Murray's Journey: Revelations

[Laraqua]

The lamp switches on just fine, though it doesn't appear to be plugged into anything. The red curtains obscure nothing but wall. It seems like they are decorative wall hangings rather than designed to hide anything.

There is a low static charge to the air that makes his hair stand on end. Something is happening, has happened and will happen.

The corpse, laid open and revealed for all the world to see, twitches in the recess, its muscles spasming as though it were still alive though surely that couldn't be possible.

[Mr. Handy]

That can't be good, thinks Murray, beating a hasty retreat back down the ramp.

[Laraqua]

As he hurries back down, he can hear the sound of steel grinding against concrete as WHAM!! something slams against the slightly open door and WHAM!! it slams against it once more.

[Mr. Handy]

OOC,I thought I closed the doors in [url=http://www.callofcthulhu.org.uk/pbp/viewtopic.php?p=157491#p157491]this post[/url].

[Laraqua]

OOC,sorry I didn't respond to that bit. It's too heavy to close and too rusted in place, hence why it stopped mid-way through opening (should've mentioned that) but that fact actually will still work in your favour as *it* won't have an easy time getting in. Also, because of the angle in which it opened, the creature will need to slam the door shut before it can break it open. Which suggests that the creature isn't intelligent, not even as intelligent as a cat, because a cat would be trying to get its paws inside and then wrench it further open rather than just throwing itself bodily at the door. So you have time. Perhaps not a lot, but time. Spot Hidden, please.

[Mr. Handy]

Murray looks around for another way out, but his rising sense of panic distracts him.

[Laraqua]

There is another snap-snap-snap sound as the monitors slowly resolve their static to reveal a series of faces of those he had followed and revealed for their criminal or just plain dodgy activities. The false injury claims, the thefts, the arson investigations for insurance fraud, the cheating spouses.... All of those people whose dastardly doings were revealed to the client to see. Then with another snap-snap-snap it turns to static before revealing a woman standing by the railing of a lighthouse. It's Ash and by her side is that man ... Jack.

Wham!!! Something slams against the door.

"She was tough as nails like my mom," said Ash, her voice ringing clear from her multi-screen face. "I was always jealous of her. Always. She always seemed to be their favourite. I didn't really know what had happened but I guessed. When I turned sixteen mum felt I should know as she'd be passing on the baton to me. I ... well, I balked."

Wham!!! Something slams against the door.

"The powerful leaves behind words that are feared, sometimes even worshipped by the meek, thus gods are born, and these gods perpetuated by all the cruel men that comes after. It's not the cruel world that breeds cruel gods, but rather cruel men and women," Jack says, then mutters, "I have trouble believing that people actually believe whatever gods rule here. They always sounded more like demons to me." Jack shrugged. "Sick and twisted demons, corrupting men and women and leading them towards their death. Not that I really care anymore."

[Mr. Handy]

Murray frantically keeps looking for some means of escape, or at least a hiding place, while still paying some attention to Ash and Jack's exchange on the monitors.

[Laraqua]

Jack turns to gaze down at Murray through the giant collection of screens as they each flip to become a giant combination picture of Jack and Ash. "You can't run forever, you know. Sometimes you have to turn and fight." And with that all of the screens erupt into a shower of glass shards and sparks that fly across the room, miraculously falling harmlessly against Murray's side. Sitting on the platform before the monitors upon the altar now lies a drowned and bloated body of a woman with blonde hair wearing a long coat who clutches desperately at a shotgun. She seems quite dead. The flayed figure has disappeared, though a trail of blood now leads to the ragged red curtain on the left.

The WHAM!!! at the door, however, sounds very much alive, or at least animate. Murray doesn't have very much time.

[Mr. Handy]

Murray runs to snatch up the shotgun and then bolts for the red curtain. Even if there's no way out there, he might be able to hide and ambush the creature. Like Jack said, he can't run forever.

[Laraqua]

There is a gore encrusted and slippery chute heading down into blackness. The sides of its metallic frame look a little sharp and threaten all kinds of infectious diseases. There'd be no way to hide in that chute but one could attempt to continue fleeing down the rabbit hole to get out of here. Alternatively, one could stand and fight. The crunch of the doors finally buckling inward reveals that the time is at hand to make your decision.

[Mr. Handy]

Oh no, thinks Murray as he hides behind the curtain and inspects the shotgun, Getting jabbed by sharp, rusty metal once was plenty for me, thank you. It's a good thing I've got this shotgun now, but it didn't do the dame much good. I guess I'm going to have to stand and face my nightmares. He shakes his head. I can't believe I'm listening to Jack. Of course, he wasn't talking to me...or was he?

OOC,What kind of shotgun is it, and how many shells does it have?

[Laraqua]

OOC,12-gauge Bellini M3, 4d6/2d6/1d6 at 10/20/50 yards. 2 attacks per round. 7 bullets in the gun. Mal 00

[Mr. Handy]

OOC,Sweet!

[Laraqua]

The doors crack open as a bizarre shape of shutter-flash static-lit edges and twisted shards of razor and edged metal rushes into the space, its edged limbs rasping against the cement as it moves forward, whipping around a head-like appendage filled with whip-thin wires as though seeking out his presence through the very vibrations in the air. The sight of it feels as though a giant weight were pressing down on Murray's heart, as though it were some massive guilt that threatened to overwhelm him, yet he feels that the weight here isn't entirely his own. It is the weight of everyone he has ever met before and everyone he will meet. The queer notion and it's strange non-Euclidean geometric shapes rattle the mind (1/1d10).

[Mr. Handy]

Murray recoils in absolute terror, overwhelmed by the crushing guilt. The certain knowledge rips his mind apart.

OOC,Farewell, my Sanity... :?

[Laraqua]

OOC,What would be a suitable insanity do you think?

[Mr. Handy]

OOC,Being wracked with guilt might be fitting, but it could be too debilitating. Maybe I could flee in terror down the chute anyway in spite of my resolve to stay and fight (and then feel guilty about chickening out afterwards).

[Laraqua]

Show,abject terror would certainly work and be very fitting. Alternatively you could see it as a God and come to worship it for a very interesting Bad+ ending (wouldn't end immediately but would put you on the path). Paralysis would also make sense but would just get you killed.

[Mr. Handy]

OOC,I could see [b]Murray[/b] worshipping it and becoming a sort of vigilante avenger much like Tex Murphy in the missing seven years before Tesla Effect, but that's not the route I'd choose - I prefer the old [b]Murray[/b] just like I prefer the old Tex. I'm thinking abject terror.