Survival Of The Fittest

((Solitair man, it's dark, I doubt they'd be able to make out anything more than figures, let alone identify anyone))

Bobby wasn't expecting his charging opponent to just drop onto the ground. Nevertheless, it prevented him from having to take the impact of driving his shoulder in the other's stomach so that was something, he supposed, to be grateful for. He noted with analytical detachment that Clive had been shot. That would give him a bigger edge in the fight. Callous, he knew, but Bobby wasn't about to shed any tears on that account, an injury meant nothing in a scenario where death was all too prevalent.

It threw Bobby off slightly when Clive lunged for him off the ground, and, as usual, he didn't think to just raise his gun and drill a round through his enemy's forehead. Instead, relying on instincts honed as a fighter, Bobby thrust his knee forewards at speed, bringing it onto collision course with Clive's jaw. That kind of blow wasn't a nice thing to experience, and unless he could somehow drop to the ground or completely reverse his impeteous in mid-leap, Clive was in for a world of hurt.

The other's persistence was irritating, by rights Bobby should have just knocked all of the wind out of him in one huge hit, leaving him gasping for air and giving Bobby the chance to get the hell out of dodge. He hadn't come here looking for a fight - it was more of a recon. Tripping all over the pistol had put paid to any notions of stealth, however, and now it just seemed as if the rest of the encounter was risk and damage limitation. He had to break off before the trigger happy shooter decided he looked a nice target.

((Edited))

Madison couldn't tell whether or not the shots hit the bastard, but she really didn't seem to care. Hell, she wanted out of this conflict as fast as she could. She stepped back, reaching down and picking up the fire axe into her right hand, clenching the MPK5 with her left. Frowning slightly from the difficulty of having to pick both the weapons up at once, she backed away slowly, pointing the gun up at the direction the other boy was from.

That's when she heard the voices.

Oh god, am I really going crazy? I'm hearing voices again! She turned her head. She couldn't make them out exactly, but she knew there were two figures in the clearing up ahead, just standing there... talking. Madison pounted, setting the axe back into her back and held the MPK5 tightly with both of her hands, aiming it in the general direction of the figures. Now, who the hell is stupid enough to just stand there? It's as though they want to get shot. Even I know sticking around where someone's flailing a machine gun around is going to get you seriously hurt.

She emptied the clip out on the figures and made herself scarce very quickly, not wanting to stick around to see if she would be followed by anyone. I've got to get out of here.

(Continued elsewhere...)

The pair of them didn't watch for long, however, as they both noticed the lone female pause and fiddle with something.

Oh, bugger, she heard us, Quincy thought, and began to sprint away from her at an angle. The crack of bullets coming from the SMG and a small but hot breeze from behind him seemed to validate his caution. Phew. For a moment there, I thought that loudmouth had gotten us killed.

Which reminded him to look around and see if she had escaped harm. All he could see were the four fighters (the big one appearing to be gaining the upper hand); Margaret wasn't visible, even as a corpse. She had apparently come to the same conclusion as Quincy and left the field entirely.

Hmph. Good for her. Let's see if I can't make tracks as well. He darted back into the brush and vanished.

((Quincy Archer continued elsewhere))

Margaret had come to a decision. This mystery woman, whether or not she was Melina, was too well-armed to take down in a direct confrontation. Barring a sneak attack that prevented the SMG from being used, Margaret would be instantly killed.

Noting with satisfaction that she seemed to have lost her 'shadow', she ran off in search of Melina and a better weapon with which to murder her.

((Margaret Tweedy continued in Sadist))

Bobby staggered back from Clive and decided that enough was enough. He had stuck around for quite enough time to be in danger. He turned away and began to sprint, putting on quite a turn of speed... before crashing to the ground as his foot snagged in something yet again.

Bobby rolled over on the ground - the mire that the soil of the field had become, and could just about make out several objects lying on the ground around him. From that, he surmised he must have tripped over a pack. Thinking of the SIG, he would dearly have liked to have gone through the thing and taken what ammo he could find, but Clive wasn't too far behind him - and he had no way of knowing whether a pursuit would be prompt.

The boxer scrambled to his feet, though not before simply grabbing the first thing he laid a hand on and simply shoving it into a pocket - he could check what it was later, but from the shape he thought he had probably got lucky. Bobby swung around, pumping a shot from the carbine in the general direction that he thought Clive was in, then running for all he was worth.

It looked as though dawn was finally breaking...

((Bobby Jacks continued elsewhere))

Closing this topic bc Xaldien and Rhys haven't posted in quite some time - both may be away but they can go to the new topic.