come_sailaway | monday's child is fair of face (2/2)

CW: death, probably gore, possibly more TBA

[and that’s what you missed on glee.

and so, there “Friday” is, standing on the roof of the bar. the attention of the party has surely turned to her by this point, but she doesn’t care about that. she just needs one person to still be a little too distracted to stop what was coming next.

Monday snaps her fingers, and Jenny disappears from wherever she was standing before, reappearing directly in front of Monday, who embraces her from behind, an arm wrapped firmly around her middle. those with enhanced senses might catch what she whispers, seconds before she snaps Jenny’s neck so hard it hangs at a 90 degree angle as Monday kicks her, her corpse toppling forward onto the deck below.]

Surprise, bitch.

[well, there. unfinished business settled. onto more pertinent matters.]

Let’s get a little more comfortable first, hm? Can’t waste too much of her magic, but audiences love a quick change.

[she snaps her fingers, and Monday finds herself in an outfit that is far more to her taste. now. time for her grand performance.]

Greetings, foolish mortals! You may or may not have noticed that things have been a little bit different this month. While the Captain is off having a good old bitch cry about whatever it is he’s so upset about, poor little Friday was running herself ragged keeping this shitheap floating! She was so distracted, in fact, that she happened to have a little accident, while fixing something in the elevator shaft! [a laugh] I guess even clay bitches can break their necks! And there I was, sitting in Fucking Nowhere, doing Fucking Nothing, feeling Fucking. Nothing! And I saw her empty shell. And I was, like, hey, free real estate!

Whatever tear in the veil that your whiny little Captain just didn’t feel like fixing? I ripped that fucker right open. And you’ve all met a few of the sorry little fuckers that fell out already, hm? [another snap] Not all of them, but, hey, that’s what now is for, right? Because, see, we all kinda got together a little bit, and we were like… You know, just borrowing some shitty bodies to have some fun for a few weeks? What a waste! And we still have a lot of bitches we need to spring from jail!

And that! Is where you assholes come in! And, trust me, you are all assholes. Have you even seen some of the psychotic shit you people have said and done to us? Like, yeah, Mary is legitimately insane, but she’s still a kid! Even I’m not gonna call a fucking nine year old a bitch!

You can try to run, but I fucking hate running in heels, so I made that a little bit… difficult. So. Why don’t you nice people just lay down and let us kill you. I’ll be gentle. Promise.

[perhaps people have tried to flee already. they likely have. and they’ve found that the entire party area has been blocked off by the same sort of barrier that surrounds the realm, an invisible orb holding them captive.]

Now. Let’s get the actual party started!

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[Jack, who in his emotional exhaustion this month, retired to his room very early, is given the rudest wake-up call in his life as the charm he stuck to his bare chest explodes.

Not that he even realizes that's what happened at first. There's just pain and heat and his hand moving on old reflex, one arm clutching the bedspread beside him while the other gropes for his pillow-

And it's tucked there, right beside his head, just like it used to be in Rapture. His breathing comes in heaving wet gasps and his hands shake, but they find the tiny kit, fumble it open, and grab the red-filled hypo within it.

One jab later and a minute for the bleeding to stop and the flesh to grow back together, and Jack's left sore and panting on the bed, wondering what the fuck-

He pieces it together, eventually, though the conclusion he comes to is that it must be a reaction from - a ghost attack or something? Because why else would they explode like that-

And then it clicks in, if the charms did that because of the ghosts, then something really bad is happening with the ghost situation on the ship.

Jack cusses under his breath and doesn't bother to do more than shed the remains of his old shirt before he starts suiting up with weapons. Shotgun, handgun, wrench. Classics for a reason, reliably heavy damage or reliably aimed damage, close and long ranges. EVE hypos clipped to his belt, easy access if he has to recharge his abilities very quickly. Bag of supplies secure over his shoulder. The wound on his chest is fresh, only just closed, liable to tear again if he isn't careful on his way to the party, since apparently he can't even escape reminders of Rapture's goddamn new years party on here.

He steps through the door and takes a moment to assess the hallway, and when he's confident it's clear he begins to make his way to the party.]

monday's child is fair of face (2/2)

[a setup comment to get Jack to the save point] [cw vague gore and needle mention]