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Showing posts with label I'll be in The Wing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I'll be in The Wing. Show all posts

Tuesday, 6 December 2011

-Spencer- Pages of Theory

Y’know, sometimes we cling to the most stupid things.

we’re all irrational and in a state of denial, because we don’t have the time to properly grieve to deal with what’s happened.

i’m really no better in that regard

but i think I’m tired of leaving my messes to be explained for me. I can do this myself. As long as I have one last fucking breath left in me, i can do this myself.

 

Page theory is something you’ve all seen thrown around occasionally; Elaine did a write-up but I felt that maybe i should be telling explaining this myself. i understand it best, after all.

Let’s get something straight first.

Page Theory isn’t mine. I wrote it, but it’s not mine.

The first time I heard anything like it was one night with Matt in the desert, looking up at the stars. It’s his. I stole it from him but that hardly matters because he’s dead, and took the credit. None of you knew him. I figured he wouldn’t have minded, wasn’t that kind of guy. Wanted to help. Always, always wanted to help. Helped me after I ran, after I saw Him for the first time in my life and didn’t feel worship, but fear. But Matt was there.

He was fucking brilliant. You all would’ve loved him. They say personality is a learned quality but Matt somehow knew how to be kind and loving and utterly insane all at once despite the cult trying to beat it out of him. He ran at twelve, straight into the fucking desert, and survived for eight years all by himself. Him and Father.

They didn’t realize how good he was; just assigned him to be a lower echelon because they were too stupid to see how smart he was.

Matt had a stutter, and they thought he was useless because of it.

They were wrong.

They were wrong about me, too; thinking I was so fucking.. .a rising star, they said, it won’t leave me alone, they won’t…

it was Matt who gave me a real, proper name

it was Matt who told me to look up at the stars and think about how the universe worked

it was Matt who told me to never stop running

it was Matt who threw me into The Path, even though he claimed to not be able to use it

it was Matt who took the easy way out

 

… Matt told me that when he was out in the desert, it was hard to imagine anyone else existed. That he thought that maybe… the known universe was like an inbox, a framework.

In that framework, your view of it, your perception of the world, like an ever-changing snapshot of a whole universe.

Then I came into the picture, and my snapshot got layered on top of Matt’s. Our snapshots, our pages, interacted with each other freely. The rock on my page was the same as the rock on his page. But sometimes, we saw Him; I’d slowly see the stars swirl into nothing and Matt would just collapse to the ground and the black shit that ran out of his nose smelled awful and then He would be gone as quickly as he arrived. That was when our pages de-synchronized, and Matt was pretty sure that was the “Tall Bastard’s” fault.

We’d sit and talk then, because we didn’t want to talk about what we’d just seen and sleep wasn’t a possibility. Matt would talk about “cities” and “towns” and even “countries” and how all these people lived together in one place, how there must be SOME out there who knew about Father, how their pages must even be different from ours, how maybe even whole worlds were different. If our experiences with Father were shared but unique, did that mean that even the people we hunted, our targets, had pages as well?

It was a month afterwards before Matt tried to flesh out the idea of Loops. this was after we had stumbled upon a small one in the desert and tried experimenting with it. It was Matt who figured out that Loops were blank until someone filled them with something. It was Matt who tried to craft without any experience, trying to write over the empty space with something new. It was Matt who theorized that the Loops were the tiny spaces in between each page, that the miniscule areas could vary in size and flexibility to revisions and changes. It was Matt that figured out that you could tie the Loop so someone and let their own mind fill the gaps like some sort of infinite feedback reacharound.

Not bad for someone who didn’t even know how to read. They never taught him how, he said, because it wasn’t worth the time.

It was the night before everything went to hell that he told me in hushed tones about what he thought about Father, how he functioned like… a nail going through all the pages at once, how a nail isn’t supposed to be through the pages at all. How he wasn’t sure how the pages and the spaces got formed in the first place, but how maybe exposure to Father caused you to form your own page, how he thought The Path was the edges of the pages, so you could hop from layer to layer with ease. How maybe just because we were told that we were to be something from birth, that didn’t mean that we had to be that.

 

… i’ve tried to build on this, tried to find some answers, but Matt’s stuff is the best framework I’ve got. It explains so much; why we all can see Him at the same time in different places, how the Path shuttles us around, how some of the stranger, supernatural happenings can, well, happen, how M’s rules don’t work for everyone. A place like the House is a complete anomaly; how can there be a constant in a blank space…?

I don’t know.

I don’t know why the forest is suddenly invading or why the Loop is suddenly on the offensive. I don’t know why people that are dead should not be here walk through the halls when I wander.

i need more time.

Fuck. I… fixing this comes first. Then Doc can cut me open and we can all celebrate with tea and crumpets.

Not much longer.

I promise.

Thursday, 8 September 2011

-Spencer- Team, maybe you haven't noticed by now

But I really am an idiot.
I make stupid friends.
I make stupid decisions.
And it doesn't get much worse than this.

...


Well, we've got another one.
In our basement.
Locked in a room. so there's only one lock between us and a psychotic insane jackass who's going through the withdrawal of his life.

... do y'think it's justified to duct tape him to a chair or something...?

And did I mention his name? Now that I think about it, that's kind of important.

...You know.
Maybe I should start from the best part?

Explosions. Had to set up a distraction because hell; it's never a good raid unless something is in danger of tearing off a limb and whipping it to Arkansas. But the attention is off us; a major plus. Down a hallway, creep creep creep, dear god my legs /hurt/ my coat must've weighed about fifty pounds /why did I need so much of my arsenal/

Wait.

There was something before that; right, the car ride, Elaine sharpening her knives like an OCD crack addict, so jumpy that-

Focus.

"You ready?"

Her voice had woken me out of my fog. Something was... don'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutit. "Like you have to ask." Down a hallway, creep creep creep, dear god my legs /hurt/ my coat must've weighed about fifty pounds /why did I need so much of my arsenal/

Pistols are in my hands. Guns. Okay. Look in that door no don't go that way. He's right in the middle. Is he expecting...? Has Elaine told him? No. Job. Always the job. Focus only on the job.

It gets blissfully blank from there.

"Alright. Winging a rescue mission. Should be fun."

"Winging? You act like I haven't given this an ounce of thought."

No. That came before the explosion.

So back to that door, we're not stupid enough to go barging in. Quietly around a corner

"Ominous hallways. That's all there is...? Will they kill us with anticipation?"

"It /is/ a large warehouse for, what, six people now?"

"Six people that should be aware we're here. Something is up."

"With any luck, only one of them knows and isn't about to sound the alarm."

... true that. And there was something before that; right, the car ride, Elaine sharpening her knives like an OCD crack addict, so jumpy that-

"So what do we do? Burst in, guns a blazin'?"

"... five against three? Easy. Lets do it."

Nobody ever said the idiots weren't well trained. But we had caught them by surprise, obviously. What we were doing was incredibly stupid. So stupid, actually, that nobody had expected us to go through with it.

Well who's the idiot now?

One vaults towards Elaine and another tries to get behind me while mooks flank my sides. Yeah, right. Cute. And now they've got perfect little holes in their heads to match the holes in their broken little hearts. That big one still lunges towards me and my leg shoots up and kicks him right in the torso, so hard that I can /feel/ his ribs crack; blood as a fine mist leaks out of his mouth and he /slams/ into a wall.

I smile. I grin.

"Here little kitty, I haven't /KILLED/ you yet...."

Samedi. That's the one Elaine is going toe to toe with and I couldn't care less.

"Oh there there, Darkhorse~! Are you afraid of littl ol' me? I'm just a helpless courier~!"

He tries to scamper backwards, but there's a wall there, there's a wall there there's a wall there and I crouch down to look at him and my palm slides over his face.

"Scream for me, little kitty. Give me a /SHOW/."


...?


He screams. He gives into my command and it /echoes/ in the room, in the hallways in the void in the world.

Elaine ignores the scene to her right in favor of the man in front of her, taking down a random mook who tries to interrupt her work.

"Nonono, this is just between you and me, you sick fuck. I haven't forgotten what you did when you kidnapped me~ And now you get to pay." Another stab, the strike designed to maim, not kill.

He's to the clawing stage now. Trying to rip out his eyes, his hair, whatever he can get his hands on.

I laugh as he struggles
I laughed as he struggled

She lets out a /giggle/ at the sound of the scream and keeps slashing at Samedi, who is starting to seem thoroughly outclassed. Direct combat was never his strong suit, was it?

And he's a mess now. A wide eyed, trembling mess. Tears run down his cheeks and his lips shake but no sound comes out. My palm is still there, and my left hand raises with the pistol and I press the cold metal to his forehead, slowly, like a kiss-

my right hands moves back towards my side and-

he looks at me with his eyes clear before they move up to the gun and-

there was something before that; right, the car ride, Elaine sharpening her knives like an OCD crack addict

Bang.

The feeling of the warm blood splattering into my face, splattering against the wall. The sound of the shot seems to wake Elaine up from whatever was going on in her head; her smile fades and she slashes Samedi's throat, letting him fall before moving back towards

Me.

"Come on, we need to get out of here."

Still grinning.

"I do believe I outrank you, m'dear. Shouldn't /I/ be the one giving orders...?"

"... Spence, snap out of it. Come on."

I feel my head shake, and the delightful fog leaves me breathless. Then it leaves me alone.

"R-r-right." I stutter. "How are we getting out...?"

I can't hide my sleeve going to my face, trying to wipe some of it away.

"How about the door? We have to move fast before the big shots get here."

I shirk off my coat, and I can hear the floor /crack/. nothing like a little overkill to get the job done.

"Then we better go /fucking/ quick."

There's barely a second before she has my hand in hers and we're gunning it through the hallways.

Was she holding his hand too...? At least they weren't looking before. i didn't want them to see my legs

They wouldn't stop shaking

I toss her the keys and I'm carrying him bridal style by this point, /diving/ into the back seat so quickly that my head /smashes/ into the opposite door.

"DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE!!!!!"

And here we are.
My head is pounding, but I'm not hurt. Neither is Elaine. Neither is anyone else.

Yet.

I'm not counting my chickens before they hatch. But we're trying to do some /good/, I think.

For once.

And as for our house guest?

Well.