Elijah had been a kid once, messy hair, dorky glasses and all. Not one of the smartest students out there, but he had the look of it whenever he was carrying a textbook. Specifically, the books on the human anatomy. It was one of his obsessions since as long as he could remember. He would study what was most fragile, most useless, strongest, and critical areas. The studies would be mainly on the limbs, done trying to find a way to cure his father's paralysis. It was a child's dream that manifested with the years he grew up in. The military training was a minor thing in his life, for while he was trained, he learned far more than he ever could without the training. Pressure points, weak spots, etcetera. Elijah even got the chance to use the new techniques on enemy soldiers.
Now, monster man Elijah Rice was killing off kids whom, like him, had dreams. Had lives. Had families. And, above all else, had reasons to go home that far surpassed his. Elijah was in his twenties. His highschool days were over, while theirs were just getting ready to end shortly after the start. It wasn't right, but, still, the scare tactic had worked on the American Empire (AKA the USA). All the parents and relatives were crying their eyes out right now, most likely, praying to religious figures to get their sons and daughters out of their new found Hell.
If he was younger, his mother and father would be doing the same. The thought of that didn't sit well with him.
He and the French girl, Clemence, walked on in silence, arriving at the destination safe so far. The hospital was a place of resting that a few believed to be a safe haven. It wasn't much of one, Elijah noted, when he entered the light building. Blood, guts, and other nasty parts smeared the floor and walls. A fresh body was on the floor, stinking up the place worse than it already was. It was a hard feat that deserved some sort of congratulation.
Most deserving of an M-16 salute. TGREEN raised his rifle, aiming to make his mark on a boy crouched over on the floor. There was a girl there, too, but she wasn't of any matter to him. Clemence could dispose of her easily. Well, actually, the boy could be killed easily aswell, by anyone. That was the best thing about Survival of the Fittest. Everyone was a weakling that could be killed off by the others under the impression that they were the strongest.
Nothing matters now. Not who you are, or what you've been through. You're all predator prey when it comes down to it, sad enough.
((OOC: Whee~! 666th post. Doesn't this thread feel honored?
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