tampered | Log

Log

When; Today
Rating; PG-13, maybe more for language, etc.
Characters; Open
Summary; Joseph breaks down in room 302, begins freaking out over Walter's arrival
Log; ( Joseph sat on the floor of his room, rocking back and forth. His eyes had huge dark circles below them, and his head was shaking, as though he was shivering, but it was very hot in the room. He felt something wet hit his shoulder, and looked up to see a black shape emerging from the ceiling. "GET OUT!" he wailed, quivering, and watched as the shape ducked back in ever so slightly, then began to spread blood colored veins all around the room. Pain creased through Joseph's head, and he screamed loudly, the noise becoming an agonized wail as the veins began to spread even further through the room.

He was coming back. The room knew it. He knew it. Even if he didn't want to kill him, Joseph was part of Walter, and he felt the nightmares manifesting as migraines, and they were returning stronger than ever. He put his head in his hands and tried to weep, but it was too painful. He had tried so hard, but in the end... There was no escape for Joseph this time, he was going to die. He should have bargained with the cult. He should have given up his revenge and got holy candles. he should have become purified. He should have shot himself in the head while he still had a chance... But now, he would be inside Walter, forever... He knew it, and the room seemed to delight in his despair, the horrible veins spreading more throughout the room. )

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Zaheela frowned as she stared at the door around her, her outfit heavily out of place. Leaning against her staff, she gingerly touched the door, only to hiss at whatever had been cast upon this door bit back. She was reluctant to do anything however, well aware of how dangerous it was to mix unknown curses with magic. She heard faint screaming from the inside and traced the door once more before reaching out with her own being to see if she could at least scan the room. It all depended on how this curse would react to her own skills. She just prayed it wouldn't do any damage to either of them.

After seeing the call for help left by Joseph, Dexter ran to see what the problem was. Luckily, they lived in the same apartment, coincidentally on the same 3rd floor.

Room 302, 302... Dexter thought to himself, looking at every number on every door as he passed them. Because he wasn't sure whether or not someone was there, trying to hurt Joseph, he was precautious and carried with him one simple form of protection, a syringe filled with M99, Etorphine hydrochloride, in one gloved hand.

Up ahead, he could see the figure of a girl staring at the door. He hid the syringe in a small case so that it was safe to put inside his pocket, then approached. "What's going on in there?" he asked.

Ears perking, she opened he eyes and looked at the strange man who appeared before her. Breaking off her scan with an visible spark of white light, she frowned. Her scan had shown very little but a giant mass of pain and desperation.
"I am unsure, but he is scared out of his mind in there. If we do not figure out how to release him, I do not know what could happen." Zaheela answered, tail twitching in irritation.

Joseph screamed again, seeing a face jut out of the wall unnaturally. Black blood seemed to fall from the walls and ceiling, coming from no particular source, but there all the same.

"God, make it go away... Make it go away... It's over..."

Zaheela was startled as her ears catch the scream for help, pressing them against her skull once more before she pressed a hand against the door again, more forcefully applying her own magic into delving into the curse, but this time, her aim was not to scan the thing, but to see if she could not calm down whoever was screaming. Slipping through the darkness, she found herself unable see father then a inch or two of her own face, and that only because she herself was glowing against the darkness. In this form, she was nothing more then a spirit, but perhaps a spirit would prove more comforting then nothing.
"Are you here?" She called, praying to whoever was listening wouldn't dismiss her as an illusion.

Joseph felt a definite something, but his mind was in a million places at once- or rather, 21 to be exact. He managed to make a sort of acknowledgment as he lay there, but it came out as a feeble cry.

Tyler arrived at building 11 wearing an undersized hawaiian shirt and leather pants, sweating from the jog there. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he climbed to the third floor and found the room, only to find two people waiting outside like they were paramedics waiting for an OD victim to answer the door.

"Move." He said simply, then kicked down the door.

He had expected the apartment to be a simple boring condo that held a simple boring journalist.

It looked like something out of the Shining.

"Woah." Tyler said, grinning in a very uncomfortable way.

"Journalist boy, where the hell are you?" Tyler said, stepping in and dropping the cigarette, which seemed to absorb into the floor. The walls seemed to lash out at him, and one of the walls nearest to him grew a head, then a torso. The arms seemed to lash out at him.

"Fuck you!" Tyler said, a bit freaked out, then decked the creature in the face, causing it to recede into the wall.

"Joseph? Where the fuck are you?"

Whatever was trapped in that room, was not whole. It seemed like he agony radiated from each wall, and it was a miracle the man had remained sane. Struggling through what felt like molasseses, she struggled to figure out wherever this could could be. When she did find him, however, it was far too apparent how stupid it would be to attempt to move him. She couldn't just LEAVE him, but she couldn't take him with her.

So she did the only thing she could, held him like a child as the darkness seethed around the holy mana she radiated and prayed that someone outside would help them before she was forced to return. Her body would of slumped unconscious outside the door, and she could only pray for help.

A quick trawl through the stores throughout The City and the pair had proccured their required supplies. Other than the few items that Dean had been carrying when he'd ended up in the city, neither of the Winchesters had much in the way of supplies. Definately not enough for a full blown exorcism.

But now things were better. They were stocked up and ready to go. As with every other exorcism they'd done, it was down to Sam to perform the ritual while Dean took up his post of protector. Their roles had been taken without mention. Of course, that was how things would be. That's how they'd always been. Ever since he was born. Sam had always had the backup he needed in the form of his older brother. It was something he was glad for.

Yet again, he found himself rifling through his pack, yet another double-check of what it held. Maybe the ritual itself was straightforward, but there was no telling what would happen while they were performing it. ...and the feeling that passed over him, snapping his attention to the pair ahead, was enough to warn him that something just wasn't right with the situation. "Dean, be careful."

Joseph felt something white growing around him, helping him reform. In the inches around him, the blackness dissapated, the rust peeled away, and he felt... somewhat whole, protected by a small white shell.

He was whole. Weak, but whole.

He looked up to see a skinny man standing in the middle of the room, looking rather disgusted by the whole thing.

He let out a weak croak.

Tyler saw the man in the corner, and doing his best to stay away from all the creepy red veins that were making him feel like he was in the middle of a uterus, he grabbed him and ran out of the room. Once outside, he turned to the two people standing there.

"What the FUCK is going on in there? He's out, but I don't think he's getting any better... What the hell is that shit anyway?" Tyler said, setting Joseph down and waving wildly at the room.

Zaheela felt someone, who was rather crass to boot, litterly drag the man out, but she didn't return, she remained, she couldn't leave. He needed help, if she left the darkness would drag him back in again, she stayed.

It hurt...

Feeling useless, Dexter stood in the doorway in awe. He had thought that this Walter was an actual person, and actual persons, he could neutralize.

This, however, was some serious paranormal shit.

"Joseph...what the fuck was that?" he said emotionless, staring blankly into the apartment from the doorway.

Stanley had heard the commotion at room 302 from his room (306). Curious about the events he stepped out of his room, and headed towards room 302. As soon as he only reached the door he begin to feel nauseated. "This truly is the Devil." Stan whispered to himself.

Gritting for more pain, Stan stepped into the building, and past a dark haired guy that he didn't know. In the corner was Joseph trembling like a frightened child. He saw another girl in the room, tranfixed not to leave, and then he saw another man raving about wildly.

This of course didn't include the pulsing red of the walls that were like a uterus.

Wait...uterus.

Uterus, holds the child...but what happens when...

"HEY GUYS!!!!" Stan screamed out suddenly.

"He's unconscious, got me?" Tyler said, looking at Stanley, then at the inert twitching form of Joseph.

Joseph lay inert, unable to hear Stanley's cries. Tyler was holding him, then he set him down, but he felt the room reaching out to him. The pain in his head rendered him useless, and his entire body was on fire.

Stan rolled his eyes, and then decided to go back to his room to write, a message.

The mother's womb will do all possible to get rid of the parasites.

You must leave the room, no matter what your connection to Walter. You must leave the room.

He then left the note nearby hoping someone would read it.

Stan couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for Walter.

Dexter rubbed his eyes.

"Maybe we should get him out of this room..." he said. "My room's just around the corner if you want some place to put him till he wakes up..."

While he really wanted to help Joseph, he wasn't sure he wanted to bring any of that strange stuff into his own apartment.

"I'll take him outside, he can sober up there." Tyler said, picking him up and taking him outside to the bench outside the apartments.

"Get him some blankets!" He called behind him.

Dexter blinked. It was probably a better idea. Fresh air would do him good. "Right," he called after Tyler, and left the doorway of the room himself, to grab some blankets from his own apartment.

"I'll meet you out front." he said, before turning the corner to get to his room.

Stan couldn't tell if his note did any good, but he noticed two men making talks to remove Joseph from the room.

Dean followed behind Sam as they made there way to building 11. He was going over everything in his head, Dad's Journal a heavy weight in the inside pocket of his trademark leather jacket. Exorcisms were pretty much straight-foreward for the pair of hunters, this would be the- what? 31st? Exorcism they've performed. Something like that, Dean was very good with keeping track of them. He just knew what to do, and he did it well.

As he and his brother made their way up to room 302, Dean pulled his gun out from underneath his jacket. He released the magazine, checked it, and reloaded the beretta. He flicked the safety off and cocked the weapon, ready for whatever might be there when they enter the room. Sure, it wasn't salt rocks, so it wouldn't do very much against spirits, but it could prove useful for a demon, and it just made him feel better about the whole situation.

The Winchesters stopped once they had reached their destination, and Dean stood watch while Sam checked to make sure that everything was ready. He flashed a smirk to Sam at his little brother's advice, "Aren't I always?" He clicked his tongue and glance down the hallway before reaching one hand into his coat and pulled out the journal. He passed it over to Sam with a quick, "Here. You know what to do." Dean then moved into a position to easily enter the room at Sam's mark that he was ready.

He couldn't help the amused grin that crossed his face at Dean's answer. Without having to think too hard, he could already recall a number of times that'd dispute that information. Of course, there had always been a valid reason for each mistake. Some ending worse than the others. But that was before, and this was now. Just as Dean would keep an eye out for him, Sam would do the same for his brother.

Of course, doing and telling were two different things.

Taking the journal from Dean, Sam was quick to flip it open, before leafing through the familiar pages in search of the right text. It didn't take long before he was glancing over the page filled with latin text, a small smile appearing at the handwritten entry. Though a moment later it was wiped from his face as he looked up, his expression serious. Glancing down the hallways quickly, he turned back to Dean. And a single nod was his only prompt. He was set.

Joseph was unconscious, but he could feel things around him...

"help me..." He managed to think, but his body didn't respond. It felt like it was solid, carved into solidified tar... That horrible feeling...

Joseph managed to open his eyes, despite the pain. He was being held by the skinny man in the dress shirt, and there were two people. He had a feeling they had come to purify the apartment... He slipped back into unconsciousness.

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