EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

[inthenightmods]

EVENT LOG:
ENTER MR. SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

characters: those who signed up as defenders for the event
location: all around Beacon
date/time: november 16-29
content: the defenders attempt to drive off a spirit invasion
warnings: lots of horror! body horror, psychological horror, gore, violence, etc.. please cw all threads where appropriate! mods will do the same

in your closet, in your head.

It all happens in a matter of moments. Your friends, your companions, and even some people you aren't all that fond of; everyone who took so much as a bite of the spirits' feast suddenly collapses into a comatose heap. Which is bad enough already, but the worst, by far, is yet to come.

Before anyone can really figure out what's happened to the sleepers, the woods surrounding the town come alive with sound. Rustling, screeching, clicking, howling, and under it all, the characteristic hoots and whistles of the forest spirit tongue. But these aren't the friendly creatures that set up the banquet in the first place, and they aren't the familiar faces (or masks) from around Beacon. As they begin to emerge, bursting forth from the trees, these spirits reveal themselves as a horrifying army of terrors. And sprinkled among them, distinguishable by the emerald glint in their sockets, are the infamous "green eyes", the dangerous spirits that appeared once before.

Attempting to talk to these spirits is a moot point, made obvious by their immediate assault on anyone they get close to. They attack with claws and teeth, with limbs far stronger than they have any right to be, and the green eyes, as they are wont to do, will try to get into your head. Somehow, they seem to know what it is that scares you most, and they don't seem too hesitant to use it. It's not clear what they want— are they here to eradicate you? To frighten you? To send a message?

Whatever the case, one thing is very clear: you and everyone else, sleeping or waking, are in serious danger. Are you ready to defend Beacon?

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Comments

[worthallthis]

[By the time he's back at the Invincible, the Soldier has already settled Eve-slash-Villanelle with the other sleepers, and is back outside with their long knife and a gun at the ready to rescue or defend their handler. Expression focused, the gun levels, aims, and fires over Javert's shoulder, taking the limpingly pursuing spirit in the throat and knocking it back. Possibly killing it, but the Soldier isn't going to wait and find out.]

Inside, sir. You're bleeding.

[They are covering the door, letting it stay unlocked long enough to get Javert inside.]

[policier]

( Javert, to his credit, doesn't so much as flinch when the other man pulls his gun and shoots the creature behind him. If anything, he looks slightly relieved, although there is no time for him to let up. He moves toward the door swiftly, clutching his wounded arm and waiting for the Soldier to fasten the door behind him before saying, )

It is nothing.

( It most certainly is, judging by the blood seeping out on his sleeve, though Javert doesn't want to make too much of a fuss about it. )

How is the girl?

[worthallthis]

[The Soldier turns the deadbolt and drops the bar, double-locking the inn door, then turns to Javert.]

The same as the others. Uninjured, but unwakeable. I put her beside Aziraphale.

[Handler and technician, together in sleep, right? And there's one handler in need of attention, that they can do something about.]

Sir. You should sit. I can see to your arm.

[policier]

( He scowls, and it isn't so much the fact that he's being told what to do. It's the fact that someone cares. Perhaps it is merely an obligation on the Soldier's part, but Javert has never been an easy patient. He does what he says, though, taking a seat, but he's not going to be happy about it. )

Must you? Are there any bandages left?

( It's fine. He can rip off the sleeve of his tattered shirt, if not. )

[worthallthis]

[You'll notice, Javert, that not a single thing the Soldier just said was an order. Just a suggestion. Thankfully, a suggestion their handler does in fact follow. They ignore the question; it's not one actually meant for an answer.]

Tore sheets into strips earlier. We have enough.

[They do take a knife to the shirt, though, to get the fabric away from the wound and see how bad it is, if it needs stitches or just tight enough pressure.]

[policier]

( Stitches would not go amiss, considering how deep the claw marks are. It looks much worse than it feels, and perhaps that is because of the adrenaline still coursing through him, or because he's more tolerant of pain than most. Either way, he doesn't make so much as grunt as the Soldier rips apart his shirtsleeve. Before he can say anything, Javert snarls, )

Do not think to offer me any drugs. I will not take them.

( He needs his wits about him, after all, and he has never cared much for opiates to begin with. )

[worthallthis]

[Considering the Soldier doesn't have any drugs on them-- most of them just plain don't work given their metabolism, and they're not in plentiful supply around Beacon anyway-- that nets Javert only a twitch in a suppressed flinch, and then an,]

Of course, sir.

[before the Soldier uses a cleaner part of the sleeve to carefully wipe blood away. More wells up immediately, of course, but it's enough for a quick look at the marks. Yep, stitches, so pull out the packet with needle and medical thread from one of their many pockets.]

If you would hold your arm up, please, sir. So there will be less bloodflow while I sew these up.

[policier]

( He does as instructed, holding his arm up and out so that it will be easier for the Soldier to tend to his wound. He continues frowning in all the while, and once the other man has the needle ready to stitch, he asks, )

Did your handlers teach you this or do you remember it from before?

( Before being brainwashed, he means. He does not care to say it aloud. )

[worthallthis]

[Thankfully, programming has loosened enough-- and the Soldier has grown comfortable enough with their handlers-- that talking about Before HYDRA in front of one isn't quite going to send them into a silent tailspin of panic. There is a long hesitation, though, both in voice and hands, to make sure their hands stay steady for the stitches. Finally:]

Both. I had to do my own maintenance on missions. Technicians mostly didn't bother. Also sometimes keep targets alive for questioning or protection detail. And. I remembered some.

[They make quick, even stitches, three per claw mark. Then wipe more blood away. It will need a good cleaning, with actual soap and water, before bandaging.]

[policier]

( He doesn't make any noise as the needle goes through, though he does clench his jaw, and grind his teeth. Once the procedure is through, it takes him some effort for him to regain himself. He breathes heavily through his nose, his chest heaving. )

I did much the same. Doctors were an unnecessary expense.

( He looks down at the Soldier's handiwork and, seemingly satisfied with it, he grunts, )

I can finish the rest myself.

[worthallthis]

[Given the placement of the wounds and the loss of blood, the Soldier is skeptical of that. It's awkward wrapping your own arm, since you only have one hand (and your teeth, if you're careful) to get it done with. They step back, though.]

I'll get you the sheet-bandages, at least.

[policier]

Fine.

( He's stubborn, and far too used to doing things on his own. The last time he was injured, and in need of help, he had to be all but bullied into accepting it. He rises from his seat and places his hand on his arm, holding it to his side gently. )

I will be in room 201.

( If he's going to clean his arm, he may as well do it in his own bathroom, and change into a fresh shirt. )

[worthallthis]

Yes, sir.

[The Soldier politely waits until Javert has had time to change his shirt and get his arm clean (possibly by standing just down the hall and listening to him in his room) before arriving at the door with bandages, metal clips to hold the bandages shut (they began life as paperclips), and a bowl of warm stew from the Invincible kitchen downstairs.

They won't even linger if Javert really looks like he'll be grumpy if they do.]

[policier]

( He doesn't expect the other man to follow him in, though he leaves the door propped open for him all the same. Rosalind isn't here, and so Javert has no qualms about letting the Soldier linger outside of his apartment, listening to his every move. He returns to the door in a clean shirt, the blood and dirt scrubbed from his skin, and he looks humbled when the other man hands him the bandages and stew. )

What will you do now? ( He wonders, taking them both. )

[worthallthis]

[Easy question to answer, really. The same thing they do every day, Javert.]

Eat. Add to the kitchen stew and make a few sandwiches for people who haven't eaten. Check on Crowley. Then make another patrol.

[Since this one got interrupted by the rescue. Really, while the Soldier is feeling very useful and helpful and strangely settled in this current hellscape, it's also pretty repetitive. That's even part of why they're so comfortable. Having a limited set of tasks that can be done over and over without lessening their efficacy is pretty much exactly how the Soldier functions best.]

[policier]

( Javert is much the same. Being idle makes him irritable, and he prefers to keep himself on a strict schedule — it's why his patrols are always on-time, and why combat training begins as rigidly as it does. He may take a short respite because of his injury, but he will not remain lax for long. )

I will remain here. ( He responds, after a brief nod. ) Perhaps later I will go out and inspect the inn's fortifications.

( He doesn't like not knowing what others are doing. It's chaotic and disorganizing, but he's doing his best to cope with it. He looks down for a brief moment, then says, )

If you notice anything noteworthy on your patrol, let me know of it.

[worthallthis]

Of course. So you will not tear your stitches until you're a little more healed.

[This is probably not really why Javert is staying here. The Soldier is making a sideways comment as to why he should be staying here. Please don't tear your stitches, Javert.]

I'll report back once I return. Enjoy the stew, sir.

[Since they made it, and all.]

[policier]

( Until he's a little more healed? Javert doesn't have time for that. He frowns a bit at the suggestion, but he doesn't make a comment on it. )

Take care. ( He says instead, and despite the gruffness of his tone, he does truly mean it. )