Logs:TDP - Slumming It
TDP - Slumming It
|Characters:||Buster, Willard as ST|
|Summary:||Wherein Buster happens upon a house of horrors and has to confront himself -- as well as other creepy things.|
|Disclaimers:||Psychological horror (Mental abuse),Violence (Stabbing), Some graphic language|
Also? Not a great part of town, really. Really, not a great part of town. But, delightful for things that are looking for snacks.
Om. Nom. Nom.
Om. Nom. Nom.
The air is awash with something almost electric. Hungry. Whispery.
And this time it's not even Buster who's doing the snacking or the whispering. Actually he's kind of people-watching, even though barn owls aren't the most... people-watchy of birds. Still, he perches on high and uses that Tytonic vision to zero in on things that are interesting, possibly taking note of future snacks--
Though the... sensation in the air absolutely has his curiosity. Something here? Something that raises the predator's hackles, which usually means danger.
The whispering in the air seems almost... pregnant. It hints at little delights and hungry measures.
For a moment, it seems almost perfect. A stillness, where one could see forever. And then? The owl sees someone making their way down along the way. A young woman, perhaps twenty two in what appears to be scrubs. Her hair is drawn back from her face and tied with a scrunchy.
She has a pair of earbuds in and is apparently listening to some thing, the way her head is bobbing. Most of the houses on this street are either dimly lit or not at all and all of them show signs of some degree of wear and tear.
Huh. That's interesting. The owl continues to follow behind, at a leisurely pace, moving from tree to tree. Buster doesn't make any exceptional effort to be stealthy, but owls fly silently and the woman has earbuds in. Besides, he's an owl, he isn't worried. Now if he was in human form, that'd be a shocker-
Rough neighborhood. Does she know what she's doing?
Apparently so, because she's stepping up to the first house (duplex) at the corner. The earbuds are taken out and she fishes out a key. Click. The heavy, barred 'screen door' is unlocked. Click. The main door is unlocked. Then she is entering the house.
A light comes on as she is apparently settling down in the living room for a moment. The television comes on. Some sort of latenight infomercial.
Ah. Well, that's interesting. Fun fact about Buster? Through some quirk of his bloodline... his clothes don't come with him. So unless he wants to be the naked guy prowling around a house with a young woman alone in the early morning, he has to stay in owl form.
He flies down, and peers in the window.
The infomercial starts off rather pleasant. It is an older gentleman talking about the wonders of Clean-ex and how it can get just about anything out of upholstery. “Clean-ex will get rid of anything in your carpets. You really can’t be too careful, now can you?”
It is then when it starts to get weird. It gets… static-y.
“Buy five or more bottles now and we’ll throw in our collapsible spray container. Wouldn’t you rather be safe than…” The kindly old man’s voice grows hollow with that sort of sound one hears talking through a voice modulator, “Sorry?”
And the woman is suddenly standing up, looking at the TV with wide eyes. “What the fuck?” she screeches. “Who’s there?” She says, looking about.
Yeah, good question, who's there? The owl watches the TV, the light from it reflecting faintly in round eyes. Just a bird, a creepy barn owl perched on your windowsill, watching your TV lady, what, ain't that ever happened before? Chill out…
A few things are rather odd about the situation at hand. The first of them? The faint, blurry reflection that Buster would have expected (if anything at all?) isn't. It's a barn owl, looking back at him. His own reflection. And its eyes? Well, when was a barn owl's eyes red?
And then, there's what's going on in the house. The television set no longer shows a kindly old man trying to hawk Clean-ex. No, its a man in a Guy Fawkes mask. "Oh, of course you'd rather be safe than sorry, wouldn't you? But... that's not how the world works, now is it... Clarice?" Wait, is that Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lector. In a Guy Fawkes mask.
The woman's eyes widen. "My name's not Clarice," she says, swallowing as she's looking around. "Okay, who the fuck are you. And what do you want?"
Right. That's unusual -- actually it's downright weird. The bird cranes his head down, and then flies off the platform, up into the air, and then circles the house, briefly looking for a way to get in. Too bad everyone in the south uses air conditioning and never opens their windows. Damn it--
Windows, hmm? Welp, that is indeed odd. Because, reflections aren't traditionally supposed to be three-dimensional. Nor are they supposed to grow /out/ of the window. But, that appears to be what the barn-owl (red eyed) reflection that is staring at Buster is doing.
The woman is looking about in horror. Then, she's looking to the window. To everything. Just trying to get a grasp or some semblance of reason to the world that is suddenly becoming a freak show.
All right. That is... freaky. And vampires and weird spirit owls don't mix very well. Buster responds, by going to Earth, and his form ripples, as he changes from a bat into a wolf - and then proceeds to growl at the bird, hackles raised as he backs up, slowly. Yeah, come down here if you're hard enough.
And the woman is staring out at this. Well, except, she's not. She's really looking back to the television, where the man in the television screen starts to crawl out of it. In it's best 'I'm Samara from the Ring' style. Sans the dripping water. And this has the woman screaming. Loudly. Very. Very loudly.
Meanwhile, the thing in the mirror is beginning to crawl out of the window, manifesting. A mocking hoot follows as it looks at the wolf and makes a short snap of its beak. In an oddly mocking voice (that sounds, strangely like Buster) it calls out. "Why do you wear that silly person suit. Under the wolf suit."
Finally, Buster changes back to his human form. Heedless of his unclad state, he says, while taking a step backward, "Because if I took off ALL my suits there'd be nothing left of me but dust. Why you crawlin' out of people's TVs and scaring people, huh, freako? You some kind of *pervert*?"
When Buster shifts, so does the owl, looking just like him. It even speaks in his voice, but with a weird, hollow -- echoey, sort of thing. "Pervert? Oh yes. You'd know though, wouldn't you? You're a pervert yourself. Perverse. It's in your blood. In your bones." It offers a weird, insouciant grin.
Meanwhile, the woman is staring at the Guy Fawkes masked person that stepped out of the television. In a similarly hollow fashion, it goes... "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. Much. If you'll sing for me, that is." His voice shifts back to that of the kindly old man, "Wouldn't you rather be safe than sorry?" And the lips on the mask are moving.
"Yeah, takes one to know one. If you want to try to make me feel guilty, weirdo, you're gonna have to do better than that." He holds his hands out to his sides, black claws glittering in the dim light, before he says, "The FUCK are you? Other than not interested in giving straight answers?"
"What you should be, if you weren't such a chickenshit," the not-Buster says, looking him in the eye, with an easy grin. "But, you already knew that." He clacks his teeth, his own claws rippling into being. Meanwhile, in the background, the Unquiet Grave as sung on Penny Dreadful begins to play.
"You know the words. They're there," Guy Fawkes says to the woman who is looking at him with terror in her eyes. And she starts to sing. Not well, but still, sings. The creature listens. Clacking teeth behind its mask. At least -- that's what it sounds like.
Buster tilts his head, and then says, "...Wait. You're reactive. You only do something if I do it." He folds his arms, and then narrows his eyes. "I know what you are. Loci timoris." He stands where he is. "Do YOU even know what you are? Are you even sentient, or are you just a twisted mirror held up at me? A fucked-up fun house meant to make me shit my pants?" It has shaken him, but having ripped secrets raw and bleeding from the Void, it's a terror he's felt before.
"Oh, that's not true, sweetheart," the thing drawls, winking at Buster. "It just happens to be one of tricks up my sleeve." Not-Buster grins at the Gangrel and then sputters -- like a bad tv signal, walking away. "Boo," comes the sound out nowhere. Well, not nowhere, but, behind him. "Don't be a bad puppy. Be a proper one. Blood blood blood. But, that doesn't really work, does it? You're out and about, but, you just don't really do much, do ya?" It snickers.
"You're like the worst of both worlds. But, you know how it is." It flashes a grin. "Maybe, I don't know. Get off your ass instead of feeling sorry for yourself? Walking around in the dark, looking at a house?"
Meanwhile the singing continues and Guy Fawkes watches the woman behind the window. The smile actually moves as it slips forward. It's hands look a little like Freddy Krueger's now, the Guy Fawkes reaching up to touch her eye with one of those razor-edged 'claws'.
"Fuck you! I don't need to be given life advice by the house from Poltergeist." Buster says. "So why don't you just lick my asshole and focus on scaring the shit out of that woman that's too stupid to go out the damn door." He curls his lip, and then shakes his head, looking away. "Jesus christ on a fucking crutch."
He walks up to the door of the house, and then aims a kick at it.
The kick never lands, because the door simply swings open. And there Buster is, staring at a woman, who is looking in horror -- a strange, naked man kicking down the door. And then the Freddy Krueger-esque thing. With a Guy Fawkes mask. She, of course, shrieks. It turns to Buster... and the other one? Well, it's just not there anymore. "No, no. This is all wrong," Fawkes says, looking to the woman again. It's index blade chucks her under the chin. It doesn't cut, it just chucks.
"You, need to be paying attention to me. Not the naked man. Or I'll have to make you sorry. And you don't want that. Do you? No no. You just want to live your safe little life." It chuckles.
Buster rolls his eyes. "Lady," He says, "Ain't you never seen the Amityville Horror, you dumb bitch? Go out the door." He points. "Out the door, run like hell, an' don't look back."
He turns back and says, "To be fair to her, K for Kruger, it's hard not to pay attention to me, I'm fuckin' gorgeous. But that's not the point, now is it?"
She starts to run. But stops. Because there's no door anymore. Even the windows collapse inwards, leaving Buster, in all his glory and the woman standing in a living room. There's a hallway, of course. "No, no. Stay awhile." The thing in the mask looks back to the woman. "Broken little songbird." It sighs, those black eyes staring at the woman. "You toil and toil at this little world of yours, and you never really lived."
A blade tip presses against her throat. At this, she breaks out of her paralysis, trying to shove the creature away.
Buster looks around - and then his shoulders tense. Clawed fingers splay, and he lashes out at the thing with the bladed fingers in what one might genially call 'an eviscerating swipe'. "Trappin' me in a room with no door was a real *shit* move, fuckface!"
The talons flash through... smoke? They glide through where the creature /almost/ was and it turns to Buster, growling. In something like a hoot, it tilts its head forward. "Naughty boy," it echoes, cackling slightly. "Really shitty at it too." The creature sighs, turns, and rakes its blades across the woman's stomach, who staggers back in horror letting out a scream and turns to run towards what appears to be the kitchen door.
Buster looks down at the alien - and then he says, "You know what?" He mutters, "Fuck this." He starts looking around, without broadcasting his intentions.
Because really, if worse comes to worse he believes he's strong enough to force his way through a wall. And considering he's half-crazed and this thing's playing the caged animal game with him... he might just be enough of a dick to burn its haunted house down.
In the direction the woman had staggered, Buster can see an open window -- which, apparently? The woman is trying to jimmy it open. There's a crack in the glass as breaks part of the window, trying to get out. Wait a minute. Why aren't there bars there? Regardless, the creature is lunging towards Buster, its claws outstretched. "STAY," it roars, its voice cracking a little.
There's a difference between cornering a human and cornering a vampire - and a difference between cornering a vampire and cornering a Dead Wolf who's feeling pretty damn claustrophobic right now. Buster and the Haunt wind up having a knock-down drag-out brawl in the kitchen, ultimately ending when Buster is thrown into the pantry rack, grabs a frying pan and wings it at the thing's face, then stiff-arms it aside and crashes *through* the window, in a shower of broken pieces of windowframe and sparkly broken glass.
"Make dinner first next time, choad!"
And a bloody woman in scrubs climbs out the window behind Buster, gathering some extra cuts along the way. She's on the backporch, bleeding -- somewhat heavily at the moment. Nothing fatal, but, holy hell is she a mess. "Oh god," she says, starting to stagger towards the backyard, patting at her pockets. She looks to Buster, but, it's clear she doesn't really see him as she's trying to find her phone. With shaking hands.
Buster shakes his head, and says, "Lady, go to a friend's house. Don't come back here unless it's in the middle of the day to get your shit and go." He looks at her, and says, "I'm just part of the spook, by the way. Just... ignore me." He walks away, ignoring the broken glass digging into his bare feet, before he says, "Jesus christ, that was weird-" And then he condenses into a cloud of red mist that turns into a barn owl, before it flies away.
And she screams -- again. Loudly. She's reaching for her phone and calling the police as she tries and stagger towards the side gate. Meanwhile, Buster is easily able to depart.