finalflight | OPEN POST; [ JAMES SUNDERLAND / SILENT HILL 2 ]

[ The smile he flashes James is deeply, deeply sardonic. ]

You don't want to know.

[Yikes…]

It must have been a pretty nasty ritual. Or… whatever it is you did.

I don't like to get into the details.

[ And that pretty much signals the end of that conversation. It wouldn't have gone on much longer anyway, as they both round a corner to find the street closed off by a thick wall of writhing, thorny vines. ]

Ah. Is there a way around?

[James is not entirely sure he'd understand the details, anyway. And maybe he doesn't want to. He can only imagine how egregious it was for Death to keep him in debt to this "job" for so, so long.

The vines drag his attention to a more present problem, anyway. James, being who he is, steps forward and... reaches out to pull at one of them, careful not to prick himself.]

Vines... That's odd. [He'll answer Ivan here in a second. Right now... tug, tug.]

Is it? That creature attacked me with vines, too.

[ So maybe that's the theme? ]

I can try to cut through. Unless you think there's some reason we can't go this way.

Huh. Guess we have an on-going theme.

[His thoughts run parallel with the metatext.]

…It’s worth a shot. If something doesn’t want us to go this way, then we’ll cut through a building or alleyway, instead. I had to get creative the last time I was here, so it’d be nothing new.

You think it's possible we're being herded somewhere?

[ "We" he says, as if this isn't meant to be Ivan's journey of self-discovery or whatever. James is more or less just along for the ride.

Still, Ivan summons his scythe back into his hand and takes a swing at a section of vines. He slices clean through, but they regrow in a matter of seconds — faster than either of them could hope to make it through the gap. ]

I guess that answers that.

I think that’s probably exactly what’s happening.

[“We”, huh. James could point that out, but he decides there’s no reason. For good or ill, it’s “we” now. Maybe things will turn out better than the last time he found fellow lost individuals in the belly of Silent Hill, as long as they work as a team.

He watches as the vines grow back, worrisomely quick.]

Around instead of through it is. There’s…

[He trails off, looking around. To the south, there’s another intersecting road.]

We’ll go down that way, take a turn for another block, then head back north and maybe we’ll find ourselves on the other side of those vines. Might have to pass through a bar or two, though.

You really know this place well, huh?

[ It stands to reason, if James has been here before. Perhaps it will eventually become apparent that the place the town is leading them to is the place where James' journey originally began: back to the graveyard on the outskirts of town.

For now, though, the immediate way forward is blocked, so... ]

I'll follow your lead. Just stick close in case more of those things show up.

Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere.

[At least, he doesn't really plan to.

They decide to take a little detour, and James begins walking down the other street, to slip into the alleyway.]

And yeah, I don't think I can tell you how many times I had to backtrack in this place just to get where I wanted. I found a few maps of the town, too, and that helped.

[Which adds to the slight irony of James feeling... turned around once they pass through the alleyway and cut through an empty, dusty bar. Because, ironically, yes, this appears to lead in the opposite direction of where he intends to go — but how is that possible when the hotel could not be farther away from the graveyard?

Yet they approach a creaky gate, and there's no doubt about where they are. James approaches the entrance with confusion clear on his face.]

What the hell?

[ Ivan has no concept of the geography of this place, so he has no reason to feel disoriented when they end up somewhere they should not have been able to get to so fast. ]

What?

[ Wait, is this the entrance to a... graveyard? ]

... Oh.

This is the opposite of where I was taking us.

[He sounds frustrated but also resigned in equal measure. This town will force them in any direction it chooses, no matter if it makes no directional sense. At least it isn't making them jump into bottomless holes—

He reaches out, giving the metal gate a push. It swings open easily, with only a gentle, squeaking protest. Beyond, it's much like James remembered it: a large graveyard thick with fog, with dreary headstones dotted about. A stone church looms in the distance, just a hazy shape from where they stand.

However, unlike before, vines wend around the ground, some even crawl up headstones. If they're not careful, they could trip over one or two, catching them on the toe of their shoes.]

We're at the outskirts of town, now.

Taking the grim reaper to a graveyard is a little on the nose, isn't it?

[ Those vines sure are everywhere, crawling over every surface. They even snake their way up the gate once they pass through, blocking off any chance they have at turning back. ]

So much for getting you to the hotel, I suppose. Sorry.

[ The vines seem to be originating here, at least. Following them might be a good move, but there's movement among the grave markers. More of those strange, skull-faced creatures lurking in the fog.

There's also a shed nearby, presumably for the groundskeeper. Does James need an upgrade from his pipe? ]

Then maybe we should have expected it, if it was the obvious choice. [He shakes his head, though, dismissing the apology.] Not your fault, come on. We'll make our way there eventually.

[Besides, this seems... important. As thought the vines are leading them to one spot in particular; and that's worthy of investigation.

He steps forward, having no choice but to venture forth now, casting about. Monstrous figures in the distance—god, he misses his radio—and a nearby shed. Instinct compels him in the direction of where he could possibly gather useful supplies first, and he says in a hushed tone:]

Let's look there first.

[Time to creep in that direction! Follow him, buddy.]

[ The good ol' survival horror technique of checking everywhere for useful items. Ivan gives a nod, motioning for James to go. ]

I'll watch our backs.

[ Creep creep... don't trip on any vines or step on any twigs! Right now, the creatures don't seem to realize they're there. ]

[He’s quiet-footed! This isn’t his first rodeo… Though if they have to move any faster, that might be a different story.

For now, though… Is the door to the shed unlocked?]

[ Of course it's not. It can't be that easy. There's a big ol' padlock barring their way. Ivan makes a bit of a face. ]

Of course. I could break it down, but that won't make us any friends.

[ Or rather, it will make them too many friends. ]

[Pushes against the locked door for like the 500th time in his lifetime ever, to no avail.

Makes a disgruntled noise.]

Just great. Hold on...

[What if he tries a window? Or is that a no-go, too?]

[ Rusted shut. :) ]

You really think there's something worthwhile in there?

[OF COURSE IT IS]

Maybe, maybe not. But not all of us have a magic scythe. I’d like to have more to my name than just a rusty pipe again…

[Huffs.]

Do it. Break the lock. Just be prepared to move fast after.

[ Break the lock? No, no, no. Ivan rears back with one well-polished shoe, and lays into the door, kicking it down in a shower of wood splinters and no small amount of noise.

There's a beat of silence, then the sounds of low growls start to sound through the fog. ]

Go quick.

[ Said as he summons his scythe into his hands, turning to face whatever might come their way in the meantime. ]

[IVAN… oh my god—

Welp. He better move. James dashes inside, frowning against the shadows in the badly-lit shed, wishing he had his flashlight. But the light flooding in from the broken door will have to do, and he hurries to scrounge around—

Toolboxes. More toolboxes. Gardening supplies. Nothing of use, unless he wants to steal a rake, which feels like a huge downgrade to his pipe.]

Shit…

[But there, in the corner, almost forgotten, is a rusty looking chainsaw. James feels a spike of… anticipation, and he hurries over to grab it and immediately see if he can pull the cord to get it started.

…how’s it going over there, Ivan?]

[ He's got two of those weird skull-dog-creatures on him right now, with one already lying dead at his feet, but they're proving difficult. The moment he beats one back to get some space to use his weapon, the other leaps in to engage instead. Thorns and teeth alike are tearing into him in equal measure. ]

Get off of me, you damn things!

[ One of the beasts clamp its jaws around Ivan's free arm, bone crunching under the force. Vines lash out to wind around his other arm, the one holding the scythe, and pull taut.

So, it's not going great! ]

[Well, fuck.

James rips at the pullcord of the chainsaw, again and again. It sputters, and sputters…]

Come on, you piece of junk—!

[The damn thing has to start. It has to, or they’re all in big trouble, given the current state of Ivan — not doing too hot.

He tries again, pulling with a frustrated growl. And the chainsaw roars to life, its teeth buzzing angrily, and he hefts it up, turning on his heel to face the entrance of the shack.

James might just be a normal human guy, but now he’s a normal human guy with a chainsaw. One who immediately rushes forward with a yell, teeth of his new weapon first, to drive it straight into the nearest monster.]

[ Ivan has no way of knowing what the hell is going on in the shed behind him, so the sudden roar of a chainsaw is startling to say the very least.

The monster James lays into is the one that has Ivan's weapon arm held hostage, and the vines go limp as the chainsaw carves it in two. Now free, Ivan surges forward to drives the skull of the beast still latched onto him into the nearest grave marker. One, two, three times, dashing it to pieces.

His arm is already healing, broken bones snapping back into place, as he brings it up to take his scythe in a two-handed grip. ]

We should run. Follow the vines.

[ It's not like a chainsaw is quiet. There are more of those things closing in. ]

... Thanks for the save.

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