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Entry tags:
[ FINISHED / CLOSED ]
Who: John Sheppard & Prior Walter
What: A prophet and a soldier walk into a nightmare
When: First week of September!
Where: In the realm of sleep.
Warning(s): There's gonna be talk of violence, torture, death, and it'll probably only go downhill
John's had variations of this dream before, over the years, but the core of it is always the same. He's always too late, he's always responsible, he's always at fault in some way. No matter how many times people tell him otherwise, John has long known this is a pretty solid truth. He's got a shaky track record, he disobeys orders, he makes mistakes. Sometimes it's Ford, who's only a kid. Sometimes it's everyone. Sometimes he's shooting Elizabeth as the replicator nanites take over her body. This one, though, is an old familiar story.
In the dark corridor of the wraith compound, John stands and waits for what he knows is coming. It's cold, silent aside from the shift of him adjusting his gun, and a faint mist hangs in the air. The floors and walls are a strange, dark, twisted organic looking structure -- John knows how they make these things, now. How they grow ships. The odd, dim lights pulse and he takes a steadying breath as he slides the Atlantean scanner out of his vest. It tells him what he already knows, he's the only dot in this hall right now. He's alone.
The first scream cuts through his thought process and John looks up sharply, and he doesn't know why it still makes his heart race but it does. Sumner's voice seems to echo as he runs, and he knows he's going to be too late because that's how this works. That's how it always works.
Before, years ago, he'd gone running around the building desperately looking for a way in. He'd been on the wrong floor, and when he'd finally found a place he could see down into the Keeper's room he'd had to lay down on the floor and aim his gun through holes.
He'd still been too late.
Now, he knows the way at least. He cuts straight around the corner from the cells, along twisting paths and runs in -- shoots the two guards and circles around the table with it's oddly macabre feast. With Toran's frail, dried out dead husk propped up in one chair at the end.
The Keeper has Sumner on his knees, her claws digging into the flesh of his chest as she drags life from him. His eyes have already gone milky, his hair white. Colonel Marshall Sumner had been forty five, John knows now. He'd been forty five but in that moment he'd looked like a man in his nineties, and John hadn't even been sure if he could see or hear him. Sumner had disliked him from day one, hadn't wanted him on the expedition, hadn't approved of anything he did. It didn't matter now, of course, but it mattered to everyone who look at the decision he made.
"Major," a voice says behind him, and he knows who it is without even looking back. He knows the voice of Dilon Everett because he hears it in his head so often. Can picture the pinched disappointment on his face. Everett hadn't been there, but he'd talked to John about it. He'd let him know his opinion, even if he'd changed his mind later. It didn't matter, the original words still clung to John -- burned themselves into his memories. "I think I should tell you that Colonel Marshall Sumner was a very good friend of mine. We served together a lot of years. You know, I cannot for the life of me figure how it is that you could go as far as you did and not save him -- how you could get that close ..."
John never leaves a person behind if he can, but Sumner was close to death and sometimes -- sometimes surviving isn't a better fate. He swallows back a wave of nausea, lifts his gun and narrows his eyes at the Keeper as she hisses at him.
"Worse, you admit to firing the shot that killed him."
Yes, he thinks, yes I did. Because I believed that's what he wanted me to do. John lets out a slow breath and shoots a burst of gunfire straight through her hand and into Sumner. She yanks her hand back and he slumps over as the Keeper screams an unholy scream of rage. John shoots another burst into her --
Then he's back standing in the hallway again, and he's breathing a little harder this time as he lowers his gun and waits for Sumner to start screaming again.
What: A prophet and a soldier walk into a nightmare
When: First week of September!
Where: In the realm of sleep.
Warning(s): There's gonna be talk of violence, torture, death, and it'll probably only go downhill
John's had variations of this dream before, over the years, but the core of it is always the same. He's always too late, he's always responsible, he's always at fault in some way. No matter how many times people tell him otherwise, John has long known this is a pretty solid truth. He's got a shaky track record, he disobeys orders, he makes mistakes. Sometimes it's Ford, who's only a kid. Sometimes it's everyone. Sometimes he's shooting Elizabeth as the replicator nanites take over her body. This one, though, is an old familiar story.
In the dark corridor of the wraith compound, John stands and waits for what he knows is coming. It's cold, silent aside from the shift of him adjusting his gun, and a faint mist hangs in the air. The floors and walls are a strange, dark, twisted organic looking structure -- John knows how they make these things, now. How they grow ships. The odd, dim lights pulse and he takes a steadying breath as he slides the Atlantean scanner out of his vest. It tells him what he already knows, he's the only dot in this hall right now. He's alone.
The first scream cuts through his thought process and John looks up sharply, and he doesn't know why it still makes his heart race but it does. Sumner's voice seems to echo as he runs, and he knows he's going to be too late because that's how this works. That's how it always works.
Before, years ago, he'd gone running around the building desperately looking for a way in. He'd been on the wrong floor, and when he'd finally found a place he could see down into the Keeper's room he'd had to lay down on the floor and aim his gun through holes.
He'd still been too late.
Now, he knows the way at least. He cuts straight around the corner from the cells, along twisting paths and runs in -- shoots the two guards and circles around the table with it's oddly macabre feast. With Toran's frail, dried out dead husk propped up in one chair at the end.
The Keeper has Sumner on his knees, her claws digging into the flesh of his chest as she drags life from him. His eyes have already gone milky, his hair white. Colonel Marshall Sumner had been forty five, John knows now. He'd been forty five but in that moment he'd looked like a man in his nineties, and John hadn't even been sure if he could see or hear him. Sumner had disliked him from day one, hadn't wanted him on the expedition, hadn't approved of anything he did. It didn't matter now, of course, but it mattered to everyone who look at the decision he made.
"Major," a voice says behind him, and he knows who it is without even looking back. He knows the voice of Dilon Everett because he hears it in his head so often. Can picture the pinched disappointment on his face. Everett hadn't been there, but he'd talked to John about it. He'd let him know his opinion, even if he'd changed his mind later. It didn't matter, the original words still clung to John -- burned themselves into his memories. "I think I should tell you that Colonel Marshall Sumner was a very good friend of mine. We served together a lot of years. You know, I cannot for the life of me figure how it is that you could go as far as you did and not save him -- how you could get that close ..."
John never leaves a person behind if he can, but Sumner was close to death and sometimes -- sometimes surviving isn't a better fate. He swallows back a wave of nausea, lifts his gun and narrows his eyes at the Keeper as she hisses at him.
"Worse, you admit to firing the shot that killed him."
Yes, he thinks, yes I did. Because I believed that's what he wanted me to do. John lets out a slow breath and shoots a burst of gunfire straight through her hand and into Sumner. She yanks her hand back and he slumps over as the Keeper screams an unholy scream of rage. John shoots another burst into her --
Then he's back standing in the hallway again, and he's breathing a little harder this time as he lowers his gun and waits for Sumner to start screaming again.