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001 // Spam - Video - Open
Sep. 21st, 2014 10:18 am[ Spam ]
[ His eyes snapped open and he sat up all at once. At first, he wasn’t aware that he wasn’t on the cold floor of an old warehouse. He was only aware of the sudden intensity of everything. Smells. Sounds. Light. It all blurred together into a blinding, deafening, dizzying rush. Claws and fangs extended as he let out an involuntary roar.
But as the rush passed, he was left standing in the middle of his room. Naked. Confused. He went straight to the mirror, one clawed hand gripping the edge. He caught his reflection just in time to see the fangs and other newly acquired features features retreating. He’d done it. He’d finally become what he’d been after all along! He was struck with startling color of his eyes. Was it because Derek was the one to bite him? Derek had blue eyes before they’d brought Peter down. But everyone else had yellow. Maybe it was just rare?
He could think about that later. For now, there was something more important to do. He started getting dressed. He was pulling on his jeans as it slowly came together. The important thing he had to do was find Lydia. The key she’d offered to save him. What she'd said to him... But that had been in a warehouse. How was he back here? Where was she? He needed to find everyone else. Get answers. He snatched up his phone from the dresser and stopped. It was a phone, but not his. Those idiots!
Shoving it into his pocket, he headed for the door. Beyond should have been the upstairs hall of his house. The familiar smells of home. But instead he was greeted by the harsh light of the unfamiliar corridor, lined with strange doors. He took a cautious step out of his room, manicured brows furrowing. ]
MCCALL!
[ He called out, confused and angry. But then the smallest note of worry and fear entered his voice as he added...]
Lydia?
[ That fear started to settle in. The strange, unsettling lack of familiarity. He retreated back into his room, slamming the door. Pulling out that phone that wasn't his, he tried to see if there was something he could use on it. Someone to call. And rather quickly, he found the option to broadcast a message... ]
[ Video ]
[ The face that fills the frame is handsome in that douchebag model kind of way. Well, it would be, if he weren’t so incredibly pissed off. ]
I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but someone out there is going to give me answers! Derek! MCCALL! I don’t care who! But you’re going to tell me what the HELL is going on and WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE REST OF MY HOUSE!
[ His seething rage seems to overpower him for a moment, his teeth grinding together. ]
If Stilinski had anything to do with this, he’s DEAD.
[ His eyes snapped open and he sat up all at once. At first, he wasn’t aware that he wasn’t on the cold floor of an old warehouse. He was only aware of the sudden intensity of everything. Smells. Sounds. Light. It all blurred together into a blinding, deafening, dizzying rush. Claws and fangs extended as he let out an involuntary roar.
But as the rush passed, he was left standing in the middle of his room. Naked. Confused. He went straight to the mirror, one clawed hand gripping the edge. He caught his reflection just in time to see the fangs and other newly acquired features features retreating. He’d done it. He’d finally become what he’d been after all along! He was struck with startling color of his eyes. Was it because Derek was the one to bite him? Derek had blue eyes before they’d brought Peter down. But everyone else had yellow. Maybe it was just rare?
He could think about that later. For now, there was something more important to do. He started getting dressed. He was pulling on his jeans as it slowly came together. The important thing he had to do was find Lydia. The key she’d offered to save him. What she'd said to him... But that had been in a warehouse. How was he back here? Where was she? He needed to find everyone else. Get answers. He snatched up his phone from the dresser and stopped. It was a phone, but not his. Those idiots!
Shoving it into his pocket, he headed for the door. Beyond should have been the upstairs hall of his house. The familiar smells of home. But instead he was greeted by the harsh light of the unfamiliar corridor, lined with strange doors. He took a cautious step out of his room, manicured brows furrowing. ]
MCCALL!
[ He called out, confused and angry. But then the smallest note of worry and fear entered his voice as he added...]
Lydia?
[ That fear started to settle in. The strange, unsettling lack of familiarity. He retreated back into his room, slamming the door. Pulling out that phone that wasn't his, he tried to see if there was something he could use on it. Someone to call. And rather quickly, he found the option to broadcast a message... ]
[ Video ]
[ The face that fills the frame is handsome in that douchebag model kind of way. Well, it would be, if he weren’t so incredibly pissed off. ]
I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but someone out there is going to give me answers! Derek! MCCALL! I don’t care who! But you’re going to tell me what the HELL is going on and WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE REST OF MY HOUSE!
[ His seething rage seems to overpower him for a moment, his teeth grinding together. ]
If Stilinski had anything to do with this, he’s DEAD.
