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Brief Title:

Rex Gregson, Phantasm

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
2012/12/28 23:50

Warehouse / Rex's apartment rental

After coming back to life on the altar, Mike's first course of action is to get the hell out. Rex provides the means.

Social or Plot:


It has not been a good Christmas week. He was abducted Christmas Night after he left his date at her place and woke up finding himself here. Wherever here was. Undergoing a process where he was unable to move and where he drew his last breath under the watch of so many robed figures.

Well, what should have been his last breath.

As with so many other times when he had his abilities as Phantasm, the battle on the plane was dream like. But, a familiar type of dream like. And now, he's back, chained to the makeshift altar. He's no longer bleeding, the patterned cuts have somehow healed, but if the ever present feeling of exhaustion, cold, and wet is any indicator, he's still missing a lot of what should be in his veins.

The blood soaked, shirtless musician's eyes open cautiously, holding his breath should the man who killed him still be nearby but upon the pale eyes seeing what's around, he does take a quick breath through his nose. In a stark contrast to what it was like just a litle bit ago, the large room of the warehouse is quiet. The light of the moon has since shifted, no longer lined up with the window that had cast it down upon him when Cadmus had sunk in the final blade. But the important thing is that there are no signs of red robed figures about ready to attack. Although, there does seem to be a number of them napping on the floor.

Shivering, Mike tries lifting his arms only to find them still restrained. Frustrated, he shakes his head, giving a muffled groan into the tape upon his mouth. Eyes closing, he tilts his head back. No, can't just give up. Not after the stink he raised on the plane to get back here. Just, have to calm down.

Keeping his eyes closed, he breathes in deeply through his nose, thoughts drifting towards more pleasant thoughts. Lyrics pop into his head, describing a scene from a much better point in time.

.oO(The tree was a sight, dressed in it's strings of light. The tinsel added to the visual delight)

There's the sound of a door opening, but Mike continues focusing.

.oO(Ribbons of red, yellow, and green, It was the grandest tree you've ever seen.)

The steps pause.

.oO(Loaded with sweets, a cart near the tree, just for guests who pass through the lobby.) Mike can visualize a tree. Although, it is a little different from the lyrics that passed through his head, it is still welcoming. Willing himself to go towards it, he starts to move forward.

The steps move once more, moving towards the altar but upon the figure reaching up there, Mike fades from view. The chains, lacking something to be wrapped around, fall to the table.

Off in someone's dream, a youthful Michael Drago walks towards a Christmas tree, using it as a guidepoint for escape.


In the rented apartment suite in uptown Bronx, Rex Gregson had gone to bed late. She was exhausted - jet lagged, and also worried when the news had reached her. But finally her bodyguard had gotten her to go for some rest, because ther ewas hard work to do tomorrow. A tiny portable christmas tree, with artificial lights sat in the main room, where the open door let the rainbow light trickle in and over her bed in a splash of soft coloration and that strange, but soothing scent of plastic and dust that clung to christmas trees.

Bundled in her flannel pajamas she had pulled the covers over her head, with a deep sigh finally succumbing to sleep.

In that dream, she was staring out a frosted window, seeing a single candle lit there.

.oO(I have the lights upon the christmas tree..I have a candle lit for you to see...)

A blink and she moved a little bit, the drapes rustling a little bit at some unseen gust of air. Perhaps the heaters in the room turning on. She remained deep in her sleep for now though, feeling the blankets pressing down. She turned her dream vision a little bit, and spotted a little music box with a couple standing on it, the music having wound down. Even in the dream, her heart felt rather heavy, and she watched the shadow of the two figures flicker against the wall, one shadow there, and a steadier one from the christmas tree at the other side.

.O(And beside this window I will wait, For inside this night it's not too late.)

In the dream, her mind paused. That music box was in Britain still wasnt it? She had left it there, it was a gift last christmas from...

As Michael walks, the pale youth shivers more, not feeling cold but doing so in reaction to the cold imagery that he walks in to. Stumbling, he falls down, knees hitting snow as his head looks up to a warmly lit window where a tree is seen through the glass. Here is as good enough a place as any to stop right? He presses his hands to the ground, pushing but finding sufficient resistance. Frowning, he looks back around for anyone. Anybody.

Remembering Michael almost woke Rex up at that point. As it was, her eyes half opened, glazed with sleep still and watering as she stared at the chill window - not as cold as in the dream, although the two states started to juxtipose over each other, seeing that lit candle there, and the christmas tree still lit up. Snow crunching of someone walking along could be heard, and she noted the lights of a passing car flicker by the window, missing the silhouette of a figure pass by the opposite wall behind her.

A deep sigh, back into that slumbering state, her body heavy once more .oO(The candles burning, You know I'm gonna wait...)

It flickered in the dream a little bit, the window rattling in a slight breeze. Part of her knew that this window, a crank one, couldnt do that, but in the dream somehow it just seemed _RIGHT_ and not at all odd, the frost obscuring any starlight trying to trickle in from the moon. She wondered what time it was, then dismissed the thought again to just staring at that candle, starting to believe somehow that it was a beacon, flickering there, a warm golden glow.

.oO(The clock keeps turning, But I know it's not, I know it's not too late... )

Across the street, visible through the window, the figure of a pale skinned boy kneels, the matted down locks of hair hang down, giving him the appearance of being wet, combined with the abnormally light color of the eyes, he seems frozen in the snowscape below. His head lifts, dispelling the illusion of just being scenery as he looks right to the window.

Staring back through the window at that, Rex suddenly started to stirr. Sometimes dreams were too strong, too vivid and she sat up finally in the bed, looking this way and that in confusion before sliding out from under the blankets, into her slippers as she went to the window now, confused. A dream that seemed too real, too vivid to be a dream. She stepped up to the window and drew the curtain aside, not sure what she was expecting to see at all, wondering if maybe she WAS going a bit nuts.

With Rex's attention set upon the window, the presence of another figure in the room gets overlooked. But being that Mike is not standing but instead kneeling as he was in the dream, perhaps it's enough to explain the oversight. Unable to hold his form much longer, the image drops, destroying the visage of the cold youth and instead allowing for the true form of the blood soaked, half naked, mouth taped musician to complete the tumble to the floor, giving a nice solid thunk upon the floor. The dream was probably a bit more pleasant.

She jumped, and turned about the room "Joseph? - oh!" she freezes, staring down at Michael a long moment. Her face went pale as her eyes widened, looking all over his form.


The scream brought Joseph, the bodyguard, immediately into the room where he'd been dozing, his gun half drawn as he looks towards the horrified rock star and down towards the form o the floor. Dismissing it immediately as a threat, he moves first to bundle her to the door, but she refused to move, starting to snap out of it "... M... Michael? Is that you? Oh god!" she blurted, trying to push Joseph aside as he tried to calm her down, tapping at his comm unit "John, wake up..." he was calling the back up bodyguard "And bring the first aid kit. Hush hush on it." he states, indicating not to call 911 or anything. He pulled the blanket off the bed and draped it over Mike for now, Rex still trying to calm down.

Back to form, the cold sets in more, triggering another shiver from the rocker as he simply curls up, giving a muffled groan of pain through the tape as one of the larger cuts on the side starts to reopen a little. Determining the curling up to be a bad idea, he straightens the legs out a bit more, but unsure how to elevate the injury above the heart when they're all over. It's likely a good thing the tape is there as there's probably some choice words that would be going on without it being present.

"Mike? M... Mike? " stammered Rex again. Finally getting over the shock she moved towards him now, putting ahnd on the covered shoulder, her fingers warm. "oh god what happened to you? Who did this? " she stammered, reaching down and trying to pick the tape off, but fearful of hurting him. John was up in a jiffy as well as the bodyguards moved to help as well, Joseph shaking his head a little bit in disgust "Mutant haters." he growled. Only the more open minded guys could work with Rex it seems at this. The woman put a hand on Mikes' forehead a little, flinching at the cold "Mike? Can you hear me?"

The tape coming off is not a pleasant sensation, but with everything else going on, the reaction is much less than one would expect at the ripping off of something clinging to the skin. The contrast between skin and blood becomes more apparent around the area the tape vacated, leaving for the tip of a rag sticking out of the musician's mouth to wave at Rex. "Ff-" A hand snakes out from under the blanket, tugging out the rag, seemingly just being reminded that there was something in there. "'s back."

She flinched again, looking sickened as the hand held his own head and she tossed the rag away once it was out "You are back. Mike? can you hear me? " she murmered to him, the wounds getting checked and treated as Joseph glanced up "... did you want to call nine one one? " he asked. She paused, then shook her head "No, not yet... this would be difficult ot explain." The blanket was over him, hiding the extent of his injuries as she inhaled quickly, to try and keep calm there, for mike.

Mike gives a half nod, turning his head to look towards Rex, attempting to give her a reassuring smile but getting as far as a grimace before it goes away, "Cadmu- Ruth's wrong."

Rex Gregson frowns, stressed at that, still holding his head and blinking back tears "... I wish she wasnt." she murmered quietly "You're safe now though okay? We'll warm you up and figure out what to do next."

At the assurance, and quiet possibly due to other aspects of the past few days. Mike hrms and gives a nod before closing his eyes. "Good t- know. Goin' t' sleep. Jus' beat."

"You do that. You earned it I think." she sighs. The two guards help get him into the bed for now. She wasnt going to be sleeping for a while herself, instead glancing to the windowsil, where no candle or music box sat.


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