Play@YSDC

Jack picked up a random object from near the computer and hurled it towards Cecilia. "I call you crazy and your reaction is to drop the shotgun in front of a man who tried to strangle you then curl up into a little ball like a kitten? You are crazier than I am!"

He opened up the patient database and entered 4132 when prompted for a pass code.

The coffee cup shatters beside her.

The patient database is already opened but the security prompt for rroberta does accept 4132 as a number. It sits, ready and waiting, one of those cheap databases that look more like they belong running in DOS than in a Window.

Jack quickly looked up his own name in the computer.

Cecilia flinches when the cup breaks against the wall. She stares at the pieces, and picks up one of the larger shards, running a finger along an edge.

"Stop," she whispers, though he probably can't hear her. Even if he does, he won't care.

She drops the coffee cup piece and gathers up the stuffed animals. "Take your gun back. I don't need it."

I'm not crazy. Just lost.

Jack brings up the file on himself and starts reading it intently. He doesn't look away. He doesn't blink. He just reads his own file, gaze traversing the file, and the skin tightens around his face as he takes in the data. Unfortunately, he understands perfectly what it all means ... what the data states ... and it makes a funny kind of sense. It's that sense that's like a mule kick to his guts as he learns what no man wants to learn about himself. He can feel it, the sharpness of the blade, the icy hot agony of it plunging into his abdomen and up beneath his ribs. The burning hot blood as it pumped into his lung, filling it like lead, causing the lung to spasm and seize as his body struggled to work around it. His heart shaking, shuddering, as though still not quite sure that the blade tip missed its mark, that it was still unaffected, still free to pump. And then he was choking on his own blood, his lungs spasming to clear the airways, but each seize of his lungs hurt, clamping down around the blade as it was withdrawn. The cool rasp of the bar counter under his hands as he pulled back, leaned back, the firm line that dug into his back from the counter top. The shock. Oh, the shock. But then there was more sharpness, more pain, as the blade plunged deeply once more.

But it all feels like an echo.

As though it weren't the final answer.

Just the terrifying, horrible beginning to one.

Sanity Loss,You've lost 14 sanity and comprehended what it meant. That means that you're now temporarily insane. Since you're so good at playing insane, I'll let you play it out. It doesn't have to be something from the book (because they can get silly unless you're dealing with something that actually warps your mind) but it should ideally be a coping mechanism emphasized to a crippling degree. i.e. if it was Cecilia right now, she would freeze up, perhaps with a few tears in her eyes, and do nothing but stare. I'd assume for your character it'd be cackling and violent property damage with a lot of posturing and threats and a disregard for his own, or anyone else's, safety. As a rule of thumb, make it last for [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3336930/]at least 7 minutes[/url].

As his face loses its colour, there's a sudden horrible wail of an air raid siren that whips through the air, striking them like hammer blows, and crawling inside their head with a horrible, throbbing ache. It drives Jack to his knees, the pain almost but not quite a distraction, from the revelation, and Cecilia almost blacks out as the world around them drips plaster from the walls to reveal rusted metal panelling beneath, the wood groans as it cracks and rots from the inside out, and the metal fridge rusts and decays until chunks full off to expose a water-stained interior. The air is cold, yet wet, and a heavy dampness presses against the skin. Only their weapons and equipment are unaffected by the change, though they, too, become soaked in cold, chilled water.