Erik Lehnsherr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
morethanhuman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
all_inclusive2015-04-14 01:23 pm
morethanhuman) wrote in all_inclusive2015-04-14 01:23 pm
choosing the impossible
In the dark, Erik ran, the sounds of skittering and and an eerie humming echoing, ambient, in the air around him. They didn't wear metal, any of them, except the ones who carried knives— but they didn't need knives to hurt, to kill. He'd seen that firsthand.
He rounded a corner into a long gallery space, one entire wall made of glass, an arresting view of the city's grandeur and the vastness of the ocean that surrounded it. Even after weeks of this, living in the half-light of flares and sputtering neon, it still caught at him— he was under water, miles from the sun or a breath of fresh air. Like the vastness of space outside his window on the Proserpina, the ocean was endless, and he was stuck in this tomb of a city trying like hell to find his way out. Looking out over the city with fish swimming like flocks of birds between the skyscrapers, Erik spared a thought to wish he could have visited it in its heyday.
Those seconds of distraction cost him. A splicer dropped in front of him, startling a shout from him as he reeled back, jerking himself out of reach as it swiped at him with something— not metal, glass perhaps?— he felt the pull on his upper arm, then the burn as the pain set in. Almost too fast to track, another one skittered out from the shadows, and Erik could hear the hyena laugh that signaled another wasn't far off. Fuck. Where was the goddamned door, anyway? He'd been working for an eternity to make his way back here, and he was so close—
"Find a better hiding place, monster," the one in front of him hissed, its teeth bared in an insane grin, and Erik didn't waste another second before lashing out. A cloud of slender blades hovered by his left shoulder like a wizard's familiar; his left hand shot out and the blades flew, zipping through the air like hornets to pierce the splicer's flesh, burrowing in and through and out, only to twist midair and come back for more.
Ignoring the screams, Erik gestured with his other hand to the hulking splicer advancing on him from the right. Lightning arced from his palm, tracing a parabola between him and his attacker, the purple light illuminating his own fierce satisfaction at the sight of the splicer writhing in agony. The swarm of blades finished their bloody work just in time for Erik to turn, wild-eyed, as the third splicer dropped to the ground behind him. His pulse was racing, the taste of ozone in his mouth, and he threw both his hands out in front of him, metal and electricity flying free.
Three splicers lay dead at his feet. His arm throbbing, blood seeping through his sweater, Erik reoriented himself and headed toward the bathysphere station. The door wasn't far— he'd be home before he knew it... as long as there were no more nasty surprises.
[Find him in Rapture during or after the splicers attack, or once he's come back through the door. He's singed and filthy and bleeding from a long cut on his left bicep. He's injected himself with the Electro Bolt plasmid, which gives him the ability to electrically charge or shock things at will. For those who see him regularly, he's been stuck in Rapture for over a month.]
He rounded a corner into a long gallery space, one entire wall made of glass, an arresting view of the city's grandeur and the vastness of the ocean that surrounded it. Even after weeks of this, living in the half-light of flares and sputtering neon, it still caught at him— he was under water, miles from the sun or a breath of fresh air. Like the vastness of space outside his window on the Proserpina, the ocean was endless, and he was stuck in this tomb of a city trying like hell to find his way out. Looking out over the city with fish swimming like flocks of birds between the skyscrapers, Erik spared a thought to wish he could have visited it in its heyday.
Those seconds of distraction cost him. A splicer dropped in front of him, startling a shout from him as he reeled back, jerking himself out of reach as it swiped at him with something— not metal, glass perhaps?— he felt the pull on his upper arm, then the burn as the pain set in. Almost too fast to track, another one skittered out from the shadows, and Erik could hear the hyena laugh that signaled another wasn't far off. Fuck. Where was the goddamned door, anyway? He'd been working for an eternity to make his way back here, and he was so close—
"Find a better hiding place, monster," the one in front of him hissed, its teeth bared in an insane grin, and Erik didn't waste another second before lashing out. A cloud of slender blades hovered by his left shoulder like a wizard's familiar; his left hand shot out and the blades flew, zipping through the air like hornets to pierce the splicer's flesh, burrowing in and through and out, only to twist midair and come back for more.
Ignoring the screams, Erik gestured with his other hand to the hulking splicer advancing on him from the right. Lightning arced from his palm, tracing a parabola between him and his attacker, the purple light illuminating his own fierce satisfaction at the sight of the splicer writhing in agony. The swarm of blades finished their bloody work just in time for Erik to turn, wild-eyed, as the third splicer dropped to the ground behind him. His pulse was racing, the taste of ozone in his mouth, and he threw both his hands out in front of him, metal and electricity flying free.
Three splicers lay dead at his feet. His arm throbbing, blood seeping through his sweater, Erik reoriented himself and headed toward the bathysphere station. The door wasn't far— he'd be home before he knew it... as long as there were no more nasty surprises.
[Find him in Rapture during or after the splicers attack, or once he's come back through the door. He's singed and filthy and bleeding from a long cut on his left bicep. He's injected himself with the Electro Bolt plasmid, which gives him the ability to electrically charge or shock things at will. For those who see him regularly, he's been stuck in Rapture for over a month.]
no subject
He poured in silence, thinking. This was more than he'd bargained for, by a long shot, but if the answer to his question was a byproduct of Charles venting his spleen, it would be worth it.
And if there had ever been a chance of his leaving, it was gone now that a peek into his own future was on the table. Mystique had told him a lot, the vast stores of the Proserpina's database had told him more, much of it contradictory— there were a multitude of worlds, Abed had told him, a dozen permutations of himself with no two alike. But here, in his own world, presented with the chance to find out about what actually became of him— well, leaving was simply out of the question.
His mind brushed briefly against the idea that Charles had known that was the likely outcome, then eeled away just as fast. Their old partnership had, in time, soured into morbid fascination— and Erik might be masochistic enough to prolong the interaction, but Charles was as straightforward in his hate as he'd once been in love. He wanted Erik gone, and would do whatever it took to make it happen.
Which made Erik all the more curious why Charles didn't simply enter his mind and force him to leave.
"Go on, then," he said at last, gesturing with his glass. "I'm all ears."