taxonomites | Haunted Holo March 2nd [visual] Backdated like whoa

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Haunted Holo March 2nd [visual] Backdated like whoa

The feed opens up with a close up of a very grim face belonging to a certain private eye vampire. Then he backs up to reveal...a shop full of stuff more closely associated with Taxon's own resident inventor-slash-scientist-slash-veteran. And said inventor scientist veteran Taxonian is right there, taking up half the frame. Mick'd appreciate no comments regarding possible blood relations.

"I'll make this brief," he tells the screen. "Glitch has told me things take a turn for the worse every now and then, David Lynch style, and it would seem we're in for another round. Scott Summers and Bagoas," he glances at Glitch for confirmation of the name, "have vanished from the city, despite both of them showing up on the map. If you can see this, Scott, Bagoas, please let us know you're okay.

"As for everyone else, if you see anything at all out of the ordinary,aAnything, please let us know." Turning to Glitch, gesturing at the screen. His turn to say his piece.

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Scott comes to lying in the street, recognising the voice in his head and the alien drives that fight to try and control him.

It is Mick's voice that rouses him. He hears it at a distance, swallowing as he feels around for his glasses and realises he can't feel them.

He holds a hand over his eyes and opens them. When only a trace of red light flickers over his hand he curses softly and fights back the surge of grief and fear before rolling onto his side and looking around.

Bright light and colour flood his vision. He grabs his glasses and then the tablet, not questioning where it came from. "Mick? I- It was sunrise." He isn't sure he's making sense, but the world isn't making sense right now. "Is this one of those things, where everything goes insane?"

Mick starts right into alert mode, grabbing the tablet to get a better look. "Scott."

It takes him a moment to get past the...new look. And another moment where he wonders if it isn't new at all, like his own two-faced self. First things first: Make sure Summers is okay.

"Yes, it was sunrise. Right before dawn, actually. You were in Osten, right? Are you hurt?"

Scott looks away, swallowing hard again. "I'm... not seriously, no. Just some bruising and scratches." He runs a hand over his face; he can't feel the blue lines, but he knows they're there. "I'm still in Osten. I don't know how long I was out. And I- Christ." He closes his eyes, pressing a hand to his brow. "I can feel him. In my head. Laughing."

Mick's at times very eloquent brows hike up a notch. "Him? Can you tell me what happened, Scott?"

"I don't know."

It's an emotional response that he kicks himself for. "No. I, thought I saw something, like a heat haze, or static. Then... I heard a child. Laughing. Squealing. Happy." He pushes himself up fully and looks around. "Then I started to hear him. Feel it again."

So it has happened before... Revising his strategy quickly, Mick turns his focus onto familiar ground: one professional levelling with another.

"You disappeared. I was there, heading roughly in your direction. I got a bad feeling and ran towards you, but by the time I got there, you were gone. No trace of you anywhere.

"Glitch and I are working on getting you back. From wherever it is you went."

"What do you mean, where I went? I'm right here." He looks around the becoming familiar surroundings. "Where the window was exploded out. I expect the aliens won't be too happy I did that. Anyway... it's not just me here."

He closes his eyes. "I saw my son, Mick. The one I lost. I'm sure that laughter is him, but he's... trapped in the reflections somehow."

Mick's heart sinks like a rock in deep waters. His son

"I'm sorry." And suddenly, he falters, not knowing how to phrase any of this.

"It seems...like reality as we know it in Taxon has-- shifted, somehow. People sometimes vanish, but then they're actually gone. This time it's different.

"Both you and a kid named Bagoas have gone missing. Both your markers are live, and we can communicate with our tablets, but you're not here."

He looks around again. "There's no Extras."

It's where the eerie silence comes from, that carries the laughter and shrieking so well.

A shriek and giggle that echoes around him again, a delighted child. "Dada!"

"Tell me you can hear that," he whispers. "I can't take going crazy again."

Mick shares a look with Glitch over his shoulder, one of alarm. "Yeah. Crystal clear.

"Listen, Scott. You're not the only one trapped. We're not yet sure if Bagoas is all right. Last we know, he was hiding from an angry mob in an underground laundry room."

He gives a slight sigh. "Again, I'm sorry you have to go through this. We've been having a weird few months. Ghost sightings, malfunctioning trams and hatches, lots of strange things happening. And now this."

"Underground laundry room..." He nods and pulls himself together, making himself ignore his son calling to him. "I can try and find him. I'll be going on foot, I don't trust the transport system, but I can run fast."

Faster if his body is currently under the influence he thinks it is.

He calls up the map on his tablet, searching for Bagoas.

"... Bagoas? As in the Persian courtier and or Alexander the Great's personal... attendant?"

There's a moment's delay as Mick's gears turn. "Oh...uh." He shrugs, shaking his head in tiny swiveling motions.

"I don't know. Maybe, I guess? In any case, he's clearly not from modern times. He's a small, waifish guy with black hair. Looks Mediterranean."

And adding with some weariness. "At least he runs fast."

Well, if they both survive this, maybe Scott can try and talk history with him. If he speaks Arabic or English.

"Okay, I'm going to start heading his way, see if I can help him at all." Keep moving, keep busy, keep focused. His own experiences weren't dangerous here, just disturbing on a deep level. Harrowing.

There is another shriek, less happy this time. "Dada?! Ow! Ow, Dada!"

He leaves the tablet on and starts running. "Talk to me, Mick, is he holed up somewhere safe for now? And if there anyone else closer who can help?" He'd sooner not stop to double check the map now.

"Just a sec," he says, bringing up the map and looking for said eunuch. "He's in Wilde. Northwest. Party Poison's with him. You might want to get in touch, get their twenty."

...Mick may or may not have dabbled in ham radio once upon a long time ago.

"It's a narrow street lined with shops. They're probably somewhere marked with a spider, or some very distinctive graffiti."

"Get their... sure. I'm on my way, I'll try and raise Party on his tablet. Or could you do it, save my breath for running?" He'd learned to delegate, he doesn't have to do everything himself.

And here Mick thought he was the one delegating, but then again, he might want to cut the guy some slack.

"All right. I'm leaving this channel open. I'll get right back to you."

This is Mick. Please respond. Urgent.

busy, tumbleweed. bags n i r safe.

Gee, would've been good to know that sooner. I've sent backup your way. Summers.

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Haunted Holo March 2nd [visual] Backdated like whoa

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