For 'Watching the Garde' Verse
Jul. 29th, 2011 06:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fifth_gardeWho Five, Alain, Owen
Where Home
What A twist in Five's plans
Rating PG-13
Warnings Character Death, Slight Gore
Words 1783
It didn’t take him long to get to their new home, he’d maybe not ran at full speed just to give himself a little thinking time. So there he was, standing at the bottom of their driveway staring up at the unassuming house and feeling on edge. The reason for this rather familiar feeling was because all of the lights were on in the house, and he really meant every one. It lit up the entirety of the driveway and front lawn, drawing a significant amount of attention from anyone who might be driving past.
He trudged up the driveway, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips while he thought of what he was going to say to Alain when he actually got inside, did he explain he’d become interested in a human and not just that, but he’d let the human discover his secret. Jason knew there’d be an argument; it was inevitable for the two of them to come to blows over it. However, it was an argument that Jason was suited to win… then again, he always did.
He finally reached the steps leading up to their doorway and dropped the cigarette to the floor, stubbing it out with his shoe. He’d left his clothing back at the hotel with Owen so at least that gave him a reason to go back without feeling guilty.
Suddenly realising he didn’t actually have a key to the place Five checked over his shoulder before simply walking straight through the door. The moment he’d stepped through he knew something was wrong. There was an instant movement in the kitchen and the sharp acidic tang of blood assaulted his nostrils, interwoven with something that could only be described as bestial.
Jason had only a couple of seconds to think before the wall to his side was obliterated by the claws of some beast. It had the look of someone having crossed a cougar with a snake, with razor-sharp jaws and nails and a body shining with scales. It didn’t take him more than a heartbeat to realise that this meant something had gone horribly wrong during his absence, and even less time to get out of the way. He threw his hands up at the same time to place the beast into molecular stasis, but, knowing that leaving it like that would just cause him more trouble in the long run he threw his hands up again, causing the beast to shred apart at its barest of molecules, splattering the wall behind it and Jason’s legs with a thin layer of black gore, he shuddered but held in his revulsion for the moment. After all he needed to actually find out what was going on, and that meant finding Al.
He crossed through the hallway to enter the kitchen and that’s where everything started to go downhill. He was instantly confronted by three members of the Mogadorian race, sneering at him with their mouths full of fangs and eyes as dark as pools of oil. More importantly, between them sat Alain, beaten and tied to a chair, trying desperately to remain conscious. Something about this scene was all wrong; he’d always thought that when it came to a confrontation he’d be able to grab Al and leave in a moment’s notice, he stared into Al’s eyes, terrified and unsure of what to do next. That was when the leader of those four Mogadorians pulled the trigger on his gun, snuffing out Five’s Cêpan’s life in that blast of unnatural light that could only come from Mogadorian weaponry. In that moment, Five felt lost. The war had finally reached him from Lorien and it had taken its first casualty right there in a kitchen they hadn’t even finished unpacking.
A cloud of red descended over all of Five’s thoughts, sure he’d felt pissed before… he’d gotten angry about training, he’d even been bitter. Never before had he actually felt rage, and that fuelled something within him and suddenly his Legacies were that more vicious, being fuelled with such a raw emotion, which was good considering the Mogadorians had just obliterated his last chance of ever being trained again.
He threw his hands toward the Mogadorian to Al’s right and there’s a sound like thunder cracking inside the room, before anyone in the room had a chance to blink, the Mog was just atoms floating on the air, there wasn’t even enough left of him to create a mess. He knows from the look on their faces they weren’t expecting this, they were expecting a little boy with no grasp on his legacies. Unfortunately they’d just killed a man who had been almost a machine in the way he’d trained Five, the Garde who’d developed his powers early and had been more than prepared for their arrival.
Jason blurs from their line of site, appearing instead behind one of the Mogs and forcing his partially phased hand directly into his chest cavity and viciously squeezes whatever vestige of a heart that might have been left inside, pulling his hand out rapidly and holding a dripping mass of flesh, dropping it swiftly to the floor in disgust before disappearing again while the two remaining Mogs turned to aim their weapons at him, blasting a hole in the wall where he was a moment prior.
Moving rapidly up the stairs knowing exactly where Al would have left their chest. He grabs it and hauls it out of the wardrobe, hearing the Mogadorians finally forcing themselves up the stairs behind him. He lets the Loric knife drop off the top of the case before throwing the box itself out the window and hearing it land with a thump on the lawn outside. He grabs the knife then and returns again to the hallway outside only to have the doorframe explodes from his left, knocking him backwards into the room and leaving a ringing in his ears. He scrambles almost as soon as he’s down to get back up again, lying there and thinking about his injuries would only give the Mogs time to finish him off, he can feel a damp warmth soaking into his hair though and knows that means he at least has some kind of head injury to worry about.
He allows his Legacy to take over and drops through the floor, dropping into the lounge below and misjudging his direction, crashing into their coffee table and knocking the wind out of himself, he lies there for a moment before hauling himself up and into the hallway straight towards one of the mogs, he becomes a blur as he picks up velocity before slamming the knife straight into the skull of the monster in front of him, letting out a grunt as he does it and pulling the knife out again, holding it to his side as the last Mog looks at him from up the stairs.
This final Mogadorian had been the one to pull the trigger, so it only seemed fitting that he’d been left for the final kill. Five wasn’t worried now, it was just the two of them and that was the most disadvantaged, for the Mog at least. Five had become cocky in his anger, though and the Mogadorian took advantage of that. Taking a quick-firing rifle from his belt he shot at Five, who only just managed to get out of the way stopping the bullet from taking his head and instead getting an injury to his shoulder. A scream escaped from between his lips as the pain was new for him; it left a searing burn on his skin, already intense enough to have blackened the flesh it had damaged. He moved the momentum and passed through the door into their dining room, feeling more dazed than before and thinking he might have overestimated his abilities. He finally gets an idea and pulls himself towards the kitchen, sparing a glance towards the seat where Alain had been held only to see he’d already become the dust which now coated that area of the kitchen.
He sees his goal, a large gas pipe above the cooker and gives it one sharp pull with his telekinesis, the room fills quickly with a faint scent of gas just as the Mog comes crashing through the door, Five fumbles in his jacket pockets for his lighter and backs towards the door, he flicks the zippo open and lights it, throwing it at the Mog while at the same time throwing himself out the back door and into the grass outside, holding his arms over his head as the entire house behind him explodes, he feebly manages to force a layer of telekinesis between him and the debris until everything calms down and he’s left lying in the one patch of lawn untainted by god-knows-what. After letting himself lie there in relative safety for a few minutes he sits up and takes stock of his situation. He’s left without a home, without a Cêpan, without contact with the other members of the Garde and most importantly, without any form of stability or ties. It’s what he always dreamt of; he just didn’t expect it to come with such downsides. Being alone for a while was nice for him; he just didn’t know how he’d cope with being entirely alone. Well, actually... he wasn’t totally alone. There was one person left he was on first name terms with and for now… that’s all he had. He stands and goes to the front of the house to find the box. Sitting down beside it again he pats his pockets to find his cell phone, pulling it out but doing nothing else for the moment.
Finally he plucks up the nerve to make a call, he doesn’t bother to check the time but it’s only around midnight and he hopes he doesn’t wake Owen up, his voice cracks when he actually does speak and he only manages a few words.
“Owen.. ‘m sorry to call you like this, or even t’have t’wake y’up this late… but... he’s dead, Al’s dead, the Mogs got here ‘n they killed him. ‘m safe but I can’t trust myself t’run so ‘m gonna be really late in the mornin'.”
He doesn’t give Owen a chance to respond but hangs up, not trusting himself to keep talking, he just had to hold it together until he could stop and heal himself and he didn’t know when he’d get that chance.
Hauling the Loric chest into the boot of Al’s car he climbs inside and jump-starts it with telekinesis, starting off driving in total silence back to the hotel he’d left what felt like years ago.
Where Home
What A twist in Five's plans
Rating PG-13
Warnings Character Death, Slight Gore
Words 1783
It didn’t take him long to get to their new home, he’d maybe not ran at full speed just to give himself a little thinking time. So there he was, standing at the bottom of their driveway staring up at the unassuming house and feeling on edge. The reason for this rather familiar feeling was because all of the lights were on in the house, and he really meant every one. It lit up the entirety of the driveway and front lawn, drawing a significant amount of attention from anyone who might be driving past.
He trudged up the driveway, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips while he thought of what he was going to say to Alain when he actually got inside, did he explain he’d become interested in a human and not just that, but he’d let the human discover his secret. Jason knew there’d be an argument; it was inevitable for the two of them to come to blows over it. However, it was an argument that Jason was suited to win… then again, he always did.
He finally reached the steps leading up to their doorway and dropped the cigarette to the floor, stubbing it out with his shoe. He’d left his clothing back at the hotel with Owen so at least that gave him a reason to go back without feeling guilty.
Suddenly realising he didn’t actually have a key to the place Five checked over his shoulder before simply walking straight through the door. The moment he’d stepped through he knew something was wrong. There was an instant movement in the kitchen and the sharp acidic tang of blood assaulted his nostrils, interwoven with something that could only be described as bestial.
Jason had only a couple of seconds to think before the wall to his side was obliterated by the claws of some beast. It had the look of someone having crossed a cougar with a snake, with razor-sharp jaws and nails and a body shining with scales. It didn’t take him more than a heartbeat to realise that this meant something had gone horribly wrong during his absence, and even less time to get out of the way. He threw his hands up at the same time to place the beast into molecular stasis, but, knowing that leaving it like that would just cause him more trouble in the long run he threw his hands up again, causing the beast to shred apart at its barest of molecules, splattering the wall behind it and Jason’s legs with a thin layer of black gore, he shuddered but held in his revulsion for the moment. After all he needed to actually find out what was going on, and that meant finding Al.
He crossed through the hallway to enter the kitchen and that’s where everything started to go downhill. He was instantly confronted by three members of the Mogadorian race, sneering at him with their mouths full of fangs and eyes as dark as pools of oil. More importantly, between them sat Alain, beaten and tied to a chair, trying desperately to remain conscious. Something about this scene was all wrong; he’d always thought that when it came to a confrontation he’d be able to grab Al and leave in a moment’s notice, he stared into Al’s eyes, terrified and unsure of what to do next. That was when the leader of those four Mogadorians pulled the trigger on his gun, snuffing out Five’s Cêpan’s life in that blast of unnatural light that could only come from Mogadorian weaponry. In that moment, Five felt lost. The war had finally reached him from Lorien and it had taken its first casualty right there in a kitchen they hadn’t even finished unpacking.
A cloud of red descended over all of Five’s thoughts, sure he’d felt pissed before… he’d gotten angry about training, he’d even been bitter. Never before had he actually felt rage, and that fuelled something within him and suddenly his Legacies were that more vicious, being fuelled with such a raw emotion, which was good considering the Mogadorians had just obliterated his last chance of ever being trained again.
He threw his hands toward the Mogadorian to Al’s right and there’s a sound like thunder cracking inside the room, before anyone in the room had a chance to blink, the Mog was just atoms floating on the air, there wasn’t even enough left of him to create a mess. He knows from the look on their faces they weren’t expecting this, they were expecting a little boy with no grasp on his legacies. Unfortunately they’d just killed a man who had been almost a machine in the way he’d trained Five, the Garde who’d developed his powers early and had been more than prepared for their arrival.
Jason blurs from their line of site, appearing instead behind one of the Mogs and forcing his partially phased hand directly into his chest cavity and viciously squeezes whatever vestige of a heart that might have been left inside, pulling his hand out rapidly and holding a dripping mass of flesh, dropping it swiftly to the floor in disgust before disappearing again while the two remaining Mogs turned to aim their weapons at him, blasting a hole in the wall where he was a moment prior.
Moving rapidly up the stairs knowing exactly where Al would have left their chest. He grabs it and hauls it out of the wardrobe, hearing the Mogadorians finally forcing themselves up the stairs behind him. He lets the Loric knife drop off the top of the case before throwing the box itself out the window and hearing it land with a thump on the lawn outside. He grabs the knife then and returns again to the hallway outside only to have the doorframe explodes from his left, knocking him backwards into the room and leaving a ringing in his ears. He scrambles almost as soon as he’s down to get back up again, lying there and thinking about his injuries would only give the Mogs time to finish him off, he can feel a damp warmth soaking into his hair though and knows that means he at least has some kind of head injury to worry about.
He allows his Legacy to take over and drops through the floor, dropping into the lounge below and misjudging his direction, crashing into their coffee table and knocking the wind out of himself, he lies there for a moment before hauling himself up and into the hallway straight towards one of the mogs, he becomes a blur as he picks up velocity before slamming the knife straight into the skull of the monster in front of him, letting out a grunt as he does it and pulling the knife out again, holding it to his side as the last Mog looks at him from up the stairs.
This final Mogadorian had been the one to pull the trigger, so it only seemed fitting that he’d been left for the final kill. Five wasn’t worried now, it was just the two of them and that was the most disadvantaged, for the Mog at least. Five had become cocky in his anger, though and the Mogadorian took advantage of that. Taking a quick-firing rifle from his belt he shot at Five, who only just managed to get out of the way stopping the bullet from taking his head and instead getting an injury to his shoulder. A scream escaped from between his lips as the pain was new for him; it left a searing burn on his skin, already intense enough to have blackened the flesh it had damaged. He moved the momentum and passed through the door into their dining room, feeling more dazed than before and thinking he might have overestimated his abilities. He finally gets an idea and pulls himself towards the kitchen, sparing a glance towards the seat where Alain had been held only to see he’d already become the dust which now coated that area of the kitchen.
He sees his goal, a large gas pipe above the cooker and gives it one sharp pull with his telekinesis, the room fills quickly with a faint scent of gas just as the Mog comes crashing through the door, Five fumbles in his jacket pockets for his lighter and backs towards the door, he flicks the zippo open and lights it, throwing it at the Mog while at the same time throwing himself out the back door and into the grass outside, holding his arms over his head as the entire house behind him explodes, he feebly manages to force a layer of telekinesis between him and the debris until everything calms down and he’s left lying in the one patch of lawn untainted by god-knows-what. After letting himself lie there in relative safety for a few minutes he sits up and takes stock of his situation. He’s left without a home, without a Cêpan, without contact with the other members of the Garde and most importantly, without any form of stability or ties. It’s what he always dreamt of; he just didn’t expect it to come with such downsides. Being alone for a while was nice for him; he just didn’t know how he’d cope with being entirely alone. Well, actually... he wasn’t totally alone. There was one person left he was on first name terms with and for now… that’s all he had. He stands and goes to the front of the house to find the box. Sitting down beside it again he pats his pockets to find his cell phone, pulling it out but doing nothing else for the moment.
Finally he plucks up the nerve to make a call, he doesn’t bother to check the time but it’s only around midnight and he hopes he doesn’t wake Owen up, his voice cracks when he actually does speak and he only manages a few words.
“Owen.. ‘m sorry to call you like this, or even t’have t’wake y’up this late… but... he’s dead, Al’s dead, the Mogs got here ‘n they killed him. ‘m safe but I can’t trust myself t’run so ‘m gonna be really late in the mornin'.”
He doesn’t give Owen a chance to respond but hangs up, not trusting himself to keep talking, he just had to hold it together until he could stop and heal himself and he didn’t know when he’d get that chance.
Hauling the Loric chest into the boot of Al’s car he climbs inside and jump-starts it with telekinesis, starting off driving in total silence back to the hotel he’d left what felt like years ago.
