Blood Flows Back (OPEN)

[Midnight]

Blackness....wind...lightning...it was dry...two figures stand atop a plataeu engaged in heated combat. Their hair and cloths whipping about as they tussle. Scythe flashing...bullets flying...

Joseph opened his eyes for the last time. The images just wouldn't go away. All that had transpired...all that he'd committed...all that she'd given...It was too much. They were permanently burned into his eyes. The images wouldn't go away. He could still see the fountains of blood. The screaming victums. The images wouldn't go away. He could see her the woman he loved. He could see his partner aimed at her, blazing violently. The images wouldn't go away...but they would. He'd make them. Once and for all. He'd get rid of this pain. This horrible, unbearible pain.

His eyes glance down at his magnum. It glinted in the sunlight. They'd been through a lot together. The worst. Behind the revolver, Midnight could make out the waves crashing against the cliff's edge. Hee took a deep breath and turned his back on the waters. raising his partner to his temple he could feel a violent burning sensation in the emblem on his back. "I know. I really don't want it to end either." he said reassuringly as he closed his eyes for the last time, "...but we have no other option." He heard the small clicking of the chambers turning, the grinding of the hammer flying forward, then the smack of the igniter. There was a sharp pain against the side of his head that flared then faded into nothing. The gunmage's body fell raggedly down against the jagged rocks jutting from the white wash of the ocean and...

...he opened his eyes for the first time. Everything was fuzzy at first, but as moisture cotninued to plink down onto his face he began to blink that away. Things became more clear. Buildings, an overcast sky... "What the?" he croaked. Looking around he found himself in an alleyway. What was going on. This didn't make sense. He was just...

Joseph flexed his fingers to find them empty. Instictively, he sat up and reached for his holster. He found his revolver sitting patiently. The emblem on his back gave a cool response. "What the?" he repeated looking around. To one side the alleyway was boarded up, to the other a street of people bustled about unnoticing. Not ordinary people. Magic-kind. He was...he blinked...in Babylos? How...when...

Why?

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

The weather is about as gloomy as it gets in Babylos, which hangs too high in the sky to be susceptible to lower storms. The sky is grayed over, and a decent wind blows between the skyscrapers and buildings of the city and tosses what loose garbage there is about in the streets. Torm, wrapped in his customary tan overcoat, is doing what he does every day in the city: scavenging. His ladder is safely tucked under one arm.

Today, he doens't need anything in particular, but any little bit of metal that lies on the ground is liable to make its way into Torm's pocket and eventually into one of his cretions or at least his forge at his warehouse-district workshop. Torm is not paying much attention to his surroundings outside the area of the ground in front of his feet where he's scanning. He spontaneously turns down an alley, figuring that it's the prime place to find forgotten bolts or wires. As he plods along, a foot suddenly enters his field of vision! Also, as Torm quickly discovers, this foot is attatched to a person, and that person is...

"Gunslinger! What happened here!?" Torm says, concern in his voice. "Are you all right?" He moves to inspect the man for serious injury and crouches at the ready to aid the fella if he tries to sit up or move. Torm eyes the revolver sitting near the man, but does not touch it; he knows that Midnight and the gun had some sort of special bond, and he doesn't know how touching the gun as an outsider would affect the gunmage. "What happened to you?"

[Midnight]

Joseph had been peering down at his hands, his mind working endlessly to understand what had just occured to him. At first he didn't notice the presence of someone else in the alleyway, but when a faint shadow passed across he could feel his senses being dragged back to reality.

Gunslinger! What happened...What happened to you?

Joseph looked up at a face he did not immediately recognize but seemed familiar. Squinting his eyes he tried to remember. "Do I know you?" he asked. He'd once had a conversation with a man that had something of great interest to the gunmage. Joseph thought it had something to do with pets, but it had been so long ago. Before the menagarie of chaos that followed it. Slowly however, Midnight began to remember things.

This man. He'd met him at the Arcane Academy...in the dorms, yes. He was a kindred spirit of sorts..."Th-The machinist?" he stammered a moment, as he looked at the man. Yes it was something along those lines. No matter the case, it was a friendly face. At least he appeared concerned.

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

(OOC: Again, my sincerest apologies. Let's get you back up and running. We never did finish that convo in the dorms, did we? Little late for that now. ;D)

"Yeah, that's me. Torm's the name, but now's not the time for pleasantries, it would seem. Are you hurt in any way? Can you stand?" Torm surveys the alley quickly. There doesn't appear to be anything in sight that's threatening, but Torm pulls a few yellow Clockwork Beetles from a pocket, pulses mana through them to activate them, and sends them to scout the area.

[Midnight]

The machinest had asked if he was hurt. Interesting question. "No," the gunmage replied softly, "that's the problem." Not giving Torm a chance to reply Joseph shakily got to his feet. Almost falling at first, he rested a hand on the other man's shoulder. It was like his he had to learn how to stand all over again. His free hand fell to his holster, where his revolver rested silently. The feeling of its smooth metal against his fingers was a great comfort. Though he was leaning on the machinest it didn't take long for him to regain his balance.

Once that was accomplished he tested his legs furthur and walking about the alley. Nothing seemed to be wrong with him. Which again, to him, was the problem. "How did I fail?" he said to himself, slightly ignoring the other man's presence. This made no sense. He was dead. He felt himself die! Why was he alive now, and completely unharmed? For that matter why was he back on the floating island?

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

Torm does not shift as the man staggers to his feet, using him as support. He is relieved that Joseph can stand, albeit a bit unsteadily. Though Torm and Midnight hadn't spoken more than a few times, Torm had gotten the impression that Midnight was a man of honor, and therefore Torm wished him well.

"How did I fail?" The man says out loud with his back turned; clearly the question is not directed at the still-crouching Torm. Torm remains kneeling for a moment and examines the ground where Midnight had been lying prone moments before. Nothing unusual...

Torm straightnens and surveys the sky. "If you can walk, we should find shelter indoors. Weather's taking a turn." Indeed, the clouds overhead are an ominous shade of grey, and the wind in the streets makes wrappers and papers flutter about. In a serious tone, he adds, "What did you, ahh, fail at? I mean, if you don't mind me asking...if it's personal, I mean no offense. Do ya wanna talk about it?" For all Torm knew, the gunmage would remain lost in thought and totally miss what he said, but there was no harm in trying, or so he hopes.

[Midnight]

Joseph did not reply at first but simply peered down at his open hands. There was no reason for him to possibly be alive. He'd caused pain and suffering at a level to which there was no equal in his eyes. He'd wanted a release from the horrors. He'd wanted to die. The only explanation was that someone didn't agree with him and preserved his body. The same question persisted. Why? The gunmage looked up to the sky. Small droplettes decorated the surface of his glasses.

For that matter, why here? Why had he been saved only to be returned to the floating island? The cursed gene may have been sealed, but it was always capable of getting out...infecting others...Why would that person stop him from eradicating his infection...Why was he brought here? This was where he'd become infected...where he fell in love...

"So that's it," he said loud enough that the other could hear, "...I was brought here because of the Academy." Midnight, turned towards the machinist, "For whatever reason, someone saved my life and brought me back here so that I would return to Arcane Academy. Whether it is desired that I destroy it with this curse or something else, I do not know. What I do know is that the only way I will find an answer as to why my soul is not extinguished at this moment is to go there....Torm, take me back to the Academy..."

(I don't think this was going anywhere, but we can do more in a different thread.)

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

(OOC: Sorry again, I've been busy. I dunno, did you have anything in mind for a continuation? I'm up for it, but devoid of ideas myself)

Torm hears what the man is saying, but does not understand what he means. Is Midnight sick or dangerous in some way other than the obvious ones? Torm shudders. "Yeah, you're right, let's get moving. We'll hang a right up here, Midnight." Torm says, pointing to the alley's exit. He clicks his fingers, and from the darkess his clockwork beetles return to him. He promptly snatches them from the air and tucks them back in a pocket before leading the way out of the alley, glancing warikly at the turbulent sky.