Valkyrie: Meet the Creeper

When I'd first started this blog it was going to be purely a place to park my writings. Unfortunately past couple months there hasnt' been much new in the whole writing department. Sure there was Deep Six, but it was me cheating by posting stuff I'd had sitting around. Not sure how long buffer will hold, but we'll see.

Edit: Oh and I just now remembered I have to lighten text pasted from scratchpad since it seems to not realize some people like white/light text on dark background.

   It was late when Sam got home; David had demanded to know what happen, and she had to stop her story repeatedly to explain this point or that, since she didn't quite understand a few things either and had to quiz her armor for clarification. In the end David was satisfied only that she had come out more or less in one piece but not that she was alright. So he insisted on spending the night.
    "David I really appreciate it but I'm fine." Sam was curled up on one side of her couch while David gave a token flip through the different TV channels before putting a movie in. "Really. Just a bad day at work. They made sure I'd be able to cope with the occasional kidnapping before they certified me."
    David patted Sam's shoulder as he passed her on the way to the kitchen. "Sure, and that's why you've eaten half a box of cookies and haven't tried making me leave?" He handed her a drink on the way back to the recliner he had been sitting in before popping the top of the one he'd grabbed for himself. "Don't tell me you wouldn't either. You've tried plenty of times, and now with that suit of weird crazy you're able to dead lift a small car. If you really wanted to make me go there's nothing I could do."
    This caused Sam to stop short of voicing the response she'd started to think of and think. There really wasn't anything David could do if she put her mind to making him leave, but doing so would leave him hurt, and she never was the sort to go out of her way to hurt the few friends she'd managed to keep over the years. "So whatcha got in mind." She started to grin as she leaned over to her house guest. "Candle lights, rose scented bath.... maybe see where that goes?"
    She eased off when David's face got somewhere between confused and hurt. "Oh Dave, you know I'm just teasing. My couch is at your disposal."
    "Gratsi." David stole a blanket that had been decorating the back of Sam's chair and sprawled across the couch. "Now. Tell me, again, what happened?"
    Sam did, but her narrative was interrupted at about the point where she headed back to the house. "So hang on. You've been kidnapped. You're not running on a fresh charge against something this voice in your head's telling you it can't properly defend against and had fed off of you, or at least your suit, at least once already."
    Sam nodded.
    David snorted and continued, frustration in his voice, "Any idea why this guy didn't just hog tie you to use as food then?"
    Shrug. Well, he does have a point. Maybe it's good he stays here..

    Dreamtime was always odd for Sam. Witness prior examples in this narrative alone for examples of what could be considered 'normal' for her subconscious. So when she found herself back in the house she escaped from she didn't think anything of it since she had gained a measure of control and was using that to keep from having to replay fears, doubts, and what not.
    Still, before flitting off to do something more pleasent with her mindscape Sam decided to make a quick tour of the house. Nice place. Could've belonged to an upper-middle class family. 
    Then she stopped at a mirror in the hall and frowned.
    Her reflection was rotting. Sunken cheeks, milky eyeballs, brittle hair. She's seen enough zombie movies to be able to recognize the whole undead look. She frowned at her zombie-self and tilted her head.  "So what're you supposed to be. Some kind of command Sir Rotten Von Brainmuncher shoved in my head?"
    Zombie-Sam made gurgling noises from inside the mirror.
    "You do that then." Sam saluted the mirror and started to walk off. Noise behind her. She turned to see zombie-Sam reaching through the mirror to grab at the man she'd met with the night before.  He stood just out of reach frowning first at the arm reaching for him, then at Sam.
    "Well it's fairly obvious that didn't work." With a word and a gesture the mirror went dark for a moment before zombie-Sam was gone. He then looked at the real Sam and inhaled. "Interesting. I've only seen that happen once before."
    By this time Sam was annoyed with this construct of an evil wizard apparently whipped up by her own mind So when he finally turned his attention to her she shot him with a bazooka.
    The round disintegrated before it could touch it's target. The man looked at the resulting pile of dust and scuffed it with his foot.  When he looked at Sam she was trying to pick a new location and was increasingly annoyed at her inability to remove either house or intruder. Then when she saw she was still there she drew a pistol.
    "Please. You think that will do anyth-" His words were cut off by virtue of his head being riddled full of fist sized holes. Don't worry dear reader. I'll spare you the details.
    Sam paused a moment, waiting on the corpse to fall before willing a can of gasoline into existence, pouring it over the body, and lighting it. Now stay down.
    When she got outside the man, or at least his twin brother, was waiting with a bag of marshmallows while the house burned. "Ah. something you use in your line of work?Tends to have a more solid mental imprint than something called up on a whim " He offered her the open bag. "I didn't go to the trouble of forging a link to you through that thrice cursed armor just to be brushed off lightly.
    The pistol was at his forehead and Sam was about to pull the trigger when he said a word, causing the air to freeze around the hammer, wedging it open. "I know full well we'll have disagreements on methodology, but would you at least listen to what I have to say before turning me down?"
    "And why would I want to listen to someone who's main methods seem drugging, possession, or doing rude things to someone's unwilling corpse?" Sam dropped the now useless gun and reached behind her and pulled a length of wood; which grew in the process till it was a  short spear.
    "Have it your own way then." 
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