[ Glenvale isn't high on the list of Danny's favorite places for several reasons. But the moment the Entity gives him an impression of which survivors it picked for the trial he's being pulled into, he doesn't hesitate to dig out a fraying coil of rope from his cache and throw it into one of the meat packing plant's many incinerators. As it crumbles to ash, the dark fog gathers around him—and a smile unfolds on his face when he breathes in the hot, dusty air of the ghost town.
Opening his eyes, he finds himself standing in one of the saloon's rooms. It's familiar; with two boarded up doors and an empty window frame as the only entrance/exit, it becomes a literal deathtrap whenever he corners a survivor within it. The candles of a lit totem crackle quietly near his feet. Just another surprise he has planned for this trial. After all, talk is cheap. The real impact of words comes when you show the extent to which you can back them up. And with his victims' horror of dying dulling a little more with every death, well... why should it come as a shock to any of them when one of the Entity's most favored killers dedicates himself to keeping it as sharp as possible? Especially if they decided to volunteer for it?
Time to get started.
He rolls his shoulders, then hoists himself out of the window. With the fog itself shifting to shroud his presence, he makes his way along the balcony ringing the saloon's second floor.
Halfway around, the telltale sounds of sparking wires and clicking gears drift up to him. He pauses and looks down. There—by the shack, a generator in progress. From this angle, he can't quite see who's working on it. But given the increasing speed of the chugging pistons, it's at least two people.
Danny creeps down the nearby stairs and towards the generator, crouching low, using the rocks and bushes to obscure his approach until he judges himself too close to take another step without alerting someone to the sound of desert sand crunching beneath his boots. Then he stops. Pressing up against a pile of crates stacked high enough to hide him—even the wayward straps on his coat—he leans out inch by inch to peek around it.
There's Dwight. With none other than Steve. Perfect. Danny settles in to watch the two of them repairing away, gloved fingers flexing around the handle of his knife as he thinks about how their efforts so far will amount to very little in just a few moments. ]
[ Glenvale's one of the more unique places to have a trial, much like ormond. The rest of the areas are all woody, or inside confined buildings, or just plain old neighborhoods and schools. But Glenvale, with the desert aesthetic, and warm glow of the sunset ever present during trials, tends to be a nice change of pace for Steve. He's just getting into the groove of working on this generator, trying not to focus on the fact that he is already a little warm, and his hands getting a bit sweaty while he fumbles around with the wires. Cheryl's dainty little fingers are always so much better at this. But he's glad he's here and not her, every trial she's not in is a victory to him.
Dwight is working diligently with the gears and pistons, as evidenced by the small drops of oil, grease, and gasoline all over his hands, a drop or two running down his forearms. The generator seems to be pumping at about half of it's needed speed to be self-running, but not a sound around town is yet to be heard by them.
Steve wonders who the other two are in the trial, if they're working on a nearby generator or keeping the killer busy or cleaning bones. He hopes someone is running circles right now, because he hasn't seen or heard the killer around yet, and that can be a bad sign if it goes on for too long. The stealthy ones can be surprising if you're not paying attention.
Steve looks up at Dwight, their combined efforts yielding the generator maybe 2/3rds-ish of the way there, and asks him a question.]
You didn't happen to see anyone on your way here, did you? Other survivors, or who the hell we're up against, did you?
[ Dwight just frowns, and says "I don't know, I think I saw either your girlfriend, or Laurie, but I couldn't tell and they headed in the other direction." Steve nods, a bit of sweat building up on his brow from the tediousness of the work and the dryness of the air. ]
Nah, not Cher, kissed her goodbye before my ass was taken here.
[ He spends just a few more moments working before he feels it. All the air on his body seems to raise in unison, and suddenly his heart beats out of his chest. He feels vulnerable, exposed. That narrows the killers list down, and suddenly Steve realizes who one of those possibilities might be. ]
DWIGHT. GO NOW! [ It's a hasty whisper-yell to the man. He's not sure where they're being exposed from, but the gen only needs a few more seconds til it'll pop. The shack can be looped if necessary, and with Steve not knowing where half his team is, popping this generator seems like a priority. Dwight can get out of here though, get started somewhere else. Steve can heal himself if worse comes to worst. ]
[ eavesdropping on survivors during trials is always a gamble. Either they're too scared to talk, or they get scared enough they end up babbling too much about things he already knows. But it's still worth taking time to do ( especially when the trial's just beginning ) for those moments that do yield useful tidbits. Like now. Steve and Cheryl? Huh. And here he's been so sure that Steve and Nancy had something going on between them. Or at least some history that went beyond friendship. The silences in their conversations when they're alone—too familiar and too awkward at the same time—practically rattle with it.
Steve hadn't mentioned Cheryl at all during their little chat. Clearly he didn't want Danny getting the slightest hint they were together. Young love around the campfire, so well-hidden even he hadn't managed to catch it... how cute.
With this new piece of information setting off all sorts of possibilities in his mind, he almost doesn't notice how intent his focus has become until Steve stiffens and hisses for Dwight to go. Dwight takes off running towards the saloon, and Danny's about to move to cut Steve off when he follows except—he's staying? Danny shoots a glance at the generator's pistons. The fourth is almost moving as fast as the other three.
Now or never.
Darting out from behind the crates, he closes the distance between him and Steve and brings his knife down on his exposed back. If he timed it right, the second his stab drops Steve to the ground, the generator should—for lack of a better word—explode before Steve can finish repairing it, its components giving way and breaking under a surge of some unseen force. The ability came to him after a strange dream that he only remembers vague impressions of now. The taste of cold metal. A mouth splitting open, impossibly wide, revealing the razor-sharp teeth within as a screech echoes through the air. Danny doesn't care so much about how or why it works. It does, and that's reason enough for him to keep utilizing it in trials. ]
[ Steve's sweaty fingers frantically fumble around, working the pistons and gears as fast as he can before Ghost Face can close the distance to him, hoping that that final piston will gain enough momentum to keep all four of them self-sustaining. It's so close too.
Trials are always hell, a bloody mess with escape never a guarantee. But it's rare that Steve does poorly enough that the killer can just pull him off the generator while he's still working it, he's praying to whatever non eldritch god is around that it doesn't happen with Ghost Face now, just to save himself the fucking embarrassment. He has no idea that Ghost Face was already close enough to hear him talking to Dwight, sharing a key piece of information about his relationship status.
They've been trying their best to keep it from all the killers, the more messed up killers would be very eager to use it against them both, and to their knowledge the only killer that might have an idea is The Wraith, who by chance, was their assigned murderer the night they actually started falling for each other. They managed to stay relatively hidden from him until they escaped, with Wraith just staring at them holding hands from afar. But Ghost Face knowing, with his obsessive stalking tendencies, could prove to be a real problem in future trials, using their love as leverage against each other. The whole thing would just be...messy.
The generator is basically done, Steve just needs to connect one last wire to complete the connection for the last piston to keep it powered, but as soon as he starts moving his fingers, he feels the icy heat of metal rending the flesh of his back, but this is worse than most quick jabs. This was a premeditated move, with thought and precision applied. The pain is unbearable, and it instantly brings Steve to his knees, he can't help the pained scream the escapes his mouth. Maybe Dwight is still near enough to help somehow, but Steve also spies a hook not too far away from where they are. In almost the same instant Steve crashes down, the generator he was working starts sparking up, and explodes, the searing hot oil pelting little drops on his skin just adds insult to injury. And it looks like it's only getting worse. He's seen this before, when facing the creature from his home, the Demogorgon. He almost wonders if it taught Ghost Face how to do that, but there's no way that thing is capable of teaching anyone anything.
He lays there moaning and bleeding for a second, before sucking in just enough air and composure to be able to talk to Ghost Face. Because of course he's going to try to muster up enough energy to try and be a little toxic. ]
Fancy meeting you here, prick. You gonna pick me up or just spend the whole trial staring at my cute little ass? Wouldn't blame you if you did.
[ Well this is one sure fire way to get a killer to toy with the idea of tunneling you, but he also figures Ghost Face is so used to hearing stuff like this it might go in one ear and out the other. So far, bad start to the trial, with no generators done, and Steve about to get hooked without some kind of crazy intervention from his team and enough struggling on his part. But he feels so weak and disoriented already. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Opening his eyes, he finds himself standing in one of the saloon's rooms. It's familiar; with two boarded up doors and an empty window frame as the only entrance/exit, it becomes a literal deathtrap whenever he corners a survivor within it. The candles of a lit totem crackle quietly near his feet. Just another surprise he has planned for this trial. After all, talk is cheap. The real impact of words comes when you show the extent to which you can back them up. And with his victims' horror of dying dulling a little more with every death, well... why should it come as a shock to any of them when one of the Entity's most favored killers dedicates himself to keeping it as sharp as possible? Especially if they decided to volunteer for it?
Time to get started.
He rolls his shoulders, then hoists himself out of the window. With the fog itself shifting to shroud his presence, he makes his way along the balcony ringing the saloon's second floor.
Halfway around, the telltale sounds of sparking wires and clicking gears drift up to him. He pauses and looks down. There—by the shack, a generator in progress. From this angle, he can't quite see who's working on it. But given the increasing speed of the chugging pistons, it's at least two people.
Danny creeps down the nearby stairs and towards the generator, crouching low, using the rocks and bushes to obscure his approach until he judges himself too close to take another step without alerting someone to the sound of desert sand crunching beneath his boots. Then he stops. Pressing up against a pile of crates stacked high enough to hide him—even the wayward straps on his coat—he leans out inch by inch to peek around it.
There's Dwight. With none other than Steve. Perfect. Danny settles in to watch the two of them repairing away, gloved fingers flexing around the handle of his knife as he thinks about how their efforts so far will amount to very little in just a few moments. ]
no subject
Dwight is working diligently with the gears and pistons, as evidenced by the small drops of oil, grease, and gasoline all over his hands, a drop or two running down his forearms. The generator seems to be pumping at about half of it's needed speed to be self-running, but not a sound around town is yet to be heard by them.
Steve wonders who the other two are in the trial, if they're working on a nearby generator or keeping the killer busy or cleaning bones. He hopes someone is running circles right now, because he hasn't seen or heard the killer around yet, and that can be a bad sign if it goes on for too long. The stealthy ones can be surprising if you're not paying attention.
Steve looks up at Dwight, their combined efforts yielding the generator maybe 2/3rds-ish of the way there, and asks him a question.]
You didn't happen to see anyone on your way here, did you? Other survivors, or who the hell we're up against, did you?
[ Dwight just frowns, and says "I don't know, I think I saw either your girlfriend, or Laurie, but I couldn't tell and they headed in the other direction." Steve nods, a bit of sweat building up on his brow from the tediousness of the work and the dryness of the air. ]
Nah, not Cher, kissed her goodbye before my ass was taken here.
[ He spends just a few more moments working before he feels it. All the air on his body seems to raise in unison, and suddenly his heart beats out of his chest. He feels vulnerable, exposed. That narrows the killers list down, and suddenly Steve realizes who one of those possibilities might be. ]
DWIGHT. GO NOW! [ It's a hasty whisper-yell to the man. He's not sure where they're being exposed from, but the gen only needs a few more seconds til it'll pop. The shack can be looped if necessary, and with Steve not knowing where half his team is, popping this generator seems like a priority. Dwight can get out of here though, get started somewhere else. Steve can heal himself if worse comes to worst. ]
no subject
Steve hadn't mentioned Cheryl at all during their little chat. Clearly he didn't want Danny getting the slightest hint they were together. Young love around the campfire, so well-hidden even he hadn't managed to catch it... how cute.
With this new piece of information setting off all sorts of possibilities in his mind, he almost doesn't notice how intent his focus has become until Steve stiffens and hisses for Dwight to go. Dwight takes off running towards the saloon, and Danny's about to move to cut Steve off when he follows except—he's staying? Danny shoots a glance at the generator's pistons. The fourth is almost moving as fast as the other three.
Now or never.
Darting out from behind the crates, he closes the distance between him and Steve and brings his knife down on his exposed back. If he timed it right, the second his stab drops Steve to the ground, the generator should—for lack of a better word—explode before Steve can finish repairing it, its components giving way and breaking under a surge of some unseen force. The ability came to him after a strange dream that he only remembers vague impressions of now. The taste of cold metal. A mouth splitting open, impossibly wide, revealing the razor-sharp teeth within as a screech echoes through the air. Danny doesn't care so much about how or why it works. It does, and that's reason enough for him to keep utilizing it in trials. ]
no subject
Trials are always hell, a bloody mess with escape never a guarantee. But it's rare that Steve does poorly enough that the killer can just pull him off the generator while he's still working it, he's praying to whatever non eldritch god is around that it doesn't happen with Ghost Face now, just to save himself the fucking embarrassment. He has no idea that Ghost Face was already close enough to hear him talking to Dwight, sharing a key piece of information about his relationship status.
They've been trying their best to keep it from all the killers, the more messed up killers would be very eager to use it against them both, and to their knowledge the only killer that might have an idea is The Wraith, who by chance, was their assigned murderer the night they actually started falling for each other. They managed to stay relatively hidden from him until they escaped, with Wraith just staring at them holding hands from afar. But Ghost Face knowing, with his obsessive stalking tendencies, could prove to be a real problem in future trials, using their love as leverage against each other. The whole thing would just be...messy.
The generator is basically done, Steve just needs to connect one last wire to complete the connection for the last piston to keep it powered, but as soon as he starts moving his fingers, he feels the icy heat of metal rending the flesh of his back, but this is worse than most quick jabs. This was a premeditated move, with thought and precision applied. The pain is unbearable, and it instantly brings Steve to his knees, he can't help the pained scream the escapes his mouth. Maybe Dwight is still near enough to help somehow, but Steve also spies a hook not too far away from where they are. In almost the same instant Steve crashes down, the generator he was working starts sparking up, and explodes, the searing hot oil pelting little drops on his skin just adds insult to injury. And it looks like it's only getting worse. He's seen this before, when facing the creature from his home, the Demogorgon. He almost wonders if it taught Ghost Face how to do that, but there's no way that thing is capable of teaching anyone anything.
He lays there moaning and bleeding for a second, before sucking in just enough air and composure to be able to talk to Ghost Face. Because of course he's going to try to muster up enough energy to try and be a little toxic. ]
Fancy meeting you here, prick. You gonna pick me up or just spend the whole trial staring at my cute little ass? Wouldn't blame you if you did.
[ Well this is one sure fire way to get a killer to toy with the idea of tunneling you, but he also figures Ghost Face is so used to hearing stuff like this it might go in one ear and out the other. So far, bad start to the trial, with no generators done, and Steve about to get hooked without some kind of crazy intervention from his team and enough struggling on his part. But he feels so weak and disoriented already. ]