Must. Love. Tentacles.

Cast: date: 'September 1, 2012'
place: Camden
participants: 'David, Gideon, Ruth, Tucker'
synopsis: 'The Watch are dispatched to Camden to take care of a little alleyway issue. Watch 1, Gloom 1.'
log: "Foggy nights are not good nights for the Watch. They are to the Watch, what the full moon is to the emergency room. No good ever comes from misty nights. People go missing, and others are found. \n\nSo it's little surprise that word comes in from Camden that not only is it turning into a foggy might - of the pea soup variety - but that the police had reports of strange activity and strange sounds from one corner of Camden. Thus, the dispatching of Ruth, David and Tucker with instructions to go see what the hell is going on. \n\nWhich brings us to Camden. Lovely Camden. Pea soup air Camden with lamp posts offering very small pools of light at just past 2am. It's quiet on the street, uncommon, with nary even a cab driving someone or anyone home. This bodes ill for the three intrepid - and perhaps unlucky - Watch members who have been volunteered.\n\n\"You know,\" Tucker's voice is just this shy of ashen dry as he strides along the sidewalk with the hem of his long coat slapping against his calves with every step, \"Just once I'd like to get a little more bloody detail on one've these jobs. Something more than 'oh, well, we heard something spooky', you know, mate? Just once…\" A long piece of beef jerky's waved around to accent his words, followed by his teeth viciously seizing a few inches of it and tearing it off the rest in a hearty bite of stringy preserved meat, chewing enthusiastically.\n\nFoggy nights aren't all that good for Ruth either, truth be told. Just not bright enough for her liking, with the haze obscuring the wan glow of the street lamps. She's dressed in her usual concealing attire - black, black, grey, bit more black. Her hood's pulled up, hands tucked into her jacket pockets as she walks along with a wry sort of smirk curving her lips. \"Keep dreamin', Tuck.\"\n\nAs the group travels to Camden, he keeps an eye out on the area around them, moving along with the others. He chuckles softly at Tucker's comment, nodding his head. \"Well, at least we're given a destination and not have to search ALL of London to find out where the bloody hell we are going.\" He has his coat wrapped around his body, trying to block out the fog from his clothing. \"Hopefully we can find what we're after, kill it and then let Tuck eat it.\" He offers after a moment.\n\nLovely Camden. With lovely alleys. Lovely, quiet, peaceful alleys in thick pea-soup fog when nothing ever goes wrong.\n\n\"Fuck!\"\n\nYou know. Or not.\n\nThere is a surging in the darkness down one such alley, and then the shadows give up a man stumbling out into the street. Gideon Parish, bright-eyed and harried, his hair a mess, his hoodie torn, and a very large, black, slimy tentacle busy curling its way around the man's left leg. He's got a pocket knife in one hand and with a grunt, he stabs it down into the grasping thing. A tiny pocket knife shouldn't do much, but a huge spray of ichor erupts and the thing lets go and retreats back into the darkness.\n\nPanting, Gideon looks around and takes note of Ruth, Tucker and David moving in his direction. \"Evening then,\" he greets a bit breathlessly. \"Running behind schedule?\"\n\n\"If I was dreamin', luv,\" Tucker replies without missing a beat, swallowing down that bite of jerky far too quickly for it to be properly chewed, \"You'd be wearing a lot less clothes, and we wouldn't be in bloody Camden-town.\" Again he sprinkles his words with the waving of jerky, the twisted piece of meat waggling about in his hand. \"You're too right there, though, mate, too righ\"\n\nThen there's that man stumbling out into the open, and he stops dead in his tracks. A single brow raises slowly up until it seems likely to clamber into his hairline and vanish entirely. He points with the jerky, noting, \"Got something on your leg there, mate.\"\n\n\"Heh,\" Ruth snorts out, eyes rolling as her grin quirks to something a bit more genuine. Then — profanity yelled out from that alleyway just up there a ways. Arching a brow, she spots Gideon… and the rather unpleasant-looking tentacle coiled around his leg. \"Oi, Gid. Is it date night?\" Oh, she made a joke. That's funny, right? She even untucks a hand from her pocket to eye the (black, of course!) watch on her left wrist. \"Bit've traffic back in theoh, bloody hell, Tuck… you've got a, uh, thing…\" One gloved finger extends towards Tucker's leg, her expression twisting to a grimace. Now it's her turn to curse as she lifts her hand up to tug her glove off with her teeth. \"Fuck.\"\n\nTuckers got a thing indeed, as while they have been walking in the fog and Gideon's been dancing in the fog with his date, another equally shiny, skinny black tentacle, has been snaking it's way across his shoe and then around his leg. Which when Ruth points it out suddenly becomes terribly obvious and is also when it tightens and gives a good yank, dropping Tucker to the ground. He can feel - much like Gideon did - the suckers finding purchase against clothing or attempting too and the sharp hooks within there also attempting to find purchase. \n\nA quick glance by all, it's not hard to see many tentacles, all clinging to brick and stone as if climbing it's way out from the alley when fog thins out here and there before going thick again.\n\nDavid glances over towards Gideon as he makes his presence know, offering a nod of he head towards the other man. \"Hey Gid.\" He says before he glances to Ruth and chuckles softly at her joke. He starts to speak again before he turns his attention towards Tucker as the tentacles take hold. His attention then turns to the others around them. He reaches for a nearby shadow, trying to avoid the tentacles as he attempts to get himself a weapon to free Tucker from the tentacle that has him.\n\n\"Last blind date I ever agree to,\" Gideon replies, frowning down at his jeans, the one leg now sporting ichorous sucker imprints, as well as a few holes where those suckers began to grind through. He wipes his pocket knife on his leg and swipes an arm across his face, removing the spatters of whatever-it-sprayed on him. \"Well now,\" he says, watching as the tentacles slither along bricks and stone, \"this night's going a bit different than expected.\"\n\n\"Eh?\" At the hesitant observation from his erstwhile employee, Tucker's gaze drops down… just in time to see that glistening tendril tighten around his leg and jerk him off his feet. \"Fuckin' hel\" Thud! He hits the blacktop hard, chin bouncing off it with an jarring impact that shocks back through his jaw, the bag of jerky he was carrying going skittering away with a few sticks tumbling into the gutters. He gives his head a tight shake to clear it, briefly woozy, fingers curling in to try and grab hold of the pavement in case it tries to drag him backwards before he focuses again. \"Nnf.\"\n\n\"Bloody tentacles,\" Ruth mutters out, ripping her other glove off and hastily stuffing the both of them into her pocket. Another, \"fuck,\" is muttered out under her breath as she spies… a whole bunch of them. Then Tucker goes down like a sack of hammers! Being the nearest to him, she drops down to a crouch and (perhaps unwisely) reaches a bare hand out towards the unpleasant thing coiled about her boss's leg. Her fingers splay wide as the stingers push their way through the flesh of her fingertips, each with a small dot of blood welling up around its base. Maybe it's at terrible idea to grab for a tentacle and attempt to jam five, poison-laden stingers into it, but that's exactly what she's doing.\n\nTucker's fears are becoming very true, other tendrils of thin thin tentacles - sans sucks and hooks! - try to find purchase on downed man and start to drag him in in little jerky movements. How many this night have succumbed to this? The red suede platform heel at the mouth of the alley where the majority of the tentacles seem to emerge from speak of at least one victim. \n\nBut Ruth is doing the voodoo that she do's so well, and there's a shudder through the tentacle as the skin is pierced, black ichor oozing from the wounds and Tucker can feel it relaxing it's grip on his leg enough that he can pull it free. But there's retaliation for Ruth's acid trick and Gideon and David see it too late to stop it. \n\nA tentacle as thick and broad as the one that Gideon was dealing with come flying out of the mouth of the alley, broadsiding the only female with the group and quickly wrap itself around her, squeezing. Squeezing hard. With those same little suckers. At the very tip instead of a point, is a mouth almost, row upon row of teeth. Tucker's found his date. Or his mate. One of the two. Either way, it looks poised to take a swipe at Ruth's head. If not attempt to you know, eat her head.\n\nDavid grabs a hold of a shadow, quickly shaping it into a blade with a practiced precision. Once it's formed and solidified, he looks up in time to see the tentacle wrap around Ruth. He moves towards the creature, swinging the blade at each tentacle he comes near, trying to keep them off him so he help his companions. He slashes again at the tentacles, hoping it will release her before it crushes her then he can move to help the others before they get killed or dragged off. \"I think we found what we're looking for.\" He says as he moves. \"A bad anime.\"\n\n\"Or a bad romance?\" Gideon cannot quiiiiite resist asking. He leaves the tentacle around Ruth to David for now, as too many stabbies will, uh, spoil the soup? Instead, he focuses on the other tentacles creeping towards them. Each time he manages to stab into one, it's at the same spot, cause that large spray of ichor and that particular tentacle to drop and retreat or stop moving all together.\n\nAs the acid begins to seethe through the alien flesh of the tentacle wrapped about his leg, Tucker twists 'round onto his back, hands bracing to the sidewalk's concrete in a push to bring him up. He jerks his limb free, kicking at the ichor-bleeding horror to clear his boot, and he's about to say something — when that toothed tentacle lashes out over him and wraps itself around Ruth in a manner that suggests it's never been to a sexual harassment seminar before. As the shadowy blade in David's hand carves into the slick flesh of the blasphemous thing, making it thrash and pull away, he lunges upwards to grab hold of it with his own hands.\n\nThe man's jaw distends slightly, opening inhumanly wide, three rows of razor-sharp teeth coming down on the tough, stringy flesh of the tentacle in a vicious bite. Not only gnawing into it, but digging his fingers in to try and pull more into his cavernous maw.\n\nRuth seemed satisfied by the ichor dribbling down between her fingers - drawing first blood appears to agree with her. Being slapped upside the head by a large tentacle, on the other hand, does not. Before she can even slam into the pavement, it's wrapped around her middle, squeezing the breath out of her. Exoskeletons come in rather handy during times like this; but there's a rather chitinous crackling sound coming from her that… can't be comfortable. The suckers rending her jacket and boring into her skin are rewarded with the burn of acid that trickles out from the wounds.\n\nWith her arms effectively pinned to her sides by the unpleasantly toothy and phallic thing coiled around her, she can a) bleed acid on it and b) attempt to rotate her wrists just enough to sink those barbed stingers into it once again, while her companions slice and… chew away at it.\n\nPerhaps somewhere, on the gloom end of this whole affair, there's the owner of these tentacles. Or multiple owners. They had a thought, about maybe sticking their hands through the way that leads to that other world much like a bear will reach into a tree trunk when it knows there's honey inside there, sweet delicious golden honey. \n\nBut much like the bear, you take the chance when you stick your hand - or tentacles - through that Way in the gloom in search of something to yank through, you risk the chance of getting stung. Literally.\n\nThe hooks within the suckers find little purchase on Ruth thanks to that exoskeleton and also in thanks to David who's shadow formed blade digs into the long arm much like a word through a particularly tough side of pork. It doesn't sever but it sure does leave a nice gaping wound. Queue Tucker - Langolier's ho! - and his jaws claiming victory as well, feeling the shudder and constriction of the massive tentacle as his rows of teeth sink in and tear at the flesh, black fluid flowing from the wounds and him. But this trifecta of slice, chew and burn makes for a very damaged tentacle that is giving up it's fight. \n\nBecause sometimes, there's just too much effort that makes getting your meal not worth it. \n\nThat and Gideon's doing a pretty fine job of making the cost of the dinner too high with each tentacles that writhes and retreats with far less flesh that it had going into the fight. They have it on the run, and Tuckers having dinner. Hmmm, Kalamari.\n\nDavid continues to hack and slash at the tentacles while the others do what they do best. He hacks at one and slashes at another, breathing heavy as he keeps at it, aiming for the same areas that he's already hit to inflict even more damage on that spot, working on severing them completely. \"How many more are there?!\" He calls out to no one in particular.\n\n And perhaps, for the moment, the tides are turning. It seems like more tentacles are leaving than approaching, never mind that it's cost Gideon a pair of jeans, a shirt and a hoodie. He pauses for an instant to catch his breath, calling over to David, \"Might not matter anymore. Think we've got 'em on the run.\" Glancing at Tucker, he adds, \"Not too bad for a date. Dinner and a show, eh?\"\n\nThe black, oily ichor of the writhing Other spills down over Tucker's cheeks and chin, dripping down the front of his coat and shirt in a horrific stain as he feasts upon alien flesh, shoving the entire stump of the tendril into his maw; rows upon rows of teeth biting, tearing, grinding away like sausage shoved into a grinder. The hooks tear into his lips and gums, but the bloody furrows seal as swiftly as the minor injuries occur. He hauls on that tentacle, trying to slurp more of it into his monstrously gaping maw as if he could haul the hideous thing out of the alley, and perhaps out of the Gloom!\n\nNom nom nom.\n\nAcidic blood and clothing don't get on well. Ruth's sporting a few holes in her getup now that she's dropped unceremoniously to the pavement once more; the tears exposing pale abraded skin dribbling a green fluid that sizzles as it mingles with the tentacle-ooze splashed across her. Lovely. There's flesh over that exoskeleton of hers, after all, and those little suckers hurt! Surely one of her mates will lend her a jacket after this is all sorted, lest she be ticketed for indecent exposure.\n\nBut… for now, after catching her breath, Ruth's shoving up to her feet, upper lip curling as a feral snarl escapes. Without so much as a word to her companions, she takes off - soundlessly sprinting after the retreating tentacles, she goes skittering up a wall. Maybe she's going to track them back to wherever it is they're coming from! Or maybe she's just pissed off about being bad-touched by a tentacle and wants to take a few more swipes at them. It could go either way, really.\n\nTucker can feel resistance, massive resistance, the tug of war between being eaten, and trying to get away from being eaten. The latter being hard to do when all those rows of teeth have an anchor in your flesh. Between David, Ruth and Tucker, that one that had Ruth lays lifeless on the ground, disintegrating thanks to Ruth's acid.\n\nGideon - and David too - chasing after and severing tentacle after tentacle causing retreat, till there's just the one that Tucker is consuming as fast as he can yank it from the gloom. At one point Ruth can see where fog is too great from on high and tentacle seems to dissipate into it. She can hear, in fact they all can, a strange scream that seems to come from the very epicenter of the fog. \n\nAnd the tentacle slumps, no more resistance to being consumed by Tucker and in the alleyway the fog starts to thin.\n\nDavid stops his attack to catch his breath as he watches the tentacles retreat. He looks to the others as he moves his shadow weapon to his side. \"Everyone okay?\" He looks to each one in turn to make sure they're still alive and breathing. He notices the condition of Ruth's clothes and lets his weapon disappear as he removes his jacket and offers it to her. What a good partner he is.\n\nThe tentacle's rubbery black length drags from the shadowy fog that fills the alleysoon revealing that the end's been torn off by the creature itself, a pulverized split where it cut off its own limb rather than risk any more of itself being devoured. It's moments later that the last of it is ground up like so much beef in Tucker's gullet, and his distended jaw snaps back into place with a sickening click of bone on bone. The apple of his throat rises and falls in the slippery black ichor as he swallows once, and then he's bringing a hand up to wipe its back across his mouth, smearing the horrific mess worse. \"An' fuckin' stay there,\" he mutters in the direction of the alley, and then he's tracking Ruth with his gaze, frowning slightly. He burps. \"You a'ight there, luv? I'm fine m'self, Davey, you?\"\n\nRuth, scrambling upright along the ledge of a building in a nauseating, gravity-defying fashion, lets out an irritated hiss through grit teeth as the not-eaten portions of disappear back from whence they came. She comes to a stop, stingers retracting back into her fingertips, and presses the flat of her hand to her side. It's more than a bit tender. A hitched breath is drawn in and sighed out with an uttered, \"…bollocks.\" before she drops back to the ground. \"I'll be fine,\" she grouses, reaching out to swipe the offered jacket, careful not to brush her exposed fingers against David's. She tugs it on over her ruined getup with a wince, then digs her gloves out to find them… destroyed. Hands in the pockets it is, then.\n\nGideon takes stock of the others around him. David, with his shadowy blades gone and his jacket being offered to Ruth. Tucker, polishing off the last of his meal on the run (well, Tucker wasn't running, but the meal was) and Ruth skittering back down to the ground to accept said offered jacket. He wipes his pocket knife on his jeans again, dropping it back into his pocket. \"All bits and bobs accounted for,\" he replies, in case David was taking stock of more than just the watch members. \"Haven't seen tentacles for years, now. Feeling a touch nostalgic.\"\n\n\"Right, then…\" Tucker's stained fingers push back through his hair, exhaling a long sigh as he looks skywards for a moment, perhaps beseeching an uncaring God, and then he's looking around the group, eyebrows arched, \"…shall we get the fuck out've here? Anyone want to stop for take out on the way back? I'm starved.\"\n\n\"Eh,\" Ruth tugs the jacket's zipper upsorry David, she'll ruin this before she stops bleeding—and slants a look towards Tucker. \"Think I'll just go home. One've you lot can tap up the report for this. I need a shower in the worst bloody way.\" And, probably, to curl up in a cocoon for the next twelve to fourteen hours. Although… a thought occurs. Turning her head, she regards Gideon for a moment, one brow arching high, and asks, \"What're you even doin' out here?\"\n\nDavid nods in agreement with Tucker's statement about heading out. He moves off towards the direction they came from, shaking his head. \"I'm not in the mood to eat at the moment.\" He looks over to Ruth as she mentions going home. \"You need a ride?\" He asks then looks over to Gideon at Ruth's question with an eyebrow raised slightly, wondering what the answer to that question is.\n\n\n \"Oh right,\" Gideon murmurs as he looks over at Tucker, \"because swallowing enormous tentacles always has me famished.\" He gives his own, gruesome shirt a tug, frowning at the smacking sound it makes as the sticky cloth is drawn away from skin. \"I was on a date,\" he tells Ruth, and there a small nod towards that red high heel. \"Ended abruptly.\"\n\nTucker's shoulders roll in a shrug at that, and he steps over towards the gutter — bending low to pick up the bag of jerky that fell earlier. A twisted stick of it, spotted in places with ichor, is lifted from the grime and he tears off a bite of it, chewing contentedly and muttering around it, \"Need a shower m'self.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Ruth answers Gideon rather flatly — then her eyes cut towards that solitary red suede platform heel resting on its side at the mouth of the alley. Another, \"…oh. Bad luck, that.\" as she looks back to him, drawing her own conclusions. Clearing her nose with an indelicate sniff - it'll take hours to wash that tentacle smell out of her hair - she considers David's offer, and her current bedraggled state, and opts against walking. \"Sure, mate. Ride'd be good. See you at work tomorrow, Tuck.\"\n"

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