Journal of Sociology [S!6] - [Round Two: Ryburg Ritz]

Journal of Sociology [S!6] - [Round Two: Ryburg Ritz]
#54
Re: Journal of Sociology [S!6] - [Round One: The Pacific Spire]
Originally posted on MSPA by Palamedes.

Alberich had lot to think about indeed.

There was something to this woman, this... magician, as it were. Just a day ago, Alberich would have laughed at anyone who said sorcery could be real, but now...

He looked down at the prone form of John - his prone form. Calm, unmoving. Just as the gunshot had awoken Doe's more primal side too. The man, dead or not, seemed to hate being wounded more then anything, even if such injuries were superficial and easily dealt with. It usually took remarkably good circumstances for Alberich himself, accustomed to the monster he shared a body with, to avoid such panics without Doe running them into the nearest scent of human blodo, or nearest human should no injuries be nearby, yet Blacklight seemingly controlled John into docility.

Alberich wondered... Blacklight was truely something, something even the wonders of science couldn't explain, couldn't match. Could she possibly restore him to his older state? Could she permanently silence John?

He opened his mouth to ask amongst the gunfire, when suddenly he felt a severe pain in his head, far from the typical headache or migraine from thinking to hard or taking a fall. It was one all too familiar for his liking, especially in his current situation. Doe was hungry.


Blacklight looked over at her unusually silent 'partner'. Usually by now the man had come up with some sort of retort to her, but ever since her little show with Simiel and Jean he hadn't quite been himself.

"Something the matter doctor?"

Blacklight immediately noticed that something was wrong, and that was without her specific talents coming into play. Using them however gave her a much clearer picture of what the exact issue was. The worried look on the mans face gave way to a startling lack of colour, the blue of Alberich von Wissenschaft had faded to almost nothing. In stark contrast, John Doe's red aura had begun to shine even stronger, and the crimson tendrils of his soul seeped into where the doctor's receded from.

Though this change was most certainly dramatic, it shouldn't have been instantaneous. No, the blue had been receding ever since they were forced to run after Victoria to the armory. She had figured it to be nothing more then Alberich finally admitting defeat, but now she chastised herself momentarily for not paying it any mind past that.

"I suppose we can't have that now can we Alberich?"

And like that, she began to work her magic.

Pain pain run away


The intensity of Doe's red aura continued to grow.

Lullabye baby on the rooftop

And grow.

Row row row your boat

And grow.

Stop now please you're hurting yourself

By this point Alberich himself realized there was nothing to be done. He hadn't been through this much movement in a long time, it seemed he had overestimated how long he could go without a meal in a scenario as busy as this one. He tried to get Doe to reach into one of his pockets.

Stop please you're hurting inside

So close. Just a little longer and Doe would be satisfied. A little longer and there would be no need for the doctor to bloody himself just yet.

Stop you're dead inside

Suddenly a shout. A woman slumped over the top of Alberich and Blacklight's makeshift barricade, with a hole in her head large enough to stick a finger in.

You're dead?

The realization hit Blacklight as soon as the scent of blood hit the doctor. John Doe was something entirely different from a normal human. He was a creature so focused on a singular desire, a single purpose, that nothing could distract him when he was close to fully surfacing. Nothing could truly tame a being that has no real drive, no wants, no spark of life other then hunger.


Alberich took the chance he got as soon as he noticed the body fall. Unfortunately, in an office where bloodbaths are as common as rainy days, an effective drainage system is a must. Most of what Alberich needed to appease Doe had already been splattered to the walls anyways, and what was left was almost entirely lost to a grate in the floor in the seconds he took to get to it.

He looked up to see his companion just staring at him. He supposed she hadn't expected someone with as much pride as he had to be licking the ground, but there was of course little he could do about it.


"Alberich..."

"Can't you do something about this? Make him stop before we're both killed!"

Blacklight just edged away slightly.

Alberich stared at the woman. Doe was hungry and she was right there. If they couldn't do something about it things were about to get messy...

It turned out neither of them needed to, as within seconds a new body came over their makeshift barricade - this one still very much alive, early thirties if you're interested. He wore a sash across his rather boring office suit reading 'Heisenberg Science', and had a small pistol pointed at the pair.


"Surrender now scum, drop your... weapons?"

The man joined the impromptu staring contest going on between Blacklight and Alberich.

"What the hell are Regaltech Costume employees doing here?"

Blacklight quickly looked up at the 'soldier', but almost immediately turned back to the still motionless zombie.

"Look, if you two could just..."

Still not getting anywhere, the employee fired at the ground near them. Doe finally stirred, turning Alberich's head towards the disturbance.

"Sir you might want to run now," came the wry voice of the doctor. "Actually, no. I suppose you'll have to do. Desperate times and all that."

As he spoke, the doctor's body finally rose up, coming face to face with the extremely confused employee.


"Eh? Who do you think you are, I have..."

"A gun? Yes yes, very impressive. Ms. Blacklight, you might want to back away a little."

The aforementioned woman pulled herself as far away as she could get without exposing herself to the now significantly less important battle raging around the three. Doe shambled closer and closer to the guard, who finally clued in that the doctor meant to fight him.


"Wait what do you think you're doing? Stay back! Oh fuck it."

One shot. Two shots. Both struck Doe in the stomach, but still he shambled on, faster this time.

"Hey you should be dying here man!"

Two more bullets, one into Doe's left arm and the other somewhere around his right shoulder. Now the zombie was practically leaping at the hapless employee. The struggle was brief, considering the great lengths it took for it to finally begin. Within moments, Doe had lifted the employee up to the point where their eyes me. The man, in some sort of desperate last move, brought his rather pitiful pistol right against the side of his oppressor's head.

The sharp clang of metal on metal rang out louder then the actual sound of the gun firing, and was followed by a short series of clicks. Oh the hazards of not reloading before you jump into enemy territory. As Doe pushed the man down, Alberich mused as to the abundant lack of military training given to the employees of this place, considering the warlike conflict they constantly seem to be in.

As John forced him to split open the man's skull with his teeth Alberich thanked his genius for thinking far enough ahead when it came to his skull plating, and considered the practical implications to coating most of the human skeleton in a similar way.

As John forced him to lap up the materials within the man's head Alberich realized that such an endeavour would be almost completely pointless, as it would only protect against light impacts, with the more vulnerable organs still suffering any sort of other damage in the same lethal way.

As the employee dropped to the ground and John stood upright gain, Alberich wondered whether or not anyone besides Blacklight was watching the fiasco.


"Holy shit! Regaltech's got a shambler here!"

"And they've sided against us! Shit, fire, fire!"

Ah. So they had.

Suddenly, Alberich and John were pulled back behind the barricade as the Heisenberg Science employees opened fire at him. Blacklight just sighed.

"So... I assume you're back to normal doctor?"


"Normal? Yes, I suppose I'm as normal as I come."

"Ah, wonderful!"

She paused, looking over the doctor.

"Oh, look at you've done! We won't be able to go around like that, what will people say?"


Alberich gaped at the woman.

"I apologize for not being able to eat a man alive in a more decent fashion," he finally answered, making a strong effort now to stay cool and collected despite the fact that he was just observed tearing into a human being like they were a buffet table.


Blacklight laughed at the scientist's feeble efforts to pretend he wasn't embarrassed. Honestly, he should know that you can't hide your soul from her by now. "Well we'll definitely have to find you something new to wear, won't we?"

"Yes..." Alberich glanced around before seeing a labcoat on the wall. "That will do. Fetch it for me will you? This body is awfully cumbersome."

"You're serious." This time Blacklight was the one who had to pause. A brief look over of Alberich again told her that he was, but even so she was almost surprised that he could joke despite what had just happened.

The gunfire directed towards the pair finally stopped, and shouts could be heard from Heisenberg Science.

"Damnit we weren't prepared for them to have reinforcements! Everyone fall back!"

Cheers of victory erupted from the flipped tables and makeshift bunkers around Blacklight and Alberich as Heisenberg Science retreated.

Alberich himself just narrowed his eyes at Blacklight, and lamented that it was so difficult to look smug one only had their face to work with.

"Now I am, Ms. Blacklight. Could you?"


Blacklight sighed and walked over, ignoring the thanks, praise, and promises that Manderson Inc. would support Regaltech in their war against Steampunk and Associates, simply grabbing the labcoat and bringing it back to her companion.

"Aaand there you go, that good?"


"Blacklight... why weren't you able to stop Mr. Doe, like you did before?"

Another sigh. Alberich had to give her credit, she does make rather impressive shows of irritation.

"I suppose it's because Jonathan is dead, silly."


Alberich blinked. He had thought that much had been established already. "This is not news to me."

Blacklight gave an audible sigh. "No, you don't understand! There's only red in him, the primal colour, keeping him going and giving him his single purpose. Desirey can do many things, but I can't change what someone fundamentally is, right? It plays off of people's wants, so if all Jonathen wants is to eat..."

"He eats. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes. I suppose it is." Blacklight shrugged. "I have no more power to control him then you do doctor. Perhaps I can calm him a bit faster, but that's about it. I feel a little silly for not quite realizing his nature sooner, after all there is an obvious fundamental difference between someone who is driven by desire and someone who simply is."

Alberich didn't respond. All of this supposed magic, and she can't tell him what he doesn't already know? She can't help him, she can't change anything? What was the point of it then? Just when he had finally gotten his hopes up, there they were, just as dashed as the skull of -

Marcus Thompson, if the nametag was to be believed (though Alberich supposed this was coming from a 'Mr. Hannaby'), the man now lying dead on the ground. He felt like a child, discovering that Santa Claus wasn't real, that the movies were just a bunch of special effects, a lovestruck cuckold. Generally, he felt like an idiot, a fool. What he did not feel was that he might be getting carried away with his refound sense of disillusionment.


Blacklight did feel it though, and could easily tell the doctor was even more troubled then before. She figured it was once again up to her to get them moving.

"Shall we then Alberich? Come on, change so we can find sweet Simiel and darling Jean."


After a short time without any sort of response, Alberich snapped out of his moping.

"It's... um... it's not so easy. Usually it takes over an hour for me to get in or out of anything, and we just don't have that time. So I'll need you to help me. As it were. Just the overcoat, everything else should be easy enough to cover up with the labcoat."

He stared expectedly at the now disgusted Ms. Blacklight.

"Oh yes, and be careful not to get any blood on you, just in case. Or that grey gunk right there, that's brain matter Mr. Doe missed and may prove especially dangerous should it get anywhere near your head. We don't want an accident after all, right?"


Blacklight just continued to glare at Alberich. Unlike before, this time he seemed, sorry, was, completely serious. That he would expect someone of her refinement to come anywhere near his blood soaked person, put herself on the line, ruin her dress... something told her he wouldn't hold a door open for her either.

"I think maybe we should wait and find Jean."


-----------------------------------------------------------

It would turn out that the aforementioned golem was in a rather severe predicament of her own.

If you count her not being able to find a way back to the elegantly dressed duo (particularly the woman) as being severe, that is. Jean most certainly did, especially after having to deal with literal minutes of the drab office workers around her lamenting their (obviously) less dire set of circumstances.


As the golem pondered to herself a handful of makeshift prisoners began consulting with each other, as purposefully ignorant of her as she was of them.

"So the stairs were a bust Jenkins, Heisenberg blocked 'em off."

"Damnit," swore the leader of the small group (presumably Jenkins). "There goes our best shot at getting out."

A female intern scoffed. "The stairs? That's hardly the most inventive idea."

"Well I didn't see any of you bring them up for our first thirteen ideas!"

"Well... they're easy to forget! I mean there are hundreds of floors, it makes way more sense to just take the-"

"The elevator? Well how do you think we got in this mess in the first place!?"

Jenkins was fuming. How dare an intern question his authority? Criticize his plans? God damnit he was a clerk, the only person with less authority then her would be a mail carrier!

A... mail carrier.

Jenkins looked at Jean.

"Alright guys, I have another idea."

The employees whispered amongst each other, each one of them looking at the golem occasionally to make sure she wasn't listening in. After they were done plotting, Jenkins and the intern broke off and approached her. While Jenkins looked rather smug about the entire plan, the intern seemed confused.

"So sir," she asked, "Why aren't we just inviting Jean to join in on our plan?"

"Because she's a mailman damnit! They're always playing the field, who knows who's paying her off?" Jenkins suddenly leaned in close to the intern and began whispering. "She could even be a mole for... The Heisenbergs."

The intern had nothing to say to this, and just backed off slightly and decided to let Jenkins handle the rest. Which he did, walking up and tapping Jean on the shoulder.

"Hey there Jean! We were just wondering if you could maybe go take a good, long look in that storage closet over there, see if there's anything that could be even remotely useful in us getting out of there before Heisenberg comes back. Make sure you get it all in one trip!"

Jean looked at Jenkins, and while she most certainly felt he had an irritating voice and a boring outfit she very much didn't want to disappoint Victoria or Ms. Blacklight. She spun around and began heading for the room, not even noticing that Jenkins had grabbed a particularly long item from her back.

It wasn't until some time after she had entered the room and heard something that sounded like a chair being dragged towards the door that she even began to think anything was suspicious at all. What actually tipped her off was someone yelling something to the effect of 'only getting a single goddamn scarf off of that creepy mail thing' that she really began to question things at all.

But when she did notice, she most certainly reacted. Jenkins had stolen her FAVOURITE scarf. What was she going to do? She'd obviously have to leave the closet, she'd have to open the curiously stuck door, she'd have to take the scarf back from that man before he ripped her scarf or dirtied it or god forbid wore it or-

she collapsed into a pile on the ground.


"What do you mean only one scarf?" Jenkins asked, irritation clear in his voice. "Maybe if you guys were willing to help steal some of her other crap we'd have more! She moved way too fast for me to get anything else. Besides, do you see how long this is? Hell, if we can't use just this to get down to the next floor I'll eat my hat."

"You don't own a hat sir."

Jenkins let out a particularly annoyed sigh. Interns.

"Well I'll go take Phillip's hat and eat it."

"Hey!"

"Shut it Phil."

The group left the area in lieu of a location closer to the windows. When they arrived, Jenkins tied the scarf around a nearby column and yanked it into a hard knot, ignoring the scream coming from the supply closet.

Jean suddenly reformed into her more humanoid self. She could feel her beloved scarf being stretched in ways it shouldn't be, and realized that if she didn't act now it would be too late to save it. She tried the door one more time, but it was obvious it wasn't going to bulge.

She tried controlling the scarf, but the distance was either too great or it was stuck to something. She realized the latter option was far more likely given the sensation she had just felt from her scarf, and tried to give it one final, desperate request.

Stop moving.


Now, while the scarf could not stop moving (due to it being a scarf tied to a post and therefore being the dangerous combination of flimsy, subject to gravity, and firmly held in the hands of one Horace Jenkins as he prepared to rappel down the side of a building in a madness that can only be caused after being trapped in one location for almost a whole hour), the immense amount of focus Jean put into those two words somehow managed to get themselves into the head of her scarf's aggressor. Jenkins shrieked and jumped back.

"What's wrong sir?"

"T-the scarf! It just yelled at me!"

"What?"

"I'm telling you, I had it in my hands and it shouted at me to stop!"

An employee earlier identified as Phillip laughed. "That's stupid Jenkins, let me give it a try."

Phillip gave the scarf a god yank.

Jean once again felt the scarf about to snap. She tried again to stop the foul thieves from committing their most heinous crime.

Stop moving no pulling.


Phillip dropped the scarf as quickly as he picked it up.

"Well I'll be damned Jenkins, you're right."

Several other members of the group now took their chance to crack off or express their disbelief, and Jenkins quickly challenged them to grab hold of the 'damnable finery' and see for themselves.

Jean meanwhile decided to try one more time (with feeling) to spare her scarf any more damages.

COME BACK

"Okay," the intern began, "so what are we dealing with?"

"Obviously some sort of curse, like one of those mummies."

"That's stupid Phil, why would there be a curse, there aren't any companies that specialize in making them in the spire." Jenkins paused. "Right?"

"Actually, there are six."

Interns.

Suddenly, Jean felt the knot in her scarf being untied, and before she could let out a sigh of relief a knock was heard on the door.

What came next was a series of apologies for stealing her 'cursed mummy scarf', with several voices pleading to be spared her 'gypsy revenge magic' and stating it 'was totally Jenkins' idea'.

It was one of the crowd's final comments that managed to catch Jean's attention though. A female voice apologized among some of the less sensible laments for 'not knowing that her scarf could talk', before it was silenced by a collective shout of 'quiet intern'. This of course caught Jean's attention because her scarf most certainly could not talk, though she often wished it did so she could know of its stories.

When the door trapping her in the storage room finally opened, Jean picked up her scarf and approached the newly terrified group.

"What did you mean when you said my scarf talked?"


"Well..." the intern began, almost waiting to get yelled at for speaking out of turn again, but noticed that was Jenkins was not only unusually silent but also halfway down the hallway in a dead sprint. She decided it was okay to continue.

"When we touched your scarf and began to pull on it, it kept asking us to stop moving it, to not pull, and to bring it back to you."

Jean thanked the girl and left her to her own designs. She had known before that she could exert some control over her clothing, but to actually be able to reach out with her mind and speak! It was a completely new concept to her, a completely new power. One that she would be sure to work on once she figured out a way to get out of this trap.

Suddenly something clicked in her mind. Simiel! She had leant the one of her sweaters to her! Simiel was made out of machines too, like the elevator, so maybe she could help, or at the very least get someone who could. Maybe Ms. Blacklight. Jean knew that she'd be able to handle anything.

Jean moved to a more quiet and isolated place (which actually turned out to be right back in the supply closet) and began to focus. This was her shot, Simiel or bust.

Quote


Messages In This Thread
Re: Journal of Sociology [S!6] - [Round One: The Pacific Spire] - by Palamedes - 09-03-2012, 04:31 AM