The red-out has been keeping Cam busy. Now that the colony is operating on life-support, not to mention plagued by hungry, previously captive creatures looking for a hot meal, survival has become significantly less comfortable-- and probable.
Cam can handle the various monstrosities. He's seen real horror, and it had a human agenda. Putting a bullet between the eyes of a mutant deer is less challenging than ensuring the rich and corrupt pay for their crimes. Whether it's by dragging them to court, or burying them.
What's making Cam truly nervous right now is the red-out itself. There are flickers of light, here and there, but there are long stretches of corridor in full darkness, and what does come through the dome drenches the colony in red. In spite of making it difficult to see, not to mention messing with the power supply, the red, filtered light, casts barely any shadow.
Shadows are the source of Cam's power. He is a manipulator of shadow, not a creator. Whether in pure blackness or bright, ambient light, without a cast shadow he has nothing to manipulate. That leaves Cam vulnerable, and there's nothing he fears more.
Traversing the colony, he's done his best to stick to well-lit areas, not to mention stay armed and ready for trouble. Cam doesn't like using a gun, but that doesn't mean he won't should the need arrive. He doesn't need to enjoy shooting, or have any natural talent to be an experienced marksman. All it takes is putting a couple hours a week into the local range... for the past decade.
Of course when he hears someone screaming for help, it's from the park, an area he's been avoiding due to its depth. As the lowest level of the colony, it's also the darkest-- and what light does reach the area is extremely muted.
And of course that person screaming for help is Jeff Calhoun, stuck in a tree, holding onto what looks like a small, furry animal doused in day-glo paint, surrounded by multiple toothy creatures looking for an all-American snack.
Cam doesn't say anything, preferring not to reveal his position. He tries to catch Jeff's eye instead, holding a hand up to discourage him from reacting. Like the dumb-ass he is.
A deep breath, tongue tracing his inside cheek, and he summons Zil. A shade of a shade, in comparison to his shadow's usual darkness. Thankfully he has enough matter to be tangible, and that's all Cam needs for the time being. Something to crash through the woods, make noise, and distract them from the tree and the fool in it.
Unfortunately, the distance his shadow can make under these circumstances is limited. The best Cam will get is a few yards away, before the rich darkness beneath the heavy tree cover obstructs his effort. It's a small window, but it's a window.
Cam breathes deep, and signs the instruction to Jeff from his cover to run as soon as the opportunity arises. Then, remembering Jeff isn't military, or anything near useful in this situation, simply glares and gestures widely with his hand to GET DOWN FROM THAT TREE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.
I.
Cam can handle the various monstrosities. He's seen real horror, and it had a human agenda. Putting a bullet between the eyes of a mutant deer is less challenging than ensuring the rich and corrupt pay for their crimes. Whether it's by dragging them to court, or burying them.
What's making Cam truly nervous right now is the red-out itself. There are flickers of light, here and there, but there are long stretches of corridor in full darkness, and what does come through the dome drenches the colony in red. In spite of making it difficult to see, not to mention messing with the power supply, the red, filtered light, casts barely any shadow.
Shadows are the source of Cam's power. He is a manipulator of shadow, not a creator. Whether in pure blackness or bright, ambient light, without a cast shadow he has nothing to manipulate. That leaves Cam vulnerable, and there's nothing he fears more.
Traversing the colony, he's done his best to stick to well-lit areas, not to mention stay armed and ready for trouble. Cam doesn't like using a gun, but that doesn't mean he won't should the need arrive. He doesn't need to enjoy shooting, or have any natural talent to be an experienced marksman. All it takes is putting a couple hours a week into the local range... for the past decade.
Of course when he hears someone screaming for help, it's from the park, an area he's been avoiding due to its depth. As the lowest level of the colony, it's also the darkest-- and what light does reach the area is extremely muted.
And of course that person screaming for help is Jeff Calhoun, stuck in a tree, holding onto what looks like a small, furry animal doused in day-glo paint, surrounded by multiple toothy creatures looking for an all-American snack.
Cam doesn't say anything, preferring not to reveal his position. He tries to catch Jeff's eye instead, holding a hand up to discourage him from reacting.
Like the dumb-ass he is.A deep breath, tongue tracing his inside cheek, and he summons Zil. A shade of a shade, in comparison to his shadow's usual darkness. Thankfully he has enough matter to be tangible, and that's all Cam needs for the time being. Something to crash through the woods, make noise, and distract them from the tree and the fool in it.
Unfortunately, the distance his shadow can make under these circumstances is limited. The best Cam will get is a few yards away, before the rich darkness beneath the heavy tree cover obstructs his effort. It's a small window, but it's a window.
Cam breathes deep, and signs the instruction to Jeff from his cover to run as soon as the opportunity arises. Then, remembering Jeff isn't military, or anything near useful in this situation, simply glares and gestures widely with his hand to GET DOWN FROM THAT TREE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.