This was the boring part. Ending in excitement or ending in disaster, those visions of the future were one and the same. The boring normie end was the one where negotiations worked and everyone walked away feeling unhappy and dissatisifed.
"Defense isn't the play, Kaede." Ash wasn't the focal point of the scene, so it worked well enough that she could gather up the more tangential points of conversation. "We get hurt whether we're fighting others or not- the cold wears us down, our supplies run out." Good to say that loud enough to remind the room, in case anybody had forgotten. Ash wasn't necessarily against a nice long timeout from the more brutal and necessary parts of life on island, but she couldn't imagine there'd be any real reprieve. No onsen episodes to be had- or whatever the fuck Salem called them in his weaboo tongue.
She otherwise kept her thoughts to herself, mostly. Crystal had made an ultimatum- damn girl, nice cajones. She couldn't imagine it ended well. There was an inherent power imbalance to demarcating the old from the new- more of the former. No real democracy to be had in these parts.
Not like they'd had much of that at home either. Damn Republicans, etc.
She scoped out the other newbie. Jennifer, the quieter one, which kind of tracked with what she remembered of the two of them from her past life. Quiet didn't mean irrelevant. Ask Kitty how that went.
The knife stayed untouched.
Honor Amongst Thieves
Private
Juanita let the discussion flow, tangents and ideas splitting off in new directions. Like ripples in a pond, every time you threw a new rock in, you'd change the way they moved and bumped up against one another. It was good that discussion was flowing, that people were speaking up, dissenting. It meant that people were thinking critically, taking the whole thing seriously.
She nodded at Donovan and Kaede, who were broadly launching the same concern. "You guys are right, we can't just play offense. But it's worth keeping in mind that we weren't playing offense against Eden's group or against John. They attacked us after we tried to get them to join. When people hear that we're teaming up, their response is to go on of the offense against us. So even on defense, it's not safe out there. But you're raising a really good point: we're not exactly walking out of these fights unscathed, and making it to the last day won't mean much if we're all getting destroyed in the process."
Juanita turned her head back to Ash. "Ash has it right. We don't have enough supplies for a group of this size, and even with the two fights we've won, we aren't exactly sitting on an armory. We're going to need to scrounge more food and more weapons if we want to maintain our energy levels going into the later stages of the game. It's been getting colder out there, and the more time that passes, the more energy we're going to expend just staying alive. That's why I think we need to move in larger groups, start hunting aggressively. I think we should send out a team of four or five, take both the guns and the radar, maybe one of the knives. Everyone else stays here and fortifies. We follow the watch plan that Crystal's setting out, and we pool our weapons for the collective good. I've got three weapons of my own, I don't mind letting other people borrow them until everybody else has something of their own. If we work together, pick off some stragglers and build up our stockpiles, we'll have enough resources to play defense for a while and let everybody else wear themselves down, then we'll go into the later phases of the game on full stomachs and armed to the teeth. Easy victory for all of us."
She nodded at Donovan and Kaede, who were broadly launching the same concern. "You guys are right, we can't just play offense. But it's worth keeping in mind that we weren't playing offense against Eden's group or against John. They attacked us after we tried to get them to join. When people hear that we're teaming up, their response is to go on of the offense against us. So even on defense, it's not safe out there. But you're raising a really good point: we're not exactly walking out of these fights unscathed, and making it to the last day won't mean much if we're all getting destroyed in the process."
Juanita turned her head back to Ash. "Ash has it right. We don't have enough supplies for a group of this size, and even with the two fights we've won, we aren't exactly sitting on an armory. We're going to need to scrounge more food and more weapons if we want to maintain our energy levels going into the later stages of the game. It's been getting colder out there, and the more time that passes, the more energy we're going to expend just staying alive. That's why I think we need to move in larger groups, start hunting aggressively. I think we should send out a team of four or five, take both the guns and the radar, maybe one of the knives. Everyone else stays here and fortifies. We follow the watch plan that Crystal's setting out, and we pool our weapons for the collective good. I've got three weapons of my own, I don't mind letting other people borrow them until everybody else has something of their own. If we work together, pick off some stragglers and build up our stockpiles, we'll have enough resources to play defense for a while and let everybody else wear themselves down, then we'll go into the later phases of the game on full stomachs and armed to the teeth. Easy victory for all of us."
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Donovan raised an eyebrow at the idea, his expression defined by disbelief. His right hand snaked down to the pistol in his pocket—one of the scant few friends he had on this island. His fingers found the grip and held it tight, like the side of a polymer cliff. Crystal wanted to turn his plan against him. No way. He wasn't going to let her take control like that.
"Are you crazy?" he shot back angrily, verbal bullets, real ones in reserve. His hands tightened, one on the grip. He wouldn't let go of his weapon without a fight—they could take it from his cold, dead hands. Two brown eyes narrowed on Crystal. "Why should I give up my one weapon, exactly? So you can safely shoot me in the back while I'm asleep?"
It was a projection.
But they didn't need to know that.
"No. That's the last word, alright?" His voice was full of finality. "And, didn't you just say," he turned to Juanita, "that there are no leaders here? Yeah. You don't get to overrule me." His words struck first before she got the chance to counter. No mercy. "Oh, and another thing: all of a sudden, I don't exactly like the idea of going to sleep while she's on watch."
"I'm not gonna die here, tell you that," he thought. "This isn't a fight you wanna pick."
"Are you crazy?" he shot back angrily, verbal bullets, real ones in reserve. His hands tightened, one on the grip. He wouldn't let go of his weapon without a fight—they could take it from his cold, dead hands. Two brown eyes narrowed on Crystal. "Why should I give up my one weapon, exactly? So you can safely shoot me in the back while I'm asleep?"
It was a projection.
But they didn't need to know that.
"No. That's the last word, alright?" His voice was full of finality. "And, didn't you just say," he turned to Juanita, "that there are no leaders here? Yeah. You don't get to overrule me." His words struck first before she got the chance to counter. No mercy. "Oh, and another thing: all of a sudden, I don't exactly like the idea of going to sleep while she's on watch."
"I'm not gonna die here, tell you that," he thought. "This isn't a fight you wanna pick."
"Why should I give up my one weapon, exactly? So you can safely shoot me in the back while I'm asleep?"
Jack looked over at Donovan, briefly pausing his narration, and then stepped in. Well, in the third person...he wasn't sure if it seemed more or less confrontational, but it was easier for him to work with. His voice was a lot more clear, addressing both the camera(s) and the group gathered.
"This one objects vociferously, dramatically...carefully not mentioning the fact he drew first when he first met members of the group."
Jack looked over at Donovan, briefly pausing his narration, and then stepped in. Well, in the third person...he wasn't sure if it seemed more or less confrontational, but it was easier for him to work with. His voice was a lot more clear, addressing both the camera(s) and the group gathered.
"This one objects vociferously, dramatically...carefully not mentioning the fact he drew first when he first met members of the group."
-
PlatFleece
- Posts: 84
- Joined: Fri Apr 02, 2021 10:29 pm
Jennifer, a little annoyed at what Jack was saying, decided to try and speak up for Donovan's sake. There had to be a voice to be heard, and frankly, Crystal's suggestion did feel a little extreme.
"There's no point giving weapons if we're mixing and matching groups. It'll be our first time doing this with each other anyway, and what happens if we actually meet people trying to kill us? One of us fends them off while the other runs off and tries to warn the others?"
Granted, she didn't exactly have a gun herself, but a melee weapon was better than a random useless item, or worse, nothing.
Jenny hoped that what she was saying would make some sense. She also had some choice words to say to Jack, but judging from how everyone else was feeling it out, he was just being weird, and it would be a waste of time.
"There's no point giving weapons if we're mixing and matching groups. It'll be our first time doing this with each other anyway, and what happens if we actually meet people trying to kill us? One of us fends them off while the other runs off and tries to warn the others?"
Granted, she didn't exactly have a gun herself, but a melee weapon was better than a random useless item, or worse, nothing.
Jenny hoped that what she was saying would make some sense. She also had some choice words to say to Jack, but judging from how everyone else was feeling it out, he was just being weird, and it would be a waste of time.
-
Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2720
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Crystal listened. Considered. Narrowed her eyes. She liked the boy's reaction even less than she liked the situation. He was turning it around. Accusing her. The girl was backing him up. Moving the goalposts.
Juanita had tried admirably to broker a compromise, or possibly to make a play. Crystal agreed with the boy on one point: there would be no general pooling of weapons. She, however, knew how to tiptoe around the issue. She knew better than to say it straight out. The boy wasn't clever enough for that. He was instead willing to make a stand, to cast aspersions, as if he would accomplish anything by doing so.
Crystal now knew that both of them knew. She knew there would be no looking past the circumstances of her initial encounter with the girl. She knew that wouldn't matter, though. Then as now, the power had rested with Crystal. Then as now, choices had been made by the powerless which dictated the progression of events.
It wasn't just that Crystal had the biggest gun. Crystal had a group who, whether they liked her or not, knew who she was and what she represented. They knew she would play ball. She hadn't drawn on them, which was apparently more than the newcomers could say—thanks, Jack. They would have to choose her, if choices were made. And so, the time came to make her point more emphatic.
Crystal was not someone who moved fluidly or with grace. She shuffled awkwardly, rearranging herself piece by piece, by the result of the motion was the same as if she'd made it with a flourish.
The gun, so studiously kept pointing away from everyone, was now aimed straight towards the boy.
"You should lend your weapon," Crystal said, emphasis on "lend" there, "as a show of good faith."
She raised her eyebrows. She'd never been able to move just one at a time.
"If I wanted to shoot you safely, I wouldn't wait until you're asleep. I could do it right now."
Juanita had tried admirably to broker a compromise, or possibly to make a play. Crystal agreed with the boy on one point: there would be no general pooling of weapons. She, however, knew how to tiptoe around the issue. She knew better than to say it straight out. The boy wasn't clever enough for that. He was instead willing to make a stand, to cast aspersions, as if he would accomplish anything by doing so.
Crystal now knew that both of them knew. She knew there would be no looking past the circumstances of her initial encounter with the girl. She knew that wouldn't matter, though. Then as now, the power had rested with Crystal. Then as now, choices had been made by the powerless which dictated the progression of events.
It wasn't just that Crystal had the biggest gun. Crystal had a group who, whether they liked her or not, knew who she was and what she represented. They knew she would play ball. She hadn't drawn on them, which was apparently more than the newcomers could say—thanks, Jack. They would have to choose her, if choices were made. And so, the time came to make her point more emphatic.
Crystal was not someone who moved fluidly or with grace. She shuffled awkwardly, rearranging herself piece by piece, by the result of the motion was the same as if she'd made it with a flourish.
The gun, so studiously kept pointing away from everyone, was now aimed straight towards the boy.
"You should lend your weapon," Crystal said, emphasis on "lend" there, "as a show of good faith."
She raised her eyebrows. She'd never been able to move just one at a time.
"If I wanted to shoot you safely, I wouldn't wait until you're asleep. I could do it right now."
I bid you all dark greetings!
Juanita's blood ran cold.
"Crystal," she said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. "Don't."
She held out one cautionary hand, trying to warn her off, calm the situation down.
"We're all on the same side here."
Her other hand, though... that one slipped into the pool table. There was a ball nestled in the pocket, smooth and hard and solid. Her fingers curled around it, spiderlike, and drew it upwards into her palm.
"Crystal," she said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. "Don't."
She held out one cautionary hand, trying to warn her off, calm the situation down.
"We're all on the same side here."
Her other hand, though... that one slipped into the pool table. There was a ball nestled in the pocket, smooth and hard and solid. Her fingers curled around it, spiderlike, and drew it upwards into her palm.
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Donovan's eyes widened.
A few days ago, he had mugged Bill Taylor for Spike's bag—the next day, Bill was dead too. At the time of the robbery, a thought had formed in his head, and he'd wondered something. 'What would I have done?' If he were on the other side of the gun, the sights pointed at his head, what would he have done? At the time, he didn't have an answer to give.
It had happened. Now, here Donovan was, staring down the barrel of a rifle. And, all of a sudden, he had his answer. There was no time left for doubt. In a flash, he drew the gun with steady hands and raised it. The motion had gotten familiar enough by now—Derek, Spike, Bill, Jacob, Jenny, Perante, Chester, Jack, Kaede—that it came with rehearsed ease.
He aimed down the sights and took a deep, deep breath. For all he knew, it could've been his last. His shook hands turned steady. As if by magic, the whole world slowed down to a crawl, and he could almost count the seconds in his head. His finger curled towards the trigger, tip tracing the pattern on the polymer. If any muscle moved, he'd shoot—no mercy left.
"Crystal," he said, voice chilled and charged. "I'll say this once, and only once: you drop the gun, or I drop you." It was an order given in the same tone he would've used as team captain. "Going to give you to the count of five, and after that, I pull the trigger." There was no humanity left in his voice—not for Crystal. Then, he counted down. "Five, four, three, two..."
"You made your choice already," Donovan thought. "And, now, I've just made mine."
His finger tensed.
The hammer fell.
"...one."
A few days ago, he had mugged Bill Taylor for Spike's bag—the next day, Bill was dead too. At the time of the robbery, a thought had formed in his head, and he'd wondered something. 'What would I have done?' If he were on the other side of the gun, the sights pointed at his head, what would he have done? At the time, he didn't have an answer to give.
It had happened. Now, here Donovan was, staring down the barrel of a rifle. And, all of a sudden, he had his answer. There was no time left for doubt. In a flash, he drew the gun with steady hands and raised it. The motion had gotten familiar enough by now—Derek, Spike, Bill, Jacob, Jenny, Perante, Chester, Jack, Kaede—that it came with rehearsed ease.
He aimed down the sights and took a deep, deep breath. For all he knew, it could've been his last. His shook hands turned steady. As if by magic, the whole world slowed down to a crawl, and he could almost count the seconds in his head. His finger curled towards the trigger, tip tracing the pattern on the polymer. If any muscle moved, he'd shoot—no mercy left.
"Crystal," he said, voice chilled and charged. "I'll say this once, and only once: you drop the gun, or I drop you." It was an order given in the same tone he would've used as team captain. "Going to give you to the count of five, and after that, I pull the trigger." There was no humanity left in his voice—not for Crystal. Then, he counted down. "Five, four, three, two..."
"You made your choice already," Donovan thought. "And, now, I've just made mine."
His finger tensed.
The hammer fell.
"...one."
-
Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2720
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Five.
Crystal didn't flinch. She didn't speak. She didn't have to.
Four.
This was not the plan. But there was no plan, not anymore, not in the face of this threat. There could be no peace, no rest, if she was to be challenged like this. All her mistrust and more had been justified, and now all that was left was to lay the cards on the table. If she backed down now, she was out. Forget third wheel. Forget spare tire. She'd be the trash in the trunk, disposed of at the first opportunity, robbed and disarmed, and lucky if she didn't die.
Three.
Crystal knew what compliance with threats brought. She'd been on the other side. She didn't choose the interactions she found, but she rose to the energy others projected at her. She was a weapon just like everyone else, but a higher caliber. And there would be no co-opting the group after this. No questioning her worth. Whetstone, not cinderblock.
Two.
Better not to let the other party entirely seize the initiative, of course. As Crystal prepared to lurch to the side, Danya's finger tightened on the trigger once more.
One.
Crystal didn't flinch. She didn't speak. She didn't have to.
Four.
This was not the plan. But there was no plan, not anymore, not in the face of this threat. There could be no peace, no rest, if she was to be challenged like this. All her mistrust and more had been justified, and now all that was left was to lay the cards on the table. If she backed down now, she was out. Forget third wheel. Forget spare tire. She'd be the trash in the trunk, disposed of at the first opportunity, robbed and disarmed, and lucky if she didn't die.
Three.
Crystal knew what compliance with threats brought. She'd been on the other side. She didn't choose the interactions she found, but she rose to the energy others projected at her. She was a weapon just like everyone else, but a higher caliber. And there would be no co-opting the group after this. No questioning her worth. Whetstone, not cinderblock.
Two.
Better not to let the other party entirely seize the initiative, of course. As Crystal prepared to lurch to the side, Danya's finger tightened on the trigger once more.
One.
I bid you all dark greetings!
Two guns raised, on either side of her peripheral vision.
"DON'T!"
The countdown reached one, and hung there. She saw tendons rise on the backs of knuckles, fingers curling around triggers. Her fingers whitened around the pool ball.
Two guns. Two shooters. Less than a second to-
this - Ray Ferrier in War of the Worlds, his arm whipping around and firing a fastball at his son's glove so hard that it makes a sharp, distinct KRACK! against the leather.
"DON'T!"
The countdown reached one, and hung there. She saw tendons rise on the backs of knuckles, fingers curling around triggers. Her fingers whitened around the pool ball.
Two guns. Two shooters. Less than a second to-
this - Ray Ferrier in War of the Worlds, his arm whipping around and firing a fastball at his son's glove so hard that it makes a sharp, distinct KRACK! against the leather.
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Donovan's eyes narrowed further, down the sights, towards her center of mass. It was do or die. Either he shot her, or she shot him. There was no time for hesitation, for second thoughts, for regrets. Only actions. She had made the choice not to drop the gun. That left him no choice but to take hers away. A mistake, her last—decision to kill made long before.
As the shot was set to go, ready to rocket out of the gun, there was a loud crack as something, round and thick, slammed fast and hard into the metacarpals on his right hand. Pain shot up his arm like a jolt of lightning. He bellowed from the sudden pang. His hand jerked, fingers spasmed. Two flashes of bright light and harsh sound echoed through the room.
Neither hit their intended target.
Donovan's round went wide, off-kilter from the sudden attack. He shot a harsh glare at his attacker, Juanita—she'd made her choice, too, so that left him with only one. She'd have to go. In the chaos, though, he'd lost track of the bullet. Had he hit someone? The world was a blur. Still, he had just enough time to register the bloom of crimson in the distance.
Crystal had missed, too—and she didn't have an excuse for her being a lousy shot. A bottle in the back of the bar exploded, coating its surroundings in shattered glass. He took the opportunity where he saw it, booked it from his position, and ran as fast as he could for cover. He kicked over one of the tables and slid towards one of the booth seats.
"Run!" he shouted to Jenny and signaled to the overturned table. The two of them needed to get out of Dodge and fast. Then, he took a deep breath of cold air and sucked it down like medicine—it tasted bitter like it, too. Then, with gritted teeth, he leaned out of his place of cover, aimed his pistol, and tried to pop a few more shots at Crystal and her cadre.
Bedlam reigned.
As the shot was set to go, ready to rocket out of the gun, there was a loud crack as something, round and thick, slammed fast and hard into the metacarpals on his right hand. Pain shot up his arm like a jolt of lightning. He bellowed from the sudden pang. His hand jerked, fingers spasmed. Two flashes of bright light and harsh sound echoed through the room.
Neither hit their intended target.
Donovan's round went wide, off-kilter from the sudden attack. He shot a harsh glare at his attacker, Juanita—she'd made her choice, too, so that left him with only one. She'd have to go. In the chaos, though, he'd lost track of the bullet. Had he hit someone? The world was a blur. Still, he had just enough time to register the bloom of crimson in the distance.
Crystal had missed, too—and she didn't have an excuse for her being a lousy shot. A bottle in the back of the bar exploded, coating its surroundings in shattered glass. He took the opportunity where he saw it, booked it from his position, and ran as fast as he could for cover. He kicked over one of the tables and slid towards one of the booth seats.
"Run!" he shouted to Jenny and signaled to the overturned table. The two of them needed to get out of Dodge and fast. Then, he took a deep breath of cold air and sucked it down like medicine—it tasted bitter like it, too. Then, with gritted teeth, he leaned out of his place of cover, aimed his pistol, and tried to pop a few more shots at Crystal and her cadre.
Bedlam reigned.
-
Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2720
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Crystal hurled herself to the side, but the bullet meant for her went nowhere near. Her own bullet also went nowhere near, however.
She couldn't tell who had shot first. On some level, she hadn't expected either of them to really do it. On some level, she had expected it all to end immediately.
Juanita had intervened, and now the boy was making a break for the exit, with the girl in tow. They crouched behind a table, and almost in mirror, Crystal stumbled into the edge of the booth, wincing as it slammed into her side, right under her ribs.
Her right hand clung to the gun, as it had for days, but her left dropped from steadying it to paw at the place where a new hurt blossomed.
There were more reports of gunfire while she wasn't looking. A stinging and a pressure, like she'd been shoved none too gently. She stumbled again.
Crystal blinked.
Her hand clutching her side was now soaked in blood, and she thought for a second, how strange, the booth hadn't seemed that sharp when she was sitting at it.
She lifted her left hand up. Held it front of her face. Looked at it.
Looked through it.
There was a hole in the middle of her palm, and it framed the boy in a circle of gristle, torn muscle and splintered bone and hanging tendon.
She couldn't breathe.
She could still move.
Crystal dropped to a kneel, and her maimed hand swung around to steady her gun, casting an arc of crimson droplets through the air. Her index finger and pinkie curled to grip, while her middle finger twitched and her ring finger hung unresponsive. But that would have time to matter later, or it wouldn't.
Now, she fired towards the pair, again and again and again.
She couldn't tell who had shot first. On some level, she hadn't expected either of them to really do it. On some level, she had expected it all to end immediately.
Juanita had intervened, and now the boy was making a break for the exit, with the girl in tow. They crouched behind a table, and almost in mirror, Crystal stumbled into the edge of the booth, wincing as it slammed into her side, right under her ribs.
Her right hand clung to the gun, as it had for days, but her left dropped from steadying it to paw at the place where a new hurt blossomed.
There were more reports of gunfire while she wasn't looking. A stinging and a pressure, like she'd been shoved none too gently. She stumbled again.
Crystal blinked.
Her hand clutching her side was now soaked in blood, and she thought for a second, how strange, the booth hadn't seemed that sharp when she was sitting at it.
She lifted her left hand up. Held it front of her face. Looked at it.
Looked through it.
There was a hole in the middle of her palm, and it framed the boy in a circle of gristle, torn muscle and splintered bone and hanging tendon.
She couldn't breathe.
She could still move.
Crystal dropped to a kneel, and her maimed hand swung around to steady her gun, casting an arc of crimson droplets through the air. Her index finger and pinkie curled to grip, while her middle finger twitched and her ring finger hung unresponsive. But that would have time to matter later, or it wouldn't.
Now, she fired towards the pair, again and again and again.
I bid you all dark greetings!
Like watching a cartoon. She half expected one of the shots to be a little flag with the word bang crayoned onto it. Here she was, watching a live firefight, the sort they'd spent a good half of their lives being taught to fear as their recompense from god and conservatives like the good little Zoomers they were, and it was somehow underwhelming.
The adrenaline was still racing, mind, but she considered herself as a conscious being a separate entity from the body that was tensing under the stress until the muscles started to peel right off the bone. Active shooter drills blah blah nothing, she'd heard gunshots this close and personal before. She could compartementalize.
For instance, the unknown variables. Donovan was two versus one, and Ash was bringing a knife to a gun fight. Better to not go charging in when she could.
Far as she could tell through the tunnel vision: Crystal had just been shot somehow, blood arcing in a loose spray that was somehow like perpheral vision, blurry, even though Ash had been looking more or less right at it. She was still moving. Donovan was shouting at his known ally to retreat.
"Jack, Kaede, get Jennifer!"
Knife in hand, she vanished into the background.
The adrenaline was still racing, mind, but she considered herself as a conscious being a separate entity from the body that was tensing under the stress until the muscles started to peel right off the bone. Active shooter drills blah blah nothing, she'd heard gunshots this close and personal before. She could compartementalize.
For instance, the unknown variables. Donovan was two versus one, and Ash was bringing a knife to a gun fight. Better to not go charging in when she could.
Far as she could tell through the tunnel vision: Crystal had just been shot somehow, blood arcing in a loose spray that was somehow like perpheral vision, blurry, even though Ash had been looking more or less right at it. She was still moving. Donovan was shouting at his known ally to retreat.
"Jack, Kaede, get Jennifer!"
Knife in hand, she vanished into the background.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Jack observed the suddenly-heated exchange between Donovan and Crystal, and turned to the latest camera he'd located. He continued in the faux-British accent he'd been affecting for the 'documentary' bit here.
"And now, the sudden but inevitable betrayal..."
Jack began to turn to observe whatever was going to happen next, his gaze shifting to Donovan's side of the standoff, and then...
The stray bullet tore through his chest and out his back, spraying the camera he'd just been talking to with a lovely splatter in arterial red, courtesy of a torn aorta. A look of surprise appeared on his face, as if to ask "What the fuck?", but nothing came from his mouth before he collapsed. There was plenty of blood coming out of his back, and a nasty smell to go with it as his body reacted to the sudden shock. Jack did manage a few shuddering breaths, which were promptly punctuated by coughed-up blood, but no words came from them: A wave of nausea, courtesy of blood pressure dropping faster than a jet fighter in a nosedive, was accompanied by a pain that he both felt and heard (something that he hadn't thought possible), Jack's vision went vaguely white...and then black.
S126: JOHN "JACK" ANDERSON — DECEASED
81 STUDENTS REMAIN
"And now, the sudden but inevitable betrayal..."
Jack began to turn to observe whatever was going to happen next, his gaze shifting to Donovan's side of the standoff, and then...
The stray bullet tore through his chest and out his back, spraying the camera he'd just been talking to with a lovely splatter in arterial red, courtesy of a torn aorta. A look of surprise appeared on his face, as if to ask "What the fuck?", but nothing came from his mouth before he collapsed. There was plenty of blood coming out of his back, and a nasty smell to go with it as his body reacted to the sudden shock. Jack did manage a few shuddering breaths, which were promptly punctuated by coughed-up blood, but no words came from them: A wave of nausea, courtesy of blood pressure dropping faster than a jet fighter in a nosedive, was accompanied by a pain that he both felt and heard (something that he hadn't thought possible), Jack's vision went vaguely white...and then black.
S126: JOHN "JACK" ANDERSON — DECEASED
81 STUDENTS REMAIN
-
PlatFleece
- Posts: 84
- Joined: Fri Apr 02, 2021 10:29 pm
Jenny couldn't even hear Donovan saying run. All she could hear was a ringing sound of a loud gunshot. She covered one ear, the other hand still gripping tight to the spear. She can't let go, and then Donovan started bolting, shooting. Jenny wasn't in a good position to fight. She knew she was outnumbered too.
She had to trust Donovan, she had to trust that he could make it out, and so will she. She gripped her spear, ran as fast as she could, using all of the training she had in sports to sprint for her life, and focused on using her eyes to find the quickest point of exit. Split up, meet back, and escape together.
She had to trust Donovan, she had to trust that he could make it out, and so will she. She gripped her spear, ran as fast as she could, using all of the training she had in sports to sprint for her life, and focused on using her eyes to find the quickest point of exit. Split up, meet back, and escape together.