack, hustled my little brother out of the door and got him into my car...a wonderful lukewarm Arkansan August morning. Keys in the ignition twisted, the kick of my car's engine starting covering up my brief utterance of praise to God, "Alhamdulilah." Letting my car slide down the driveway, I was at school in five minutes.
Trevor was out of the car, I was headed for my locker, another boring day at Lakeside High School. And of course something just had to go wrong. "Hey raghead!" Oh boy. I've never been a calm person. Even when I was a little kid I was easily excitable. Now I'd endured comments and remarks about my religion for the past month, but this was personal. I was not wearing anything on my head. I turned, dropping my bag from my shoulders in one smooth motion. I was confronted by two large guys the grade below me, both of them on the football team. Fuck. I'm a runner, not a linebacker. But I had something they didn't. I was highly pissed. "Say somethin' 'bout my religion again asshole."
Now for the monkey show. The first guy got up in my face as some people feel wont to do. "You callin' me an asshole little boy?"
"Did I stutter cocksucker?"
That set it off, and he was close, perfect. I waited on him to draw his fist back to punch, just long enough for it to be clear on the school's cameras that I was defending myself. I coiled and uncoiled my legs, jumping straight up, my skull smashing into his big stupid face. Of course, I had forgotten his friend, and that one's fist was waiting for me when I came down. He caught me square in the forehead. My head rocked back, cracked against the lockers behind me, and I fell forward, head slamming a third time into the concrete floor, and the rest was black.
* * *
I awoke immediately, my hands by reflex going to my left hip. That was wierd, I've always been quick on the uptake, but I don't think I've ever kept anything important on my left hip. As I opened my eyes and looked around, I began to get worried. This was not my room, nor was it a hospital room or the school infirmary. Hanging up in a corner was a set of black clothes, with black boots underneath. I got up, and immediately my entire body felt charged by some unseen force. I was only wearing a pair of boxers, but I felt like I could take on the world. I took stock of my body, or rather, what appeared to be my body. I was pale, but my skin was now tan and leathery. I shook my head and froze, long strands of straight brown hair flew in front of my face. My hair was curly and not nearly this long. Something was off. Immediately I sprinted to the nearby mirror and nearly fell over. Looking back from the glass was the face of Darin Morviro Saine.
"How in God's name...?" My voice, Darin's voice trailed off. Except I guess it was mine now. Deeper and smoother than my own, this was so wierd. Nothing for it now though, I had to get dressed before I went anywhere. The robes fit like a glove, as well they should, I had imagined them that way. The last piece was the metal cylinder on the dresser. I knew what it was. A lightsaber. Darin had control of the Force, the ability to use one of those with ease, but that didn't necessarily mean that I could even turn it on without skewering myself. Well there was only one thing for it. I decided a test was in order. Standing where I was, I reached my right hand out and focused on the saber. I reached for it with the Force, the way I'd always written Darin doing it, but this was different. I focused intensely, but nothing. I grew frustrated, and as my anger grew I just let go and yanked for it. The saber flew into my hand, Darin's thumb instinctively hitting the stub, the blood red blade spewing forth from the emitter. It was so light, I swung it around a few times, and was relieved to see that while my mind was my own, Darin's body still retained the muscle memory required to use the weapon. There was that out of the way, but the fact remained that the Force overall was entirely mental. I had to figure out a way to overcome that obstacle. Then it hit me. Darth Bane's holocron, it was kept in the Serpent's cargo hold. That was my first stop....
The hard plastic of my earphones hurt my ears, but I paid little attention as I readjusted myself into a more comfortable position at the dinning room table. Yeah I know, I keep telling myself I need to buy new ones but I just haven’t felt the drive to head over to Walmart. When they finally stop working, then I’ll get new ones. No need to waste money I don’t have. Yet. Payday tomorrow, looking forward to that. I drug my bare feet up to rest in the table’s legs and meander over my usual routine. My laptop is my life when I’m not working and do the ritual check email and games. Nothing new, not like there would be in the last half hour. I can hear my brother’s music from the back of the house, even over my own but I tune it out. It’s late, nearly 1 in the morning and it’s just me and him. Moms pulling a 24 hour shift and gram decided to visit her brother in the city. Couldn’t ask for a quieter night.
Meh, bored. I roll my eyes at myself, at least I’m working on that. Mocha’s relaxing beside me, attempting to lay across the keyboard and I shove the cat aside, making grumpy noises. “I can’t type with you on my arm.” She ignores me, typical cat. I give up and just work around her, singing off key to the new song of the week that’s stuck in my head. Bored again, I know I am when I start playing with my braid. Braiding and unbraiding the little bit that’s loose, I can’t seem to remember when I exactly started and why it’s become second nature. Heh, I drive everyone crazy with it. Mmmmm. I made random noises to entertain myself and watch my cat’s ears twitch in response. My feet go down to the linoleum floor and I give my back a rest, slouching a little as I return to my exciting moment with my hair.
“I think I should go to bed.” No ones there to answer me, but I’ve gotten used to talking to myself. We usually get along but when we start fighting, then it’s awkward when we cross each other’s paths. Like in the bathroom. Righto, I know it’s time for bed when I start making jokes in my head. I unplug my earphones and hook them into my iPod, still that damn Smashing Pumpkin’s song. I put ol’ Lappy to sleep, that’s my laptops name... I like her name, and stand up. The table is kinda messy but its become my permanent desk until I move. Switching off the lights, I head into the kitchen for a glass of water and the ice machine rumbles and spits out a melted ice cube. I jump, because no matter how many times it does it, I’m always surprised.
The ice cube hits the floor and shatters into a couple of pieces and I ignore it until I get my water. Why bother making a second trip to grab a paper towel. Of course I make it hard on myself by doing it in the dark but the light switch is far enough away and I tend to cut corners, which makes me accident prone. You’d think I’d learn at my age, but it’s either that stubborn German streak in me or random stupidity that makes me refuse to bend. Then again it could be some combination of the two, then I don’t really have a chance. Water in hand, I took a sip and grab some paper towels and head in the direction I think the ice cubes are. I find them with my bare feet. Jumping back, I step on my cat whose managed to tangle herself in my legs when she’s hungry. She screeched, I stumbled forward, the water in my glass went flying and in an attempt to righten myself I hit another ice cube and my feet going flying from under me. I don’t even see it coming but I feel the impact of my forehead on the counter. I didn’t really think it was possible, but I swear I saw little bright stars behind my eyelids.
My body hits the floor with a dull thud and I can’t think beyond the sharp splitting pain between my eyes. I’m still clutching my empty cup of water as if it were a lifeline and made a vague attempt to move from laying on my face. My glasses are shoved so far up on my nose, they actually stop the tears that are streaming from my eyes. I manage to lift my cup holding hand and push, moving my head up a little and the pain explodes, spreading along my skull down my spine and I made a noise in the back of my throat as I feel my entire body flush with heat and grow numb. And then, I didn’t feel anything.
It was the smell of urine that brought me around. Strong and… pee like, I snap awake and instantly regret it as my head pounds. Jesus, I thought. Tell me I didn’t just pee on myself. Through the throbbing pain, I reach down and feel, just to make sure. Dry. A part of me is thankful as I open one eye then the other slowly. Darkness greeted me and I can remember bits and piece of what happened. “Stupid cat,” I mutter before coughing at the dryness. I sound horrible and as I run my tongue across my teeth to check for missing ones, I have a strangely sweet aftertaste. I move my arms and legs gingerly, each movement bringing back the throbbing ache and nausea. Oh great, just what I need. A chance to throw up.
Slowly, very, very slowly I reached up to my face and touched along my forehead carefully. Nothing, no blood, no egg, not even skull fragments. Save for a nasty headache, I think I’m okay. I winced anyways at what could have happened before I grope for my glasses. They aren’t on my face and I must have knocked them off when I turned onto my back. I can’t see spit without them and I decide laying in the middle of the kitchen isn’t the best place to be and carefully roll to my side and immediately roll right off something. I don’t have time to react as the ground meets me and I’m flat on my face again. I groan, there’s nothing more then I can do as the brief shock subsides, more pain, this time my right knee like I smacked it hard on something.
“Good going there, graceful.” My voice echoes in the dark and I swear I taste dirt. Spitting, this time I force myself up, pushing on hands and knees to flop back on my behind and pause to let the headache run it’s course. Okay, okay, I tell myself. We’re cool. We’re just going to sit here for a little while then stand, turn on the lights and grab your glasses then bathroom. I probably had a black eye or something. I squinted a little as my vision finally works through the pitch black to pick up shapes and I make part of the dinning room table out. A chair. Good, I’ll sit there. Forgoing my previous plan, I rose like a ungraceful baby giraffe and stumble around on my feet. Spreading my arms, I hold position as I’m thrown off by my vision. Maybe that was an inkling to a problem, my depth perception went to crap. Dropping my head, I absently push my hair back and catch my fingers in something sticky.
“Ugh, what the…” I wiped my hand on my shirt and make my way towards the table, running into it about half way there. My hands touch the table and I realize it’s not the table but… what the hell was it? I bend down slightly and realize it’s a sink. What am I doing in the bathroom? My hand goes for the light switch but all I find is a slick wall. I go back to touching everything on the sink like I’m blind and I hear the water flick on, filling the basin. Shoving my hands under the cold water I hit my face with it, attempting to shake the headache and clear my vision. A part of me knows it’s way too dark in here even if it late. The window would have let in some light. That and the toilet was on the wrong side of the sink. Things don’t feel right, I got shoes on but I distinctly remember being barefoot. My baggy shirt and sweats feel tighter and heavier and my hair’s not braded. My hair is never unbraided unless I’m washing it.
I looked up and leaned forward to see myself in the mirror but all I can make out is a vague outline of me. Suddenly the lights above me flicker on and I’m staring into the face of a stranger. I yelp and reel back at the same time and the back of my knees hit something and I fold to sit down on a hard surface. Twisting my head, I fight closing my eyes against the sudden change in light and grasp why I couldn’t bloody see. I wasn’t in my kitchen or bathroom or even my freaking house! It could only describe it as a metal box. Four walls, no windows, a sink and mirror and what I assumed was a bench that I was sitting on. My mouth opens but nothing comes out so instead I fall back on the age old pointing at random things.
I think I stopped breathing when my hand comes into focus and I tell myself it’s a play on lighting. The normal fleshy color of my skin had been upped a notch to resemble a hue of yellow or pale orange. Gold? I don’t know but it’s a inhuman color mixed a streak of gray that cuts across my large knuckles. I vaguely note I’m not wearing my promise ring but I’m more absorbed in the strange color. My other hand pops up and it’s the same damn color. And freakin’ huge! I look down at the monotone clothing and then my hands are on my body, touching everything. Nothing feels right and I can feel my chest tighten.
Across the room, the door I didn’t notice creaks and swings open to illuminate a man. I look up at him just as he raises something in his hands. I scrambled back and covered my head with my hands.
“Dunavila Masunati.” His bored voice doesn’t quite penetrate my attempt at protecting myself. “Dunavila Masunati.” He repeats, this time sounding agitated. He sighed and taped his foot at me before he raised his hand and threw a blanket at me. I cringe as it collides against my side and grab at it to realize it’s not a blanket, but a coat. “Your bail came in, you’re free to go.”
I look up at him and I’m sure I have the dumbest look on my face. There’s absolutely no recognition as I attempt to put a face to a name. “Bail?” I repeated. My voice still sounded scratchy and raw. “I don’t know what I’m doing he-“
“Obviously ma’am,” the stranger replied. “You’ve had enough time to sleep off your drunk tirade, you best get on your way.”
I nod, it’s really the only thing I can do. Oh sure, I could have asked a million questions but they all formed a jumbled mess in my head and the man was already becoming impatient with my stalling. Drawing my feet under me, I stood and pulled the coat over my arm, the patchwork affect of the stitching oddly familiar. My legs are shaking when I cross the small room and casually glance around me at the odd room and I nearly hurt myself as my legs freeze, nearly sending myself jerking forward. I collide into the sink, gripping the edges with my hands as I stare at the face in the mirror. The gold skin, the hair, the eyes, the scars. My voice came out in a tight whisper. “Ho, shit.”
“Miss Masunati?”
Yeah… that was me. “No way.” _________________ Work Schedule
September 19th, 8AM - September 22nd, 8AM (72 hours without net access)
Joined: 22 Mar 2008 Posts: 61 Location: The Final Frontier
Posted: Wed Jul 30, 2008 6:08 am Post subject:
OOC: I decide to do a little twist, hope you guys find it ok
I consider the computer another extension of myself. I realized this sad fact of life when sitting in technology and culture class, and our professor asked us "to what level does technology affect your life". Well to be honest, many of my activities are done via the computer, or better yet, the world wide web. I liken the loss of internet access to the loss of air. I feel like I'm being suffocated. When I was a kid we didn't have this fancy tool, and I was like anyone else. When I did receive a computer with internet access, my life was forever changed. I was a curious person; but not only is the internet's capabilities information gathering, but also information exchange. Actually, I probably IM people more than I talk to them on the cell phone. Weird? Maybe. But its who I am. I could spend hours on wikipedia looking things up and another godless hour on youtube watching videos, and I still maintain a relativity normal social life. I think. Reality and "normal social life" comes crashing down to you especially when your friends start getting on your nerves.
I hear the distinct vibration of my cell phone on my desk in my dorm. Its Kyle. Who else. I pick it up.
"Yo."
The usual guy greeting I get from him. Ironically, though he is friendly and courteous to most people he doesn't know, he's the exact opposite with his closest friends. You wont get a handshake of "hello" or "goodbye" from him. Its probably from his need to seem cool through being tough, but he fails miserably, and just makes himself look like a jackass.
"Yo." I mirror.
"Yo dude what are you doing? We're here at the student center get your ass over here man. Stop being a nerd."
I roll my eyes. "I'll finish this up quickly."
In reality I would meet my meeting time with my friends, but my roleplaying posts take up my time. When I start on one post, for the majority of the times I actually try to finish it in one sitting. My writing portion of my brain is like my physical body at the gym; once I get it going, I go until I stop. This kind of helps when school essays come, because unlike most people especially my roomate, I do a 7-8 page paper in around 4 hours in one sitting, and still manage to get a B+. I'm forced to stop this post, so I copy and paste and save it. Thankfully the student center is right next door, I so I head out. Upon stepping outside I immediately notice the heavy, dark clouds up ahead. Half of the sky is still filled with the tranquility of this morning; however the darker storm clouds of the afternoon are heading this way, and fast. The two extremes clashed with each other in the sky. The clouds swarmed in the sky like a pack of vultures, heading my way. I actually like thunderstorms, but not when I was to walk through them.
The student center was mildly packed as usual. There are alot of people that go to my school, part of the reason I go there, so I'm not surprised. I sit down at a table my friends are at. Kyle, Brandon, Chris and Neil are all there. The usual gang. I sit down at the table. Their eyes meet mine in a silent acknowledgment of presence. I wondered if the conversation tonight was going to be intelligent or moronic. I battled with myself; part of me wanted the conversation to be intelligent, I was in the mood for some philosophic talk, mixed in with Brandon's paranoia - driven conspiracy theories.
"I'm telling you man, theyre coming for us. I'm flagged...ever since going to infowars, my shits been flagged."
Oh no. Its Brandon's conspiracy theory talk. What started this tirade?
Chris shook his head. "I dont know what youre talking about dude. Thats bull they wont flag you."
Kyle just shook his head with a slight little grin of "Brandon's crazy." on his lips. We usually just shake our heads after Brandon gives a bit of his conspiracy theories on us.
"You just shake your heads guys, but just listen to Alex Jones, theres alot more to it than what you realize. We're in deep trouble man, I'm not kidding."
I couldnt help but suppress a little giggle at Brandon's remarks. Out of all of us in the group, I laugh the most. What can I say? I love humor. My fist went up to my chin as my head lowered. "Heheh...."
"How could you be so sure?" Kyle retorted. "I dont believe that there are really some people that are really that evil that they want to take over the world in cold blood."
Brandon leered toward Kyle, with a wide expression over his eyes. "Come on dude, dont be so naive! Are you kidding me?"
It was time for me to chip in. "I'd have to agree with Brandon here." Kyle leaned back in his chair to this statement and shook his head.
I usually chime in after everyone else had their say. Though I know this probably isn't true, I consider myself the voice of reason within the 5 of us. Whether or not that was true, well, I guess thats up to discussion. In reality. in comparison to the rest of the members of our group, I didnt know all that much about everyone else. I had been recently introduced to my new friends through Kyle, who I had known ever since the first day in college. Its a wonder what singing along to Guns and Roses does to how you bond with people. They were all childhood friends, who had grown up together from the same High School, so they knew much more about themselves than I did. But I pick up quick.
"So was the party at our house really that successful?"
Kyle's question struck a chord within me and I was broken away from my thoughts. My eyes narrowed. Was he being negative again? Kyle had the tendency of being overly pessimistic at times.
"Of course it was." chimed Chris.
"But, so many people came that we knew already, but I want to meet new people..." started Kyle.
I let out a little growl. We had been over this conversation many times, and it was really getting on my nerves. They had recently gotten a house on campus, and had their first party there. I had fun, but Kyle was skulking over the fact that it was people that we had already seen and thus had no further "use" of seeing them. Kyle's constant pessimism lately was really getting on my nerves, and I decided to excuse myself from the table.
"I'm tired of this guys. I'm gonna head outside for a little bit."
As I neared the doors that lead outside I could see that it was already raining, but my slight frustration led me to head outside into the thunderstorm. A clap of thunder. and a flash of lightning. I actually dont mind rain all that much - in fact, it was kind of fun to get wet, and kind of sexy at the same time. I walked outside. The thunder rain immediately hit me, drenching in water, as I closed my eyes. I could hear the pitter patter of the rain, sounding like a thousand little feet stamping the ground. There was another loud clap of thunder that shook the ground, and my eyes flew open in surprise. The skies above me rumbled in white hot anger. The thunder cell was right over me, and it was not happy. The storm was getting really bad, and lightning flashed before my eyes. Should I head back inside?
I turned to head back inside, but a super strong blast of wind hit me hard, and I temporarily lost balance. I hit the wet ground hard, and another large, deep clap of thunder rattled the skies above me. Before I could react, a blast of lightning hurtled down from the clouds, striking the student center.
"Holy shit!"
I scrambled back to my feet and the skies shook above me. I barely reached the door, when a loud screaming sound pierced my ears, and I looked up. All I could see was a white flash, and then pain enveloped me, the world spun, and I fell. The sharp pain eveloped everything, my ears, my nose, my mouth, and the piercing sounds crashed into my ears. And then the white turned to black.
-----------
Am I dead?
Apparently not. Eventually the world was revealed to me, as I opened my eyes, and I woke up, springing up from my spot on the bed in a flash. My eyes were wide, and I was breathing quickly, as if I was previously sleeping. I closed my eyes and rubbed my hands over my closed eyelids, trying to remember what happened. I was hanging out with my friends and I got frustrated about some stupid argument, so I went outside in the thunderstorm and then...something happened. All went black. My eyes crossed the room. My room. What the fuck?
In fact, as I turned my head to the right I glazed over glass, a window to what appeared to be space. Space. I was in a ship in space. Oh, well thats dandy!
This was not my dorm room.
Ive got to be dreaming. I pinch myself. Seems real enough. Only I look at my skin, and that it isn't my skin. It seems more wrinkly...old...
I look out again and look at the vast regions of space, taking all the sights and sounds in. I seemed to be in some sort of compartment room, and had what appeared to be some medical equipment. Maybe a sick bay? Nobody else was in the room however, and I hopped out of bed. Or tried to. My muscles seemed much more stiffer, more rigid, and I almost slipped and fell. I seemed to have totally lost my agilitly. I was a 20 year old guy in his prime.
"What the fuck?"
My hand went over my mouth. That was NOT my voice. This voice, in particular, was a mixture of some sort of Scottish accent, from some actor that I couldnt pull his name out of my garbeled head on the moment. I decided to move to the mirror. I seemed to move slower, as if my muscles weren't strong enough, or deteriorated in some fashion. I peered into the mirror.
"Holy shit!"
I gaped at myself. I wasnt myself. I was someone else. I had a robe on, had a significant hunch, but most importantly my face looked like a cross of an old Sean Connery and Christopher Lee. My voice apparently had also borrowed goold ol Sean's Scottish accent. And for some odd reason, I keep obsessing over some sort of scroll or something...this scroll keeps on popping into my mind -
Oh no.
Now I knew who I was. This time my imagination had really done it. I was a retired old roleplaying character named "Karov". He was an old villian I created for a fantasy board long ago. He was rather incomplete and did not fit the role. Besides being the normal power hungry, menacing bad guy, he more or less seemed to evoke sympathy from readers, maybe from his demeanor of being an old man needing some fresh kicks or laughs, or maybe from having some sort of resemblance to Sean Connery. Perhaps it was the fact that he never really got all that ruthless against the good guys and refrained from torture. Or maybe it was a mix of both, with the Scottish accent mixed in somewhere. Regardless, Karov was a strange villian at that, and totally incomplete. I didnt even have his full history down pat, must explain why my memories didnt seem to surface all too well.
"Shit."
My Scottish accent echoed around the room and I suppressed a nervous giggle. Oh gosh, this was fucking weird. I mean, really weird. I couldnt believe I was an old man. Where was my skin...my strong bones...my muscle! All gone. I had white hair. I had wrinkly skin. I walked with a hunch. I opened up my pants.
"Damn." I muttered.
But couldnt Karov do magic?
Indeed, I did write him in as a powerful mage, so could I...?
I extended my hand, and began to summon...something. I imagined fire in my head, and imagined fire in my hands. Eventually, I could feel th eheat coming into my hands...heat...getting hotter and hotter...hotter...
"Ouch!" My eyes snapped open in surprise as a real fucking FLAME burst out of my hand. Holy shit. I inherited Karov's magical talent. I looked around, my heart beating faster, and started to have some sort of pseudo panic attack as the realization set in. But I didnt want to be Karov! I wanted to be myself, not some Scottish-Sean Connery-fireball-weidling-half-villian-nutjob with a penchant for finely cooked duck. I looked around. Where was I?
Obviously not in Karov's natural enviroment. Karov was in medieval fantasy, and would never reach space. Looking around the sort of medical bay, my eyes fell upon some sort of badge or symbol. I walked closer.
“Fuck me running sideways!” For the tenth time I cursed as the drone’s training blaster singed my left shoulder. While Darin’s body was in tune with the Force, I had to accustom my mind to it, which was something totally different. Earlier, I had run through a series of physical trials that would have left me falling over and gasping for air, and Darin’s body just ended up sweaty. I guess I had never realized just how in shape I had made this dude. And while I had also made him amazing with the Force and a lightsaber, once again, my own teenage mind was having trouble compensating for this. And so, I had dedicated the past few hours to fooling around with the various holocrons Darin had collected over the years, and while I was a good ways away from frying people with lightning or dicing up a Jedi Knight with a lightsaber, I could pick up rather large objects and I was working on the lightsaber bit.
“One more time,” I muttered to myself under my breath. I ignited Darin’s lightsaber again, still relishing the thrum of the hilt in my hands and the buzz of the blood red blade. I did exactly what I had done earlier when I grabbed the lightsaber off the desk: I let my emotions out, my anger, my sorrow, everything. And I followed the droid with my eyes. I felt so alive, completely and totally alive. It was like nothing I had ever experienced, the biggest adrenaline rush in the world couldn’t compare with that sense of sheer and absolute power that I felt coursing through my entire body like a giant electrical current. Last time I had managed to barely block two shots before getting hit. This time it was different. I don’t know if it was my total give-in to my emotions or if I was actually getting better at this, but of the five shots the drone fired at me, four bounced off the blade into the blank walls of the training room, and the fifth smacked the bastardly sphere dead on as it was moving, and those things move fucking quick.
Putting my lightsaber away, I pondered where to go from here. Darin himself knew very few people in this world well enough to actually have contact with them, but I knew the names and ship registries of the other players. Sure they’d probably get freaked out being contacted by a Sith out of the blue, but some company was better by far than none at all. As I plopped into the pilot seat of the Serpent, I was relieved to see that even this far ahead of what I considered “modern” technology, pilot controls still hadn’t changed so drastically that I wasn’t able to figure most of this stuff on my own. I was no crack pilot, and probably never would be, but I could fly the ship.
Thinking on who to contact first, I considered it in terms of the player rather than the character. Ty was on vacation, and since she also played DeVall, that ruled two birds out with one stone. The two twi’lek sisters were an option, but given the choice I’d much rather work with one person rather than two. Of the people whom I’d had Darin interacting with so far, that left only one option: Dunavila Musanati. I pulled up the ship computer and punched in The Golden Moon’s reg and license number, and told the computer to do a search for the ship. As expected, only one was found, and it was in the Ziost system, on the planet of the same name. At first I thought this odd, but then I remembered that Vil was constantly landing herself in jail.
Laughing I pulled up the navcomputer and had it plot a course for the Ziost system, just outside of the planet’s gravity well. And I kicked on the stealth generator just in case. Those Imps were very rarely friendly about newcomers, and I didn’t really feel like testing my piloting skills against TIE’s and Star Destroyers. The ship accelerated at an unbelievable rate, the stars turning to lines before everything just went blue. Now all there was to it was to wait. And train of course.
My precursory rummage through Tylana's wardrobe revealed she had odd taste. Well I should have known that already; she was my character and firmly ensconced in the Star Wars universe after all. I eventually decided on the lesser of the evil garments. A white tank top and a pair of black trousers that appeared to be made from something akin to leather did the trick, accompanied by the black boots. As far as the footwear was concerned it didn't appear I had much else to chose from as Tylana almost always gravitated toward them lately. After one more bemused glance in the mirror I turned away from the reflective glass, unsure of what might happen in this unpredictable world if I continued to stare.
Hands on my hips I circled the room and continued my investigation. Lying on the floor beside the head of the bunk I spotted two objects that caused my heart to race again, this time not with fear or confusion, but with childlike excitement. Two belts. One a harness containing Tylana's signature throwing knives, another a belt containing her blaster. “Now we're talking!” I exclaimed loudly, to nobody in particular, not an abnormal occurrence really. I covered the distance in a couple of strides and bent down to grab a hold of the weapons. I sat on the bunk, bouncing slightly as I did, and stared wondrously at the objects in my hand. Putting the knives to one side on the unmade bed I firstly concentrated on the blaster. It felt strange to look upon the futuristic weapon in my hand, yet it didn't feel unfamiliar in my grasp. I extended my arm and held out the blaster, lazily painting a target across the room. I pulled it back closer to me again and studied the power read out. It looked exactly how I remembered, how I imagined. With a grin I put the gun down and moved on to the Zeeda throwing knives.
They were something else altogether. Holding one in my hand I ran my fingers over the sharp edges, marveling at the slight grooves and the glint of the extraordinarily shaped steel. Between thumb and forefinger I held one of the knives, and with a flick of my wrist and a slight follow through I threw the knife, reveling in the natural feel of the action as it embedded itself in the offending wardrobe. I stared, delighted with my new discovery. Not only had I woken up in a character's body, but I had that character's skill too. For the very first time I found myself wishing Tylana had a lightsaber, then I could have fulfilled all of my nerdy aspirations at once. Still grinning like a kid on Christmas morning I attached the harness across my back, just to try it on for size. It was quite lightweight, and for that fact I was pleased. After some thought I overcame the urge to pose in the mirror and ask my reflection if it was “lookin' at me, punk!?”
Once I had left the confines of the captain's quarters I spent some time wandering around the Truant, reaching out and touching bulkheads, exploring the corridors. I even took a trip down to the cargo hold which was, at that point, empty but for a few random containers. It was down there, as I walked the medium sized, cavernous hold, that I encountered my first member of that very different universe.
He had, essentially, headbutted me in the rear. Gasping in surprise I turned quickly to find out who was accosting my new body. A series of bleeps caused me not to look up, but down, where I clocked a red and white dome of an R2 unit. “...Knuckles?” I asked incredulously, for in the distraction of my current situation I had forgotten completely that he existed. While I know that Tylana could not understand the droid, I also know that she could gather the gist of his meaning from certain tones. From his response to my surprise I gathered that it was rude. But then, Knuckles was almost always rude to Tylana. He was rude to everyone. Randomly I wondered why she kept him around, and then I remembered that she really had no control over anything, I did. It was paradoxically confusing. Rubbing the side of my face I vacated the cargo hold, ignoring Knuckles and totally lost in thought.
I had left the very best of the tour until last. The cockpit. Once again my nerdar threatened to go off scale as I approached the small room with the big chairs, blinking controls and star filled viewscreen. For a while I just stood there, taking everything in. It was then I realised that this wasn't a dream, it wasn't some freaky parallel universe my coma addled brain had placed me in to ease my transition to vegetable city. It was really happening to me. Somehow. And that was what spurred me into action.
I took a seat in the captain's chair and began to work. I pinpointed the Truant's exact location. I brought up a holographic map of nearby star systems and wracked my brain, trying to think of someone, anyone that I might know in the vicinity. According to my logic, if this was happening to me it could be happening to anyone. Mentally I ran through a list of the people I role-played with on SWE, the only site on which I used Tylana. Pinpointing the locations of many of those characters would not be easy. Independents kept on the move, rarely staying in one place at any one time.
“Space,” I said to the empty cockpit. “Is big.” I inputted coordinates into the navicomputer. “In space,” I continued to myself, “No one can hear you scream.” Chuckling away I engaged the hyperdrive, bound for a planet where I knew one particular person would be, happy in the knowledge that I still possessed the ability to crack myself, if nobody else, up. _________________
Joined: 22 Mar 2008 Posts: 61 Location: The Final Frontier
Posted: Sat Aug 02, 2008 7:52 am Post subject:
You'd be surprised at how I am easily amused. After the initial shock of arriving in Karov's body, I had began to sit on the bunk in the medical bay I found myself in and stared in the mirror. Eventually, I got bored staring in the mirror at myself and began to make strange and funny faces at myself for the next hour. Karov's face had a weird way of accenting the wrinkles on himself when he smiled, and how outrageously strange his beard was constructed. After finally getting bored with the preliminary accustomedness of Karov's body began to wear off (though I can honestly say I will never fully recover from the hard impact of being in an older body) I decided it was time to find out exactly where I was. However I was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate as Karov's body began to fight my mind. Considering that I had also somehow merged with his mind, I had absorbed his past memories and thoughts. I had written Karov in as obsessed with the Arcanite Scrolls - basically, a bunch of artifacts that would amplify his magical powers and make him one of the most powerful magicians in the world that he was in. These Arcanite Scrolls now manifested themselves in my mind, tugging at the recesses of my already jumbled neurons.
"Come on Karov...the Arcanite Scrolls dont exist in Star Wars..."
I also had written Karov in as a fine enjoyer of the culinary food duck, and of course, I was starting to get hungry. And I was starting to crave duck. Yes, duck. What can I say? I wanted something unique and exotic, so why not duck?
I tried to refocus my mind at the task at hand. Where was I? I was on some sort of medical bay, on an unknown ship. I looked at the advanced medical equipment before me. Surprisingly enough, I actually recognized some parts of the futuristic gear - the medpacks were very similar to the medical equipment we used back on earth. I decided to pocket some of the smaller medical supplies - they may come in handy in the future. The rest of the cabin I was in was quite barren; and I was getting the feeling that I was not on any sort of luxury liner. Curious to see where I was, I walked through the sliding door in the front of my room.A long dark hallway spread out before me. Where was I? I walked down the hallway, butterflies coming into my stomach. Where was I? The thought of being long away from home came into my mind, and I realized I was truly on my own here. There was no calling for help, no police or anyone in this part of space. I noticed another blast door at the end of the dark hallway, and entered it.
It was a large room, and I noticed a bunch of Gamorreans at a table in front of me, apparently eating and relaxing. Oh no. Gamorreans. These Gamorreans looked like spelled trouble with a capital T. The dawning of the realization that I may not be in a safe area hit me hard, and butterflies generated in my stomach. Though the idea of action may be appealing to you when you write about it, doing the real thing is something else entirely, especially once the Gamorreans noticed my entrance and stood up. I heard them talk in their pig language, but I could not understand a word they were saying. Luckily, Karov's vision was certainly not failing me, and the motions of them gathering weapons told me that I was not welcome here. In fact, with the surprised looks on their faces, they were visibly spooked; they did not expect me to be here. Therefore, it could be deducted that I was somehow teleported here; of course, the rest is a mystery, and not something I could ponder at the moment, as I now have about four angry Gamorreans holding various vibro weapons looking thoroughly pissed.
"Uhh...hey guys, sorry I'm late for the party..."
I backed up in the hallway in sudden terror as these pig men began advancing on me. Jesus Christ! What the fuck was I supposed to do? I let out a slight gasp as suddenly one of the pig men lunged for me.
I acted without thinking. My hand shot out, and an intense heat swirled into it. I felt the heat intensify, as the powers I held came into my hand. I felt it burst, as my hand lit into flame and a ball of pure fire flew out of my hand straight into charging Gamorrean. It hit him smack dab in the chest, setting him on fire and tumbling backwards in terror. I stood there, absolutely stunned at what had just happened. I couldnt believe it, but I had just casted a spell. And then, I smiled to myself. I had his powers. In fact, I never really specified the boundaries of Karov's magic ability, so I really did not have the knowledge of his true capabilities. What could I could really do, was up for grabs.
In disbelief, the next three Gamorreans charged at me all at once. This time however, I was ready for them. I pulled out in the recesses of Karov's mind an incantation; a particularly powerful spell. This words flowed through my brain like the flowing of a stream of water, smooth and interruptible; proof of Karov's mastery of magic. I was going to have a little fun with these pig men. The words then imprinted themselves in my mind, burning themselves into my brain like light would burn itself into your eyes if you looked into the bright light source for too long. I began to speak words, my voice and mouth now willingly giving themselves up to the magic; and my voice boomed with the magic working itself into my vocal chords; enhancing them and sprinkling them, making them shake and echo with brilliant glory in the room;
Lehmek mah avatar,
Gaktarak noh winduin,
Da cra shek!
My hands outstretched, as I summoned the power of the pure wind to my command. My whole body shook, and my heart raced; I felt like I was on a highly caffeinated drink; it almost felt euphoric. The power of the wind was at my fingertips, and I lifted the Gamorreans off their feet and then began to spin them in the air, faster and faster in a circular motion. Theyre bodies became a blur as I truly gave them the ride of their life.
"Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
I chuckled to myself as I continued to teach these Gamorreans whose boss. I couldnt believe the power at my fingertips, and I couldnt help but take some sadistic enjoyment from scrambling the brains of these Gamorreans. I suspected bits and pieces of Karov's evil and sadistic personality merged with mine, as I must have taken four or five minutes spinning these Gamorreans around in a circle in mid air. When I decided they had enough, I let them drop on the floor. One of them tried to stand up; and then crashed down on the floor, totally off balance. I let out another laugh.
It became clear after this who was the boss in the group, as they quickly learned from that little lesson that I was not one to be trifled with. They now looked at me with a sort of reverence, almost as a god. I quickly took over the ship. The ship turned out to be nothing less than a smuggling freighter. I had no intention of smuggling. Instead, I shall find the Arcanite Scrolls.
Err, what am I thinking? I'm sorry about that. I know they dont exist.
I decided there was only one thing to do. And that was to seek out my character that was created in this world. If this was true, then Jaren should be alive and breathing. Now this was going to be weird. How was Jaren going to act around me? I always had control over him, but now, I dont. I couldnt believe things could get any stranger, but at this rate, I wouldnt be surprised.
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