saveyourbrain | "Five Years Later..."

"Five Years Later..."

A Good/Bad Ending Meme

Happy First Anniversary, Save the Earth.

Let us celebrate by speculating on where our characters might be in another few anniversaries - pick one or both of the below and do a little babble/blurb - and from there, o' course, freely springboard off of others... or play/thread in the hypothetical scenarios, if you'd like.

Good Ending
Congratulations, Numbers Club - you've fended off the supposed invasion, after a global chase and monster attack and pseudo-political fight one after the other! With the last of the Enemy fleeing and your lot as Earth's heroes, you've got no need to hide yourself any longer - and look how much you've grown in all that time! What have you been up to - and now that you've saved the world, what will you do next?

Bad Ending
...Or you've failed to do any such thing. The alien invasion has succeeded and swarmed over the world. They've overtaken humanity, and the Noble Numbered might be desperately putting up a last-stand defense, hiding their heads, giving in, or on the edge after a string of failures - on a case by case basis. Everyone is bound to react to the apocalypse - and failure to Save the Earth - in different ways.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Good Ending
Lyall no longer felt useless, after everything. He still taught at the high school-- though he'd had a few leaves of absence, over the course of it all-- and was, quite honestly, looking forward to getting back to it, even if he did have trouble later in the afternoons with keeping alert, these days. Maybe now he'd have a little more to teach them than just dissection and photosynthesis, but he'd still be happy if no one was interested in the werewolf biology teacher.

Bad Ending
There was only so much one wolf could do, against aliens. They'd lost so many people, already, and he spent most every night in the fur trying to take down as many of the invaders as he could, and most every day hiding from the sun. Everything tasted bad, these days... but it was all he could do, so he'd keep on doing it. For the ones who'd already died, and the ones still at risk, few though they might have been.

In the end, all of that worry over his cover being blown, working so hard to hide it, hadn't mattered. He'd kept it up as long as he could, of course, probably too long, but nothing they'd done had mattered. The aliens had won, and when Nick had thrown his lot in with the network - well, it wasn't like he was unused to being considered a traitor.

It'd been easy enough to adjust his schedule completely over to being nocturnal, and now his nights are spent with a wolf, carrying a slew of weapons and taking down any invaders and their allies that they can. If nothing else, at least all of his concerns about becoming a killer are gone. Like Lyall, there's nothing else he can do.

It's almost daybreak as he follows Lyall back to their shelter from the sun, a stolen alien weapon slung over one shoulder. He's silent until they reach it, then says quietly, "Not as many of them around tonight. Think they're planning something?"

Having long since mastered the ability to shapeshift without more than a few seconds of pain and loudly crunching bones, Lyall does so as soon as they're under their own roof. There's a patched coat waiting on a hook just inside, though he doesn't bother with it just yet, instead wiping a patch of alien blood from the back of his neck, where he couldn't get at it as a wolf and making a face.

"There were enough, anyway. It could be that we've made a dent in this area's population...." It's a hope, though from his tone it's not one he expects to be true. "I need a drink. My mouth still tastes terrible."

Nick doesn't bat an eye at the shapeshifting, or at Lyall walking around undressed. He's had more than enough time to get used to both, and by now, he's barely even distracted by the attraction he doesn't want to acknowledge.

He pulls the bottle of water he carries with him out of his inside jacket pocket, offering it to Lyall instead of saying what he's thinking. Even if they have made a dent, more will likely just come. "I should start carrying mouthwash."

Shooting Nick a quick, if slightly bleak, smile, Lyall accepts and tips a little onto his hand to wipe his neck with. "If we can find any, I certainly won't protest. Let me have a look at where they grazed you today?"

And now, he finally reaches for the coat to shrug it on, turning to move further in, where it's safer to turn on a light. Most of the windows in the lower story of the apartment building they've claimed are blacked out, but it pays to be careful, with the sun not quite up yet.

"Wouldn't want it getting infected."

Nick quirks a bit of a smile back. "I'll keep an eye out, maybe we can start stockpiling those travel sized bottles."

He nods at Lyall's question, moving further into the building as well, but shrugging out of his own coat as he walks. His shirt follows, to reveal where the alien weapon had managed to singe his stomach a little. "It doesn't really hurt."

But that doesn't necessarily mean anything these days, not with his endurance being unnaturally high.

Lyall, on the other hand, has actually grown to enjoy his attraction to the other man in their post-civilization fighting team, at least when it comes to getting good looks at the man minus a few clothes. Even if it's marred a bit by reddened skin with a little charring at the middle. Definitely going to need to clean that up. And probably suggest he keep that shirt off for the course of the day, too.

"If you complained of it hurting, I'd think you were about to die on me," he comments dryly, and pushes him gently onto the first chair beyond the apartment complex's lobby. "Sit, and let me look."

Hey, any opportunity is an opportunity. Although Nick's definitely lucked out more in the opportunity area, at least when it comes to getting glimpses of his partner sans-clothes and injury-free.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," Nick replies with a grin, dutifully allowing himself to be guided into the chair, although he does wince a little as he settles in. "It was a lucky shot; I'm not even sure it was aiming at me. I should've been warned of it otherwise." It appears he's found a weakness in his ability to sense danger, and he frowns a little. "...maybe I've been relying on that too much."

"Perhaps you have," Lyall frowns, glancing up at his face before giving the wound a surreptitious sniff. Doesn't smell as bad as it could, and that's a better tell than how something looks, especially with Nick. He pushes back up to his feet, giving Nick's shoulder a pat, then pads over to the sink the next room over, to get something to clean it with. "Try using your senses instead, and see where that gets you," he suggests.

Easy for him to say, maybe, but Nick's senses aren't that much worse than his own.

"Five Years Later..."

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bad ending

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wow hey, look, I came up with a tag here finally :B

<3!

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