Atrophy

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

---

Vashti never imagined in her life that she’d ever go to a Red Lobster, let alone be excited to go to one. She also never imagined someone that looked like Herik would give her his number, but the slip of paper that was carefully tucked into her pocket was proof of the impossible. The mild awkwardness and tension of riding in a car with an almost stranger was released as she asked, “So does the Coven tend to get trapped in elevators a lot?” Their car banter was playful and light, and she was so juiced by the entire surrealness of it all that she could easily ignore the voice in the back of her head. It was telling her that now was the time to tell him about the Leviathan, but she wasn’t going to kill the good mood.

She hummed along with the dumb, sacchrine pop song that was playing on the radio as they pulled into the parking lot half-full of minivans with out of state license plates. She had to restrain herself from skipping as she followed alongside Herik into the Red Lobster. Surely the duo stuck out as they were led to their table past the sea of Midwestern families, some of their faces so sunburnt that it matched the crustaceans they were ferociously cracking open and devouring. Vashti didn’t mind. In fact, she found it hard not to smile as a tanned teenage girl drooled over Herik only to then gawk at her. She winked, stuck out her tongue, and jumped as she nearly walked into Herik as the host stopped them at their table.

“Honestly, this place doesn’t look that bad,” said Vashti as she settled into a chair. The decor, while cheap, didn’t have the tacky abrasiveness of what she imagined the inside of something absolutely awful like an Applebee’s would have, and it was hard to resist the smell of fried food. Her stomach growled as she grabbed a menu and thumbed through it. Family meal deals for just $8 a person? Endless shrimp for twice that price? She didn’t realize that her internal monologue shifted to external as she gasped, “Wow! This place is amazing! How could any other seafood place manage to stay in business?”

They ordered drinks. Vashti had a brief dilemma where she had to fight with herself over trying to get one over the eagle-eyed server by having Herik order her one of those shrimp cocktail sauce cocktails just to see how they managed to incorporate seafood with booze. Obviously, Herik was old enough to buy a drink—what, he had to be like twenty four? Twenty five?—but she decided against it. It would be a major bummer if she ended up getting him in trouble. She’d be fine with a Coke.

"Oh why hellooooo there, friends?" Vashti turned and gave Emily a confused look. Why had she said friends like it was a question, and why’d she get so dressed up to eat at a Red Lobster? Plus, it was a white dress. The girl was basically painting herself as a target for rogue splatters of cocktail sauce. Vashti softened her look into a welcoming smile. In the car, Herik had talked to her about the other members, Emily included. She felt like he’d kept saying they aren’t as bad as they seem, and so Vashti believed it. "So this is your idea of fine dining?” Hey, she’d been the one to suggest seafood! “Interesting."

"Well, I think we have some things we need to discuss…”

“Yeah the apps. Should we be bad and get the mozzarella sticks or do the artichoke dip?” interjected Vashti quietly, her nose buried in the menu yet again as the other two discussed who else was coming. She barely heard it. “Wait! She flipped the menu around, her eyes shining bright with wonder, and pointed at a picture. “They have a lobster pizza!? We have to try that.”

Vashti was met with blank stares. “Sorry, what were you two talking about?”

R E D U X .// 2047 //.

The snide grin on Maysah’s face only widened as Peterson spoke up, but she didn’t take her eyes off of Void. She was curious to see what the man would do. It was a test, almost, although a test implied that she had intended to set him up in this situation all along when in reality she was the one who had her buttons pushed. Unfortunately, when Void had stepped up that locked Maysah from ever entertaining the possibility of backing off. She was a matador and Hex’s notebook was the red cape. All that was left was to see if Void was more bullheaded than she. Maysah gestured to her empty glass. It was his move.

Maysah’s head snapped away as TONDE broke first. Something pulled the plug and the whole bar shut itself down in such a furiously self-destructive manner that it couldn’t have been the normal protocol of signalling to time displaced drunks that it was past closing. The carnival of lights and noise was now dead, the only source of light coming from the single bulb above their table. Maysah glanced up at the solitary light with a frown and let Arbiter pull the notebook from her fingers as he growled. So that’s what Arbiter could actually do, then? She knew he was more than just a stiff in a super suit. The test was now over.

Satisfied, Maysah leaned back in her seat and reached for her glass, cocking an eyebrow when she saw that it was empty. Maysah followed the old drinking rule of “when you don’t remember drinking it, it’s time to stop”, but normally she felt more drunk when it would come to that point. Funny that. She folded her arms over her chest and stared at Arbiter. Perhaps she should stop poking at the man so much. Her healthy suspicion coupled with just the simple pleasure of winding the man up was fine when it was just the two of them, or just the two of them and the Tower there to keep the peace, but it did them no good to squabble in public. Especially not in front of Peterson.

“Of course,” said Maysah at Arbiter’s insistence on getting some sleep. It was strange. She knew she had been arguing with him, but she felt no anger towards him. Naturally, she wouldn’t dare to give him an apology, but she’d accept his excuse. “We’re all in need of some actual good sleep.”

---

Maysah didn’t get good sleep. It wasn’t that the room Peterson had set her up with wasn’t adequate, although there was a sort of gauche tackiness to the decoration that suggested the room could be rented by the hour. The bed was comfortable enough as long as she kept that previous thought out of her mind and the amenities were, at the very least, existent. There was a faint pink glow to the room that emerged once she kicked off the lights, the pollution of neon advertisements forcing their way past the blackout curtains to get to the consumer. Still, Maysah was out the moment her head touched the pillow. Regardless, the sleep wasn’t good.

Their house together hadn’t been large but it was exquisite and solitary, located in a forest clearing at the end of a winding drive. The windows were so numerous and so enormous that it’d be more accurate to say that it was made of glass and a few planks than to say it was constructed out of cedar. Henri was a proponent of minimalism, so every room was neat and smartly decorated with the exclusion of her study, although he always found time to tidy up the chaos of “the Stardust Cave” as he insisted on calling it. Really, beside her one room it was his house. He did everything in the kitchen, he cleaned the bathroom, he remodeled the children’s room into a personal gym once that dream was realized to be irresponsible. He put a lot of work in making their home a home. Once she was Stardust, she hardly even had time to be there let alone think about dusting.

She was running down the driveway he’d happily shovel for an hour every time it snowed, despite her offer of torching it with her powers. The moon was full and she could see the house clearly as she turned around the final bend. The huge windows to the dining room, the ones that he insisted were great because of how much natural light they let in, were shattered inwards. She went through them. All was dark inside except the flicker of the television in the other room. Henri had been opposed to getting a TV, but there wasn’t a night when she came home from fighting crime where she didn’t find him staying up to watch for news of her accolades. She dropped her shield and slowed down. Maysah knew what she was about to walk into but still screamed as she turned the corner. It always surprised her by the amount of viscera Soothslayer left dripping from the ceiling.

Maysah woke up with a jolt of panic that was louder than any alarm and more energizing than any shot of espresso. Her body ached. Realization eased the pain in her chest as she leaned back against the headboard and breathed. It had been a while since she had that nightmare, although she never kidded herself once that it would ever be gone. It was this damn job, as if she needed her subconscious to remind her of the terrible things the corps would do if you dared to oppose them. She looked at the aging woman in the mirror above the dresser and frowned. What more could they take now? She had a few hours to kill, and going out wasn’t an option.

So, Maysah decided to find out the answer to that question, even though she feared that it’d be nothing.

---

It was difficult not to look at the message anytime Maysah pulled out her phone. You can trust him. Unlike her previous question, this one still had no answer. Maysah could remember the directions to A Morning Cup from here. She sighed and locked the screen, momentarily startled by the sight of Maria in the reflection. No matter how many times she saw that face looking back at her she’d never recognize it as her own. Thanks to her supply of glamour pills being down to the last two, she wouldn’t have to ever overcome that hurdle. Of course, she’d have new problems to deal with once she ran out, and they were the kind that’d be a little harder to jump over than a hurdle. All in good time. She had to survive tonight.

Fortunately, she was nailing it on the surviving aspect so far. She had managed the short walk from the hotel to the jazz club without a scratch on her, although she did have to fend off several promoters that were bombarding anyone who got too close with flyers for various clubs. By the time she was outside of A Morning Cup she had a healthy stack in her hand. With so many places to have an awful time at, how did any of these clubs stay open? She squeezed her way inside through a gauntlet of expensive haircuts and tailored suits while a baritone saxophone loudly died to find Arbiter had gotten them a table. A kind gesture, considering he hadn’t offered to give them a ride.

“Do you find it as worrisome as I do that our benefactor isn’t already here?” asked Maysah, joining Arbiter at the table. “I suppose if a betrayal was lined up corp sec would’ve kicked in our doors during the night. Still. Things haven’t really gone our way so far.”

The Night Shift - Gas Station Horror Simulator (OPEN)

Cut to Bork getting conned into playing Fuzion Frenzy 2.

The Night Shift - Gas Station Horror Simulator (OPEN)

Getting forced to play Mario Party is true horror. I'm ready for this opening post to chill me to the bones now.

Recollections: The Othergrounds [Complete]

There's always room for more in the Othergrounds...

Recollections: The Othergrounds [Complete]

---

"... Awakened always return as Apparitions. We'll see her again, I promise."

Penny gave a wry, pained smile and lowered her head. They’d see Caelea again? Yeah? And what form would Caelea take? Would she be herself, or would she be a smoke monster that moved faster than a bullet and was capable of eviscerating a person in a blink of an eye? Stacey gave words to her fears. What did that mean for the others Penny had already lost? She pressed her hand to her heart and closed her eyes so tightly that the spots she saw were on the inside as well as the out. A sob got caught in her throat and she held it there. She wouldn’t allow herself to break in front of the others.

"If it's a shared dream, is there a way out?" asked Stacey.

“Yeah,” said Penny, the lump in her throat coming out as a dismissive scoff. “We find the dickhead whose nightmare we’re stuck inside of and shove our foot so far up their ass they’ll never be able to lie down to go to sleep ever again.”

She kicked off of the lamppost and tried to ignore how her legs felt like jelly. She wasn’t going to even start entertaining the idea of looking for an escape before she had taken care of the Apparition that had murdered Caelea. Odessa may have dumped another pile of doubts onto Penny’s mountain of them, but she had cleared up one thing that had been a concern: Caelea wasn’t inside of that thing anymore. She wasn’t going to allow her friend to go unavenged. However, before that she needed to recuperate, and she wasn’t the only one. Penny looked around and saw tired, broken faces.

Penny put a hand to her hip and said to Odessa, “Look, I’m not against figuring out what’s going on, but let’s do it somewhere better than this. Like a place with a couch, or even just a chair. Everyone looks like they could use a break, and the street’s not cutting it.”

She threaded her fingers together and stretched her hands high above her head until her knuckles popped. There was little doubt in her mind that the group would be against finding somewhere comfortable to lay low. Penny began to move, but slowed her pace as she neared Odessa and smirked, “On our way, why not tell us about this place the Hound won’t go? I don’t know about you, but that sounds like paradise to me.”

Recollections: The Othergrounds [Complete]

Well. Either we gotta stop here or make 351 more IC posts.

The Night Shift - Gas Station Horror Simulator (OPEN)

Always trust a Big Al.

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

---

Vashti perked up as she heard the ding of the elevator. She tilted her head, saw Madison being carried by Herik, dropped back against the couch with a thump, and stuck her lip out. Some girls had all of the luck. Vashti realized then that Madison was passed out and chided herself. It was stupid to get jealous of a drunk girl. Still, her self-awareness did nothing to cure her envy. Today was turning out to be a horrible day. She looked like an idiot at the meetup, acted like a total asshole to girls higher up in the pecking order, and now was being a total sourpuss for an utterly benign reason. She wished she could blame her behavior on the Leviathan, but even before it her emotions ran rampant. Vashti sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. What a headache this was all be—

A cry of surprise escaped her throat as she was effortlessly lifted up out of her slump like a ragdoll and constricted between a massive pair of arms. Momentarily panic switched over to even more panic as Vashti realized Herik was hugging her. Words tried to form on her lips as her feet dangled uselessly off of the ground, but the only thing that came out was excited gibberish. Before she still fully comprehended the greatness of the moment she was in it was over as Herik gently set her back down on the couch.

"Thank you!” Ohmigod. “You're a lifesaver.”Ohmigod ohmigod. “How about I treat you to dinner, yes?" Ohmigodohmigodohmigod. Vashti felt her face flush as her eyes darted around the room. This was a prank. Revenge for her shit behavior. No, wait, he was serious? Really? Buy her dinner? Buying dinner was big. Buying dinner was really big. It was practically date territory. Wait, was it one? Holy shit. She needed to breathe. She needed to change outfits. She needed to not have a creepy alligator hybrid body. Most importantly, she needed to say something, because right now she was just staring at Herik in disbelief. She hopped up to her feet.

“D-dinner? Yes! Yeah! Awesome! That’d be great! Totally! I’m in!” How many ways could she give him an affirmative? Vashti never would know, because the goth waiting for the elevator came over.

"Hi, I'm Sin, the best summoner in the world." Vashti gave her a horrified look. The only sin here was that this girl had managed to summon up a total vibe killer by interrupting the chemistry that was clearly sparking between Vashti and Herik. "So uh... You're one us yeah?"

“Geez, I still hope so,” said Vashti. Wait, did the girl just assume she was in the Coven? Did that mean she walked up to everyone introducing herself as a summoner? Vasthi shook her head, wiped the ugly look from her face, and smiled. She didn’t need to butt heads with anymore of the Coven. “I’m Vashti, the best elevator repair-girl in the world.”

Meanwhile, the other girls were rushing around and Herik had checked his phone. Something had gone wrong. Before Vashti could even consolidate plans with Herik, she was whisked away into a different car.

---

Vashti might’ve been sullen on the way to the Coven’s lair, but nobody could ever be sad in Fantasy Land! Or so said the broken sign covered with dying spanish moss. It was an odd concept for a theme park. Most bragged about being the happiest place on Earth. Fantasy Land was content with just not being depressing and, unlike when it was open, it actually succeeded. There was a haunted house that probably had an actual murder in it, the unearthed dinosaur bones of rollercoaster tracks that were quickly degrading looming off in the distance, and a pet alligator too. Vashti couldn’t help but wonder if Chompy was someone who just had it worse than her.

The Coven was having a wrap-up meeting sans Claudette and Madison, which was fortunate for Vashti. The further removed from the incident the less likely that it would be brought up. Vashti sat on the trunk of a rogue bumper car that was hundreds of yards from its home. She had a look on her face that was somewhere between shocked and intrigued as Maya dished the dirty details to Taylor. Surely, Maya was joking about screwing Blake Schmidt’s wife. Dude didn’t accept the deal so I fucked his wife. It was mimicking business trash talk. Fake machismo, purely ironic. There was literally no way it had actually happened, just like there was literally no way they were actually going to go to a strip club. Right?

"Instead of drinking to bond, how about we go for dinner?” suggested Herik.

Vashti reeled back as if she’d been hit by a bullet and barely kept herself from sliding off of her bumper car. We. He had said we should get dinner. As in, we all should get dinner. Fucking A. She plopped down onto the dilapidated cushion in the cab of her makeshift seat and propped her head up with her hand. Whatever. She was still hungry, and the alternative plan sounded like the perfect way to make a bad day even worse. Besides, maybe the rest wouldn’t want to go. The thought of that made Vashti perk up.

“I’m in. Pretty sure I heard you say that it was gonna be your treat, too,” said Vashti, then she winked. “Just kidding.”

Even if the others came along it’d be fine. She just hoped that she and Herik would have a moment alone. Vashti had made up her mind. He was the one she was going to tell about the Leviathan.

The Night Shift - Gas Station Horror Simulator (OPEN)

The Denihilist

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Name: July Welch

Gender: Male

Age: 27

Physical Description: July is a tall glass of water that upon being ordered to the table is revealed to be poured straight from a warm tap, served with no ice, and in a dirty plastic cup with a bug drowning just below the meniscus. His dark brown hair is trimmed down on the side but wavy and wild on the top, catching in the breeze when not shoved flat under a wool knit cap. His skin tone is reminiscent of mildew, and his smile is tightlipped for a reason. He has some scruff on his face, but it’s less of a five o’clock shadow and more of a midday shade. July dresses in snug, black clothing, regularly paints his fingernails black, and bristles when people call the eye makeup he wears “guyliner”. The only splash of color is the red Gas Way cashier vest he wears, often with the wrong name tag. Despite looking mostly like he has just been exhumed, July’s brown eyes are large, lively, and warm. Plus, there just seems to be a general air of chipperness around him.

Applied Position: Cashier

BUCKET LIST

REASON FOR EMPLOYMENT: Why, society gave July so much that he felt like it was his time to give a little back. After all, who would be there for any other reason outside of altruism and a dream to peddle Pabst Blue Ribbons to teens with fake IDs and fight the spread of botulism in long-haul truckers by replacing the old hotdogs every other shift? Surely, July wouldn’t get a job just because his mom threatened to kick him out of the basement if he didn’t have one. Likewise, July most certainly would be able to get a job in a place more exciting than Nowhere with all of his past work experience that doesn’t exist. Yeah, believe him when he says that he just chose the spot because he liked looking out over the Expanse and its expansiveness.

BUDGETING: First he pays the government for the pleasure of working for the man, then he pays his mom for the pleasure of not being homeless because of the woman. Then there is his car loan for his sick, nasty, totally tricked out, forty mpg on the highway, broken six CD changer in the trunk, matte white 2006 Honda Civic. After that a majority of the rest is put into July’s avant-garde project that is very, very, very important to the future of music, film, art, and humanity itself. Whatever is left is broken down into American Spirits, Four Lokos, and McDoubles.

LIKES:

• Artists (such as himself).
• Experimental music that is more challenging or interesting than actually enjoyable.
• Thought provoking films that are either pointlessly meandering along and end abruptly or ruthlessly jump between unrelated segments of visual dread.
• Debating for the sake of debate, but really just to prove people wrong.
• Telling tall tales, spinning long yarns, general bullshitting.
• Being a voice of reason.

DISLIKES:

• Posers (such as himself).
• His individualism and creativity slowly being crushed by the reality that neither might actually exist.
• Customers and coworkers who won’t engage him in meaningless hypotheticals.
• Being proven wrong, especially when he is wrong.
• Literally just about anything else anybody likes solely because they like it and therefore it must be lowest common denominator bullshit.
• Being the only voice of reason.

TRINKETS: July is armed with a weapon of mass destruction: the Polaroid Camera. One bad photo is all it takes to ruin someone’s perfectly good day. July claims his Polaroid doesn’t just print instant photos. In his hands, the Polaroid Camera can capture a moment so embarassing or a look so unflattering that it practically shreds the subject’s soul. Okay, really it just gets their dumb photo put up on July’s Wall of Shame in the breakroom where his muses will forever be subjugated to torture/light teasing until management takes them down.

July is defended by the most nano-y of iPods. The bitesize device is reinforced with nearly two whole gigabytes of music so obscure that he sometimes forgets that he had ever heard of them in the first place. The wall of sound that emits from his large, chunky headphones shields him from the terrifying sounds of things that go bump in the night. Unfortunately, July has recently invested in a speaker dock so he can subjugate his coworkers and customers to the terrifying sounds of his music taste, often bumping it throughout the night.

BACKGROUND CHECK

July Welch's latest occupation is listed as an Artist and, yes, he did capitalize and bold it in his application. Technically he still is one since he is currently exhibiting a performance art piece titled The Life of an Abject Failure. The piece was incubating inside of him for several years before fully becoming realized this fall. Before art, July was a Musician. Fittingly enough, his music career died on his 27th birthday because he had to sell his guitar and his keyboard to pay his mom rent. The woman failed to realize that she had just cost her son his dream, much like his ex-bandmates failed to realize that the funeral doom genre was just too commercial and drone was where the music was at. After that, July has listed Independent Film Actor, Independent Filmmaker, Independent Film Critic, Essayist, Author, and Student (GED) in that order.

SKILLS AND QUALIFICATIONS

The Quickest Study in the Pacific Northwest ► Despite being an absolute utter failure of a human being, July isn’t useless. He’s actually rather fast on the pick up and easily learns almost anything after being shown it once. This can be something as utterly benign as how to properly wrap the microwaveable sandwiches or unjam the cash register with a Slim Jim to life (and more importantly, job) saving like properly using the AED paddles on someone who actually ate the personal pizza or remembering to burn sage at the start of every shift.

Actually, There is a River in Egypt Named Denial ► July claims to be a master of many things, but just about the only thing he is actually any good at is lying. The first part of being good at lying is to never get caught, and the easiest way to never get caught is to never admit it. It’s impossible to be certain when July crosses the point of speaking frankly and from the heart to joking and spouting out complete and utter bullshit. Convincing people to believe what he says can actually be quite powerful, although it’s also just as difficult to tell if July is telling the truth. Still, it’s probably for the best to believe him when he says tulpas do not exist.

The Tempter of the Norns, or, Telling Dracula “Suck It, Vampires Aren’t Real” ► Look, it’s fun and all to pretend that Bigfoot ate out of the dumpster or that the drifter yelling at the moon is the Wolfman, but c’mon, July isn’t an idiot. Everything, and he means everything, about the night shift at Gas Way can easily be debunked with logic. July intends to prove this to his coworkers, and so he’ll happily go tell the drunk guy shuffling around in the parking lot moaning to beat it or go check out whatever the hell was that noise coming from the Behind.