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[fury]

Suddenly everything went quiet around Peter, looking around none of the others were there. There was a smell of smoke in the air and a hint of (?) bacon. The buildings nearest were now rubble, others had no glass in the windows seemingly smashed in by some large blast...

Turning at the sound of something moving he spies a hunched, burnt and bleeding man shuffling towards him, the eyes a mere glint of green. He holds out a hand and points at Peter...[color=#6666CC;]"It was you...you did it."[/color]

[Synik]

Peter froze. Where was he? How did he get here? That smell...? It was too sweet for bacon. He'd smelt that before, the right/wrong scent of burnt flesh. Human flesh. Where was this? Was he back in Leicester? What about prison? The trial and then... the plague? Had he hit his head? His mind raced, trying to put facts on the vague details he knew. The streets were wrong and the buildings; not quite right, but familiar. Is it Leeds? But he'd never hit Leeds. Was this another mind trick? Peter thought.

The spray of the glass and broken rubble told Peter more than a news report. A car bomb: probably one large enough to fill a large estate car. Carefully packed and driven unprimed to the target. There was nothing left, but he could tell by the break of the buildings and the damage to the road where it had waited.

Looking over his shoulder there was only him... No, there was a man ahead. At least the wreck of a man. It couldn't be Leicester then. The body count was far higher. It wasn't him, not this time. But then, what if he was wrong? Maybe this was Ireland or London. There had been too many. There, the thought slipped out of him. Too many. The man's comment remained unanswered. Peter looked away. Had he really caused the change. Doubt crept in like hot needles to his face. He looked away.

"It wasn't me," Peter heard himself call back. "Not this time. Do you need any help?"

[fury]

Another voice sounds this time from behind, [color=#6666CC;]"It was you!"[/color]. Then another voice, a childs [color=#6666CC;]"You bring death,"[/color], another this time a woman [color=#6666CC;]"you bring pain and destruction."[/color]. Their broken ruined bodies move painfully closer to Peter.

[Synik]

God, there's more of them! Peter took a pace back. Something was wrong, very wrong with this situation. "You're not ****ing real," he snapped at the wounded. "None of you are. This is someone's idea of a joke." All the same, he kept moving away. "You should be dead. Not shuffling around. You slugs?"

Anger rose within him. The old friend firing within his belly, filling his body with strength and pushing reason to the side. Peter's hand settled on the hilt of the knife. "Don't come any closer," he hissed at them. He didn't complete the threat. His face said the rest.

[fury]

As Peter took a pace back he felt a hand pulling at his trouser leg, [color=#6666CC;]"You belong here, destroyer, chaos bringer, here with death and destruction. Here with your victims,"[/color] There was a torso with an arm attatched on the floor trying to get his attention. [color=#6666CC;]"In chaos destruction rules,"[/color] the figures are joined by others and they chant, [color=#6666CC;]"In chaos destruction rules..."[/color]

OOC

willpower roll

[Synik]

OOC

[ October 1, 2010, 9:34 pm ] - Synik rolled 1d20 ± 5 and obtained 16 ( 11, ). Reason : Peter's will save.

The grab on his leg makes Peter turn and stamp down hard on the animated remains. "Gerroff," he growled. The forms continued to advance on him. Their lips moving in slavish orchestra. "This isn't real," Peter said again. "This is some type of dream or f***ed up trip."

Chaos? "Wait." Peter's breath caught in his throat, he seemed to be having trouble thinking. Images of the devices he made and their glorious detonation fluttered in his head. "You want... destruction? I always deliver..." Part of him was appalled at what he just said. He started to feel sick.

Edited by Synik, 01 October 2010 - 09:47 PM.

[fury]

For the briefest moment Peter sees the others and has a sense of where he is then it is gone. The walking figures get to their knees head bowed, [color=#6666CC;]"you belong with us, bringer of desruction....firework man....deathbringer....creator of the brief blossoming fire...come with us....embrace us"[/color]

[Synik]

Wobbling on his feet, Peter covers his face and grimaces. The voices are right, I could... I could.

"No!" Peter yells. "Those days are gone. The old order has fallen. You will not draw me in to that again." The street scene seems to haze and fizzle out; the true forms of his friends - yes, friends - can be seen. "You won't pull me back. I won't go."

A thought cuts into Peter's tirade, breaking his rant: You'd do anything to protect them though, eh? Killing the priest, those two nonces and blowing up the house. Even that slug kid, it was just crying out to have it's face mashed in. You've not changed, Peter. Your hands are bloody and you love it. It's the only thing that gets you off.

"I embrace the dark," Peter whispers to the crowd. "Because it is part of me." He seems to gather strength from his earlier flash of reality. "I was... I was wrong. I did bad things... terrible things... that had to be done." He stops and looks to the floor. "Except the mosque." He throws back his head and laughs bitterly. There's a dangerous look in his eyes. "I did that just for the craic. Now which one of you f***ers do I have to gut to get out of here?"

[fury]

[color=#6666CC;]"You will not escape allah will not allow it, "[/color] an asian man steps from behind the crowd, part of his skull is dented inwards and blood splatters his face and clothes. [color=#6666CC;]"You do no wrong but murder innocents for the hell of it, you belong here with us in hell....but punished."[/color] The pavement suddenly gets very soft, Peter sinks into the surface ankle deep. [color=#6666CC;]"You will beg for forgiveness until your throat bleeds."[/color]

[Synik]

"Ahh, the Religion of Peace speaks," Peter growls to the injured man. "Guess you can't have lived a spotless life if you're in Hell." His eyes narrow and he stares at the man. "Maybe you're one of from the Cell I was supposed to take out."

"Where was your god when the device went off? Same as mine, I'll bet. Sat on a cloud watching us crawl around trying to killing each other." Peter's ankles sink into the pavement and he tries to dislodge a foot. "C**p. What now?" His mind protests against the walking dead and the weird floor, yet it feels all too real. Peter pushes a hand against the pavement and tries to free his feet.

[fury]

The Asian man flicks his wrist and a whip appears one seemingly made of metal and fire. He snaps it dramatically the other figures wait to see what happens.... Peters hand sticks into the thick material which is now the pavement.

OOC

Will roll +1 diff 15. If Peter suceeds his feet and hand become free, the pavement is solid once again.

[Synik]

OOC

[ October 3, 2010, 7:44 pm ] - Synik rolled 1d20 ± 6 and obtained 26 ( 20, ). Reason : Peter's will roll.

As Peter pushes against the pavement, he wonders where everyone else is. Janet, Shelley and the lads? "This ain't real," Peter spits and he finds his feet against solid ground once again. The surprise of the statement fades and coldness settles into his features. He breathes deep and walks calmly towards the man with the whip of fire. "I don't know what your game is sunshine, but it ain't gonna wash. I don't beg. Not then, not now, not ever."

[fury]

OOC

Nice one!

Peter blinks as the scene before him changes, the others seem locked in their own battles as he returns back to the 'real' world. Each of them talking or struggling against invisible foes...all except for Shelley and Malcolm....

OOC

back to the main thread when you are ready!

[Synik]

OOC

Ta. Luck of the dice eh?