bakerstreet | the pic prompt meme

((I... actually have not seen Inception. Will that be a problem?))

[ Nope! I can AU Arthur into Max's world. c: ]

[Awesomesauce! Should I just make up whatever based on the pics, then?]

[ Go for it! Arthur will pretty much be a lone drifter like Max so whatever comes to mind/works for you. ]

[Replied on original picture prompt to keep the thread clean...]

[ Awesome ]

Sometimes he's able to wander for days, maybe even a week, utterly alone and simply existing. Time barely seems to pass when that happens, and he doesn't mind at all. Most days though, his ghosts whisper at his back, or watch from the very edges of his vision, and occasionally they drive or lead him. This time the girl ran ahead of his bike, and he wasn't sure if it was the little girl that sometimes calls him Pa, or some other older girl from a place of huge rock towers topped with green. She kept just far enough ahead that he couldn't see her well enough to be sure, and all he could do was chase after.

He doesn't know how long he's been chasing her, through night and day, and when he loses sight of her and comes to himself he's in a place he's sure he should not be.

There are remnants of civilization, at the edges of the world. Shells of old towns, buildings half burned and collapsed. In places like this there's sometimes useful items to be scavenged, but there's also the risk of lingering radiation, or of running into other more desperate scavengers. He avoids the ruins of the old world, when he can, but it seems she has led him here. It's only after he's stopped the bike and killed the engine that he fully realizes she was just one of his ghosts all along. He's alone, here, perched at the edge of an empty town.

At least he thinks he's alone. There is, after long minutes of silence, a clink somewhere in the wreckage, a sound of some small glass or metal item tumbled onto gravel. His head snaps to the sound, but the heaped bricks and broken wood and all the other detritus makes it impossible to tell where the sound came from. There's nothing moving in sight, and something moving out of sight almost certainly means danger.

Towns were never a smart idea to be in. They could provide good hiding spots but there was always something worse lurking in them. And this one was no exception. If anything, it was a little worse. "Little" being an understatement but one Arthur was still capable of handling. As long as his legs didn't give out.

Max will see the source of the noise soon, Arthur bursting out of a building, running as fast as he can out into the open, out into the light. Carrying his bag in one hand and and his rifle in the other. The thing making him run so fast were several things, in fact. The come after him like a swarm, only to rear back and run over each other trying to get back inside. Screaming and hissing as the sunlight literally burns their pale skin. Deformed and animalistic, they are no longer resembling anything remotely human.

Arthur still ends up dropping to one knee after he turns, gun up and aiming for any of them that might actually try to brave the sunlight and come after him.

He hasn't even noticed Max yet.

One of the things that has kept Max alive this long is that his instincts react faster than his rational brain does; He's still processing the details of the figure that's lurched out of the building while his hands are grabbing for the sawed-off shotgun, checking the barrel with a familiar click, and taking aim at the seething mass of trouble still in the open doorway.

What exactly they are, he's not sure. Some twisted remnants of once-men altered by radiation and subterranean living, or maybe something else weirder and more supernatural. What he is sure of, is that he doesn't really want to know what they are.

The man kneeling with a gun is dismissed as an immediate threat, because whatever those things are shrieking at the light and clawing at each other are clearly far worse. All the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up, and he suppresses a shiver, despite the heat of the day. He's not going to waste ammo, if they're not coming out, but if there's any sign one might emerge further he is ready to blast its head off without remorse.

Arthur had heard about these creatures existing when he still had someone to travel with. They had gone underground, many of them, to try and survive. Survive they did. And ended up like that.

He keeps his gun trained on them as they all eventually slink and shuffle back inside, pulling their dead with them. Possibly to eat. He couldn't think of any other reason. They didn't seem all that sentimental. No one really was in this world anymore. he slowly gets up from his kneeled position, still eyeing the darkness he had just emerged from.

After picking up his back he finally turn in the right direction to see Max. He drops his bag and his gun goes back up, now aimed at the other man. He hadn't escaped from that just so be killed by this guy.

It's worth noting that for just a moment, even after Arthur has turned, the other man's gun is focused not on him but on the doorway where the creatures are retreating. That doesn't last though, and it's the kind of delay that could have cost his life, so he's frowning by the time his aim shifts to the other man a moment later.

The man that's behind the shotgun is the nearly-uniform shades of dust brown that says he's been traveling the desert a long time, although the bike he's on is slightly better off than he is. Right foot on the ground, he's still astride the well-packed vehicle, and the amount of supplies he's carrying speaks of long travel, too, so it's unlikely he's from the immediate area.

Arthur does notice it -- and it's why he doesn't immediately fire on the other man. His eyes flick over him, his bike, taking in what details he can without being so stupid as to take his eyes off the other man for too long.

Eventually, when neither has fired at the other for what feels like several long moments, "You gonna let me go?"

The other man's mouth opens a little and closes again, he narrows his eyes, licks his lips and then works his mouth a little again. For a moment it looks as if he might be mute- perhaps his tongue has been cut out or his throat injured. Then his voice comes out low and rumbling and rough, and it becomes more clear that he just needed a minute to remember how speaking works. "We should both. Go. Before they get hungry."

The gun is nothing personal, and he's not looking to shoot first, it's just a standard precaution. Saying 'I'll put mine down if you lower yours first' seems pointless, so he waits and watches, ready to lower guns on mutual agreement if he sees a sign, or shoot if the threat ramps up. That's just how things work, out here.

"They're always hungry." Arthur says it because he saw a lot of shit down below. But he's going to trust this man. For a moment. Long enough to get away. He slowly lowers his gun, picks up his bag again and slings it over his shoulder, letting it hang across his chest.

"You need to get away before it gets dark. They will come."

He then turns and moves to start running. The only way he can get away is on foot.

There's a breath or so in which Arther is still under the aim of his gun, but then the other man lowers his too, and a little of the tension in the air between them fades. The sight of the monsters and another man with a gun made him jumpy, but at least he's not the 'shoot first' type and that's nothing to take for granted. The warning and advice is met with a sharp nod, because he's not as slow on the uptake as his trouble with speech would suggest, but he gives another glance at the darkened doorway to make sure there's no immediate threat, as the other man picks up his gear and starts to run.

They're gone for now, and there seems no point in blocking off the doorway because this ghost town is probably riddled with entrances and exits for their lair. He breathes out a sigh, and holsters the shotgun again, making sure the safety is back on. There's no point in hurrying, when the other man is on foot, but he clearly knows more about the dangers of this place and that makes him worth sticking to, at least for a little while. Besides which, he'd feel a little guilty leaving him to become a meal for those things. With his luck he'd end up with another ghost dogging his heels, later.

The sound of the bike starting up again breaks the quiet, and then it's getting closer, but it just comes up parallel with Arthur and far enough to the side of him to make it clear that he's not being run down or run over. For a minute they're traveling side by side, then the bikes moves ahead a ways and turns, and the man stops again to wait for Arthur to run straight at him. "...This is faster." He pauses just a moment, then gives a tiny jerk of his head to make his meaning clear. There's space for another rider behind him, and it's not a taunt but an offer of aid.

Arthur doesn't expect any sort of help from the stranger. He just appreciates him not shooting him in the back as he runs away. The sound of the motor running, however, makes him quicken his pace. He looks over his shoulder as he can hear the other man coming up behind him. He moves further off to the side and feels relieved and confused about the stranger going beside him and then...

Stops, turned toward him.

He slows down to standing still, staring. Before he starts walking again, suspicious mostly. What the hell...

His brow furrows more at the offer for a ride, tilting his head to look at the back and then back at the man, "Why?" Why are you offering this? He's expecting to be told the other man wants something in return.

He frowns again, gaze dropping, and opens and shuts his mouth. Again the struggle with words, a sign of either a mental issue like aphasia or just that he's been alone for far longer than is good for one's sanity. "Don't know what they are. You do." He's not asking Arthur for anything directly, but he does see the wisdom of sticking close to somebody who knows the immediate dangers of the area better than he does. That kind of alliance could only be to their mutual benefit, at least for now.

Arthur doesn't know everything about them but he does know enough. Enough that he's still alive. This man, whoever he is, if offering him a ride to get away from here faster. Seemed more concerned about them then whatever he had on him.

He gives him another once over before finally nodding. It would be infinitely better than trying to run. He'd tire himself out and not be far away enough by nightfall.

He moves over to the bike, slinging his bag around and stuffing his rifle in it, leaving the end sticking out. He then adjusts his bag before getting onto the back of the bike. He's not sure where to grab onto so he does what he used to do when he had a parent driving him around. Puts his hands on the other man's waist.

The rifle gets a wary glance, but it's not as if he's unarmed either. Carrying multiple firearms is a simple matter of practicality, out here. The touch around his waist makes him tense up and twitch a little, but that too is practical and he's not picking the guy up only to have him fall right off the bike as soon as it starts up. Arthur is given just a moment to get himself settled and secure, then he kicks off and turns the bike, continuing in the direction Arthur was running before on the theory that whether he had a destination in mind or not it is at the very least away, and that's of prime importance here.

Any attempt to talk to him over the noise of the engine is likely to go unheard, although it's possible Arthur will think he's ignoring him. The truth is that his hearing isn't as sharp as it could be anymore, and between that the and engine and the wind he'll only be able to take any direction by more physical symbols like poking or pointing. He's not sure where he's going, although if he runs out of city and finds some rocky place that's okay for camping that would suit him fine. For all he knows he could simply be headed deeper in, though.

Arthur frowns at all the noise in his ears but is grateful for the speed. He looks back behind them occasionally. Before he's looking forward and tapping Max. He yells, as loud as he thinks he needs to be over the engine and wind, "Avoid the dark spots!"

Max will see one nearby. And then another and another. There's enough space to drive between them and they would be better off for it. Driving over could lead them to getting the bike stuck in a sink hole.

At the first tap there's a grunt, but the driver turns his head so that Arthur can yell into his left ear, and strains to listen. Dark spots. There's one not far off and they're getting closer all the time, and it doesn't take a genius to realize that anything dark seems like what the creatures they're trying to get away from would take refuge in. He's squinting against sand and wind too much to tell if those are poorly-covered pits or unstable ground or something else stranger, but he turns and weaves around the darker patches of ground, giving them as wide a berth as he safely can.

It's unfortunate that he doesn't really know what he's driving towards much more than he knows what those things are that he's driving away from. If he can get them out into the open desert, away from the ruins of the city, he'll breathe easier.

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the pic prompt meme

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i'm so sorry. this got lost in my inbox.

:) Kinda wondered...

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