Day One of the Apocalypse

[viso]

Malcolm couldn’t tell precisely when the shift had happen, or even that it had happened. The black screen that should have given way to the graphics game instead spread across his vision, engulfing every corner of his sight. There was nothing but darkness. His eyes were open, and he couldn’t open them, because he had never shut them, hadn’t blinked. They were open.

Weren’t they?

The feeling of weightlessness passed, mesmerized by the blank screen, so Malcolm assumed, and reality started to fade back into existence. But… it was wrong. This wasn’t how he should feel, the thought echoing through his mind, even if he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. When had he closed his eyes? For that matter, when had he lied down? Oh my, had he fainted? His eyelids twitched, struggling in their desire to open, until they flickered, letting the light in. He stared upwards at the brilliantly blue sky. He hadn’t seen such a beautiful color before. His mind felt funny, floating on a river of acceptance, not struggling, just being. This sight was much better than the stucco ceiling of his room. Speaking of…. Where was his room? Hadn’t he just been there…

That sense of wrongness began to creep up on him, growing stronger. His arms stretched out, feebly pushing against the small cobblestones of the street he was in as he finally found the strength to push himself into a sitting position. Sights and sounds began to filter in, an increasingly disturbing sensation. He was in some sort of… medieval street, with a variety of different houses in various states of repair about. People too. Loud people. It was like his head was trapped in a fishbowl, as he stared blankly at some people, who by all accounts were shouting at each other, hands waving to punch out points with a finger or fist. Funny clothes, varied, some were in armor. Eventually though, his mind finally came to a conclusion.

This wasn’t his room.

The thought burst the bubble Malcolm was in, and everything rushed in to fill the vacuum that had been inside. Angry voices, scared, emotional, cracking, tearful, male, female, a roar of screams and shouts assaulted his ears, colors with a vivid and stark contrast that shouldn’t exist. All the questions that hadn’t occurred to him before began to crowd his mind for attention. Where was he? How did he get here? Who were these people? On and on and on and on, as he struggled up to his feet. It didn’t take more than a step for him to fall to the ground again with a cry of pain. He felt weak, like emerging from an unnaturally deep sleep, but it was more than just that which had caused him to trip. He looked downward to his feet, only to stare, moving slightly to confirm. His feet were paws.

Unholy terror filled his mind, a vast and frightful beast that drove him, snapping at his heels. It shrieked at him, just one mind-numbing word that overwrote everything.

RUN

Malcolm scrambled onto his paws, skittering off. He had no clue how to walk as he was, and he couldn’t remain upright for long except through sheer momentum as he tumbled through the streets in a half-feral sprint. A constant stumble over his paws that only allowed him to progress forward through sheer single-mindedness.

[viso]

In the grip of panic, Malcolm’s body worked on instinct. Some part of his mind was still processing data, how his paws worked in that awkward angle of his ankles. It didn’t help much, but it was enough to get a little more momentum, enough rope to hang him by, as it was.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Malcolm knew exactly what he was hoping for. That the next bend around a building would lead him home, safe in his apartment. He wouldn’t mind if it was his parent’s place either, dinner in the oven, the tantalizing smell of spices and the sizzle of meat. He hoped that every jolt, jar, bump, trip, scrape, or fall would result in him waking up at his desk, his bed, or even hung over in an alley somewhere, light threading itself between buildings. As it was, each physical contact would only serve as a painful reminder later, when he wasn’t drinking adrenaline like an energy drink. He hoped that one of these faces would be someone he recognized, family, friend, or the barista who served his coffee at eleven o’clock. Someone should be here, someone….Someone…. There was a face, in his mind. More like a featureless mask in actuality, one that his addled mind hadn’t cast a light on yet.

The werecat crashed into someone, though it was more of a glancing blow. It was enough to knock the frantic creature to the ground, shifting over onto his back to stare up at whoever he had run into. It was an armored figure, part of a trio.

“Watch where you’re going! There’s no need to rush through the streets. Just calm down, the City Guard is here. Just stay calm and we’ll-“

“Tucker! Over there!”

“To h*** with it all.”

The three dashed off, armor clanging, to a nearby disturbance. One of the adventurers was hassling one of the town folk. It hadn’t come to blows yet, but the adventurer had seized the front of the shopkeepers smock, shaking the fellow as the guards advanced to try and break it up.

Malcolm just lay there, dumbfounded. He had seen something odd, flickering above the guard’s heads. Screens, almost, those bars over a character in the game he had been about to play. More than that though, the guard’s face had flickered as well. It wasn’t like the screen, it was his memory surging, and for a moment, the guard had been wearing someone else’s face. A friend, the one who had convinced him to play the game and had run late…. The one that might be waiting for him.

Malcolm scurried over to a building, claws digging into the wall to pull him up. He was more focused now, the fear that had been present started to fade. They had set up a meeting place… but everything looked so different now that he was in the streets rather than looking down on them from above. He hobbled off with purpose this time, looking, searching. Where???

[viso]

Malcolm shakily made his way down the streets, leaning on any structure he could to keep his balance. This new… form he was in made that difficult. Part of his mind was telling him that he was walking on his tip toes, but when he tried to put his heels down, his whole body started to tip backward. The only way to keep him from falling repeatedly was to take an agonizingly slow pace, and to hold onto something that was more stable than him. It gave him an opportunity to really see what was happening around him.

Above the rooftops, he could see pillars of light reaching up through the sky, disappearing and reappearing. There were small clusters of people outside, pointing to the streams and exclaiming to each other, before whispering in low voices. This probably was an unusual occurrence than, at the least. The werecat paused, staring at one such group, wondering if perhaps this was all some sort of elaborate act, a prank? The trio of natives he was watching noticed his gaze. Their eyes went wide, and the larger man ushered the other two into a nearby house, the door slamming shut behind them. Maybe not.

The guards were thin, traveling around in small groups, dealing with any trouble makers. There were a few of them, Malcolm noticed as he stumbled through the streets. One beam of light revealed a rather confused girl with pointy ears who just stood there, blankly staring around with her mouth agape. Others were panicking, much like he was; some were even crying and curling up into a fetal position. The most dangerous ones were the ones panicking, but also angry. They let that fear feed their anger, for it must have seemed better to be angry than afraid. One or two of the people from those beams of light would be arguing loudly with the guards, or confronting some fearful natives. What was worse was that it seemed to be infectious, that anger spreading, as more and more people arrived. Malcolm avoided them, not wanting to get swept up in a mob. His eyes scanned the faces though, looking for someone familiar, someone he knew. Things weren’t as frightening when there was someone you trusted with you. However, face after face proved to be strangers.

It took a while, but after an hour of wandering around, he paused, leaned on the corner of a building and looked around. This looked…. About as close as he would get. He could see what was left of the Big Ben landmark, which had been shown in a screenshot. He could remember his friend pointing at the screenshot, saying that they would meet each other there. This was way different than a screenshot, but it looked like the place.

He stood there, mind racing in circles that never went anywhere. His eyes yanked his head to one direction at every flicker of motion, every unusual sound, which happened to be every little sound. He stood there, feet shuffling about as he tried to get comfortable, one hour, two. He slid into the dark of a nearby alley as a group of people passed, a gaggle of raised voices as they pounded passed without noticing. He sank to sit on the ground halfway into the third hour, longing eyes still peering at each face that passed by to no avail. His stomach started to growl at five hours… and by eight, a restless sleep had overtaken him. A nightmare where he was a mouse, and a cat with his face chased after him.

[viso]

Malcolm supposed he could have been woken up a lot ruder and not have minded too much. However, a gentle prodding at his leg was sufficient to rouse him from the nightmare realm, his consciousness bubbling up to disperse it. “Uuuunnnnnn.” He gave a low groan of discomfort. He felt sore, like, it almost hurt to move sore. Sleeping on the hard surfaces was hard on him, he was used to a soft bed, or at least a couch. The concept of ‘roughing it’ had never really been realized in his life, he had never been that kind of person. The prodding stopped, though it took him a moment and a voice to make him realize why the prodding had stopped.

“You awake now?”

His eyes fluttered open, before squinting against the bright sun. The light was harsh, but his eyes adjusted quicker than normal, as he looked up at the figure above him. It was a solitary figure, the morning light blinding as it bounced off the metal sheets of armor he wore. Malcolm could see his eyes though from behind the helmet, funny, he never seemed to notice them before. But now, he could see those green orbs looking down on him, and they were so clear. He didn’t have to strain or squint to see them, they were just there. Now that he thought about it, a lot of things seemed sharper somehow, as if everything had been slightly out of focus. His ear twitched, and that brought him out of the thought. His ears shouldn’t twitch like that, no, they shouldn’t twitch at all.

At least the spear that the other was holding wasn’t pointed at him at the moment. A small comfort, as the guard could likely raise that sharp tip easily enough. Malcolm had spied much less friendly guards since he had gotten here. He finally got around to giving the guard a nod. Yes, he was awake… Unless this was all a dream, but if it was, he couldn’t tell.

“I’ve heard you’ve been here the last couple days?”  Another nod of affirmation.

The guard looked at him in an odd way. Malcolm wasn’t too good with faces, and this one was partially hidden from him. The guard did eventually give a sigh, not taking the limp-limbed Malcolm as much of a threat. “Well, at least you didn’t cause any trouble.”  The thick plumes of smoke rising from a couple points hinted at what trouble other adventurer’s had caused. “But, I’m going to need you to move.” Malcolm just stares blankly up at the other. “This is a housing district…. You’re scaring people.”

Malcolm looked to his side, at one of the houses there. The door was cracked ajar, and he could barely make out a dim outline peering out at him before the door slammed shut.

“…. I’ll go.”

The werecat used the staff in his hands to help push himself to his feel. Had the staff always been there? He couldn’t remember. His stomach grumbled and growled in protest. He should probably find something to eat… Funny, his stomach was saying to eat, but his mind didn’t seem to have gotten the message yet. Those stupid paws though tripped him up once more, causing the werecat to stumble. The guard reached out and caught his arm, a bit rougher than Malcolm would’ve liked, but it was the support he needed to keep himself from falling on his face.

“Have you even eaten since you got here?”  The tone of the other’s voice was riddled with concern, though he seemed to have mistaken why Malcolm was having a hard time with his footing. Malcolm shook his head, and the guard held onto him, thinking things over. “You don’t seem like too much trouble… Come with me, and I’ll take you home, get you something to eat before figuring out what to do with you.”

Malcolm looked away from the other, cheeks flushing a little bit. This was degrading, how helpless he felt. Being placed in a new environment was bad enough, but having his body ripped from him to be replaced by this… thing. He felt exposed, vulnerable. He didn’t like asking for help, but, he needed it.

“… I’m Malcolm.”  The introduction was all he gave, a simple name, but the other seemed to understand what he meant, smiling back at the werecat. He wrapped an arm around Malcolm’s shoulder’s holding onto him to keep him from falling before leading Malcolm away.

“The name’s Tucker.”


Malcolm- b519e6
Tucker- 579ceb

[viso]

Malcolm was led through the city, to a new residential area where there were a bunch of smaller houses in a row. Tucker helped guide him in, leading him to a small table to sit down. At least Malcolm didn’t have a tail to worry about. He laid his staff across his lap, not wanting to give it up quite yet. He gazed around, taking in the rather spartan area. No plants or pets that he could tell, nothing personal out here, just the table and chairs, and one painting of a forest scene hanging on the wall.

“Alright, you stay here, and I’ll get some food.” Malcolm gave a short nod of agreement. He didn’t want to start any trouble, just wanted to wrap his head around things. Tucker left through an open arch to another room, leaving the werecat to collect his thoughts for the moment. It seemed unlikely that his friend was going to be showing up, meaning he was likely alone in this world. He shouldn’t count on his friend showing up, or knowing anybody here so he would work under the assumption that he was starting from scratch. Speaking of scratching…. He pulled out his shirt and armor a little, enough to slip a hand up and scratch at his side. He was starting to itch from all this fur combined with the leather and rough cloth of his clothes… and he likely didn’t smell too good; he’d have to get a bath.

Tucker wasn’t gone for too long before showing up with a couple paper-wrapped packages. The guard set them on the table before sitting down and finally taking his helmet off so that Malcolm could get his first good look at his host. Tucker was human, without the pointy-eared nonsense of some of the other races he had seen available. He seemed, well… ordinary, like any other person Malcolm would have met on Earth. Granted, someone who looked like they were going to a Renaissance Festival, but that wasn’t too uncommon. Tucker’s hair was short, hard to tell whether it was a dark blonde or a light brown given the stubble that was left. He was a younger sort, probably in his early twenties, hard to pin an exact age with that mix of squared and rounded features. The eyes were a clear blue though, striking, turned on Malcolm with a mix of caution, curiosity, and a dash of general uncertainty.

Neither of them said anything, both unsure of where to start. The paper crinkled as Tucker unwrapped the two items to reveal half a loaf of bread along with a small block of cheese. The guard pulled out a knife, cutting a thick slab of bread and a piece of the cheese off, handing them over to Malcolm. At the sight of the food, Malcolm was reminded of how he hadn’t eaten, his stomach rumbling as he takes the offered food, restraining himself from digging in like a complete…. Well, animal.

“So, what were you doing there?” It was… a rough start, but it was something to build upon, he supposed. He was going to need to get to know people here in this world, and one of the natives would know quite a bit about this place.

I was waiting for a friend, but he didn’t show up…” There was no use lying, he supposed. Malcolm didn’t know enough about this place or the original game he had been about to play to get away with a convincing lie.

“Were you supposed to come here together?”

The clipped way the other was saying that made Malcolm pause before speaking, looking up to his host. Was it just his imagination or were those blue eyes a little more piercing? Perhaps he wasn’t the only one looking for information…

“Yes… But we weren’t trying to get here, at least… If all those other people are from where I am, I don’t think any of us was supposed to come here…. It was just a game, a stupid, stupid game!” He exclaimed. How had this happened? How had things gone from sitting down at his desktop to play a game to being transported to inside the game world?
It took a while to explain to Tucker what had happened, and Malcolm had a feeling that neither of them were happy at the lack of information. Maybe Tucker didn’t believe him, maybe he did. In either case, the guard didn’t seem to think him as much of a threat, and offered Malcolm a place to stay until Malcolm could find a place of his own. The werecat hoped he would not impose on the other long. Hopefully they’d be rescued from this place soon….

As he laid down on the floor, covering himself in a blanket that Tucker had provided, he didn’t feel like sleeping. Out of the fog, alone, the tears came, and he wallowed in misery.

Thread Concluded

Malcolm- b519e6
Tucker- 579ceb[/quote]