The recoil wasn't as bad as he thought it'd be. It was just as loud as he expected, though. Even now, his hearing had a little "EEEEEEEEEE" in it. He really thought there'd be more blood. Quentin's arms were shaking. He wondered if it was from the cold, though he didn't remember them shaking before he'd shot the girl. Quentin brought his hands together, and they both cradled the smoking, rainbow-colored gun.
He didn't see any blood at all. He'd definitely hit her, he'd seen her body jerk back and crumple to the ground. No jet of blood spraying everywhere. If he checked her body he'd find a gory wound, but that sounded gross so he wasn't going to. If this was a movie, all the snow around her body would already be soaked red. If this was a movie, Quentin would be more attractive. But he wasn't. So this wasn't a movie.
He'd really gone and done it. Fuck.
Quentin remembered that Oh yeah he wasn't alone that other guy was still there with him! Quentin turned to the other guy, AKA some loner whose name he didn't know. He nodded and swallowed down some spit. Then he said:
"Looks like I saved your bacon, huh?"
I Make Mad Films. ‘Kay I Don’t Make Films, but if I Did They’d Have a Samurai.
Open
The (seemingly?) (dead?) body of a girl laid on the ground.
A trail of drool inched itself to the snow. The fact that it's really cold and melting into her was very uncomfortable, and so was the fact that she just got shot in the chest.
Maybe she'll lay here for a while. Until the guy who was trying to murder her goes away, along with the other guy who was also trying to murder her.
S125 - Amelia "Amy" Chen: Very much alive, just sort of out of it right now, honestly, give her a second.
A trail of drool inched itself to the snow. The fact that it's really cold and melting into her was very uncomfortable, and so was the fact that she just got shot in the chest.
Maybe she'll lay here for a while. Until the guy who was trying to murder her goes away, along with the other guy who was also trying to murder her.
Blood Tongue Nails Teeth
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Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2721
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Hector swung his leg back and slammed his foot into the girl's side again, but without the enthusiasm of the boot-fucking he'd delivered earlier. He'd achieved his goal, but now he'd have to rebury the damn cache. He had a lot of ground still to cover.
With a grunt, he stepped back, and his boot crunched through more ice. Good day to have good treads.
The big tubby guy with the stubby, oil-slick gun stood fifteen feet from Hector and the thief. Those fifteen feet were coated in ice, snow, gravel, two large headstones, and an open grave with the sides crumbled into slopes. Behind Hector was a football field's worth of the same scant cover. Over the guy's shoulder was a ratty shed. How ambitious was this guy feeling?
Hector's grip tightened on the pork chop he held, fat squishing between his fingers and pig juice drip-dripping from his knuckles to tinge the snow pink. The space where his left eyebrow met his nose wrinkled.
"Am I supposed to say thanks or something?"
With a grunt, he stepped back, and his boot crunched through more ice. Good day to have good treads.
The big tubby guy with the stubby, oil-slick gun stood fifteen feet from Hector and the thief. Those fifteen feet were coated in ice, snow, gravel, two large headstones, and an open grave with the sides crumbled into slopes. Behind Hector was a football field's worth of the same scant cover. Over the guy's shoulder was a ratty shed. How ambitious was this guy feeling?
Hector's grip tightened on the pork chop he held, fat squishing between his fingers and pig juice drip-dripping from his knuckles to tinge the snow pink. The space where his left eyebrow met his nose wrinkled.
"Am I supposed to say thanks or something?"
I bid you all dark greetings!
Quentin had assumed that the other guy would be less of a dick after having his life saved.
"Well, yeah. Didn't your mom teach you manners?"
Quentin felt a little sick and a little woozy. He wanted sit down, or at least take a few steps back and lean against the shed. But turning his back on some surly punk playing with a dead body seemed like it'd be a bad idea.
"I did just save your life and property. You could try and act a little grateful!" he said, his voice rising.
Quentin could have just let him get murdered. Should've, probably. He hadn't needed to get involved with this shit. But he was just too good of a guy to stay away. Now Quentin was a killer, and the way he saw it, this guy held a bit of responsibility for that.
"So now what?" he asked "You just gonna keep squeezing your meat, or what?"
"Well, yeah. Didn't your mom teach you manners?"
Quentin felt a little sick and a little woozy. He wanted sit down, or at least take a few steps back and lean against the shed. But turning his back on some surly punk playing with a dead body seemed like it'd be a bad idea.
"I did just save your life and property. You could try and act a little grateful!" he said, his voice rising.
Quentin could have just let him get murdered. Should've, probably. He hadn't needed to get involved with this shit. But he was just too good of a guy to stay away. Now Quentin was a killer, and the way he saw it, this guy held a bit of responsibility for that.
"So now what?" he asked "You just gonna keep squeezing your meat, or what?"
...
owie.
She tried to think about how this scene would play out later- words, the positioning. She tried to think of a character that she could put in her place- maybe one that would act and sound different. Another girl, a bit taller than her, maybe, spread out against the same snow in another world.
But the pain was too great. She couldn't really focus. All she was doing was laying here until the two boys leave, and for some reason she was a little bored. She tried to think about the Aecorian revolution a little, but the pain was still too great. She tried to think about one of her characters, but the burning nerves above her chest kept radiating into her brain, and pulling these thoughts out and dragging her to the real world.
owie.
She tried to think about how this scene would play out later- words, the positioning. She tried to think of a character that she could put in her place- maybe one that would act and sound different. Another girl, a bit taller than her, maybe, spread out against the same snow in another world.
But the pain was too great. She couldn't really focus. All she was doing was laying here until the two boys leave, and for some reason she was a little bored. She tried to think about the Aecorian revolution a little, but the pain was still too great. She tried to think about one of her characters, but the burning nerves above her chest kept radiating into her brain, and pulling these thoughts out and dragging her to the real world.
Blood Tongue Nails Teeth
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Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2721
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Hector looked at the fat guy with the gun, then at the body on the ground, then back at the gun. His eyes narrowed.
"Thanks," he drawled.
He'd stowed half of the cache before the interruption. A handkerchief partially submerged in the snow three feet past the girl's limp hand swaddled eight pork chops. Grease from the ninth collected under Hector's fingernails. He squeezed harder, feeling the fibers of muscle against his fingertips.
Now what? That wasn't his choice. Fatty liked excuses and pretending, playing the hero, but he'd been awful eager to start shooting.
"If someone steals your PS5," Hector said, "and the cops shoot him, but they take your PS5 down to the station and play it on lunch, do you feel better 'cause it's the cops?"
His boot crunched down harder, finding grip in the frozen earth. His muscles were tense, ready.
"Thanks," he drawled.
He'd stowed half of the cache before the interruption. A handkerchief partially submerged in the snow three feet past the girl's limp hand swaddled eight pork chops. Grease from the ninth collected under Hector's fingernails. He squeezed harder, feeling the fibers of muscle against his fingertips.
Now what? That wasn't his choice. Fatty liked excuses and pretending, playing the hero, but he'd been awful eager to start shooting.
"If someone steals your PS5," Hector said, "and the cops shoot him, but they take your PS5 down to the station and play it on lunch, do you feel better 'cause it's the cops?"
His boot crunched down harder, finding grip in the frozen earth. His muscles were tense, ready.
I bid you all dark greetings!
"I'm a dick," Hector said, "I'm a douche, and I'm a idiot, too. I'm a nerd, a dork, a goober. My face would be a great place for your fist. How dumb am I?"
"The difference here is I didn't take any of your pork, buddy." Quentin replied, through gritted teeth. "Though a few chops as a gift would be nice. But you want to keep it all for yourself, then fine."
He grimaced. He kind of wanted to demand some of the pork chops as payment for the rescue. He was the one with the power here, right? But if he did that it would just prove the dick right. Damn it. Those chops would have been good, pan-fried with oregano, thyme, and paprika. Though out here he'd have to settle for snow and dirt.
Quentin brought his left hand to scratch his head as he looked over the body again. The duffle bag right next to her. She had her own supplies, her own food, her own weapon, though it was probably fucking useless if she didn't use it while attacking Doucheboy. That stuff was his, at least.
He kind of felt bad for thinking about looting a dead girl, but it was her own fault she got shot. So fuck it.
"Just take your shit and leave." He lazily pointed the gun at the girl. "Don't touch the body again."
He waved the gun in a circle, pointed upwards. "Hurry up, chop chop."
"The difference here is I didn't take any of your pork, buddy." Quentin replied, through gritted teeth. "Though a few chops as a gift would be nice. But you want to keep it all for yourself, then fine."
He grimaced. He kind of wanted to demand some of the pork chops as payment for the rescue. He was the one with the power here, right? But if he did that it would just prove the dick right. Damn it. Those chops would have been good, pan-fried with oregano, thyme, and paprika. Though out here he'd have to settle for snow and dirt.
Quentin brought his left hand to scratch his head as he looked over the body again. The duffle bag right next to her. She had her own supplies, her own food, her own weapon, though it was probably fucking useless if she didn't use it while attacking Doucheboy. That stuff was his, at least.
He kind of felt bad for thinking about looting a dead girl, but it was her own fault she got shot. So fuck it.
"Just take your shit and leave." He lazily pointed the gun at the girl. "Don't touch the body again."
He waved the gun in a circle, pointed upwards. "Hurry up, chop chop."
These people are kind of dumb.
She wasn't really sure what the issue is. Or what they were talking about. She was kind of still out of it, to be honest.
(Lyudmila didn't understand why nobody worshiped Christine. The woman deserved her own altar. It wasn't fair to the world that when people prayed in church they were praying to God instead of her at the podium reading from the scriptures.)
What did he mean, by saving his life? She didn't do anything. She didn't try to kill anyone. Why were they kicking her? What were they arguing about? She didn't deserve this. Could she go yet?
She couldn't really see anything, either, eyes shut close so she wouldn't blink. So she dug a little deeper into her thoughts and nestled into there, soft and comfortable. Even if it hurts too much to focus.
She wasn't really sure what the issue is. Or what they were talking about. She was kind of still out of it, to be honest.
(Lyudmila didn't understand why nobody worshiped Christine. The woman deserved her own altar. It wasn't fair to the world that when people prayed in church they were praying to God instead of her at the podium reading from the scriptures.)
What did he mean, by saving his life? She didn't do anything. She didn't try to kill anyone. Why were they kicking her? What were they arguing about? She didn't deserve this. Could she go yet?
She couldn't really see anything, either, eyes shut close so she wouldn't blink. So she dug a little deeper into her thoughts and nestled into there, soft and comfortable. Even if it hurts too much to focus.
Blood Tongue Nails Teeth
"What are you doing?"
Prii didn't want to do this.
They hadn't spoken loudly or even really confrontationally. It was enough to be heard.
Prii really didn't want to do this.
Quentin was massive and had a gun. Hector was cold and they'd just seen him kicking the snot out of whoever was on the ground.
Which was the point. Something happened here. Prii didn't see it, only heard the gunshot. By the time they figured out where the noise had come from, the person was already on the ground, receiving boot.
Really then, that meant that their choice was coming over and trying to do something, or slinking off and pretending they never saw a thing. Was that who they were?
With their words hanging in the air and both trembling hands wrapped around their pistol, Prii thought or maybe wished that it was.
Prii didn't want to do this.
They hadn't spoken loudly or even really confrontationally. It was enough to be heard.
Prii really didn't want to do this.
Quentin was massive and had a gun. Hector was cold and they'd just seen him kicking the snot out of whoever was on the ground.
Which was the point. Something happened here. Prii didn't see it, only heard the gunshot. By the time they figured out where the noise had come from, the person was already on the ground, receiving boot.
Really then, that meant that their choice was coming over and trying to do something, or slinking off and pretending they never saw a thing. Was that who they were?
With their words hanging in the air and both trembling hands wrapped around their pistol, Prii thought or maybe wished that it was.
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Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2721
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Right," Hector said.
His eyes followed the tip of the gun's barrel. He counted time in his head, each rotation. The window of opportunity would be short. He was tense, coiled.
It didn't have to matter.
Someone else called out. A skinny individual in clashing blue and pink arrived from the side with another gun. The newcomer stood apart, close enough to have seen some but not all, too far to rush at. Their hands shook, making their own gun loops.
It was rare for opportunity to bang the door this loudly. Fatty liked playing quick draw, and had a gun, and this new person was armed and was demanding answers. With that firepower, someone had better provide.
They had not said Hector's name, and since he did not have a gun he decided that he was not the one being addressed. He could have said "leaving" and told the truth but that would pull their attention off each other. Better to give it the Irish Goodbye.
Hector stooped down, feinting towards the pork, but instead he slipped his fingers around the strap of the girl's bag, being careful not to touch her body, just like Fatty asked. Then he stood back up and took a quick step away.
The bag didn't come away in his grasp. He met with resistance, a firm tug of limp body weight downwards, and this sudden counter force spun Hector, leaving him for a moment off-balance on the ice.
His eyes followed the tip of the gun's barrel. He counted time in his head, each rotation. The window of opportunity would be short. He was tense, coiled.
It didn't have to matter.
Someone else called out. A skinny individual in clashing blue and pink arrived from the side with another gun. The newcomer stood apart, close enough to have seen some but not all, too far to rush at. Their hands shook, making their own gun loops.
It was rare for opportunity to bang the door this loudly. Fatty liked playing quick draw, and had a gun, and this new person was armed and was demanding answers. With that firepower, someone had better provide.
They had not said Hector's name, and since he did not have a gun he decided that he was not the one being addressed. He could have said "leaving" and told the truth but that would pull their attention off each other. Better to give it the Irish Goodbye.
Hector stooped down, feinting towards the pork, but instead he slipped his fingers around the strap of the girl's bag, being careful not to touch her body, just like Fatty asked. Then he stood back up and took a quick step away.
The bag didn't come away in his grasp. He met with resistance, a firm tug of limp body weight downwards, and this sudden counter force spun Hector, leaving him for a moment off-balance on the ice.
I bid you all dark greetings!
Quentin's eyes moved from Loner Boy to the newcomer. It was Prii. He knew Prii. Well, he knew them better than he knew these other dumbasses, at least. Prii had drip.
"Oh, hey. What's up?"
His eyeballs then moved down to the pistol Prii was shakily holding. The situation had changed. Quentin wasn't the only one with a gun anymore- now he could get shot, too. He shifted uncomfortably from side to side then lazily threw up his arms.
"Me? I was just trying to get everyone to stay peaceful, but these two idiots-"
His head jerked back to Hector, right as Hector was failing to steal the dead girl's bag. Nothing was ever enough for this shithead! Quentin felt the hot fury rise into his cheeks as he pointed his gun at Hector's chest, finger on the trigger.
"THAT'S MINE YOU GREEDY FUCK!" he screamed
"Oh, hey. What's up?"
His eyeballs then moved down to the pistol Prii was shakily holding. The situation had changed. Quentin wasn't the only one with a gun anymore- now he could get shot, too. He shifted uncomfortably from side to side then lazily threw up his arms.
"Me? I was just trying to get everyone to stay peaceful, but these two idiots-"
His head jerked back to Hector, right as Hector was failing to steal the dead girl's bag. Nothing was ever enough for this shithead! Quentin felt the hot fury rise into his cheeks as he pointed his gun at Hector's chest, finger on the trigger.
"THAT'S MINE YOU GREEDY FUCK!" he screamed
The girl on the ground opened her eyes and bursted into genuine tears.
"Pl-please..."
She hated it. The tears and snot were running into the snow, and her hair, and her scarf, and everything, and she was so uncomfortable and so cold and she hated it. She turned, slightly, and looked at the newcomer with a gun.
"They're trying to- trying to rob me," the girl sniffled, "' and... 'n I've- I've been shot-"
She sobs into the ground.
"Pl-please..."
She hated it. The tears and snot were running into the snow, and her hair, and her scarf, and everything, and she was so uncomfortable and so cold and she hated it. She turned, slightly, and looked at the newcomer with a gun.
"They're trying to- trying to rob me," the girl sniffled, "' and... 'n I've- I've been shot-"
She sobs into the ground.
Blood Tongue Nails Teeth
Hector seemed to decide that Prii wasn't really worth his attention and busied himself—Prii disliked that the word that sprang to mind was looting—grabbing the bag of whoever it was on the floor. Prii really hoped they weren't dead. They really hoped they'd got here in time.
Before Prii could call Hector out on the flagrant theft, Quentin, who'd been much too conversational and friendly with Prii for them to be anything but disquieted, exploded in an angry outburst. Prii jolted, their heart hammering. Any slim notion that Quentin was an honest and benign party instantly evaporated. That wasn't the reaction of somebody who'd rocked up to keep the peace.
Then, a third voice. Floor person—sounded like a girl—was still alive, which was a great relief. Floor person was also asking for their help. Instantly, Prii was right back to not wanting to be here. Actually, they were pretty sure they had never left in the first place.
They didn't have another option. What to do was clear as mud, but they couldn't just abandon her.
"Stand still. Calm down."
Prii didn't trust their voice to stay steady for any more than that.
Before Prii could call Hector out on the flagrant theft, Quentin, who'd been much too conversational and friendly with Prii for them to be anything but disquieted, exploded in an angry outburst. Prii jolted, their heart hammering. Any slim notion that Quentin was an honest and benign party instantly evaporated. That wasn't the reaction of somebody who'd rocked up to keep the peace.
Then, a third voice. Floor person—sounded like a girl—was still alive, which was a great relief. Floor person was also asking for their help. Instantly, Prii was right back to not wanting to be here. Actually, they were pretty sure they had never left in the first place.
They didn't have another option. What to do was clear as mud, but they couldn't just abandon her.
"Stand still. Calm down."
Prii didn't trust their voice to stay steady for any more than that.
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Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2721
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Whatever," Hector said.
His boots slipped and slid but then found stability again, the ground locking into the grooves of the treads without need for windmilling his arms. A snarling frustration coiled inside him at the lack of prioritization on display, but it didn't escape his lungs. At least the shot girl had a reason for her focus.
Hector released the strap, letting the bag—and the girl tangled up in it—thump unceremoniously back to the ground.
"Just trying to help her up," he said. "Sorry."
His tone said he wasn't.
He scuffed his left foot against the ice and dirt, testing for traction. His eyes followed the guns, but he spared the girl a glance and a jerk of his thumb in her direction.
"Nicer than I ought to be, if you ask me. Speaking of thieves..."
His other hand still squeezed tight on the fatty, dribbling hunk of meat.
His boots slipped and slid but then found stability again, the ground locking into the grooves of the treads without need for windmilling his arms. A snarling frustration coiled inside him at the lack of prioritization on display, but it didn't escape his lungs. At least the shot girl had a reason for her focus.
Hector released the strap, letting the bag—and the girl tangled up in it—thump unceremoniously back to the ground.
"Just trying to help her up," he said. "Sorry."
His tone said he wasn't.
He scuffed his left foot against the ice and dirt, testing for traction. His eyes followed the guns, but he spared the girl a glance and a jerk of his thumb in her direction.
"Nicer than I ought to be, if you ask me. Speaking of thieves..."
His other hand still squeezed tight on the fatty, dribbling hunk of meat.
I bid you all dark greetings!
Before any response could be made or any peace could really settle, something very noticeable happened in the graveyard.
A sharp, shrill scream sounded as one of the coffins, having been exposed to the open Earth, suddenly began shaking in its grave.
It didn't take a genius to recognize the screams were coming from said coffin.
A sharp, shrill scream sounded as one of the coffins, having been exposed to the open Earth, suddenly began shaking in its grave.
It didn't take a genius to recognize the screams were coming from said coffin.