riverviewlogs | [closed] Sometimes Insomnia Is Better

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[closed] Sometimes Insomnia Is Better

who: Ronan Lynch, Adam Parrish, and Ivar Ragnarsson
what: Ronan accidentally brings back monsters from his dreams. They really want him dead. Adam and Ivar would rather keep him alive.
when: November 18, past midnight
where: Edge of the city
warnings: Violence, major injuries, probably gore.

A nightmare was building inside of Ronan. He’d spent weeks fighting this back. Every night he didn’t bring back a night horror or mangled limbs was not a victory but it was a satisfying draw. He doubted he’d get that tonight.

Ronan waited until Adam was asleep. He slid away from him slowly. Once on his feet, he reached down and touched Adam’s head lightly. At first glance, it looked like he was blessing him, but Ronan was no saint. This was a silent request for forgiveness, known only to himself.

He grabbed a coat and a gun. The handle was composed of metal vines, which somehow gave him a good grip. The barrel of the gun had the faint imprint of leaves. It should be in an art show and not his hand, but it was the best he had.

It took him a while to get anywhere. He left his BMW behind and the Skytram only took him so far. By the time he reached the abandoned city and entered one of the old buildings, he was tired enough to fall asleep within fifteen minutes.

He dreamed of a man who looked like himself, blood streaming from his open chest cavity and trickling down his mouth. He dreamed of his father, dead beside his car. He dreamed of what had been left of his mother when the demon was finished. He dreamed of creatures as big as a man, feathers spread sparsely over its leathery, scaled body. Each face had gleaming red eyes and two beaks in the place of a mouth. Long talons reached for him. They were still on his chest when he woke.

The gun was inches away from Ronan’s hand but he lay paralyzed.

Tck-tck-tck-tck… The sound came from the night horror. Its talon hooked into his shirt and pulled. His shirt split open and blood flowed along the scratch the claw had left behind.

Ronan’s hand twitched. His finger pressed against the gun.

This time, the night horror hooked its claws into his arms.

Ronan opened his eyes and two red eyes stared back. One talon pinned his arm to the floor while the other went for his head.

He grabbed the gun and pressed it to the night horror’s stomach. He fired. One, two, three shots. If he hadn’t turned his head, the night horror’s thrashing would have ripped open his face. He shoved it off him. It lay half-shrieking, half-gasping. He stared at it as he pushed himself onto his feet. A moment later something shoved him into the wall. The gun flew out of his hand and skittered along the floor. Reeling, he struggled onto his knees.

Tck-tck-tck-tck. The sound was in front of him. Then, from the corner of the room: Tck-tck-tck-tck.

Ronan looked at both sets of red eyes and the dim outlines of the two surviving night horrors. They matched his height, around six feet, and stood upright. Their shape was vaguely humanoid but the rest of them was twisted. Their scales were as tough as leather. The thin, greasy clothes over their body served as no armor because they didn’t need it. Their many limbs reached out for him, eager to rip him apart with their claws.

He muttered a single word before they attacked again. “Fuck.”

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Ivar hadn't spoken to Ronan since they had been in his memory dream together. Frankly, he was still pissed off at his friend for having a head thicker than a mule's rear end. But Ivar was never going to tell him how he really felt. All that would do was going to lead to more heartbreak. Ronan was unavailable and that was not going to change.

He'd been on a late-night patrol for the Perimeter Guard near the line of the fence that stretched out towards the abandoned city, brooding in the moody way that Ivar seemed to be so fond of. The night air was still, so the sound of the gunshot carried far. Someone was out there and possibly in danger. Ivar unstrapped the axe from where he carried it on his back.

He wheeled himself into the city, his wheelchair barely able to handle the bumpiness of the uneven pavement. When he heard noises from one of the buildings, he entered. He was quick to assess the situation. Ronan was facing what looked like a pair of monsters, which were of a kind Ivar had never seen before.

Usually so quick to act, Ivar didn't move. He just sat there in his wheelchair, ready and waiting to see what would happen. He was still pretty mad at Ronan, enough to consider coldly leaving him to the night horrors.

Adam noticed Ronan was gone some time later. He was a heavy sleeper and didn't stir when Ronan left despite their creaky home, but at some point he rolled over to a cold, empty space where Ronan usually held him.

Normally, it wouldn't have troubled him. He knew Ronan had insomnia and would fuss around with other things to keep himself entertained, but he'd noticed the way his boyfriend was more on edge about sleeping lately. He had a bad feeling, and he knew to trust that.

Chainsaw seemed to agree because she came along with him, flying him in directions she thought he would be. Adam had his own guesses, but it wasn't until he heard the gunshots that he found the path. He was not the type to run recklessly into danger, but it was Ronan.

Chainsaw flew ahead to lead him in the right direction, but she seemed too afraid to get close to the building itself. Adam ran in, and the night horrors caught his eye before Ivar did. It was hard to be more conspicuous than a couple of monsters.

In the moment where Adam froze in fear from the memory of being close to one of them, he noticed Ivar sitting there. Watching.

His anger made him move more than any bravery. "What the hell are you doing?!" he snapped at Ivar before running closer to the action, eyes scanning the room to figure out what he could do.

Two were on Ronan, one was on the floor. It was hurt with what looked to be a gunshot wound, which meant—he went for the gun and shakily held it up. He glanced behind him once, making sure Ivar wasn't about to try anything, before he aimed for the stomach and pulled the trigger. Actually shooting was much different than reading about it, so he only tried it once to make sure he didn't make things worse.

The night horrors didn't notice Adam or Ivar's arrival at first. They had one purpose: to act as their creator wanted. As it turned out, what Ronan wanted was for the one closest to him to sink its claws into his his shoulder and pin him against the wall. Winged limbs blocked him in while another claw went for his eyes.

The other night horror hadn't stayed idle either, running at Ronan with a speed its clawed legs shouldn't allow. Then it heard Adam and turned.

Ronan had just raised his arm, sacrificing it to save his eye. He'd jerked his head toward the door as he swung frantically at the creature's face. His fist connected with one of its beaks but the only thing that broke was the skin on his knuckles and possibly a finger. It gave him one moment to see that the people who'd found him were Adam and Ivar.

Things had either gotten a lot better or a lot worse and he didn't have the time to decide. The night horror recovered and ripped its claw out of his shoulder along with a large chunk of Ronan's flesh. Ronan's scream was joined by the second night horror's as Adam's bullet pierced its tough skin. And that was enough to get the night horror's focus to shift entirely. It'd been shot and caused its movements to slow, but it wasn't down. Shrieking out of anger or pain, it lunged for Adam.

Ronan clawed at his night horror's eyes. "No!" He yelled.

And the night horror going for Adam stopped.

What-- Oh, great. If Ronan lived through this, that was going to be awkward as hell to explain if Ivar asked. Assuming Ivar actually did something with--

"YOUR KNIVES!" he yelled.

Though he wouldn't say no to another gun. But having seen that stupid commercial, it was the first thing that came to his mind. The second thing was that the night horror's claw was swiping at his face again.

The thing about battles was that they happened both very quickly and very slowly at the same time. Time would seem to slow down as the seconds stretched out, only to speed up again when someone landed a mortal blow. Ivar continued to sit back, face impassive as Adam went on the offensive.

He finally seemed to snap out of whatever apathy he'd been in when Ronan began to scream. Mad as Ivar was, he wasn't going to sit by, and let someone he'd grown to care about be mauled to death. Ronan had yelled at him to use his knives, but Ivar had a weapon with him that could do a lot more damage than a simple knife. He had one of his axes in his hands.

Ivar had a choice to make on which creature to attack. Adam had a gun to defend himself with, so that made the choice easy. With a smooth, fluid movement, Ivar threw the axe at the creature, making a clean hit as the blade buried itself right at the spot where the night horror's neck met its shoulder. Ivar pulled out his second axe, pointing it at the creature. He spoke in a low, growling, very matter-of-fact tone. "You are big and ugly. And you're going to die."

Adam, stupidly, did not bring his gun up to defend himself. It wasn't instinctive for him. What was instinctive was curling up to protect himself and he hunched over as the night horror came for him.

But nothing hit him, and Adam glanced around to see Ivar attacking one of the night horrors. Adam knew he should get rid of the night horror in front of him, but he'd already wasted enough time while Ronan was in pain.

He ran to where Ronan was being attacked and shoved his arm between Ronan and the night horror, trying to make it stop and hoping that Ivar's attack would be enough to shift its focus completely.

He turned his head to Ivar. "You handle them, I have to get him to the hospital."

Several things happened at once. The night horror that stopped before attacking Adam turned on Ivar. Unfortunately for him, saving Ronan's life with an axe-- no matter how badass-- wasn't enough to get his subconscious to stop being pissed at him. And worse, Ivar was in the way. It scrambled and raced towards him. Its claws were out and its beaks were ready to tear into him. It was dying, but it wanted blood first.

The other night horror had similar thoughts. It stopped once Adam got between them, a move that saved Ronan's eye, but the pause was brief and just enough for Ronan to act and leave himself vulnerable.

"I can handle this!" he snapped.

His shirt was split in two and a fine trail of blood ran down his chest. More blood ran down from his shoulder, coating his arm in a river of red that wanted to desperately to become an ocean. His other arm was sliced down to the muscle. In spite of those injuries, he reached for the axe embedded in the night horror's neck. One quick jerk and the gush of blood from that wound would make Ronan's look like a dripping faucet.

He saw the other night horror out of the corner of his eye. "Ivar!"

And that was when the monster in front of him moved. With his arm extended, Ronan couldn't block another blow. It couldn't hurt Adam. That was why when it swiped again, it went below his hand and cut open his stomach. Ronan yelled. He ripped the axe out of the night horror's neck and lost his grip immediately after. Which wasn't great, because there was no torrent of blood from the night horror.

How had he managed to get stuck in the middle of a fight with these two idiots to watch out for? It was going to be hard enough to kill these night horrors without worrying about Ronan and Adam. Then he saw the night horror cut open Ronan's stomach.

"No! Ronan!" He felt a sharp stab of emotion within him, a feeling he'd never experienced before when another person had gotten hurt. Then something that hadn't happened for a while suddenly struck Ivar. He saw red, the anger overtaking him, and clouding his mind. It was similar to the state Viking beserkers would work themselves into in the midst of battle, focused into a killing rage with no thought for defense, going after their opponents until they were dead.

He moved forward quick as he could to the creature he'd already wounded. In a single blow, he severed one of the creature's arms clean through right at the elbow. With a shrill scream of pain, it turned to face Ivar. It slashed and snapped at Ivar, but he was far past the point of caring about a few superficial cuts. The creature seemed to panic as it realized that it was facing an opponent who wasn't going to back down or be defeated by usual means. He struck again, axe smashing into the night horror's leg, bringing him down to Ivar's level.

He left the wheelchair, tackling the creature to the ground. Ivar ended up on top, lifting his axe again for another strike. Beneath him, the creature's blows became more violent, and while a few struck home, Ivar seemed unaffected despite the blood now gushing from his wounds. He just kept hacking away, intent on seeing this thing in pieces. Anyone who had ever wondered about the extent of Ivar's brutal nature would have had their doubts soon put to rest watching the scene before them.

"Idiot," he told Ronan when he said he could handle this, as if he wouldn't have died if no one had found him. He was ridiculously angry but also powerless. He couldn't do anything but get in the way, which his self-preservation instincts told him to avoid. He had to push those aside.

Using all of his strength, he tried to pull Ronan away from the wall, twisting them so he could block him with his body. Warmth soaked into his clothes and he knew it was Ronan's blood, but he refused to look down to see how bad the wound was.

Keeping Ronan up would expose his back to the other night horror, so Adam let them sink to the ground slowly, doing his best to keep Ronan covered. "Stay awake, stay awake," he murmured. He was willing Cabeswater to help, but nothing was happening. He was useless.

How was it that when things went wrong, it all happened so quickly? A few hours ago Ronan had been in bed with Adam and now he was here, clutching his stomach. Whatever he was holding into place, he hoped it was torn flesh and not his actual guts. He should have been more scared than angry. That would have helped instead of fueling the one remaining night horror. But God, he was so pissed that he'd not only let this happen again but that he let it get worse.

He tried to grab for Adam with his free hand but the pain in his body reached a level even in his adrenaline couldn't mask. So he rested his head against his shoulder before turning to look at the second night horror going for Ivar again. Ivar was-- if he weren't doing that in defense of Ronan, he'd be terrifying. Right now Ronan found the murderous rage confusing and oddly touching.

He narrowed his eyes and the night horror stopped. It turned its red eyes on him, moved forward, then stopped again. There was currently only one person in the room that Ronan hated and the monster could no longer get to him.

Ronan's breaths were ragged from pain, so it took a moment before he could speak. "Go away, you bastard."

He must not have meant it, because it didn't leave.

Ronan closed his eyes and swore. "Adam." Now would be a good time to apologize. "Do you have the gun?"

He'd ask Ivar to finish off the second one but he was... oh wow, he was still going? Jesus.

Ivar took out all his rage and brutality out on the night horror. Even after it had stopped moving beneath him, he continued to hack away at it. By the time he had stopped, there wasn't much left to it but a bunch of chopped up bits and a lot of gooey fluids that had been splashed all over Ivar. He wiped the gore off of his face so that he could properly see, panting a little as the adrenaline continued to course through him.

He turned to the side so that he could see what was happening with Ronan and Adam. If Ronan died after everything he'd just done, he was going to be so pissed at him. He seemed to be alive, at least for moment. But there was still one night horror left.

With barely a second thought, he yanked one of his two axes out of what was left of the creature's head. He threw it at its back with unerring aim, letting it slam right into the spine, right by where the wing joint was at. It wouldn't finish it off, but it would definitely make it hurt.

Adam pressed a hand to Ronan's cheek, trying to get him to stop moving and speaking so he wouldn't bleed out quite as fast. At this point, though, nothing would keep Ronan from bleeding out.

He lifted the gun and looked to Ivar, unsurprised by all the gore. Adam had only spoken to Ivar once, but he had made his true nature very clear. If he could, he would have just carried Ronan out and left Ivar to handle the last night horror. But he knew as soon as Ronan became exposed, the night horror would lose all interest in Ivar and come after them.

He didn't care about hitting Ivar, so his shot was much more confident. It went through the night horror's middle, and Adam was fairly sure it couldn't do much more after that. He kept his gun in hand but went back to focusing on Ronan.

"I'm going to call for help. Just a little longer, stay with me." He grabbed his communicator with his other hand and set to work.

Ronan watched numbly as the third night horror fell. Between the bullet and the axe, it didn't stand a chance. Now that it was over, he thought this would make sense, but he was only more confused. Separately, nothing about this was out of the ordinary. The night horrors, Ivar going into a frenzy, Adam coolly shooting one of them, even Ronan bleeding all over the floor, if it hadn't happened before then it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. But it felt fake, not in the way of dreams, just fake.

He felt so strange.

He opened his mouth to ask Ivar if he was alright. There had to be more blood on him than on Ronan. He couldn't tell how much, if any, was his, and then Adam spoke. That snapped him back to reality faster than anything else he could have said.

"No! They can't find them." He tried to snatch the communicator away from Adam. He lost his balance instead and that was saying something since he was already leaning against Adam.

Just like that, the battle was over. Ivar felt his adrenaline start to recede a little bit. The injuries the night horror had given him were starting to hurt. He looked over to Ronan and Adam. The latter looked alright, the former looked like shit.

Ivar crawled back over to his wheelchair, using his axes as makeshift spikes to move across the floor a little bit faster. He got back into his chair and there was a look in his eyes that suggested he might still be in the mood for killing. As he wheeled forward, he punctuated his words with a turn of the wheels. "You are-- the absolute-- dumbest fucking person-- on this entire moon!" He punctuated this last bit as he wheeled up to them by thwacking Ronan with the axe handle. Ronan was lucky the Viking wasn't using the bladed end. He really shouldn't be smacking him around considering he's already seriously hurt, but at the same time, what's one more bruise going to hurt when Ronan has been slashed to bits?

He wasn't done. He turned to Adam, still looking furious. "And you're the second dumbest! What were you two idiots going to do if I hadn't showed up?"

What he wasn't saying was how worried he was. When Ivar was upset, he didn't tell people. Like with everything else, he got mad, using his anger to deflect what he really felt. What he was trying to say, and probably failing at, was that Ronan had scared the shit out of him by nearly dying.

Adam scowled at Ronan, about to start arguing with his half-dead boyfriend but then Ivar came over and refocused Adam's anger. He wasn't fast enough to stop Ivar from hitting Ronan, but he was ready by the time he was scolded. His expression was cold and he raised his gun, aiming it at Ivar's head.

"Leave us alone. You were watching him get killed when I showed up." Adam may not have been a good fighter, but he was willing to kill for his friends, and right now all he could focus on was protecting Ronan.

"I don't want to see you again. I'll take care of this." He glanced at Ronan, face stern. "Don't say a fucking word."

Ronan was all set to yell back at Ivar, but he had to defend his friend and make sure Adam didn't get an axe to the face.

"Put the fucking gun down! He went axe murderer on my night horrors and you want to shoot him?" Ronan had already demonstrated his inability to grab something out of Adam's hands, so he pressed his cold, bloody hand to Adam's arm and slowly pushed it away. At least he tried to.

"I am not negotiating a cease-shooting-- fire-- whatever! Just stop. Everyone stop." He struggled to talk. His stomach felt like it split fqrther apart with every breath. That made sense but he couldn't explain how tight his chest felt or why beads of sweat trickled down his temples. "Jesus Mary."

Ivar seemed completely unconcerned with the fact a handgun was being pointed directly at his face. What he did care about was his apparent shortcomings being tossed about. He glared at Adam with hatred, pointing his own blade at the other man. "Put that thing away before I put an axe so deep in your head they'll end up burying you with it."

He wasn't sure if he was quick enough to avoid a bullet to the head, but right now, Ivar wouldn't have minded a mutual kill. Vikings didn't fear death the way other cultures of the world were taught.

It was like Ivar to immediately turn on those he had just protected, his fury and bloodlust not yet satisfied. Frankly, the only thing keeping him from turning Adam into another corpse on the floor was knowing what he meant to Ronan.

Adam hardly seemed to listen to Ronan's demands. Mostly, he passed them off as the ravings of a half-dead man. Even Ronan's push against his arm did nothing, barely moving his arm away from the location he needed to hit to kill Ivar instantly. Adam may not have been an expert with weapons, but he knew physics and anatomy.

"A bullet is faster than your arm." He was confident that his bullet would hit before the axe and even if Ivar did land a hit on him, it wouldn't be an instantaneous kill. The fact that he was thinking about this was probably an example of how fraught his mind was.

"Go away. You're wasting time that could be spent saving his life." He tapped some buttons on his communicator and then in a softer voice to Ronan, "I'll move you away from here, okay? No one will find them."

Ronan grit his teeth when he couldn't move Adam's arm. The strength he relied on was gone. He might not despise weaknessin everyone else, but it was unforgivable in himself. It wasn't as frustrating as Adam and Ivar ignoring him to threaten each other. It went beyond that. He was furious and too weak to do anything about it.

As anger mingled with anxiety, each breath became a struggle. His chest alternated between feeling like it would burst and collapse.

"Fuck! Will you--" Ronan shuddered as his body forcibly reminded him that yelling was a bad idea.

He clutched his stomach harder and something slid between his fingers. Let that be blood. Please let that just be blood.

Instinctively curling in on himself, he turned his face into Adam's neck. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming.

Ivar was fully prepared to keep arguing with Adam. But upon seeing had how much pain Ronan in, he turned his attention back to his friend. He was going to have to swallow his selfish pride, as much as that galled him.

"We'll continue this later," he growled to Adam. "Make the call and get someone out here." Then he turned to Ronan as if Adam had just ceased to exist. He wasn't leaving no matter what he was told, even at gunpoint, not until he was sure the man he cared about was going to be alright.

"You sure know how to pick them." There was a definite note of jealousy in his voice, something Ronan likely wouldn't pick up on, but that Adam might. Heedless of the fact he had slash marks up and down his own arms, he examined Ronan with the practiced eye of someone who had survived more than one battle. It wasn't good, Ivar would admit. But he'd also seen men rally their strength and pull through. He prayed silently to the goddess Eir to help save him. He removed his vest, pressing it up against the marks on Ronan's stomach, which appeared to be the worst of his injuries.

Adam put his communicator away, having already gotten emergency services to meet them. He kept his gun out, though, since he had no reason to trust Ivar or believe he cared about Ronan's well-being in the least.

He pulled his boyfriend away from where Ivar placed his vest and carefully began carrying him out of the building as best he could. The gun was still vaguely pointed in Ivar's direction. He would have killed him or at least injured him if he wasn't sure Ronan getting upset over it would worsen his condition.

Ronan moved his fingers. He tried to think of how to get the piece of cloth over his stomach in place of his hand, but any time he imagined pulling his hand away the image of his intestines spilling out made him reconsider.

"I-- pick them-- fine," he rasped. In different circumstances, he'd be manning the turrets and ready to launch a fierce battle in defense of his boyfriend and his fine qualities, but in those circumstances, over a quarter of his blood wasn't outside of his body. It didn't help that he was pissed at Adam for keeping his gun aimed at Ivar.

"Adam--" He scrambled when Adam tried to carry him, which he fought at first. His feet slid on blood and his knees kept buckling. Too weak to resist, he had no choice but to rely on him. "You don't-- point your gun at-- at someone unless--"

Oh, fuck. He didn't have the energy to give a lecture on gun safety now. Not to mention he thought he might throw up if he opened his mouth again.

Sometimes, Ivar wondered if his anger was ever going to lessen. At times like this, it seemed to be the only emotion he could feel. Fury, blazing hot, both for the creatures that had tried to harm Ronan and some left over for the two idiotic men in front of him. Well, fuck both of them. Next time, Ivar just wouldn't get involved. Let's see how well they took care of such a problem on their own, trying to take care of monsters with their fists and a single gun.

He let them go, leaving him behind in the scene of the carnage. Ivar tore a strip off his shirt, tying it around his right shoulder to put some pressure on the wound. The creature's claws had sunk deep into it in an attempt to get him to drop his axe. Though he hadn't felt it at the time, Ivar's wounds were starting to catch up to him. Ronan wasn't going to be the only one spending time in the hospital. That is providing that someone could convince the proud and angry Viking warrior to even spend time in the institution.

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[closed] Sometimes Insomnia Is Better

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