dreaming;;;

[makes_you_tick]

This is the City, but you're not where you had been. You're now standing somewhere in between the Buildings 10 and 11, and the City itself seems utterly empty.

There's a lack of light, as well. The odd street lamp blinks on and off in the distance, but it's not something your eyes can count on. As a result, everything is grey and black.

The ticking is louder here. No longer just inside your head, it echoes through the streets. It permeates everything, sending the occasional thought into sharp focus.

Down one road, there's something wet. A close-by lamp blinks on for a moment, and that spot shines red.

[ooc: I may be a little slow, but I'm definitely backtagging this weekend. :3 My favorite curse is here! Feel free to have anyone wander in. This is...mostly a normal dream for Sylar, since pretty much all of them are nightmares. Be aware that it could get awfully gory and dark from here on out.]

Comments

use this chance to turn things around

[cuffyoutwice.livejournal.com]

[A fleeting thought, "call for backup," but she ignores it in favor of pulling out her side arm and clicking on the flashlight attached. Move slow, don't get distracted by the blood. Look for the body, hope for a heartbeat...]

Hello? If you're out there and need assistance-- this is Chief Beckett! Can you speak?


[ooc: I couldn't resist, but I'm slowish too so don't worry about taking your time with me especially ^^]

use this chance to turn things around

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

There's no response. As she nears the blood, it's possible to tell that along with the ticking is a dripping noise, perfectly timed. It's making the puddle grow larger, bit by bit, and appears to be coming from above. Looking up, there's a trail of dripping blood down the nearby building- apparently it's all coming from one window.

use this chance to turn things around

[cuffyoutwice.livejournal.com]

She decides to check out the building the blood is dripping from, but Beckett doesn't remember entering or climbing the stairs. She just finds herself in a hallway, long and dark. Toward the end, she's sure she sees a shadow move. Or maybe that's just her imagination.

Regardless, Beckett moves toward it, wishing now that Ryan or Esposito were here to flank her. No, that's wrong. It's Hidaka and Winchester she needs, she knows it. Her back pressed against the adjacent wall, Beckett nudges open the door with the muzzle of her pistol.

"City Police! Make yourself known!"

use this chance to turn things around

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

The door slams open the rest of the way with no one behind it. It opens to a two-bedroom apartment. The walls of the living room are lined with books, and the kitchen is immaculately clean.

"You're early," Sylar's voice calls from the bedroom down the hall. A woman screams in the same room, but is suddenly cut off. "You wanted a killer, didn't you? What are you so afraid of now, Mother?"

covered in secrets, covered in stains

[coffeenspeed.livejournal.com]

[Anthony has a bad feeling about this. He doesn't remember how he got here and why he doesn't have his phone or Network device on him. The flickering lights freak him out a bit, his heart beating too fast for comfort. He can't help himself and he walks towards the red spot.

He really does have a bad feeling about this]

covered in secrets, covered in stains

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

As he approaches the blood (because it becomes apparent that's all it could be), a sound other than the ticking becomes apparent. Coughing. Even it's oddly in rhythm, starting and stopping with every other tick. Eventually, it stops altogether. It sounded like it was down that nearby alleyway...

covered in secrets, covered in stains

[coffeenspeed.livejournal.com]

Coughing. That makes him forget about the very bad feeling in his stomach and run towards the sound. Somebody might need help and even though Anthony isn't a hero, he was raised to offer help whenever possible.

trapped between two lungs ][

[the-alice.livejournal.com]

The talent of recognizing a dream for exactly that lost to her since discovering he one dream was always a truth, Alice does not know what to make of this, but she reminds herself that it isn't worthwhile to panic when nothing actually bad has happened.

Modest boot heels click with an unnatural loudness against the street, outdone only by the ticking that she grits her teeth and nerve against.

Surely this is a curse. Best not to let fear get the best of her ahead of time. But she folds her arms tightly across her chest, hands tucked into the crooks, her light blue dress as immaculate as it was upon arriving at that her engagement party what seems ages ago.

"Nothing to fear," she insists to herself softly, and treads onward with a quiet care, focusing on that stubbornness when the ticking escalates and blows everything out of focus, hanging onto it until it comes down again.

trapped between two lungs ][

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

"Nothing, really?" replies Sylar, who is standing directly behind her. His arms are crossed and there's a smirk on his face. Despite the way his eyes shine in the light, however, they seem utterly blank. "Do you really believe that, or are you hoping that saying it makes it true?"

trapped between two lungs ][

[the-alice.livejournal.com]

"Just saying something doesn't make it true, whatever it is," she replies carefully, her generally soft tone not faltering as she turns in order to match a face to the voice inquiring.

[cold_dry_pieces]

Brian steps in from somewhere else, flicking his wrist as if to shake something off his hand. Whatever it is, it's been left behind; and he looks around with some surprise after noticing. A faint frown flickers over his lips, the expression suppressed nearly as quickly as it forms. He's confused, but fairly calm.

After a moment's consideration, he heads towards the puddle of what he can only assume is blood. Curiosity nearly always wins out. His footsteps fall unconsciously into the rhythm of the ticking.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

As soon as he reaches the blood (and of course it's blood, what else could it be?), something shines in his eye. It's coming from down the street, some sort of reflection in a shop window or a mirror. Either way, it just makes everything else harder to see.

[cold_dry_pieces]

He raises a hand to half shade his eyes from that, squinting with some annoyance. Breadcrumb trails. He understands this kind of thing. Keeping his gaze on the floor he follows the flash.

in the web of dizzy leaves

[adamantined]

Claire knows this curse, but like most dreams it's almost impossible to get a solid grip on reality to comprehend that fact, everything slipping away into the context of the dream. It seems almost fitting that she start out here, with the ticking. The same sound is a constant presence in the dreams that she has, whether during these curses or without their help, and though the ticking is more immediately identifiable as just that, as ticking, it still pulses with the same beat she's used to.

Here, her head hurts: a dull, simmering pain behind her eyes, like something is trying to focus but refuses to tune right. She rubs the heel of her hand against her eyebrow and squints into the shadows, just as the sodium flare from the streetlamp lights up the blood splatter down the road.

It's like a breadcrumb trail. She can't not follow it.

in the web of dizzy leaves

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

As she approaches the blood, the light flickers on to show her that it's dripping from somewhere. The drips are opposite the ticking, providing a convenient tock for the clock's tick. It's impossible to tell where it's coming from- some place far too high to see.

Laughter, bitter and manic, suddenly echoes out into the streets from above. It's Peter Petrelli's voice, most likely coming from the nearest building.

in the web of dizzy leaves

[adamantined]

The laughter strikes her at first, as familiar as the ticking and then some. She'd recognize Peter's laughing anywhere, even when and if it's twisted into the unfamiliar angles and imprecise lines the way that it is now. It chills her down to the marrow, but Claire doesn't shiver, let's the alien sound ground her instead. For as much as the laughter catches her, pulls at some invisible line connecting Peter's spine and her sternum, tugging them in the same direction and alerting either to the other's stupid decisions and impossible mistakes, there's a rational part of her that still recognizes that Peter is gone. He's left. Almost a month, now, and there's no way he could be back without telling her first, in some way.

And this isn't it.

She goes anyway, letting that invisible string pull at Peter's spine, keeping him aware of her stupid decisions and impossible mistakes. Some of the blood from up high splatters onto her shoulder, staining her dark jacket, and catches in her hair, just another dye job that's become customary over the years. On some unclear level, Claire rationalizes that the point of this dream is to play the game, and so she presses forward, steps out of the flickering streetlight and tries the door of the nearest building. Her shoulder rams hard against the frame as she turns the knob, rubbing her eyes as she crosses the threshold, pausing in the door frame and waiting.

"What's next?" she asks, and if it really is Peter - and even if it's not - she'll get an answer.

[justcautious.livejournal.com]

He must be on patrol, because this isn't a part of the City he's generally in. Or maybe...he could have been at a bar, because he doesn't have his gun, apparently.

This lack of revolver becomes an issue when he notices the red tint to the wet spot. Chris looks nervously around himself and then heads carefully towards what is probably blood. He'll just take a look to see if there's a body somewhere around it and then note his location and head back to the Station to report it.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

There's no body there. But as soon as he reaches the blood, there's the sound of panicked breathing coming from down an alleyway. It sounds like a woman. It feels like the ticking is drowning every other sound out.

[justcautious.livejournal.com]

Looking down at the blood, Chris tries to listen through the ticking, straining to hear. He's trying to work out if it really is a woman breathing, and if he can hear anything else.

Eventually, he calls into the alley in a stage whisper. "Hey! You okay?! Anyone there?!"

[dude-imbatman.livejournal.com]

[Demon!Dean stalks along the City streets. He's got a grin on his face and blood on his hands]

Come out, come out, where ever you are.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

There's nothing but ticking for quite a few seconds, and then- it just stops. Complete silence then- no birds, no gusts of wind. It's all quiet.

There's a person down the street. Oh, more than one. There appear to be a lot of people, but...they aren't moving right. They walk forward with jerky motions, and occasionally they turn on each other, gnawing on a hand, pulling an arm out of the shoulder joint.

It's still silent, but now there's zombies.

[dude-imbatman.livejournal.com]

"Zombies...I friggin' hate zombies."

He has to retreat. There's no other way so he does, down an alley to find some place more defensible.

[absinthe-eyed.livejournal.com]

Justin hates being in the nightmares of others. His own are bad enough; he doesn't need to snoop others, especially not ones that look like work.

No... the ticking's worse. It's everywhere. In the street, in the lights, in the red pool of--but of course it's blood. What else would it be in a nightmare? Trying to concentrate on anything but the ticking, Justin approaches the red spot.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

As soon as Justin reaches the blood, he sees man and a young woman leaving the alleyway its next to. They have no other distinguishing features.

There's a shout from the alley: "What does it take?!" But the two figures don't turn around. They keep walking, passing Justin and leaving him alone.

[absinthe-eyed.livejournal.com]

The shout captures Justin's attention. He moves past the figures and into the alley, seeking the source of the shout. The ticking seems to echo in the narrow corridor.

"Hello?"