socktasm: (where is your god now)
It's a sock but not really ([personal profile] socktasm) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2014-04-22 07:27 pm

The Monster Hunter AU Meme


1) Post a blank comment with your character, or post with your preferences
2) Reply to others by rolling the RNG between 1-10 to pick a prompt, or just grab one that tickles your fancy.
3) Decide who is the hunter, hunted, or monster victim, or any combination of the three.
4) Play!

1) GHOST HUNTERRRZ You are now a ghost hunter on some crappy reality TV show. Are you just making shit up as you go along? Do you think you’re really onto something when it’s just rats? Is something actually going on and your amateur crew is way out of their league?
2) PORTLANDIA The dream of the 90s may be alive in Portland, but that’s not all that’s still moving around. Now you’re a Grimm, and it’s your job to either kill or befriend the wesen (monster people) in your city. Are you a law abiding cop? A rogue killer? Maybe just the middle school math teacher who really has no time for this bullshit?
3) THE GOTH OPTION You’re a vampire hunter in some sort of unspecified Victorian year. Needless to say, you job description involves a lot of fainting couches, waifs, and elegant neck stretching. Embrace the gothic horror cliché’s, man.
4) CAN I GO HOME NOW? For whatever reason ,you find yourself in a position where you just really don’t want to be up against this monster nonsense. Maybe you got cornered and now you’re forced to kill them all before you can go. Maybe someone pushed you into this when all you really want to do is be a dentist. Maybe it’s 2 AM and some poltergeist is disturbing your sleep.
5) MR. POINTY Congratulations, either you are now the Slayer, or one of her many monster hunting buddies. I trust you know how this one works, guys.
6) BROODING HUNX Wow, unlucky you. You’re now a hunter in the Supernatural universe. Or hey, maybe you’re just an unlucky civilian who has to suddenly be saved by a barely functional alcoholic with an arsenal. Maybe you’re even a hunter with a stable job and life, and you hunt on the weekends. Whatever you are, stay away from those Winchester psychos.
7) THE HUNTED BECOMES THE HUNTER Clearly you’ve got a lot of internal hate going on here, because now you’re a monster who finds them self hunting other monsters. What happened to you, man? Did you get turned against your will and hunt for revenge? Does your species do this for funsies? Are the members of your race corrupted and must be stopped?
8) SHE TURNED ME INTO A NEWT Congrats, asshole, you’re a witch hunter. No specific time period, but just know that you get your kicks trying otherwise law abiding women for witchcraft. Or maybe you’re a misunderstood person truly trying to rid the world of wicked witchery, and your victims are the real deal.
9) ….IN SPAAAACE You‘re a space monster hunter (alien? human in the future?) and you hunt space monsters. Not much else to it.
10) WILD Go nuts
yourmove: (Default)

Alex Murphy || RoboCop (2014)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-04-23 12:03 am (UTC)(link)
[Prose preferred]
seestheman: (D is off grocery list duty)

5ish. I apologize for nothing. Except the TL;DR. I do apologize for that.

[personal profile] seestheman 2014-04-23 05:20 am (UTC)(link)
The first thing Clara notices when she wakes up is the pounding headache. Her first thought is that, hey, maybe it's an allergy thing, she had been dusting off some things the day before and it wouldn't be too out there for there to still be some dust floating around (it's as good a lie as any to tell herself). But then she realizes she isn't at home, so there goes that idea.

Why would she be asleep somewhere that isn't home?

Which is when it all comes crashing down on her: going out for a walk at night before David got home from hockey practice and going into a neighborhood park because she thought she heard something (which, she will admit wasn't the smartest move, but there was a reason why Alex had teased her about the fact that she would never survive a horror movie on one of their earliest dates. To be fair, as she pointed out, he wouldn't either), finding a man crouched beneath a tree, and then him lunging at her before biting down on her neck and...

She doesn't remember what happened after that. But somehow it led to her waking up in a dark room that she didn't recognize with a headache that rivaled the ones that accompanied her hangovers in college. After a few minutes she found a note in barely legible handwriting informing her 'You can't go home. I couldn't stop myself. Sorry.' Which is both stupid and terrifying, but she'll worry about that later, after she's out of here. Once she slips out of the dark room, she realizes that she's in some abandoned building and eventually makes her way outside the building, wishing desperately for her purse so she could take a couple tylenol for her head. Or her cell phone so she could call home and let David know she's okay (she thinks she's okay, at least, other than being a little freaked out).

Somewhere between the pain and the pounding in her head, she hears something. It's soft and if she didn't know better she'd almost swear it's the sound of someone's heart beating quickly, like they're running from something. She turns a corner and sees a man in his mid-50s looking around shiftily, holding a bag and trying to catch his breath. While there's obviously something wrong here, Clara's not in the right place to try to get involved. She just wants to go home and lay down.

Instead she approaches the man, as if her feet are on autopilot, and a little part of her points out that she's famished. fine, but what that has to do with this man, she has no clue. Or at least she doesn't until she finds herself approaching him and jumping on him, her mouth latching onto his throat. She wants to pull away and stop herself, but some primal, animalistic instinct won't let her. The feeling of his blood running down her throat both helps sate her hunger and put the pounding in her head to rest.

So this is what the note meant.

As soon as the man goes limp, guilt washes over her. She isn't a killer. Hell, she's never really been the violent type. Possessor of a sharp tongue? Yes. But the type to hurt someone on purpose? No.

Her face bloody, she rustles through his pockets once she detaches herself from him. She's also never been a thief, but apparently she's making all sorts of new discoveries today. Like, as she finds out when she comes across his cell phone, that she was attacked three nights ago, not the night before like she thought. And that apparently, from what she can see in the screen of the phone, vampires (because she has very little doubt that's what she is now, even though it has yet to really sink in) do in fact cast reflections. Debating whether or not to call the house or Alex or anyone really, she sinks down to the ground and just stares at the phone blankly, trying to decide what to do next.
Edited 2014-04-23 09:07 (UTC)
yourmove: (069)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-04-30 06:34 am (UTC)(link)
He can’t find Clara. All this cutting edge tech bolted onto what’s left of his original body and he has no idea where his wife is, three days later and counting. Alex gets so worked up that he can’t concentrate on doing his job, no matter how organized his systems are about pending arrests and their proximity, no matter the fact he knows it’d be easy to ask Dr. Norton to neurosuppress the worry down to manageable levels. It’s three days before he gets anything close to a lead.

The 911 about a murder and a blonde woman matching Clara’s description gets Alex into gear. No idea if she’s involved, if she’s okay – all he has is a general location and that’s what he’ll have to work with. Alex flips through the CCTV footage around the area for the past three days up to now, the tabs sorted, checked, and discarded at light-speed, even at his pace. It takes Alex several hours even so to pinpoint the murder scene: he watches it in fast forward, a man with a bag displaying the tell-tale signs of a thief who thinks he might’ve gotten a score. The grainy image shows that he’s not alone, a woman who looks an awful lot like Clara materializing from the shadows. Alex is almost ready to breathe a sigh of relief when it goes sideways from there.

His wife approaches the man, step by step.

Clara goes from zero to batshit, practically tackling the man, arms wrapping around him. Her face jerks down toward his neck. Blood splashes out, a familiar red Alex is more than familiar with.

She seems to be gnawing away at his neck for awhile before she pulls back, the body dropping. Clara sits there with the cell phone of the dead man, the CCTV saying it’s almost 11PM. It’s pushing on midnight now, Alex well aware of the fact that Clara might not be where CCTV last placed her.

Alex guns the C-2, pushing the motorcycle to its limits as he races down streets and takes hairpin turns, the route glowing in sharp contrast against his HUD. ETA is about five minutes.
seestheman: (On the brink)

[personal profile] seestheman 2014-04-30 08:06 am (UTC)(link)
Clara's pretty sure that vampires aren't supposed to feel guilt. She had a very minor vampire phase in high school and consumed a truly ludicrous amount of vampire media in those months. Okay, she remembers some vampires who felt remorse, but for the most part it seemed like they were ruthless, soulless monsters who reveled in their bloodlust.

Instead, she just feels sick to her now comfortably full stomach because she just drained a complete stranger's blood. How is she supposed to look David in the eyes knowing that she's responsible for someone's murder?

How's she going to be able to go home at all, for that matter? Sure, this time it was someone she's never met who looked like he had just snatched someone's purse (which, last she checked, wasn't a killing offense), but if she goes home, next time it could be David. Maybe it's better, then, to let herself stay missing. She doesn't know where else to go other than home, though, so she just stays where she is and thinks, paying very little attention to time passing by and occupying herself with some silly game her victim had downloaded to his phone, only really changing her position because of a slight leg cramp.

At some point over that hour it occurs to her to wipe the blood off her face, which she does with her sleeve, considering the sweater's already ruined (which only harshens the blow of everything that's happened, because she liked this sweater). It's only when she hears the familiar rev of a motorcycle that it occurs to her that she might want to leave and find somewhere else to hide out for the time being, but by the time she starts to try to get to her feet, she realizes it's too late.

All she can hope for is that whoever is on that bike isn't Alex and doesn't notice the fact that she's covered in blood.
yourmove: (052)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-05-08 09:07 am (UTC)(link)
Unfortunately it is. And he’s noticed.

Alex jumps off the bike so fast that it’s still ejecting the kickstand even as he dismounts and rushes toward where he’s last pinned her. Rounding the corner, he sees she’s still there, Clara struggling to his feet, her face cleaner than the CCTV footage, cashmere sweater caked in blood that he knows isn’t hers. He’d watched it play out. His wife, to all appearances, went cannibal on a stranger and all the criminal profiling programs in the world don’t have answers. He doesn’t have answers…and he’s seen some crazy shit that the textbooks don’t cover.

Alex’s visor hisses up as he rushes to his wife: she has this trapped look on her face, skin so pale it looks almost bloodless.

“Clara!” It occurs to Alex she might take one look at him, look at her bloody clothes, and run. It’s not the logical reaction: what it is, though, is human. He’d wanted to run when he realized the world as he knew it was over. Clara might be the same – she was supposed to be at home, worrying about that list of supplies David gave her. Something about some school project he can’t remember right now, not when he’s striding forward and his wife’s covered in blood. It’s one of those things he had – used to have – nightmares about. It’s even worse in person. “Clara. It’s me. You’re okay, you’re safe.”
seestheman: (Too much fuckery for one person)

[personal profile] seestheman 2014-05-13 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
Honestly, the sound of his voice almost does make Clara run. Really, she wants to run as far away as she can and as fast as she can. But she feels like her feet are glued to the concrete and that returning gnawing at her stomach definitely isn't helping matters (which, really, is ridiculous since she just...ate? She isn't sure if that's the proper term for what she hour ago).

She smells him before she sees or hears him. It's an odd mix of mechanical and metallic scents, with the slightest hint of organic. A world away from her (prey) victim's scent. And completely different from the smells her brain used connect with Alex (and still does on some level, considering his half of the closet's been pretty much untouched since the explosion and, less so now than it did at first, his pillow still smells like him).

"No I'm not." There's a waver to her voice. If there are two words that definitely don't apply to her right now, they have okay and safe. The drained body nearby is proof of that. She's certain that he already knows what she did. What she's capable of. And that makes her anything but safe. "I'm really not, Alex."

Clara backs away from him just the slightest bit, even though her feet still feel far too heavy to properly run at the moment. Her grip on the phone tightens and it suddenly hits her that she's clutching to a dead man's phone and the plan she had briefly cobbled together about using it to call home long after she'd hit the road isn't going to work because Alex has already found her.

"Are you going to arrest me?" Frankly, she doesn't know where the question comes from. Or if she wants the answer for that matter.
yourmove: (006)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-05-15 08:44 am (UTC)(link)
Alex manages to keep his poker face – barely. Instead of wincing, his face just sort of freezes over as he takes in how awful Clara looks without the grain of the CCTV cameras. It’s somehow larger than life, the blood still bright red, the tremble to her voice, the dark spots under her eyes. Her skin looks washed out, like she’s going into shock, like she’s the one who lost all that blood. His eyes flicker down to the still shape on the grass despite himself. The HUD helpfully chimes up with the flatlined vitals, as if he’d never seen a dead man before. Jesus Christ.

“I…” Alex pauses, unsure. He should. There was a time when he would’ve and it wouldn’t have mattered if Clara was his wife. Alex knows that someone’s probably on the other end watching the feed – if they aren’t, they’ll see it in the morning, especially when he has [_INITIATE ARREST_] blinking insistently right in front of Clara. “No. I’m not gonna arrest you. What happened to you?”

He steps forward. Clara clutches the dead man’s phone in her hand so hard her knuckles go white. He holds up his hand, the flesh one that he’s always preferred to touch his wife with, from holding hands to brushing the hair behind her ear. There’s still blood caked on strands of Clara’s hair that she missed in her attempt to clean up, Alex’s nervous swallowing hidden by the graphene plating.
seestheman: (Drowning in regrets)

[personal profile] seestheman 2014-05-20 05:34 am (UTC)(link)
Clara wouldn't be all that surprised if some of the blood on her sweater is her own. Not most of it, obviously, but a little bit of it if whoever her captor was is as messy of an eater as she had been.

"Good...I mean..." she swallows roughly, as if there's something stuck in her throat, "I don't think I'd be very safe to have around other people right now." The thought of being in a cell with other people who she could sink her teeth into is horrifying. The only reason she knows she can be around Alex right now is that, really, there isn't much of anything she can do to him.

She's purposefully evading the question. And his touch for that matter, considering the way she jerks out of his reach. Which she fails at miserably. "I went out for a walk," she says softly, as if that explains everything.

yourmove: (039)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-05-24 08:19 am (UTC)(link)
"You were gone for three days." For all the fancy access to databases and combat protocols, he's still him in here and Alex can't process the picture in front of him. Clara standing there looking like death warmed over, voice small and strangled, her hair matted in clumps. "Look, how 'bout we get you inside, cleaned up. Then you tell me what happened."

Alex ignores that niggling voice saying he's supposed to be interrogating and detaining and that Clara being his own wife shouldn't make a difference. He does his best to ignore that urge. It's the damn Easter Eggs they stuck inside here. Clara doesn't need him to be the best cop Detroit's ever seen: she needs him to be her husband and that means getting her inside. Make her feel safe.

Besides, reviewing her footage, he thinks he's better equipped to handle this than that man she murdered. Alex does call the body in, even as he stops as she flinches away, and he can't bring himself to bring out the handcuffs.
seestheman: (Endless grief)

[personal profile] seestheman 2014-05-28 05:51 am (UTC)(link)
Clara knows how long she's been gone, for the most part. She saw the date on the phone and knows just how much it doesn't line up with what day it was when she left their house. But hearing him say it out loud makes something inside her feel like it's burning, as if her hurt and anger have somehow combined and caught alight in her stomach.

"Where were you thinking?" As obvious as it should be that David wouldn't be at home and is probably safe at someone else's house at the moment, it hasn't clicked to her yet. And since it hasn't clicked yet, there's this fear that Alex will automatically take her home and, in a worst case scenario, she'll lose control again and rip out David's throat (and in a best case scenario, David will see her come in looking like she's been through hell and back and covered in blood and start having nightmares again, if her sudden disappearance hasn't already brought them back). "I can't go home. You know I can't."
yourmove: (017)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-06-05 06:06 am (UTC)(link)
Alex sighs. "I know, Clara."

The thing is she's guilty. It's not that she feels guilty - she is guilty no matter how you look at it because she straight-up murdered that guy and there's no connection, no motive between them. His databases come up with nothing. The dead man wasn't a criminal. He wasn't a rapist or a wife-beater or an arsonist who fell through the cracks. Jacob Bluth was just some guy who paid his taxes on time. He was a nobody to the system.

He tries to lock eyes with Clara. "You still need to get inside," he reminds her gently, his voice sounding taut and like someone else's. "Please."
seestheman: (With every breath that I am worth)

[personal profile] seestheman 2014-06-15 09:46 am (UTC)(link)
It's occurs to Clara again that she could run. Not that she'd get very far, considering he'd catch up with her. Even before the suit, he could outrun her. And now...well, she isn't sure how fast she can go now, but she's pretty sure he'd still be able to catch her. Maybe, one day, that'll be comforting to her, but this isn't that day. This is the day that makes her want to run for the hills and hope he doesn't chase after her (and the idea that he won't chase after her is much more terrifying than the idea of him catching her).

For the briefest moment their eyes do lock, before she looks down at her feet instead. She remembers reading scads of trashy vampire romance novels in high school, and if some of them are right about the whole 'look into my eyes' compulsion thing...she doesn't want to risk it. Especially when she knows that there's all this other stuff that OmniCorp's put into Alex's head, and it could mess that, and him, up.

"Where? The station? The lab? I might...I can't."