Ronin
welcome to the playground, follow me
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
The remark should have been enough to raise Ronin's suspicions. He should have been paying more attention. He should have been doing a lot of things, not just tonight, but in the days and weeks preceding this moment. One might say live and learn at times like these, but will he really? More accurately, will Remi?
It's a quiet death, if it is indeed death that's coming for Remi. Not in the objective sense - between the sirens, the rain, the cries of the injured-but-still-breathing and the developing screaming match between Ronin and Hankyspanky, the area around them is anything but tranquil. It's quiet, though, in the sense that nobody really notices anything at first.
And when he does - because obviously it's Ronin who pays attention - it's a slow realisation. At first he thinks the wendigo has simply passed out (which isn't untrue, but not for the reasons he suspects), only as he steps back to check Remi over, the obscene amount of black ichor on the cement seems to be... sparkling?
A lot of things happen in quick succession, after that. Ronin locates the device in Remi's hand, ironically making himself the prime suspect in his own murder. He considers starting CPR, only to discover that the wendigo is actually still breathing independently. He throws a punch at Heeberjeeber, a punch that connects, and a larger fight breaks out.
One of the things Remi misses, though - and what a thing to miss - is the way that a handful of hunters come to his defence (or at least his unconscious body's defence) to prevent further harm coming to him. Actions speak louder than words, evidently, and the front line of those hunters got a front row seat to Remi's actions agains the nuckelavee.
Time passes.
Snow has been falling for days, not that anyone in the undertown notices.
And whether or not it's for his own good, Remi has been kept under a powerful sedative, despite how quickly or slowly his body wants to heal. His shackles have been painstakingly removed, and rather than the familiar walls of his room, when he begins to come around, it will be in a regular old hospital bed in the medical wing.
Somewhere to his right (among the machines playing an orchestra of vital sounds), a familiar blonde scientist is gradually weaning off the sedative. Not enough to bring Remi to full alertness right away, of course, but enough to pull him towards wakefulness.
It's a quiet death, if it is indeed death that's coming for Remi. Not in the objective sense - between the sirens, the rain, the cries of the injured-but-still-breathing and the developing screaming match between Ronin and Hankyspanky, the area around them is anything but tranquil. It's quiet, though, in the sense that nobody really notices anything at first.
And when he does - because obviously it's Ronin who pays attention - it's a slow realisation. At first he thinks the wendigo has simply passed out (which isn't untrue, but not for the reasons he suspects), only as he steps back to check Remi over, the obscene amount of black ichor on the cement seems to be... sparkling?
A lot of things happen in quick succession, after that. Ronin locates the device in Remi's hand, ironically making himself the prime suspect in his own murder. He considers starting CPR, only to discover that the wendigo is actually still breathing independently. He throws a punch at Heeberjeeber, a punch that connects, and a larger fight breaks out.
One of the things Remi misses, though - and what a thing to miss - is the way that a handful of hunters come to his defence (or at least his unconscious body's defence) to prevent further harm coming to him. Actions speak louder than words, evidently, and the front line of those hunters got a front row seat to Remi's actions agains the nuckelavee.
Time passes.
Snow has been falling for days, not that anyone in the undertown notices.
And whether or not it's for his own good, Remi has been kept under a powerful sedative, despite how quickly or slowly his body wants to heal. His shackles have been painstakingly removed, and rather than the familiar walls of his room, when he begins to come around, it will be in a regular old hospital bed in the medical wing.
Somewhere to his right (among the machines playing an orchestra of vital sounds), a familiar blonde scientist is gradually weaning off the sedative. Not enough to bring Remi to full alertness right away, of course, but enough to pull him towards wakefulness.
sink into the wasteland underneath
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
