Tori was now moving into the state of shock as she mumbled and waved her hands towards her day pack for her first aid. Her crying wasn't as loud anymore, but her eye sight became some what blurry as she tried to focus on Bryan's face. Tori could feel her own face go flushed as she wavered back and forth in the sitting up position he had pulled her too.
If they could stop the bleeding and give her something for the pain, she was sure they could make it off the roof and somewhere to safe... for the time being. She had a major head ache and wanted to throw up.
"Seth?" Tori mustered.
This could be anywhere in the world
"Shit," Bryan replied. He looked over his shoulder to where the boss had fallen, then turned back to Tori. "I gotta go check on him." His expression was apologetic; he was hoping she would understand. Given the nature of his wounds Seth might have already been dead anyway, but he had to go see what he could do.
Not a lot. Seth was bleeding pretty bad. Bryan went to help him up into the same sitting position Tori was in. He grimaced at the pooling blood as it was a big red speech bubble that said "I'm dying."
"Chrissake...boss, hang in there...shhhit."
Not a lot. Seth was bleeding pretty bad. Bryan went to help him up into the same sitting position Tori was in. He grimaced at the pooling blood as it was a big red speech bubble that said "I'm dying."
"Chrissake...boss, hang in there...shhhit."
Before Bryan helped Seth into a sitting position, that is to say physically pulled him up into one and eliciting a surprisingly low and hoarse grunt of pain from the gang leader, Mattlock had been perfectly still except for the occasional weak movement of his chest as he struggled to breath, his eye closed in an attempt to stop the feeling that the world was spinning and his massive headache. Everything hurt, but he heard Bryan's voice nearby, for some reason the knowledge that his best friend in this world was alright despite the earlier crisis comforted him.
"Hey B...Bryan, ol' pal. Licked tha' bastard good, diddin' we?" he asked, cracking open his eyes and turning his head to look at his friend. The pain still wracked him, and he promptly turned his head back as he coughed and vomited up more blood, which hurt him even more, the blood now hitting the ground and his lap since he was in a sitting position.
"Your g..girl...she doin' a'ight? P'nk diddin' hurt 'er too bad, did 'e?"
His eye was half closed, and his vision kept randomly blurring, but he was able to make out Tori's shape as he gestured to her.
Holy fucking mother of God this hurts.
More blood leaked from his lips as he thought this and another cough went over him.
OOC: Just as a by the way, I'm intentionally having him talk this way to emphasize the fact that he's more than a bit messed up right now.
"Hey B...Bryan, ol' pal. Licked tha' bastard good, diddin' we?" he asked, cracking open his eyes and turning his head to look at his friend. The pain still wracked him, and he promptly turned his head back as he coughed and vomited up more blood, which hurt him even more, the blood now hitting the ground and his lap since he was in a sitting position.
"Your g..girl...she doin' a'ight? P'nk diddin' hurt 'er too bad, did 'e?"
His eye was half closed, and his vision kept randomly blurring, but he was able to make out Tori's shape as he gestured to her.
Holy fucking mother of God this hurts.
More blood leaked from his lips as he thought this and another cough went over him.
OOC: Just as a by the way, I'm intentionally having him talk this way to emphasize the fact that he's more than a bit messed up right now.
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Seth had a glazed look in his eyes and he spoke with much effort, blood spilling down his chin as it had nowhere else to go. The dark red pool at his side grew and stretched out across the stone slab until it began spilling onto the gravel. Bryan abandoned any notion of salvaging the broken gang leader now. Seth would never have been one to kid himself in this kind of situation anyway, he thought, but that didn't make it any easier to see his friend...
...he really was his friend, wasn't he...
...like this. Dying.
"Yeah," Bryan replied in a barely audible tone, a smile flashing across his face to mask how rotten he now felt about leaving Seth behind at the school. Now that he'd shown up like this, ripped to shreds as it was, and dug them out of a really tight spot with himself as forfeit. Even after they'd flat out abandoned him without a second thought.
As if he didn't feel terrible enough already, Seth asked how Tori was. "She's ok, thanks to you," was the answer. It really was entirely down to Seth that she hadn't been seriously hurt. Bryan cleared his throat. Why was it getting so fucking hard to just talk?
Finally he couldn't hold it in anymore. "God, Seth, should've waited for you, I'm so...fuckin' stupid...I'm sorry..." Hot tears lingered in his eyes, and he turned away as he wiped them with the palm of his hand. It didn't matter anymore that there could only be one winner, that he couldn't have done anything to save both of them in the end. Friends were supposed to look out for eachother.
'God, why can't I ever just fucking get it right?'
...he really was his friend, wasn't he...
...like this. Dying.
"Yeah," Bryan replied in a barely audible tone, a smile flashing across his face to mask how rotten he now felt about leaving Seth behind at the school. Now that he'd shown up like this, ripped to shreds as it was, and dug them out of a really tight spot with himself as forfeit. Even after they'd flat out abandoned him without a second thought.
As if he didn't feel terrible enough already, Seth asked how Tori was. "She's ok, thanks to you," was the answer. It really was entirely down to Seth that she hadn't been seriously hurt. Bryan cleared his throat. Why was it getting so fucking hard to just talk?
Finally he couldn't hold it in anymore. "God, Seth, should've waited for you, I'm so...fuckin' stupid...I'm sorry..." Hot tears lingered in his eyes, and he turned away as he wiped them with the palm of his hand. It didn't matter anymore that there could only be one winner, that he couldn't have done anything to save both of them in the end. Friends were supposed to look out for eachother.
'God, why can't I ever just fucking get it right?'
"Don' fuckn' worry 'bou...'bout it, Bry."
Seth had chosen only to reply to the last thing Bryan said, mainly to conserve what energy and air he still had, though he was glad that Tori had turned out alright, according to Calvert. Opening his eye and looking to Calvert with much difficulty, as even the opening of an eyelid and turning of his head hurt a great deal and his vision was very dark and blurry, he thought he saw the gang member crying.
So he did what came across to his failing mind as the best thing to do. He slowly raised his right arm, which was behind Bryan, and weakly cuffed his friend in the back of the head.
"C...cu 't ou', Calvert," he struggled to stay, more blood coming out of his mouth and body, "Ye wanna kno' wh' I diddin g...get there? Fuckin' got...lost." another cough wracked his body, "Passed out at first, th-thanks to that Walter asshole's beatin' on y...ours truly. Never was able to make my way there, by the third day or so I assumed you guys moved on and gave up."
With this revelation out in the air, he closed his eye again, his breathing getting more and more shallow as he left his hand on the back of Bryan's head, the grip surprisingly firm. He did not have much time left in this world, he knew it. Considering this, the strength in his next words was impressive.
"You are probably the one person in that shithole town that I truly could call my friend, Bryan, you know that? So stop kickin' yerself o'er someshit tha' ye can't change!"
Seth had chosen only to reply to the last thing Bryan said, mainly to conserve what energy and air he still had, though he was glad that Tori had turned out alright, according to Calvert. Opening his eye and looking to Calvert with much difficulty, as even the opening of an eyelid and turning of his head hurt a great deal and his vision was very dark and blurry, he thought he saw the gang member crying.
So he did what came across to his failing mind as the best thing to do. He slowly raised his right arm, which was behind Bryan, and weakly cuffed his friend in the back of the head.
"C...cu 't ou', Calvert," he struggled to stay, more blood coming out of his mouth and body, "Ye wanna kno' wh' I diddin g...get there? Fuckin' got...lost." another cough wracked his body, "Passed out at first, th-thanks to that Walter asshole's beatin' on y...ours truly. Never was able to make my way there, by the third day or so I assumed you guys moved on and gave up."
With this revelation out in the air, he closed his eye again, his breathing getting more and more shallow as he left his hand on the back of Bryan's head, the grip surprisingly firm. He did not have much time left in this world, he knew it. Considering this, the strength in his next words was impressive.
"You are probably the one person in that shithole town that I truly could call my friend, Bryan, you know that? So stop kickin' yerself o'er someshit tha' ye can't change!"
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Bryan remained silent as Mattlock spoke, embarrassed that he'd been caught with his eyes leaking. He felt the guilt alleviate slightly upon hearing that Seth had never even made it to the school, but that didn't make it any easier losing his only real friend. He just wished he'd been able to see it for what it was sooner. Before it was too late. Which it was, really.
'Yeah well, Mari took care of Walter real good, and Wilson's next in line.' Bryan didn't voice this thought upon Seth's mentioning Walter Smith for two reasons. First of all, he didn't want to bring up Mari, seeing as she'd taken such an awful turn upon Lavender's death. Plus, he and Tori would likely have to go through her sooner or later. That was obvious, and better left unsaid. Second, the tail-end of it was really borderlining on wishful thinking; Wilson could've been halfway to Timbuk-fucking-Tu by now. Honestly, he didn't know if he'd ever see him again.
Instead he waited until Seth had finished, to which his reply was spoken without a doubt in his mind: "You're a good friend, Seth...the best."
'Yeah well, Mari took care of Walter real good, and Wilson's next in line.' Bryan didn't voice this thought upon Seth's mentioning Walter Smith for two reasons. First of all, he didn't want to bring up Mari, seeing as she'd taken such an awful turn upon Lavender's death. Plus, he and Tori would likely have to go through her sooner or later. That was obvious, and better left unsaid. Second, the tail-end of it was really borderlining on wishful thinking; Wilson could've been halfway to Timbuk-fucking-Tu by now. Honestly, he didn't know if he'd ever see him again.
Instead he waited until Seth had finished, to which his reply was spoken without a doubt in his mind: "You're a good friend, Seth...the best."
A wide smile crossed Seth Mattlock's features as Bryan told him that he was a good friend. He appreciated that, as he had always tried to be in his own way. It had actually crossed his mind that he may have failed in that, trying to be a friend to all of the Fists. They were like family to him, every one of them. Of course, when it all came down to it, he had failed to do much to protect them when it mattered, though they didn't seem to need it really. His hand dropped to Bryan's shoulder before he started to talk, just because it felt a bit patronizing to have his hand on the back of his best friend's head.
"Thanks B...ryan. Means a..." once again, he started coughing and spluttering, blood now splashing at Bryan, "...it means a lot to me. You know, you guys, the Fists...y'all were like my family. N...not l-literally, but y'k-know how I mea-n, yeah?"
More coughing as Seth moved himself so that he was lying back down again, his eye now closed once more and his mouth shut. A few tears could be seen on his own eye, too. It was ironic.
"Oh god this hurts..." he muttered to himself, before suddenly taking a firm grip on Calvert's arm, "Bryan...I have rarely given you or anyone else in the Fists a direct order to do anything, but this is different. You win this fuckin' game, Calvert...that is my last order as acting leader of the Bloody Fists gang. I don't care who you have to fuckin' kill, you win this game, ya hear me? I don't want ya followin' me to wherever I'm goin' until yer old and grey."
Several seconds went by until he choked out what he said next:
"My supplies are at the front door...they're yours, so's the gun. Mariavel's in there, I saw her briefly when I was running to find you guys. She's turned into a crazy bitch, I don't know why. She was like a sister to me, but now...I don't want her going home. Not in the state she's in; she'd be dangerous to everyone, and the last thing Denton needs is another psycho running around with a gun. No, it needs someone who's gonna fight to stop the gangs, to bring peace back. Don't fight her here, wait until later, when she's weakened. Sounds cowardly, but it's good strategy..." he coughed again and moaned in pain, "Jack O'Connor almost won the last game by hiding in a fucking warehouse, after all...Madre de Dios, this hurts too much."
That had been the first time Seth had ever used Spanish in front of Bryan, but he had. He tried to gesture to his gun while he continued, but he could no longer raise his arm. The colour was already gone from his body, and his chest's steady rising and falling rhythm was starting to slow along with the darkening blood. He could barely manage a finger twitch in the general direction of the P38.
"I don't want t...tha...that bastard to have the satisfaction of having brought the Seth Mattlock down while he rots in hell. Please, Bryan, I'm beggin' ya here...finish me off. Take that gun, put one right between my eyes."
He had never thought that he would actually beg for death, but he would rather his best friend finish him than let a snake like the one that had just fallen off the roof know that at least he had brought someone with him.
God, give me strength as I leave this world and prepare to enter yours...
He opened his eye wide with what strength he had and looked right at Bryan, though he could no longer see him except for a faint silhouette. He would not die like a dog, looking away in fear. No, he would stare Bryan right in the face as he put Seth out of his admitted misery. Bryan deserved that respect.
"From the sack to the grave, always a Fist, and always a friend...in this world and the next, right Bryan?" Seth had intentionally used similar wording to when he had first initiated Bryan, and the other members, into the Bloody Fists. He hoped it would put the man at ease.
"Thanks B...ryan. Means a..." once again, he started coughing and spluttering, blood now splashing at Bryan, "...it means a lot to me. You know, you guys, the Fists...y'all were like my family. N...not l-literally, but y'k-know how I mea-n, yeah?"
More coughing as Seth moved himself so that he was lying back down again, his eye now closed once more and his mouth shut. A few tears could be seen on his own eye, too. It was ironic.
"Oh god this hurts..." he muttered to himself, before suddenly taking a firm grip on Calvert's arm, "Bryan...I have rarely given you or anyone else in the Fists a direct order to do anything, but this is different. You win this fuckin' game, Calvert...that is my last order as acting leader of the Bloody Fists gang. I don't care who you have to fuckin' kill, you win this game, ya hear me? I don't want ya followin' me to wherever I'm goin' until yer old and grey."
Several seconds went by until he choked out what he said next:
"My supplies are at the front door...they're yours, so's the gun. Mariavel's in there, I saw her briefly when I was running to find you guys. She's turned into a crazy bitch, I don't know why. She was like a sister to me, but now...I don't want her going home. Not in the state she's in; she'd be dangerous to everyone, and the last thing Denton needs is another psycho running around with a gun. No, it needs someone who's gonna fight to stop the gangs, to bring peace back. Don't fight her here, wait until later, when she's weakened. Sounds cowardly, but it's good strategy..." he coughed again and moaned in pain, "Jack O'Connor almost won the last game by hiding in a fucking warehouse, after all...Madre de Dios, this hurts too much."
That had been the first time Seth had ever used Spanish in front of Bryan, but he had. He tried to gesture to his gun while he continued, but he could no longer raise his arm. The colour was already gone from his body, and his chest's steady rising and falling rhythm was starting to slow along with the darkening blood. He could barely manage a finger twitch in the general direction of the P38.
"I don't want t...tha...that bastard to have the satisfaction of having brought the Seth Mattlock down while he rots in hell. Please, Bryan, I'm beggin' ya here...finish me off. Take that gun, put one right between my eyes."
He had never thought that he would actually beg for death, but he would rather his best friend finish him than let a snake like the one that had just fallen off the roof know that at least he had brought someone with him.
God, give me strength as I leave this world and prepare to enter yours...
He opened his eye wide with what strength he had and looked right at Bryan, though he could no longer see him except for a faint silhouette. He would not die like a dog, looking away in fear. No, he would stare Bryan right in the face as he put Seth out of his admitted misery. Bryan deserved that respect.
"From the sack to the grave, always a Fist, and always a friend...in this world and the next, right Bryan?" Seth had intentionally used similar wording to when he had first initiated Bryan, and the other members, into the Bloody Fists. He hoped it would put the man at ease.
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Bryan cringed as Seth hacked and coughed up more blood, but nodded his head in response. The Fists had always been a family in its own way, even if said family had been ripped apart and chewed-up and spat out thanks to Danya and his little game. Still, he understood. It felt like he was watching his own brother gradually succumb to a fatal wound.
Mattlock told him to win the game, and Bryan knew that probably wasn't going to happen. He didn't let on, though. Arguing that he had a prior commitment to protect Tori would just waste time that Seth honestly didn't have. If he saw him on the other side they would have plenty of time to sort it out anyway. Bryan remained silent and looked at the floor. That was good enough; Seth changed the subject and shared a very important piece of information.
Mariavel was in the hotel, he said. That was bad news. Judging by the fact that she was racking up kills left and right, she was probably now packing some serious heat. That wouldn't be so much of a problem if both he and Tori weren't dead tired and wounded. They would be better off avoiding her now and patching up before confronting her again (or anyone else for that matter). Seth expressed some bewilderment to Sister Mari's psycho-bitchery, but Bryan didn't have it in him to say "I told you so." Another subject to bring up in the afterlife, maybe.
Then Seth asked Bryan to kill him. He felt his guts twist up. Yes, he had killed a handful of people over the last week, but this was different on so many levels. The worst part was, he knew that he wouldn't be able to refuse. This was being asked of him by a fallen comrade, godammit. A member of the family. This was an unmistakeable matter of honor. And given Seth's deteriorating state, honor was all he had left. Bryan owed him that much. He snatched up the pistol with a swiftness that seemed to spit in the face of his previous hesitation. His hands felt slippery with sweat, but glancing down at them for a second revealed that it was actually Seth's blood.
Seth managed to choke out a modified Fists creedo. That was the flashing red signal. It was now or never. Seth wanted more than just a reply from him, he wanted his coup de grace.
"Right."
Bryan's chest tightened. His brow furrowed, and he breathed heavily through his nostrils. It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, pulling himself to his feet and training the sights of the Walther P38 between Seth's eyes. Suddenly the trigger wouldn't budge. It felt like there was a hundred pounds-worth of resistance behind it. That was because he'd just pulled it.
Mattlock told him to win the game, and Bryan knew that probably wasn't going to happen. He didn't let on, though. Arguing that he had a prior commitment to protect Tori would just waste time that Seth honestly didn't have. If he saw him on the other side they would have plenty of time to sort it out anyway. Bryan remained silent and looked at the floor. That was good enough; Seth changed the subject and shared a very important piece of information.
Mariavel was in the hotel, he said. That was bad news. Judging by the fact that she was racking up kills left and right, she was probably now packing some serious heat. That wouldn't be so much of a problem if both he and Tori weren't dead tired and wounded. They would be better off avoiding her now and patching up before confronting her again (or anyone else for that matter). Seth expressed some bewilderment to Sister Mari's psycho-bitchery, but Bryan didn't have it in him to say "I told you so." Another subject to bring up in the afterlife, maybe.
Then Seth asked Bryan to kill him. He felt his guts twist up. Yes, he had killed a handful of people over the last week, but this was different on so many levels. The worst part was, he knew that he wouldn't be able to refuse. This was being asked of him by a fallen comrade, godammit. A member of the family. This was an unmistakeable matter of honor. And given Seth's deteriorating state, honor was all he had left. Bryan owed him that much. He snatched up the pistol with a swiftness that seemed to spit in the face of his previous hesitation. His hands felt slippery with sweat, but glancing down at them for a second revealed that it was actually Seth's blood.
Seth managed to choke out a modified Fists creedo. That was the flashing red signal. It was now or never. Seth wanted more than just a reply from him, he wanted his coup de grace.
"Right."
Bryan's chest tightened. His brow furrowed, and he breathed heavily through his nostrils. It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, pulling himself to his feet and training the sights of the Walther P38 between Seth's eyes. Suddenly the trigger wouldn't budge. It felt like there was a hundred pounds-worth of resistance behind it. That was because he'd just pulled it.
He could barely see anymore as he watched Bryan take up the Walther pistol and aim it between his eyes, but he could still hear. Bryan reluctantly agreed to his saying the credo and apparently grasped the message Seth had hidden in it, then there was a loud pop. After that, a great deal of pressure, and nothing.
Seth Mattlock, also known as Boy #47, also known as leader of the Bloody Fists, was still at last. His breathing stopped, and the blood flow seemed to cease. The bullet had smashed its way through Seth from between his eyes, going through his brain and trying to exit from the back of his head, where it lodged itself into the hotel roof. Part of the back of Seth's head exploded because of this, causing even more of his sticky red blood to pool.
Seth was killed instantly, at 8:32 PM on day seven of the third official Survival of the Fittest program, the ninety seventh of one hundred eighteen students to die. His official cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head delivered by Bryan Calvert, and most likely that would be all the terrorists would report, ignoring the fact that it was essentially a mercy killing on par with the end of Marcus Roddy in the previous game in order to make it look more like betrayal than a matter of honor carried out between friends. However, in his final minutes, as the bullet to his brain killed him three minutes after the wound to his chest was inflicted, Seth Mattlock bore no ill will towards anyone but the masterminds of SOTF themselves, Danya, Steven Wilson, and whoever else was behind it all.
Back in Denton, two boys, a man, and a woman stared at the television in sheer disbelief. There were no words exchanged for several minutes, until the woman cried out a prayer to God and latched onto the man, crying hysterically at the loss of their son. The man held her close and had a hard time holding in his own tears, looking to the two boys. Nodding in understanding, both boys, friends of Seth and the only members of his gang that weren't fighting for their lives or dead already, left without a word. It would take them a long time to get over the shock.
In the same city, another boy watched the same thing happen. He was a Caucasian male at about 5'10 with a boyish face and brown eyes, and had short black hair that was blocked by the white bandanna he always wears wore. He was moderately well built, and he wore his blue jacket slightly open to show this, revealing a well-muscled abdomen area. The blue jacket he wore had the symbol of the Hellbirds gang, former rivals of the Bloody Fists, on it (the picture of a Phoenix surrounded by fire and the word "Hellbirds" written in a firey font under it) and green track pants that could be best described as baggy. He too found himself unable to speak, but eventually Alexander Stevens looked to the man sitting next to him.
"Diftre, can you get me my cell phone from the table? I want to make a call while watching this."
If one had to sum up Thomas Diftre' appearance in one word, it would be "tough". Allowing two words would have the questioned most likely say "tough" and "distinctive". His body was built like a heavyweight boxers', heavily muscled with the occasional scar (especially on his knuckles) while standing at exactly six feet tall. His face looked like it was chiseled out of solid diamond, rough and hard-edged. He allowed his nearly white blond hair to grow almost to his face, framing his brown eyes that are nearly black, but he was by no means effeminate (and would slug the first person to call him that). His fingers were surprisingly thin though, looking out of place compared to the rest of his muscular frame. He tended to wear a white wifebeater t-shirt and black shorts that go down to just above his knees, along with red and white sneakers, and had that exact outfit on right now. Despite looking much stronger than Alexander, and not normally the type to allow himself to be spoken to so standoffishly, but since he was the gang member and Alex was the leader, along with his personal admiration of Alex, he nodded and walked over to the kitchen of the dirty apartment.
When he took the phone and gave it to Alex, nothing major had happened on the channel they were watching, but Alex took the phone, turned it on, and dialed a number that Thomas was surprised Alex knew. Eventually a voice was heard on the other end.
"Hello, mister Mattlock?" Alex asked in a tone of grave seriousness, "Yeah, this is Alexander Stevens. I wanted to call you about your son..."
However, in the program headquarters for the current round of SOTF, a terrorist merely grinned smugly, took the newest report, and had it delivered to Danya. One of the biggest troublemakers back in school was now a cold, wet, corpse, just as he had always wanted.
B47-SETH MATTLOCK-DECEASED. 21 STUDENTS REMAINING.
Seth Mattlock, also known as Boy #47, also known as leader of the Bloody Fists, was still at last. His breathing stopped, and the blood flow seemed to cease. The bullet had smashed its way through Seth from between his eyes, going through his brain and trying to exit from the back of his head, where it lodged itself into the hotel roof. Part of the back of Seth's head exploded because of this, causing even more of his sticky red blood to pool.
Seth was killed instantly, at 8:32 PM on day seven of the third official Survival of the Fittest program, the ninety seventh of one hundred eighteen students to die. His official cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head delivered by Bryan Calvert, and most likely that would be all the terrorists would report, ignoring the fact that it was essentially a mercy killing on par with the end of Marcus Roddy in the previous game in order to make it look more like betrayal than a matter of honor carried out between friends. However, in his final minutes, as the bullet to his brain killed him three minutes after the wound to his chest was inflicted, Seth Mattlock bore no ill will towards anyone but the masterminds of SOTF themselves, Danya, Steven Wilson, and whoever else was behind it all.
Back in Denton, two boys, a man, and a woman stared at the television in sheer disbelief. There were no words exchanged for several minutes, until the woman cried out a prayer to God and latched onto the man, crying hysterically at the loss of their son. The man held her close and had a hard time holding in his own tears, looking to the two boys. Nodding in understanding, both boys, friends of Seth and the only members of his gang that weren't fighting for their lives or dead already, left without a word. It would take them a long time to get over the shock.
In the same city, another boy watched the same thing happen. He was a Caucasian male at about 5'10 with a boyish face and brown eyes, and had short black hair that was blocked by the white bandanna he always wears wore. He was moderately well built, and he wore his blue jacket slightly open to show this, revealing a well-muscled abdomen area. The blue jacket he wore had the symbol of the Hellbirds gang, former rivals of the Bloody Fists, on it (the picture of a Phoenix surrounded by fire and the word "Hellbirds" written in a firey font under it) and green track pants that could be best described as baggy. He too found himself unable to speak, but eventually Alexander Stevens looked to the man sitting next to him.
"Diftre, can you get me my cell phone from the table? I want to make a call while watching this."
If one had to sum up Thomas Diftre' appearance in one word, it would be "tough". Allowing two words would have the questioned most likely say "tough" and "distinctive". His body was built like a heavyweight boxers', heavily muscled with the occasional scar (especially on his knuckles) while standing at exactly six feet tall. His face looked like it was chiseled out of solid diamond, rough and hard-edged. He allowed his nearly white blond hair to grow almost to his face, framing his brown eyes that are nearly black, but he was by no means effeminate (and would slug the first person to call him that). His fingers were surprisingly thin though, looking out of place compared to the rest of his muscular frame. He tended to wear a white wifebeater t-shirt and black shorts that go down to just above his knees, along with red and white sneakers, and had that exact outfit on right now. Despite looking much stronger than Alexander, and not normally the type to allow himself to be spoken to so standoffishly, but since he was the gang member and Alex was the leader, along with his personal admiration of Alex, he nodded and walked over to the kitchen of the dirty apartment.
When he took the phone and gave it to Alex, nothing major had happened on the channel they were watching, but Alex took the phone, turned it on, and dialed a number that Thomas was surprised Alex knew. Eventually a voice was heard on the other end.
"Hello, mister Mattlock?" Alex asked in a tone of grave seriousness, "Yeah, this is Alexander Stevens. I wanted to call you about your son..."
However, in the program headquarters for the current round of SOTF, a terrorist merely grinned smugly, took the newest report, and had it delivered to Danya. One of the biggest troublemakers back in school was now a cold, wet, corpse, just as he had always wanted.
B47-SETH MATTLOCK-DECEASED. 21 STUDENTS REMAINING.
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Bryan let his right arm fall limply to his side, the barrel leaving a whisp of smoke that danced in the air in front of him. The recoil from the pistol had been barely anything in comparison to the SPAS-12, but he may as well have been firing a canon; he felt like he could barely lift his arm.
Seth was dead.
He knew there was no time to stand there and dwell on what he'd just done. Mariavel was somewhere downstairs and probably armed to the teeth, Tori needed attention regarding her gunshot wound which he knew absolutely nothing about, and he still wasn't sure where the other intruder was. Maybe he'd been hit when Bryan had fired at the wall. Maybe the initial shot had been aimed at him and missed. A doublecross?
Bryan finally managed to pull himself away from the remains of his friend and retrieve his gear from beside the AC unit. He threw another round from his daypack into the shotgun and slung both over his uninjured shoulder. Then he quickly made his way back over to Tori. They would have no time to spare up on the roof; the gunfight had effectively advertised their whereabouts to anyone in the immediate area.
"Are you ok to walk?" he asked her, fairly certain by the looks of things that she wouldn't be. He knelt down beside her and placed his head under her arm to support her as he helped her up.
Seth was dead.
He knew there was no time to stand there and dwell on what he'd just done. Mariavel was somewhere downstairs and probably armed to the teeth, Tori needed attention regarding her gunshot wound which he knew absolutely nothing about, and he still wasn't sure where the other intruder was. Maybe he'd been hit when Bryan had fired at the wall. Maybe the initial shot had been aimed at him and missed. A doublecross?
Bryan finally managed to pull himself away from the remains of his friend and retrieve his gear from beside the AC unit. He threw another round from his daypack into the shotgun and slung both over his uninjured shoulder. Then he quickly made his way back over to Tori. They would have no time to spare up on the roof; the gunfight had effectively advertised their whereabouts to anyone in the immediate area.
"Are you ok to walk?" he asked her, fairly certain by the looks of things that she wouldn't be. He knelt down beside her and placed his head under her arm to support her as he helped her up.
Rob had made the decision once he'd heard the gunshots to stay in the hotel room. His shoulder still hurt like hell, and from the sounds of things going to the roof at this time would be suicide. It wasn't until a few moments later when Rob heard the distant sound of breaking glass that he knew he needed to go the roof.
He made his way up the fire escape slowly, and when he got to the roof it took him a minute to register what was going on. Felix was nowhere to seen, The glass..., and there was an all to familiar person bearing the weight of a wounded girl, who happened to be close to a freshly killed corpse.
Rob's thought's that he might need to draw his gun were both amplified and repressed at the same time. It was Bryan Calvert, the guy he'd met back in the industrial district when Bryan had chased down the blonde kid. He knew Bryan was capable of killing, but the last time he'd been with him, Bryan could have killed him and didn't, what would be different this time?
Rob rushed over to the girl's other side to give Bryan a hand.
"Hello again," he said as he offered his right shoulder for support, "It's Rob from the industrial district, if she needs first-aid supplies, my pack is in a hotel room down the fire escape, we can use what I didn't use on my shoulder."
He made his way up the fire escape slowly, and when he got to the roof it took him a minute to register what was going on. Felix was nowhere to seen, The glass..., and there was an all to familiar person bearing the weight of a wounded girl, who happened to be close to a freshly killed corpse.
Rob's thought's that he might need to draw his gun were both amplified and repressed at the same time. It was Bryan Calvert, the guy he'd met back in the industrial district when Bryan had chased down the blonde kid. He knew Bryan was capable of killing, but the last time he'd been with him, Bryan could have killed him and didn't, what would be different this time?
Rob rushed over to the girl's other side to give Bryan a hand.
"Hello again," he said as he offered his right shoulder for support, "It's Rob from the industrial district, if she needs first-aid supplies, my pack is in a hotel room down the fire escape, we can use what I didn't use on my shoulder."
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
"Does it look like I can walk?" Tori mumbled to Bryan sarcastically as he tried helping her up. Most of her tears had dried up now, though that didn't stop her side from hurting like a bitch. Bryan was trying to get her up to her feet, but her body didn't want to comply. Another boy from a distance came running up to greet them, lending a hand to Tori's other side, trying to support her as well. She pushed him away and clung, in what looked like a bear hug, to Bryan. Rightly so. She'd just been chased on to the roof by a mad man, shot by him, watched him get drop kicked off the roof, watched Seth, Bryan's best friend die... and now this random kid she didn't know wanted to 'help' them? She got a bad feeling in her tummy about him, and it wasn't just from the gun shot wound either.
She pushed her face into Bryan's chest as she just barely stood there with her arms tight around him, mainly for support but also because she was scared. "Tell him to go away." She said quietly though most of the sound was muffled by Bryan's shirt.
Tori could feel her body quivering as she tried to stand on her feet. Even with support from holding onto Bryan, her knees were still shaking and she felt like she was going to throw up. Her face felt flushed and the throbbing pain in her side felt like that of someone hitting her consistently with a sledge hammer.
She pushed her face into Bryan's chest as she just barely stood there with her arms tight around him, mainly for support but also because she was scared. "Tell him to go away." She said quietly though most of the sound was muffled by Bryan's shirt.
Tori could feel her body quivering as she tried to stand on her feet. Even with support from holding onto Bryan, her knees were still shaking and she felt like she was going to throw up. Her face felt flushed and the throbbing pain in her side felt like that of someone hitting her consistently with a sledge hammer.
Bryan raised the Walther in his free hand as he saw someone approach him and Tori from the direction of the fire escape, but it was a tired attempt and was surprisingly easy to abort the moment he realized that this other guy was Rob from the industrial district. It was true that the only reason Bryan had remembered his name was because it was the same as his father's, but it was equally true that Rob had cut him a huge break when they'd met a few days ago, which stood out in his memory most of all. It was fortunate; after mercy killing his best friend Bryan didn't think he could handle another hostile encounter for one day. He made sure not to make it evident. Repress that shit...
"Shh...relax, he's cool," he said softly to Tori as she recoiled from Rob, which was fair since she didn't know who the fuck he was. Bryan positioned himself in front of Tori and squatted down with his arms behind him, reaching back for her thighs to pull her into a piggy-back.
"Hi Rob. Good to see you." Bryan didn't mention his missing comrades from before--neither of which had been the asshole he'd dropkicked off the building--as it probably wouldn't be a pleasant story. They didn't have time right now anyway. He gestured to Tori. "I need to get her to the hospital. Think you can cover us?"
"Shh...relax, he's cool," he said softly to Tori as she recoiled from Rob, which was fair since she didn't know who the fuck he was. Bryan positioned himself in front of Tori and squatted down with his arms behind him, reaching back for her thighs to pull her into a piggy-back.
"Hi Rob. Good to see you." Bryan didn't mention his missing comrades from before--neither of which had been the asshole he'd dropkicked off the building--as it probably wouldn't be a pleasant story. They didn't have time right now anyway. He gestured to Tori. "I need to get her to the hospital. Think you can cover us?"
"Mphf!!" Tori winced as Bryan pulled her onto his back with a sudden jerk up that sent pain shooting to her leg once more. She hoped he knew she wasn't trying to be bitchy when she made the comment about walking, she just hadn't been in the mood to be nice and calm at that moment. Needless to say, she still wasn't in the mood, and the new guy going with them she didn't trust all that much.
Every step they took felt like an even heavier sledge hammer hitting Tori in the leg. She scrunched up a bit of the back of Bryan's shirt and bit down hard on it to hopefully muffle the sounds of her pain. She rested her head down and tightened her grip around his shoulders.
Maybe if I just take a small nap...
Oh no! What am I going to do? If mom sees the mess I made, she'll kill me! Where's daddy? If daddy is home, maybe he can tell mom not to get so worked up. I was just painting... it's not my fault they took so long getting ready for the stupid show. Oh my god.. what am I going to do with this dress?
'Tori! What are you doing?! Didn't I tell you you had to be ready an hour ago? We're late now. Are you happy? We're late!'
Crap! What am I going to do? I have to tell her... but she'll kill me!
'Mom, my dress... it's well, I was pain-'
'-WHAT?! TORI ANNE JOHNSON what have you done to your dress!!!'
'Mommy, I'm sorry!'
'Don't start crying little miss priss. Come here right now. Get over here!'
'Mommy, please, don't. I'm sorry! I said I'm sorry!'
'Don't you EVER *smack* get red paint *smack* on your dress EVER *smack* AGAIN! Do you have any idea how much this cost?'
Why can't she see I didn't mean too? Where daddy anyways? Why is he just sitting there again? Why won't he tell mom to calm down? Stop crying Tori, show you're a big girl.
'It's just a stupid dress anyways!'
RUN! Quick run to the room. I'm faster than her.
*BANG BANG BANG* 'TORI! You open this door right now!'
That's right. I really showed her! Paint comes out right? Well.. I'll just ice my cheek or something till the tingingness goes away then.
'TORI!' *BANG BANG BANG*
Tori woke suddenly as the banging noise from her nightmere was now in her thigh. She instinctively clung tighter to Bryan, asking "Are we there yet?" with a little bit more childish humour hoping to lighten the mood a bit, since she couldn't really lighten the weight.
((crappy, I'm sorry...))
Every step they took felt like an even heavier sledge hammer hitting Tori in the leg. She scrunched up a bit of the back of Bryan's shirt and bit down hard on it to hopefully muffle the sounds of her pain. She rested her head down and tightened her grip around his shoulders.
Maybe if I just take a small nap...
Oh no! What am I going to do? If mom sees the mess I made, she'll kill me! Where's daddy? If daddy is home, maybe he can tell mom not to get so worked up. I was just painting... it's not my fault they took so long getting ready for the stupid show. Oh my god.. what am I going to do with this dress?
'Tori! What are you doing?! Didn't I tell you you had to be ready an hour ago? We're late now. Are you happy? We're late!'
Crap! What am I going to do? I have to tell her... but she'll kill me!
'Mom, my dress... it's well, I was pain-'
'-WHAT?! TORI ANNE JOHNSON what have you done to your dress!!!'
'Mommy, I'm sorry!'
'Don't start crying little miss priss. Come here right now. Get over here!'
'Mommy, please, don't. I'm sorry! I said I'm sorry!'
'Don't you EVER *smack* get red paint *smack* on your dress EVER *smack* AGAIN! Do you have any idea how much this cost?'
Why can't she see I didn't mean too? Where daddy anyways? Why is he just sitting there again? Why won't he tell mom to calm down? Stop crying Tori, show you're a big girl.
'It's just a stupid dress anyways!'
RUN! Quick run to the room. I'm faster than her.
*BANG BANG BANG* 'TORI! You open this door right now!'
That's right. I really showed her! Paint comes out right? Well.. I'll just ice my cheek or something till the tingingness goes away then.
'TORI!' *BANG BANG BANG*
Tori woke suddenly as the banging noise from her nightmere was now in her thigh. She instinctively clung tighter to Bryan, asking "Are we there yet?" with a little bit more childish humour hoping to lighten the mood a bit, since she couldn't really lighten the weight.
((crappy, I'm sorry...))
((permission from Sciph to god-mod a bit...))
"No," Bryan grunted, taking each step down the stairwell carefully to avoid throwing himself off-balance and fucking up both of their shit. He still felt a little wrong about leaving Seth's body up on the roof the way it was, but it was too much of a hinderence to carry it down with them, let alone bury it. He would have to let it go.
Rob was waiting for them two flights down, having gone down the fire escape to retrieve his gear. He gave the two of them a nod to indicate that everything was still cool, but Bryan still had a dogging feeling that they would run into Mari and everything would be very, very far from cool.
They didn't though. The only people they ran into were a few familiar dead bodies, one of which had punched a sizeable hole in the glass ceiling of the front entrance. Bryan stepped over the mess of blood and broken shards of glass to the double doors and turned to Rob.
"Thanks a lot."
"You can thank me when we get to the hospital," scoffed the shorter boy.
"Euh..." Bryan grumbled in response. He turned his head towards the girl on his back. It would be a long-ass walk to the hospital, but she wasn't all that heavy. "How're you doing? Ok?"
"No," Bryan grunted, taking each step down the stairwell carefully to avoid throwing himself off-balance and fucking up both of their shit. He still felt a little wrong about leaving Seth's body up on the roof the way it was, but it was too much of a hinderence to carry it down with them, let alone bury it. He would have to let it go.
Rob was waiting for them two flights down, having gone down the fire escape to retrieve his gear. He gave the two of them a nod to indicate that everything was still cool, but Bryan still had a dogging feeling that they would run into Mari and everything would be very, very far from cool.
They didn't though. The only people they ran into were a few familiar dead bodies, one of which had punched a sizeable hole in the glass ceiling of the front entrance. Bryan stepped over the mess of blood and broken shards of glass to the double doors and turned to Rob.
"Thanks a lot."
"You can thank me when we get to the hospital," scoffed the shorter boy.
"Euh..." Bryan grumbled in response. He turned his head towards the girl on his back. It would be a long-ass walk to the hospital, but she wasn't all that heavy. "How're you doing? Ok?"