World of Darkness World of Darkness: Attrition - The Day After (Complete!)

[Carson Jones]

Carson opened his eyes, the bright Cali sunshine streaming through his dorm window and right onto his face. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but after a few minutes of enduring the bright yellow ball's incessant staring into his back, he sat up with a groan, holding his head in anticipation of the massive hangover he was expecting. To his surprise, he felt great. No headache, no vertigo, no dry mouth. Hell, even the spots on his wrists that he was sure were gonna be pretty badly bruised from the cuff yanking were only slightly discolored.

He voiced a chuckle as he spoke softly to himself, "Damn, if that's what it takes to prevent a hangover, I need to find more of those insane girls." He looked over at the time, astonished at the fact that it was going on 11 AM. "Wow, I really slept in today. Guess I'll have to wait until this evening to run, then."

He slipped out of the bed, turning and making it up with the practiced air of someone who has followed the routine their entire life. His nose wrinkled a bit in disgust as he surveyed the rest of the dorm. The place was already looking like a sty, what with his slob of a roommate refusing to practice even rudimentary cleaning skills. The lean Iowan's eye was caught by a reflected bit of light on the floor, and he bent down, picking up the broken cuffs from the night before. He tossed them into the wastebasket, then turned to stare at the rest of the place. "Ah, screw it. Today's mostly wasted anyway, might as well take the day off."

He pulled on a pair of faded jeans, slipped on a shirt and shoes, and put his wallet in his pocket. He grabbed his key as he walked out the door, a smile playing about his lips as he left the dorms and stepped out into the bright California sunshine, his feet steadily taking him to the nearest food joint for breakfast or whatever the hell they're serving at 11.

[Carson Jones]

Carson spent the next few hours walking around the campus after he had eaten, basically familiarizing himself better with the place. He wasn’t really going anywhere in particular, just enjoying the warm, sunny California day. Besides, he had nothing better to do at the moment, anyway. The air was nice, the sun was warm, and he didn’t see any reason to waste his entire day sitting inside somewhere, bored out of his mind. So engrossed was he in his own thoughts and enjoyment, that he didn’t even think to look at the time until it was already 2:40. Shit, practice is at three! I’d better hustle.

So it was, that Carson showed up at track 5 minutes late, having had to run to his dorm and change before hauling ass to practice. He trotted over to the coach, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Sorry, Coach, I wasn’t paying attention to the time.”

“I don’t care how good you are, Carson, but if you plan on making a habit of showing up late to practice, your ass is gonna get kicked off the team real damn quick. Now get your ass on the line, you get to run against Eddie.”

He let out a sigh, and walked over to the starting blocks, where one of his other teammates was already getting set. “Ready to lose to the best, redneck?” Eddie said to Carson, the mischievous smile on his face the only indication that he was at least halfway joking. “Heh, in your dreams. Let’s just hope you can find the finish line in under 20 seconds without a GPS and a rocket strapped to your ass,” he said as he got down in the set position.

The conversation ceased, as both of them zeroed in on their goal: the finish line. A second and a half later, a shrill whistle blast sounded, and they were off, their legs clawing at the poly-coated crumb rubber as they sped down that 100m.

At first they were neck and neck. Then, Carson started to pull away. Soon, he was ahead of Eddie by more than an entire body length. His legs pumped so quickly it seemed almost like one continuous sound, as he left his teammate in his proverbial dust.

The Iowan blew across the finish line, slowing himself up and looking back at Eddie, who passed the line almost a full second after Carson had. He looked over at the coach, whose mouth was hanging open in an “o” of disbelief as he stared at the stopwatch.

He walked over to the coach, wondering what was going on. “What’s the matter, coach? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The coach was apparently speechless, as he simply turned the stopwatch to show the two runners. There, on the screen, was the time 9.36s.

Carson promptly fell back on his ass in complete surprise. “No way. No fucking way. You’ve gotta be kidding me, coach.”

“Carson, you just outdid the world record by almost 4 tenths of a second. You are the craziest sunnovabitch I have ever seen in my life! I don’t care what it takes, I’m gonna see you to the World Championships. Hell, the goddamn Olympics even!” By now the coach was over his surprise, and exultation at the time had set in.

“Woah, hang on coach. How are we sure that you didn’t get the time off somehow or something?” There were already murmurs occurring within the ranks of his other teammates, and the small crowd that always, for some inexplicable reason, watches the sports teams practice. Cell phones were being whipped out, texts were being sent, and calls were being made about this guy that just obliterated the world record.

Carson was completely ignored by the coach, who was too absorbed in his dreamings and private celebration to pay attention to him. He stood up and brushed himself off, dazed as he walked over to get a drink, his head swimming with thoughts. No way…coach must’ve gotten it wrong. No way could I have run that fast. At least, not without help. Hell, I didn’t even use my powers for it! …I actually broke the world record? I could actually go to the Olympics and all that stuff? What’s mom gonna say when she finds out? Don’t you have to get like an official time for it to count, though?

His teammates regarded him with something akin to reverence and awe, as he took a seat. He looked around at them, feeling somewhat like a deer in the headlights. Well, at least it’s gonna be an interesting practice, if nothing else…

[Carson Jones]

It had been a long, very exciting, and thus very tiring day for Carson, as he made his way back towards his dorm. After the practice was finally over, and the pats on the back, congratulations, were finally done with, the tall Iowan found himself being dragged out to the nearest restaurant to celebrate his amazing run. No matter how many times he told him it had to have been a mistake, that it didn't count unless an official timing was done, they didn't listen. If anything, it just made them more rambunctious over what they saw as him just showing some of that good old corn-fed modesty.

So it was that he ended up finally getting free of them and starting to head home not at 5:30, 6:00 as he had planned, but instead at 9:30. So it was that it was already dark as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, walking down the sidewalk as he ambled his way back to his dorm.

For a good portion of the way, everything was business at usual. But, as he was walking past one of many alleyways he had went by that night, he heard something strange. Actually, come to think of it, it sounded like a soft, cut-off cry. His curiosity piqued, Carson went down the alleyway, turning at the end and coming in view of a strange sight. In the neon glow of a streetlamp, his eyes caught a figure huddled over something. It was hard to make out with it being near the edge of the circle of light, but after a brief second he realized that the something was a someone. Some primordial sixth sense suddenly threw up alarms in his head, alerting him that there was definitely something wrong with this picture. Trotting a few steps closer, he shouted out, “Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

[Vivi OOC]

The flickering pool of light that bathed the two figures in a wan, ghostly radiance wavered, blinking in and out for a moment in a frenetic strobe that, if anything, only seemed to make the shadows of the alley more prevalent. The streetlamp buzzed, droning quietly in the background as Carson's shout echoed off the damp stone walls, still moist from the humidity of an earlier shower: when it finally dimmed, then brightened into the familiar steady glow, it illuminated the upturned face of the kneeling man. At least, Carson thought it was a man. It had that same general size, and shape, with all the parts where one would typically find them, but as its head snapped up to regard the intruder, it became instantly obvious that whatever the list of things it might be, "man" was not one of them.

Its flesh was pulled taut against the bones of the skull in a macabre parody of life, and when Carson, stunned, took an unconscious step forward, the most horrid sound he had ever heard erupted from the gaping black wound that was its maw. It was a shriek that combined all the worst aspects of shattering glass, steel being shredded asunder, and the bestial roar of some unnameable being; it was the sound of rage incarnate, hatred that could pierce the very veil between the worlds.

The young Iowan reflexively clasped his hands over his ears to muffle the blood-curdling sound, but even that offered no protection against the image that would remain forever burned into his memory: as it screamed, its face shifted, flickering in an unholy imitation of the buzzing light overhead. Something else, something Other was overlaid across the roughly human features, and it was not pleased.

With unearthly speed, it leapt backward and away from the figure lying on the asphalt, vanishing into the shadows with an unnerving skittering sound that trailed away into the distance.

[Carson Jones]

Carson barely noticed as the thing fled, so disturbed was he by the raw, primal emotion resounding in that terrifying scream. A moment passed, and he finally straightened up, his heart jackhammering in his chest and the bitter, metallic tang of fear and adrenaline almost overpowering in his mouth. The Iowan tried to force himself under control, but found the feat nigh impossible after the experience.

Finally, as his senses finally began to reassert themselves after that wonton assault on his reality and sanity, he realized that the girl was still there, prone on the concrete and showing no signs of moving. Willing himself forward, he rushed to her side, checking to see if she was even alive. With no small measure of relief, he saw that her chest still rose and fell with breath. As he looked her over, though, he noticed something curious. Resting on her side just above the waistline was a fresh wound, vaguely circular in shape.

What the fuck is going on…? God, I should have just gone to community college back home. Dammit, no time for thinking about that now. Hastily, he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, and dialed 911.

As soon as the operator picked up, he was talking. “Yeah, I need Campus Police and an ambulance here, now. A woman’s been attacked by something. I was walking by and I heard something and I walked up and the thing saw me and it ran off. No, I haven’t had anything to drink tonight. No, I’m not…will you get your thumb out of your ass and call the ambulance already?! Of course I’m upset! I just saw a woman get attacked and you’re too busy playing goddamn solitaire to do your fucking job! Thank you!”

He closed his phone with marked disgust, and he leaned back against a wall, waiting for the authorities to show up. After about 15 minutes, he heard sirens, at which point he ran back out to the street to show them where the girl was.

[Carson Jones]

It was around midnight when he finally arrived home, having been rigorously questioned by the cops about his role in things. Wisely, he had left out the part about how the thing wasn’t human, knowing full well what the cops would say. They finally decided that he wasn’t the one that attacked the girl, and sent him home. Tossing his stuff onto his nightstand, he fell into bed without so much as even taking off his clothes, and only had time for a single thought before he was asleep. Man…California’s weird as hell…