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Diabolical. a tale of Dark*Matter. (new 09/28/2006)
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<blockquote data-quote="Roudi" data-source="post: 3090729" data-attributes="member: 12423"><p><span style="font-size: 15px">CASE REPORT BX-12I25-01416</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px">EXIT 23</span></p><p></p><p>There was a loud crash, like glass breaking, and suddenly the temperature in the diner dropped fifteen degrees. At the same time, the lights flickered once and expired. Then came the scream, a high-pitched cry that gargled before it terminated. The wind howled like an animal, declaring its presence, telling all to beware... and then suddenly, the pitched changed to one of rage and frustration. It was as if the storm outside had become a feral creature and gotten really pissed off. At least, that's what it felt like to Leslie.</p><p></p><p>Right about then, Leslie realized a couple of things. First, the sounds had come from the direction of the washrooms. Second, her roommate Jenny had left a moment ago to use those very washrooms; just ahead of the cute guy with the business suit and briefcase.</p><p></p><p>Rufus must have been thinking the same thing. He reached across the table and put his hand on Leslie's shoulder. “I'm sure she's okay.” His voice betrayed a slight hint of his Russian roots. “We'll go make sure.”</p><p></p><p>His other hand was inside his vest, removing his revolver from its holster.</p><p></p><p>Leslie recognized the motion immediately. “Flashlights!” she exclaimed, a little too loudly. “We need flashlights. It's too dark.” The message was clear to Rufus: <em>put the gun away</em>.</p><p></p><p>A few tables down, a long-haired youth sat clutching his sketchbook. The Giger-esque drawings his professor had found so “disturbing” were nothing compared to the sheer terror he now felt. And this time, he was clean; no bad trip, no...</p><p></p><p>“Hey.”</p><p></p><p>He almost screamed. When he had turned to see who had spoken to him, he saw only a pale, ghostly face peeking at him from the next booth. The girl was spectral in the darkness, illuminated only by the dim glow from the storm outside.</p><p></p><p>“Go see what that was,” she half-whispered to him.</p><p></p><p>He collected himself, roused his shoulders, pushed his John Lennon glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Hell no,” he replied. “You go look.”</p><p></p><p>“Fine,” answered the albino. “I will.”</p><p></p><p>Leslie and Rufus were already up, helping Mabel search behind the counter. “I coulda sworn I put that thing under here a few months ago. Back when the power went out last time. I swore I-”</p><p></p><p>“You guys looking for a flashlight?”</p><p></p><p>Rufus looked up as he answered. “Mabel says she has one he-”</p><p></p><p>The pale-skinned woman raised her eyebrow. “What're you looking at?”</p><p></p><p>“Uh, nothing. Sorry.”</p><p></p><p>“I know where we can find a flashlight.”</p><p></p><p>Leslie emerged from behind the counter. “Where's that?”</p><p></p><p>“My truck,” responded the albino. “My name's Jessica.”</p><p></p><p>“Nice to meet you, Jessica. I'm Leslie, and this is my friend Rufus.”</p><p></p><p>Jessica nodded her acknowledgment. Then she turned to the rest of the diner.</p><p></p><p>“Any of you coming to help?”</p><p></p><p>The assorted dozen other occupants of <strong>Coffee Donuts</strong> looked at her with a mix of fear and apathy. They were safe where they were; that's all they really cared to know. Even Mabel crossed her arms. She wasn't about to leave her beloved diner.</p><p></p><p>Leslie shook her head. “Figures.”</p><p></p><p>Carefully, the trio slipped through the diner doors and into the lobby. A freezing chill hit them as soon as they entered. Using weak penlights, the three followed the wall until they reached the outside door. The door's glass had been completely smashed, and one barely hung from its hinges. Rufus nearly slipped, but he caught himself; the ground was covered by a slick layer of ice. However, when his penlight shone upon the ground, Rufus saw that the ice was a dark crimson. It pooled in a frozen puddle that led to the right, towards the washrooms.</p><p></p><p>Leslie followed the trail with her light until she found a shoe. She recognized it immediately.</p><p></p><p>Jenny McCallister, long time friend and roommate of Leslie Beau, lay face-down on the floor. Protruding from her back was a single, four-foot long icicle that shimmered in the penlight's glow. Beneath her was the frozen puddle of blood.</p><p></p><p>Rufus put his hand to his mouth. “Oh my God,” he began. Leslie was already at Jenny's side, unzipping her duffel bag with one hand while checking for a pulse with the other. She counted for a few seconds, and shook her head.</p><p></p><p>The silence broke as a groan emitted from the men's room. Leslie and Jessica whipped their penlights around; Rufus reached into his vest for something far more useful.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"><strong>* * * * *</strong></p><p></p><p><em>I'm slipping. It's all a slope, a slope covered in ice, and I'm wearing toboggans for shoes, and I'm slipping. Into the black. Can't hang on. Just sliding downward into the black.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Bright. Pain. Hurt. Ow...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Female, twenty-four, red hair, green eyes, 5'9”. A doctor. No; A nurse. No; emergency medical technician. Used to stress. Cold hands. Has a medkit in a duffel bag.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Male, mid-thirties, black hair, brown eyes, 5'9”, holding a gun. Detective; former cop. Stance says it all. Accent's a bit Russian.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>And...</em></p><p><em>An angel.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>No. Elohim. Enochian. Angels don't exist.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>But maybe they do. Maybe this is dying. Maybe she is death.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The orb. Is it safe?</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Darker. Fading. But pain... gone.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Not slipping.</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Roudi, post: 3090729, member: 12423"] [SIZE=4]CASE REPORT BX-12I25-01416 EXIT 23[/size] There was a loud crash, like glass breaking, and suddenly the temperature in the diner dropped fifteen degrees. At the same time, the lights flickered once and expired. Then came the scream, a high-pitched cry that gargled before it terminated. The wind howled like an animal, declaring its presence, telling all to beware... and then suddenly, the pitched changed to one of rage and frustration. It was as if the storm outside had become a feral creature and gotten really pissed off. At least, that's what it felt like to Leslie. Right about then, Leslie realized a couple of things. First, the sounds had come from the direction of the washrooms. Second, her roommate Jenny had left a moment ago to use those very washrooms; just ahead of the cute guy with the business suit and briefcase. Rufus must have been thinking the same thing. He reached across the table and put his hand on Leslie's shoulder. “I'm sure she's okay.” His voice betrayed a slight hint of his Russian roots. “We'll go make sure.” His other hand was inside his vest, removing his revolver from its holster. Leslie recognized the motion immediately. “Flashlights!” she exclaimed, a little too loudly. “We need flashlights. It's too dark.” The message was clear to Rufus: [i]put the gun away[/i]. A few tables down, a long-haired youth sat clutching his sketchbook. The Giger-esque drawings his professor had found so “disturbing” were nothing compared to the sheer terror he now felt. And this time, he was clean; no bad trip, no... “Hey.” He almost screamed. When he had turned to see who had spoken to him, he saw only a pale, ghostly face peeking at him from the next booth. The girl was spectral in the darkness, illuminated only by the dim glow from the storm outside. “Go see what that was,” she half-whispered to him. He collected himself, roused his shoulders, pushed his John Lennon glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Hell no,” he replied. “You go look.” “Fine,” answered the albino. “I will.” Leslie and Rufus were already up, helping Mabel search behind the counter. “I coulda sworn I put that thing under here a few months ago. Back when the power went out last time. I swore I-” “You guys looking for a flashlight?” Rufus looked up as he answered. “Mabel says she has one he-” The pale-skinned woman raised her eyebrow. “What're you looking at?” “Uh, nothing. Sorry.” “I know where we can find a flashlight.” Leslie emerged from behind the counter. “Where's that?” “My truck,” responded the albino. “My name's Jessica.” “Nice to meet you, Jessica. I'm Leslie, and this is my friend Rufus.” Jessica nodded her acknowledgment. Then she turned to the rest of the diner. “Any of you coming to help?” The assorted dozen other occupants of [b]Coffee Donuts[/b] looked at her with a mix of fear and apathy. They were safe where they were; that's all they really cared to know. Even Mabel crossed her arms. She wasn't about to leave her beloved diner. Leslie shook her head. “Figures.” Carefully, the trio slipped through the diner doors and into the lobby. A freezing chill hit them as soon as they entered. Using weak penlights, the three followed the wall until they reached the outside door. The door's glass had been completely smashed, and one barely hung from its hinges. Rufus nearly slipped, but he caught himself; the ground was covered by a slick layer of ice. However, when his penlight shone upon the ground, Rufus saw that the ice was a dark crimson. It pooled in a frozen puddle that led to the right, towards the washrooms. Leslie followed the trail with her light until she found a shoe. She recognized it immediately. Jenny McCallister, long time friend and roommate of Leslie Beau, lay face-down on the floor. Protruding from her back was a single, four-foot long icicle that shimmered in the penlight's glow. Beneath her was the frozen puddle of blood. Rufus put his hand to his mouth. “Oh my God,” he began. Leslie was already at Jenny's side, unzipping her duffel bag with one hand while checking for a pulse with the other. She counted for a few seconds, and shook her head. The silence broke as a groan emitted from the men's room. Leslie and Jessica whipped their penlights around; Rufus reached into his vest for something far more useful. [center][b]* * * * *[/b][/center] [i]I'm slipping. It's all a slope, a slope covered in ice, and I'm wearing toboggans for shoes, and I'm slipping. Into the black. Can't hang on. Just sliding downward into the black. Bright. Pain. Hurt. Ow... Female, twenty-four, red hair, green eyes, 5'9”. A doctor. No; A nurse. No; emergency medical technician. Used to stress. Cold hands. Has a medkit in a duffel bag. Male, mid-thirties, black hair, brown eyes, 5'9”, holding a gun. Detective; former cop. Stance says it all. Accent's a bit Russian. And... An angel. No. Elohim. Enochian. Angels don't exist. But maybe they do. Maybe this is dying. Maybe she is death. The orb. Is it safe? Darker. Fading. But pain... gone. Not slipping.[/i] [/QUOTE]
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