Samael
Adversary

05/15/11

"You need to find a vehicle to get to the heist."

"I magic one of the cars off the road."

"Your character doesn't have that skill!"

"I have that skill." I say, and I pull a random car off the highway. The driver steps out of his car and hands me the keys, looking dazed and confused.

The GM. Scare Factor: 1.

04/23/11

Victim lies face down on the floor of the food court. Blood pools around right shoulder (it trickles across the grout between the white tiles, sloping towards a nearby drain). Wound is a deep slash into the upper shoulder. Victim is alive (his arm twitches, and he makes a sound that barely qualifies as a whimper), but too weak to make any move to stop the bleeding.

Approach, avoiding blood. Are you all right sticks in my throat, along with any false reassurancees. I touch the unwounded shoulder, acclimate him to my presence, say, "I'm going to find something to stop the bleeding".

I'm shoved aside by a woman in her early twenties, short, red hair, who tells me to find a first aid kit. Content to abdicate responsibility, I grab the red bag from a nearby pillar and bring it back, grabbing for a swathe of gauze.

The world goes fuzzy, like I'm trying to think through a haze of cotton balls. I stumble but don't fall, and the red-haired girl demands a needle and thread. I think we need to stop the bleeding, I'm confused...

I'm going for food at Subway. The girl is a manager at Taco Bell, which is right next to it. We argue, and the conversation devolves into a shouting match. She thinks I'm incompetent (I think she's a bitch).

I walk away, grumbling.

First Aid. Scare Factor: 2.

02/25/10

I'm Alex and she's Nikita and – shit! I throw myself behind a set of crates as a blaze of gunfire lights up my trail.

"We have to take the south exit!" she shouts over the noise.

"They've anticipated your escape route," I shout back, "It's an ambush!"

"We don't have a choice!"

Splintering wood and conveniently placed explosives under piles of precariously stacked crates – we make a dash for the exit. Don't stop when you're in the open, I tell myself, sprinting across the lawn, It's when you're most vulnerable, and we dive into the river and Alex closes her eyes.

Caught in the slipstream, I nudge at Alex/Nikita. Don't hold your breath, I say. Breathe. It won't hurt you.

Alexandra. Scare Factor: 2.

02/24/11

"When can I schedule an appointment for you?"

Needing a doctor's appointment, but I don't have a day free for a while. I'm working every day this week.

"Why are we walking to the train station?" I ask the nurse.

"I need a light. You don't carry a lighter."

"Only if I'm dreaming," I say, amused, and I snap my fingers. A sliver of bright red flame flares up over my closed fist.

Zippo. Scare Factor: 1.

02/22/11

Three people sit around a table. Two of them are dead.

The bodies are slumped at awkward angles, twitching. Under their skin, tiny creatures mass and swarm and crawl, and at any moment, the meat-sacks will burst at the seams and the kitchen floor will be flooded with blood and tissues and squirming maggots.

A little girl sits in the third place-setting, quietly finishing her homework.

They play hopscotch on the sidewalk, and they make fun of her. They don't know what she could do to them, what she's about to do. Calling through cracks in the sidewalk, calling up all the little things that crawl.

She doesn't realize that she's raised a hand, fingers stretched out, until another hand is closing over hers and forcing her arm down. She turns and meets the cool stare and raised eyebrows, and knows that the black-clothed child is other, like her.

This "Samael" has a job offer for her, and so she follows.

Sarcophagidae. Scare Factor: 3.