Oookay. Let's see how this goes. Enjoy.
Puck's POV
Puck was filled with the kind of terror you only ever read about, see in movies. The heart-pounding, ragged breathing, know you're about to fucking die fear. It had only been like, two minutes and Puck already felt a bit winded, he didn't know how long this asshole was gonna chase him, Jesus. He fought the urge to look back, becasue he held on to the childish hope that if he didn't look, it couldn't catch him. In the distance, they heard (and he knew if he could hear it whatever fucking creature of the night that was chasing him could too) sobbing, and Puck realized that Kurt was gonna get wrapped up in this too. He might never admit it, but he felt kinda guilty for some reason, maybe for leaving his freind to die? Or maybe... for what he was about to do. For shit's sake, if they were all gonna die regardless, then he might as well try a few different tactics other than running like a fucking coward.
Steeling his nerves, he braced himself for death as he stopped in his tracks. Puck turned, holding one hand out in the universal gesture for stop, hoping to God that he at least got this thing's attention. He was not prepared. It was closer than he thought, only a few feet behind him, and he could tell by the way it was relaxed that it was toying with the football player. Underneath black, wild hair and ever darker eyes, completley filled in with the deep black of oil, disgusting and slick, the feral smile of a hunter spread wide, baring sharp, animalistic teeth. Its clothes were spattered with the sick dark crimson of blood, Finn's blood, and the whole thing together gave Puck chills. He swallowed a gag along with a scream and cleared his throat. He jumped when the thing cocked its head, a sharp, unnatural movment, nearly bent 90 degrees.
"Um, listen, please let me go, you, uh, I'm pretty sure you already," pause for a ragged breath, "k-killed my freind back there, and now he has company, and... you know, you bargained for two, so why not let me go?" Puck tried, resenting the shakiness in his voice. He was supposed to be confident and in control, dammit. The creature seemed to consider his words, and Puck fidgeted a bit, nervous. Then, the thing's smile spread wider, reminding him of that one cat from the one movie with the rabbit or something. He never liked that cat.
"But why have two when I can have three?" it purred, voice sending chills all over Puck's body, low and threatening. The worst part was the absolutely emotionless way that it talked about taking lives as if it were a daily occurrence. Which, Puck thought with a gulp, it probably was.
"Well, uh, Finn, that's the, uh, dead guy, has a lot of meat on his bones?" What was supposed to be his saving reason came out as a question. The creature drew up an eyebrow and crossed its arms. Puck struggled to think of something else to say about Finn, or any redeeming quality of the princess. Wait...
"And the other guy, he's weaker, he cries a lot too, if you push him too far,"' Puck offered. "If you like making people suffer, he's the one you want, not me."
"And you know this from personal experience, yes?" Puck nodded at the words, pulling a shaky smile.
"Yeah, uh, Finn and I pick on him all the time, it's really fun."
"So you enjoy tormenting him, do you? And could I dare to assume that you would be more than pleased to watch him take your place?" Heart beat slowing a bit, fists clenching and unclenching, he was unbelievably relating to this monster, and maybe that said something about his character, but he really wanted to live. So.
"Survival of the fittest, right? Kurt Hummel vs. Puckerman, it's just natural that I win." Puck gloated, not noticing the subtle way the creature's face shifted.
Blaine's POV
Oh, well, there it was. The reason he wanted them dead. Sometimes his subconscious could influence his flip personality, and vice versa. If he wasn't careful with his emotions, his rage could induce a weakned version of his nighttime persona. It might be useful in fight or flight situations, but most of the time it was a bother when you were simply trying to blend in with normal society. Not to mention that the murder of two highschool students would definitely not go unnoticed. Survival of the fittest, indeed.
Kurt's POV
I reluctantly pulled my hand from Finn's cool digits, not wanting to leave his body alone. But someone had done this, and it's not like I could take them down. Finn would be taken care of by the police. And, if I didn't get out of this park, me too. Resolute, I stood and wiped the gravel and debris off my legs and prepared to wave down a jogger or something... when I heard a terrible scream. My blood ran cold as I realized that Puck must have been chased off by whoever murdered his freind, and now... didn't the killer always come back to the scene of the crime?
I was hit by a rush of adrenaline, but it felt a lot more intense that the rush I got from roller coasters or being onstage. I willed my body to run, but a bad feeling kept me rooted to the spot. It was then I heard something fast approaching, and I knew I had to do something. With force I never knew I had, like before when I sensed something watching me, I struck out fast with my foot. Except unlike last time, I caught something. Jolted, I staggered back and nearly fell on my ass, while the thing I hit fell back with a grunt. I barely had time to blink before it was on its feet again, unnaturally fast, and I avoided a blow with a dodge equally as speedily. I swung a hand and hit it on the back of the head, propelling it away from me and on its knees. Only then did I begin to wonder exactly what it was.
It was dark, and the playground wasn't lit up at night because the people who built it probably didn't expect children to play at night. I struggled to make sense of the vaugley human (?) looking thing, what looked like matted, fluffy fur or something on top of its head, dressed in simple clothes as it breathed heavily on hands and knees. It twitched a bit and I tensed myself for another attack, but it jerked its head around, remaining on the blacktop. My eyes locked on the pair of dark orbs straing at me, thick eyebrows set low over them. I unconsciously stepped back as I took in its... his... appearance. His mouth opened, and I caught the edges of razor sharp fangs. Panic swelled in my chest, my breath became tight, I couldn't focus, I didn't understand. I slowly shook my head, and Blaine looked as if he was about to rise, I wanted to trust him, but I didn't want to take that chance. Before he could utter a word, I took off towards the entrance, Finn's lifeless hand and Blaine's entire body covered in blood, his eyes, his teeth, circling through my brain. It became harder and harder to breathe, and as I heard footsteps finally coming after me, my vision tunneled, I couldn't get any air, the world seemed to totter beneath my feet, and the world went black as I was falling, falling...
-D&D-
My dreams were usually nonexistent. Which is to say, black nothingness, just the darkness of unconsciousness. So it came as a bit of a surprise when I found myself walking through a brand new version of the Hillhouse mansion. The furniture in the main room looked as if they had just been moved in, and the rugs on the floor didn't even have a scuff mark. I also was in entirely white, which might have been a stament, but not one I would make in my clothing. I wandered around for a few minutes, taking in the true appearance of Blaine's house. I felt a niggling of discomfort at the thought of Blaine, but this was a dream, and reality had nothing to do with sleep. So I pushed it to the back of my mind and walked upstairs, not even a single creak under my feet.
I smiled happily, dreamily (haha) as I drifted towards Blaine's room, noting the open doors and the welcoming rooms within. I felt a pull to a room on the other end of the hall, and changed my direction to the only closed door. Hm. Well, this was my dream, so... I grinned and clicked my fingers, laughing a bit when it swung open. It was dark inside, and a sudden chill swept through the hallway. I paid both no mind and decided to explore the new room, trying to take advantage of my first ever dream. Even through the lack of light, I could make out a nice four poster bed, a covered mirror, and a huge window. Humming, I went to it and pulled back the curtains, flooding the room with nice, warm daylight. I got the feeling that this room hadn't seen it in a while, despite the newness of the house.
Turning, a figure on the edge of the bed immediately caught my eye. She was also in all white, and I wondered how I had missed her before. I approached the bed slowly, curiously, and she turned to greet me with a nod. Her face was serious, and her eyes were deep, sorrowful, yet joyful, and terribly familiar. She rose off the bed and walked away from me, to the mirror, her dark waves swaying slightly in an unexplainable breeze. I followed, unsure of what to do or what to make of her. When I was next to her, she pulled the cover off in a swift motion, revealing our reflections. I stared open mouthed at the mirror for a minute. In it, I could see the woman as she appeared next to me, dark hair, tan skin... bright hazel eyes. But myself, I was... not me. My hair was darker, almost black, but not quite, and naturally styled as opposed to coiffed. My normally porcelain skin was a bit darker, and both of these things made my eyes, cerulean as ever, stand out like beacons.
Concern and confusion bubbling inside of me, I looked to my enigmatic companion, but she wasn't there. I snapped my gaze back to the mirror and started at what I saw. The woman was still there, just her reflection now, but her white dress was soaked with red from the long, deep gash across her neck. And I was in similar shape, except I had marks and lacerations all over, and was that a bite mark? Gulping, I struggled to remember what I felt was a vital peice of information, the woman watching with sad eyes. Bite marks, scratches, claws, hazel eyes, black eyes, what was it? The edges of my vision began to fade, but I fought against it, not wanting to wake just yet. A sharp gasp drew my eyes to the woman, who was staring behind me. I spun like a top, almost automatically, room growing darker. Blaine was there, but... so very not Blaine, all claws and teeth, claws and teeth, but he seemed so sad, and for a second I looked past the surface and saw just Blaine and he was trapped in dark coils of writhing evil. I didn't know how to describe them, and my sight snapped back, and the moment was over, and I just caught the sillouette of another person behind not-Blaine as I fell back with an enormous rush of vertigo...!
