[12/3/97]
Behind the Falls
Dug by a combination of the wearing down of stone by time and erosion, and the
shifting of rock from the water's weight, this cave behind the falls is
comfortably roomy. A gentle downward slope leads back from the entrance,
perhaps ten or so yards; the cave is about five yards across at its widest,
and small juts of rock have created natural shelves and nooks in the walls.
Very little light pierces the dark recesses of the cave, hidden as it is by
the twists of stone and the flow of water, but one of the nooks along the
cave floor has been cleared out and, by its blackened and sooty appearance,
used as a fire pit.
It is currently 18:56 Pacific Time on Wed Dec 3 1997.
Currently on this breezy and chilly fall twilight in the general St. Claire
area, it is 36 degrees Fahrenheit (2.2 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming
from the west-northwest at 9.25 mph. The ground is wet. Skies are clear with
a probable chance of precipitation.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (27% full).
Erik(#2989Pce)
The figure - presumably male - reaches a height of over seven feet when
standing, freakishly tall, with hard, ropy muscles encased in taut,
corpselike pale flesh. A few short whisps of dull black hair cling to a
lonely existance on the bald, bare head. The face is a horror, brutish and
skeletal, with corpselike pallid grayish skin stretched drum-tight over
too-obvious bone, the jaw out-thrust and the cheeks sunken. Both eyes -
misaligned and sunk into deep sockets - are a startling shade of green, but
the gaze is flat and unemotional, and a number of regular scars surround the
left. Pointed ears and sharp canines are characteristic Glabro features, but
instead of a nose, he has only a pair of gaping holes which only emphasize
the skull-like appearance.
He moves little, his form tied securely and wrapped in a thick blanket. The
right arm has been removed at the elbow, and there's a large patch of scar
tissue on the left forearm. The voice, when he does speak, is flat and
expressionless, an emotionless baritone with no lilt to it, no music. None
at all.
Shea precedes Mark by a few steps, as she enters the cave.
Mark looks at the Erik and Eamon first, once he pulls his gaze away from them,
he greets Megan.
Erik lies quiet and still, his eyes closed.
Megan is seated with her back to the cave wall on the opposite site from the
two altered Garou. She looks up and over as first Shea, then Mark, come in,
nodding greeting to them. "Any idea where Steven and Brian are?" she directs
towards the theurge.
Erik opens his eyes as Megan speaks. His gaze moves wordlessly over the other
figures in the cave.
Shea shakes her head. "I haven't seen either one of them since ... yesterday?
Something like that." She continues forward. "Ah, so one of them's awake.
Have they been keeping you entertained?"
Megan gives the theurge a sly grin. "I haven't figured out how to play
solitaire on them, so it's been rather boring." Dusting her hands on her
knees, she pushes herself to her feet. "I guess we'll need to draft you into
the Brute Squad, Mark, while Dr. Conlan and I try our hand at surgery."
Mark umms. "Okay... What're you doing tonight?"
Erik continues to lie there quietly, his expression bland.
Shea laces her fingers together, bending them backward until they crack.
"We're going to undo what's been done, if we can," she answers Mark, and
picks her way over to the two, to inspect Eamon, as well.
Mark says "Sounds like a great idea."
Erik's eyes follow Shea like one of those creepy haunted-house paintings. Or a
security camera, take your pick.
Megan takes a deep breath, following after Shea, muttering nervously. "God
help us that this isn't a repeat of Chrysti and Rockslide," she says as she
drops to a kneeling position next to Erik, then waits for Shea to position
herself.
Mark says "What do you need me to do?"
Shea kneels, between Eamon and Erik, and strips her jacket off, tossing it
over the galliard, to get it out of the way after removing the Swiss Army
knife in her pocket. "Hold 'em down," she suggests to Mark. "One of 'em
might take exception to the other's being ... treated."
Megan is studying the borg. "And get some of Brian's stash out of the jugs in
the back. For all of us," she adds with grim humor.
Mark goes back to bring one of Brian's jugs out before shifting to a form
better suited for muscle.
Mark contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Mark shifts into Crinos form.
Talks to Ghosts crouches down, ready to restrain the one not being worked on.
Erik's eyes continue to track Shea's movements.
Megan takes a deep pull on the jug, tries to force a liberal amount down
Erik's throat, then offers it out to Shea while wiping her own mouth off
with a back of a hand. "Ready?"
The cybered Metis actually puts up a bit of resistance to having Fianna brew
poured down his throat, but not with full success.
Shea shakes her head, at the offer of drink. "Rather not, til it's said and
done, you know?" She pats Erik's cheek, once, then clasps his head with both
hands. She lifts it a few inches off the cave floor, then lets go, letting
it fall back to meet stone. "Besides," she explains, "alcohol's not fast
enough."
There's the sound of skull hitting rock, hard. And then Erik is, again, out
like a light.
Talks to Ghosts says, ~That seems to have worked.~
Megan hrmphs softly, then takes another deep breath. Like a saint doing a
healing, she stretches out the hand nearest the metis and spans his forehead
with her thumb and forefinger and a flicker of distaste. Closing her eyes,
she concentrates.
Shea pries the blade out of the knife, and eyes it, critically, before asking,
"Any idea where this thing might be, then, Meg?"
Nothing obvious happens; the Metis remains unconscious.
When the metis is knocked on the head, Ever-Grinning reacts, his head jerking
up slightly, then turning to look at Erik. He makes no further movements,
however, and doesn't seem about to interfere with the other garou's
impromptu operation.
Talks to Ghosts puts a hand on each of Eamon's shoulders when he moves.
Megan gives a sigh, look of concentration flickering. "He said it was
implanted in the cerebellum. If you can remember where that is..."
Talks to Ghosts looks over. ~Brain surgery?~
Shea's nose wrinkles. "I remember enough of biology to know we need to flip
him over. If it's not settled right under the bone, though, Meg, where I can
pry it out? I'm not going digging around in there, whether he knows who he
is or not."
Megan looks up from Erik to Shea, nodding, then catches sight of Eamon. ~Maybe
he knows for sure where it is. Sings knew it was in there.~
Shea looks over her shoulder. "Aye, well, good luck getting him to tell you.
Help me flip Erik, hey?"
Megan nods, throwing out, "Mark, work on it?" while she tries to help Shea.
Talks to Ghosts gives Eamon a bit of a shake. ~Where's the thing in your head?~
Between the two female Fianna, Erik gets bodily lifted and turned over,
face-down.
Ever-Grinning is staring at the opposite wall of the cave, and doesn't focus
on Talks-to-Ghosts until he is shaken. His voice is an octave lower than
normal, since he's in glabro, but is still as flat and emotionless as
Erik's. He looks at Mark. "Define term 'thing'."
Talks to Ghosts looks over at Megan and Shea, then back at Eamon. ~The metal
thing put inside your brain.~
Ever-Grinning's head moves mechanically from Talks to Erik, then back to talk.
"Object referred to is neural disruptor/adrenocortical suppressant.
Located at base of skull beneath cerebellum."
Megan mutters a soft, "Jackpot," under her breath.
Talks to Ghosts says, ~Yeah, that thing.~
Shea repeats, "Beneath? Mebbe we won't need that saw after all then, hey?" She
braces the metis' neck with one hand, and with the other, slices open the
skin at the base of his skull. It's a deep cut, and it bleeds, predictably,
all over the place, no doubt. Headwounds do that.
Erik remains fortunately unconscious as Shea starts cutting. There's no sign
of the implant, though there is, maybe, a bit of irregularity in the shape
of the skull, a very subtle bump.
Megan looks momentarily indecisive, then takes up Brian's brew and sloshes a
little over the wound to irrigate it. "Don't tell him I used it this way, I
think he'd kill me."
Shea investigates a moment, then bows her head, and murmurs, "Christ.. no,
your secret's safe, promise. Go an' fetch that saw in the corner, will you?"
Megan nods and pushes up to her feet to fetch the instrument and some spare
shirts left here, handing the saw to Shea and tearing one of the shirts into
smaller chunks, liberally dousing them with more of the alcohol.
The process of cutting through bone takes quite some time, and several times,
Shea uses one of the alcohol-doused rags, to wipe away blood and other
fluids.
Once a portion of the skull is removed, part of the implant becomes visible.
It's surprisingly small and flat, its microcircuits inert under the
influence of Megan's Gift. Sprouting from the main implant are a number of
threadlike wires that cover a palm-sized patch of the surface of the brain,
a few of them seeming to dip down into the folds.
Shea swallows, and says, "If you were gonna start praying, now's the time," as
she uses a combination of fingers and the flat of her knife, to pry the
gizmo out of Erik's brain.
The unconscious Metis spasms a few times, muscles twitching in response to
stimulus. However, with a great deal of care and patience, the implant comes
free.
Megan bites her lower lip, then asks warily, "You got it?"
Shea mmhmms, handing the device over to Megan, in exchange for another of
those pieces of soaked shirt. For lack of a better idea, she puts the piece
of bone that was removed back into Erik's head, then covers the wound
entirely with a cloth. "Got all of it that I could see, anyway. Now we let
him wake up."
Megan takes the chip and wraps it in a piece of the cloth and sets it as far
away from herself as possible with loathing, then looks back at Erik and
Shea. She then takes a deep breath and lets it out, for the first time since
activating the gift relaxing her concentration.
Time passes slowly, time in which the Metis' skull reknits itself. Finally,
Erik stirs, uttering a low groggy moan, the sound muffled.
Shea, having slipped into silent consideration of the bundled chip, startles a
little at the moan, then sits up straight again, stretching before she
crawls, hand and knee, toward the metis. She doesn't flip him over; rather,
she leans down, to look at him. "Erik?"
Ever-Grinning reacts again, looking up with a start. He looks at Erik, then
strains at the ropes for a few moments. He sees that that's not getting him
anywhere, so he lapses back into inactivity again.
Erik groans again through gritted teeth and abruptly arches his back,
struggling violently against his bonds. "Shut them up," he mumbles, in
thick, pained Gaelic. One may well be relieved that it's his 'normal' voice,
albeit deepened by his current form, but the distress is blinding evident.
"Shut them up," he repeats, urgently. "Oh, gods, make them shut up!"
Ever-Grinning isn't struggling himself, but his eyes never leave Erik.
Megan immediately asks, "Make who shut up?"
"Them. The network." Abruptly, Erik shifts from Gaelic to Garou, still
straining against the ropes. ~In the chest!~
Megan's expression turns to one of concentration again, as she looks over to
Shea swiftly. "I'm going to try to block it out, if you can extract it..."
Shea's brow furrows. "Good grief, there's -another- piece?" She rubs her hand,
and directs Erik, "Roll over, and bloody well grit your teeth."
Erik manages to roll over as instructed, landing with a thump on his back. His
eyes are tightly shut, grotesque features contorted with stress.
Shea puts one knee on his chest, leans her weight into it, enough to hold him
at least marginally still, and directs, "Try to lie still, lad, lest I cut
out your heart by mistake."
Erik sets his jaw and nods once, his eyes still closed tightly, body tensed.
~It's just to the left,~ he says, and then switches to Gaelic again, "of the
sternum. Between the ribs."
Megan grimaces, then mutters, "I hope *you* understand what he's saying."
Shea stabs downward, and slices open a portion of the galliard's chest,
producing more blood, and no small amount of pain to the metis, no doubt.
This time it's a hand that probes the opening, as carefully as a human hand
in a chest can be careful, to find the thing.
Erik makes a incoherent 'nng' noise, lips peeling away from sharp, yellowish
teeth, tendons standing out sharply in his thin neck. The device sits
nestled between two of the ribs, almost insignificantly small, with more of
the thin trailing wires that are - by now - familiar to the Fianna Theurge.
Shea's less careful in the removal of this device. Still, the pulling is a
steady pressure, until the wires release their grip.
The implant comes free, and the Metis stops making strangled noises of pain.
Megan relaxes once more, cautiously, then asks Erik, "They gone?"
Erik's throat works as he swallows, his bloodied chest heaving, the movement
of ribs plainly visible throough the taut skin. ~Yes,~ he whispers,
hoarsely; his eyes remain closed.
Shea drops the second device beside the first, uncleaned, and unwrapped.
Megan bites on her lower lip, giving Shea a glance, then asks the metis, "How
do you feel?"
Ever-Grinning continues staring at Erik until the communication device is
removed, then sits back and stares at the opposite wall of the cave again.
Shea holds up the bloodied hand. With a wry smile, she answers, "Like I've
just had my hand in a living soul's chest. Next question?"
Erik shudders, his shoulders hunching. His head drops back against the rock,
humiliation and shame naked on his skeletal face. ~I'm sorry...~ he whispers
hoarsely. ~I'm sorry.~
Megan flashes Shea a grin, then looks back at Erik, eyes narrowing, "I think
he's back to normal. Relatively."
After a small amount of time to observe Erik's reactions, and then some
discussion on the merits of trying it on Eamon right then and there, Megan
activates the gift once more, on Eamon, with a hand placed over his heart
just before Shea repeats the motions on Eamon, knocking him out, then
removing the implant in his chest before going after the one in his head.
Megan's expression has that faint look of concentration during the entire
procedure until both pieces are removed, and they join their like devices
although not quite touching, superstitious paranoia on the Philodox's face
as she places them.
Once the attention shifts away from him, Erik rolls over, his body shifting
and blurring to the smaller Homid form. Curling up onto his side, the Metis
uses his left hand to pull the blanket over his head, effectively hiding
from the world.
Ever-Grinning remains unconscious for a while, and begins to stir, as if he
were having a horrible nightmare. He mumbles incoherently, then is still
again for a long time.
Then, without warning, Ever-Grinning literally roars to life, shifting to
crinos and snapping the ropes that bind him as if they were spiderwebs. His
arms snap out at the same time, grabbing at Shea and Megan. He screams
incoherently, then recognizeable phrases begin to emerge. ~I'LL KILL
YOU! I'LL KILL YOU! BASTARDS! I'LL KILL YOU ALL! MOTHERFUCKERS! I'LL
KILL ALL YOU FUCKERS!~
There's a brief stir from the Erik-shaped lump in the blankets as the Metis
retreats further, curling up nearly fetal.
Fortunately, Ever-Grinning gets tangled up in Talks to Ghosts, as the
cliath, in crinos, leaps forward at the shift and incipient
attack, even while the two normal Fostern dive out of the way, both
beginning to shift up themselves. Talks to Ghosts attempts to pin
Ever-Grinning down, while Shea barks out, ~Smiley! It's okay! You're safe
now!~
Ever-Grinning struggles against Talks-to-Ghosts until he hears Shea's voice,
which hits him like a bucket of cold water. He freezes, then backs away from
the others toward the rear of the cave as fast as he can scrabble,
unconsciously shifting down as he does so. He cowers there, shuddering,
naked, staring wild-eyed out at the others.
The cliath Philodox continues his grip on the ragabash, until he's sure that
Eamon's calmed down, then releases him warily. Megan arrests her shift, and
returns to homid, the Jam Technology gift dissipated already in the
confusion. "Eamon, Eamon, it's okay," she says, echoing Shea's words. "Are
you alright?"
Ever-Grinning flinches and tries to scuttle further back into the cave, but
he's back against the wall already. He throws his arms over his face, then
slowly looks up. "M-megan? Is that you? Wh-where am I?" His eyes dart about
the cave. "It's dark. I can't hear them anymore. I..." He trails off.
Shea goes about to start a fire, as Megan continues speaking quietly, "Yeah,
it's me, m'blood. You're in the cave in the Grotto, can't you hear the
water? How else do you feel?"
Ever-Grinning stammers for a moment. "I...I..." He looks down, then sees what
was once his left hand. "No, no, oh God, they took my hand! They took my
hand, oh, Gaia! Those FUCKERS!" His voice breaks and he begins sobbing, his
breath hitching uncontrollably. "Oh God, it was horrible. It was a
nightmare. They cut us off, cut us off from gifts, Gaia, rage. Everything
cut off. Cut off my hand. Oh God."
Ever-Grinning contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Ever-Grinning grins wider and sharper as he shifts into Homid form.
Erik, in contrast to Eamon's more volitile horror, remains quietly huddled
under the blankets, hidden and hiding.
Eamon leans over against Megan and begins to sob again against her shoulder.
He seems to have lost quite a bit of weight and his eyes are hollow, with
circles under them from lack of sleep. He eventually trails off and falls
asleep.
Megan holds him until he does fall asleep, exchanging looks with Shea, then
the two of them put him to bed wrapped securely in a blanket. The two shift
down to lupus to watch over the two, with Talks to Ghosts heading out for
the night.