((M022 Johnny Silva Ruiz: Start))
"Motherfuckers!"
"Cocksuckers!"
"Fucking cunt-eating dick-shits!"
A pause.
"And who the fuck is Bryan Calvert?!"
Johnny was not happy. Johnny was fucking livid. Johnny was fucking purple in rage. Johnny...had a goddamn shotgun. A, uh, 'Ess-Pee-Ay-Ess-Twelve' apparently. It had a little note that said so. It was apparently "Bryan Calvert's", whoever that was. Was that supposed to mean something to Johnny? It didn't. Whatever. Whoever it was, this was his shotgun now. And it was a big one. That didn't do much to make him feel better, so he'd spent the first few moments screaming hoarsely at nothing in particular. Fucks were watching, and he hoped he could at least give their mics some feedback. Then he'd looked at the shit they'd left him with, skimmed the manual, all that.
He was in a big cage. Looking out of it, he saw a few others around. It was tall, maybe twenty feet or more, the kind of thing you'd put climbing primates in. Fuckers thought it was funny, probably. There was a small doorway on the side, which was closed had a rusty-looking lock on it. It was shut, and a quick rattle of the cage didn't open it. That was definitely a joke, and Johnny wasn't laughing.
Johnny had a lot on his mind. He was seeing red, for sure. After a shitty trip to DC with some fuckwad roomies, he got stuck here. Now he had to go shooting kids. The fuck was he supposed to do about this? Well first, he had to get out of the damn exhibit. He had his pack slung over his shoulders, gun in one hand, barrel towards the ground. He didn't have his finger on the trigger-he wasn't that stupid-but the door was locked, and he was literally a sitting duck in here. Quack, fucking quack.
His shoulders slumped. Damn, he wasn't even mad anymore. Just...what now? He had a gun. It was a good one. The kind they used to kill people, which…duh. That’s what guns were for, killing things. Wait, wait, wait. Fuck him. Johnny leveled the shotgun, slowly, bracing it against his shoulder. It was a heavy hunk of metal, so he didn’t wanna break his arm like a retarded Youtuber.
The shot was fucking loud, and it almost knocked it over. The recoil on his wrists wasn’t as bad as he’d expected, but damn it almost knocked him over. The padlock, of course, exploded, sending huge metal shards everywhere. Johnny winced at the sharp pain in his shin and looked down. Okay, it hadn’t embedded itself in the bone, but a big, increasingly red gash had skimmed the left side of his leg. He exhaled and dropped to his right knee. He’d need a bandage on that.
Watch, nobody has to kill him, he just gets fucking tetanus.
Unnatural Selection
Johnny, open
[[Gervais Frans Lambotte, Start]]
The black Levi's trainers were sneaking around the menagerie, carrying the weight of Gervais and the Martini-Henry he was carrying. He overflew the instructions. The gun was loaded with bullets - two of them dedicated to the Carter brothers. Gervais already drank half a bottle to deal with his dried lips, sweat was pouring from his palm, forehead and armpits.
There was a thunder. No. A gunshot.
The games have begun.
Without hesitating any longer he jogged to the direction of where the thundering sound came from. Gervais was still far away from the cage he saw a pixelated figure in but he decided to blindly shoot at the cage by pulling the trigger.
That was why guns were invented. To shoot from the distance.
The black Levi's trainers were sneaking around the menagerie, carrying the weight of Gervais and the Martini-Henry he was carrying. He overflew the instructions. The gun was loaded with bullets - two of them dedicated to the Carter brothers. Gervais already drank half a bottle to deal with his dried lips, sweat was pouring from his palm, forehead and armpits.
There was a thunder. No. A gunshot.
The games have begun.
Without hesitating any longer he jogged to the direction of where the thundering sound came from. Gervais was still far away from the cage he saw a pixelated figure in but he decided to blindly shoot at the cage by pulling the trigger.
That was why guns were invented. To shoot from the distance.
What the fuck.
Johnny had just finished rubbing an alcohol wipe on his shin and taping a bandage in place when he heard the shots. He was so surprised, he didn't get the chance to cry out, ducking his head reflexively instead. They were loud, and they were close, like, close enough that whoever fired them was probably near enough for him to see. Technically, that meant Johnny could shoot back, but he didn't want to stand up to look, because fuck that. Also like, shooting people. Kinda fucked.
Instead, Johnny crouched lower. The bushes around the edge of the enclosure made him hard to see while he was on his knees, or he hoped they did. Johnny hissed air through his teeth, suppressing the urge to swear aloud. He was now pretty sure he had gotten shot at. What the fuck did he do to deserve that? Okay, yeah, shut the fuck up. Now what? Think fast, fucker.
The gate he'd blown the lock off of was now open, but if he stood up to sprint away, he might run into the shooter. The shots sounded like they'd come from...his right side? Yeah, shooter to his right, gate in front of him. A few yards away was another building, a big stone brick wall that probably used to have a kiosk or some shit. Johnny heaved his bag onto his shoulders, and, muttering another 'fuck' under his breath, he got ready.
Johnny lunged forward, rising from his crouching position to his feet in one mostly-fluid motion. He turned as he leveled the gun in the general direction of his target. He didn't need to hit them, just make them fuck off. but if they were out for blood, then fuck yeah he'd blow 'em away if he needed to.
One blast went off, more towards the treeline than anything. Johnny'd been startled when he caught a glimpse of his attacker's face, and flinched. He'd been looking at that guy for like, a fucking week. He stumbled at the recoil but managed to avoid falling on his face as he put the wall between himself and...
"You fuck!" He gasped, breathing heavily more in shock than exertion. He didn't have to reload now, and he wasn't going to risk fucking something up when he needed to take another shot. Gervais was an asshole, and maybe he wasn't a murderous asshole, but non-murderous assholes don't take potshots at people, dickbag.
"Fuck-" Johnny meant to say something more, but a mixture of frustration and a sudden desire to collapse smothered it. He just said, "Fuck." again, more quietly.
Johnny had just finished rubbing an alcohol wipe on his shin and taping a bandage in place when he heard the shots. He was so surprised, he didn't get the chance to cry out, ducking his head reflexively instead. They were loud, and they were close, like, close enough that whoever fired them was probably near enough for him to see. Technically, that meant Johnny could shoot back, but he didn't want to stand up to look, because fuck that. Also like, shooting people. Kinda fucked.
Instead, Johnny crouched lower. The bushes around the edge of the enclosure made him hard to see while he was on his knees, or he hoped they did. Johnny hissed air through his teeth, suppressing the urge to swear aloud. He was now pretty sure he had gotten shot at. What the fuck did he do to deserve that? Okay, yeah, shut the fuck up. Now what? Think fast, fucker.
The gate he'd blown the lock off of was now open, but if he stood up to sprint away, he might run into the shooter. The shots sounded like they'd come from...his right side? Yeah, shooter to his right, gate in front of him. A few yards away was another building, a big stone brick wall that probably used to have a kiosk or some shit. Johnny heaved his bag onto his shoulders, and, muttering another 'fuck' under his breath, he got ready.
Johnny lunged forward, rising from his crouching position to his feet in one mostly-fluid motion. He turned as he leveled the gun in the general direction of his target. He didn't need to hit them, just make them fuck off. but if they were out for blood, then fuck yeah he'd blow 'em away if he needed to.
One blast went off, more towards the treeline than anything. Johnny'd been startled when he caught a glimpse of his attacker's face, and flinched. He'd been looking at that guy for like, a fucking week. He stumbled at the recoil but managed to avoid falling on his face as he put the wall between himself and...
"You fuck!" He gasped, breathing heavily more in shock than exertion. He didn't have to reload now, and he wasn't going to risk fucking something up when he needed to take another shot. Gervais was an asshole, and maybe he wasn't a murderous asshole, but non-murderous assholes don't take potshots at people, dickbag.
"Fuck-" Johnny meant to say something more, but a mixture of frustration and a sudden desire to collapse smothered it. He just said, "Fuck." again, more quietly.
He read about recoil. He expected it, but that did not make it easier to tame the gun. Gervais' gun also made a thunderous sound. A louder one to his ears in comparison to the one of Johnny. It was Johnny who Gervais had been shooting at. Gervais did not like Johnny. Cussing the whole day with his limited vocabulary and obviously having anger issues. The amount of disrespect he had for Johnny did not change the fact that he was armed as well, though.
Because Johnny shot back. And that scared Gervais quite a bit. Now Johnny was behind a brick building, armed with a gun while Gervais himself was in the open. He reacted quickly by running to the next tree and hiding himself behind it.
Who would have thought someone like Johnny would be a threat? Gervais expected he would have a hard time to elimate the likes of Wyatt Carter or Jackson Sullivan, but it looks like Johnny would not be killed easily.
Because Johnny shot back. And that scared Gervais quite a bit. Now Johnny was behind a brick building, armed with a gun while Gervais himself was in the open. He reacted quickly by running to the next tree and hiding himself behind it.
Who would have thought someone like Johnny would be a threat? Gervais expected he would have a hard time to elimate the likes of Wyatt Carter or Jackson Sullivan, but it looks like Johnny would not be killed easily.
Welp. Johnny was unhappy. This was a new development, obviously, but now he had a new and exciting reason to be unhappy. He was in cover, which was good, but he had no idea where Gervais was. If the guy called a cease-fire or something...Johnny might go for it, might not, but he'd at least know where the bastard stood. As it was all he knew was Gervais was probably in the same general area. Fucking fantastic.
Johnny fiddled with the gun. He could take a quick peek, hope Gervais didn't blow his head off. Guy wasn't exactly a trained sniper. He sidled up to the wall, paused for a second, then turned and whipped his head around, forcing himself to stay long enough to see at all.
But wherever the guy was, he was out of sight. Johnny huffed and returned to his safe spot. He'd just stay there forever, then. Fine. Maybe Gervais would get bored, or go off to find an easier target. Being not an easy target was a good state for him, really. It was about the best you could get until you became a 'fair' target by murdering people. He didn't want to murder people. He didn't want to.
What kind of gun did Gervais have? It was loud and probably not automatic, since he took like two shots and not eleven or something. Johnny's gun was also that, but his was a shotgun. He knew it wasn't like a fucking shooter with a 10-foot cone or something, but he didn't know how much range it had. Well, did Gervais? He took another few breaths.
"Fuck off or I'm coming over there!" Johnny stepped out of the shadow of the building, firing at a nearby tree. He was getting used to the recoil already. As soon as the shot went off, he stepped back into cover.
He didn't want to shoot Gervais in his smug fucking face. But he also didn't want to get shot in his own face. He'd take alive and guilty over dead and just dead any day.
Johnny fiddled with the gun. He could take a quick peek, hope Gervais didn't blow his head off. Guy wasn't exactly a trained sniper. He sidled up to the wall, paused for a second, then turned and whipped his head around, forcing himself to stay long enough to see at all.
But wherever the guy was, he was out of sight. Johnny huffed and returned to his safe spot. He'd just stay there forever, then. Fine. Maybe Gervais would get bored, or go off to find an easier target. Being not an easy target was a good state for him, really. It was about the best you could get until you became a 'fair' target by murdering people. He didn't want to murder people. He didn't want to.
What kind of gun did Gervais have? It was loud and probably not automatic, since he took like two shots and not eleven or something. Johnny's gun was also that, but his was a shotgun. He knew it wasn't like a fucking shooter with a 10-foot cone or something, but he didn't know how much range it had. Well, did Gervais? He took another few breaths.
"Fuck off or I'm coming over there!" Johnny stepped out of the shadow of the building, firing at a nearby tree. He was getting used to the recoil already. As soon as the shot went off, he stepped back into cover.
He didn't want to shoot Gervais in his smug fucking face. But he also didn't want to get shot in his own face. He'd take alive and guilty over dead and just dead any day.
((Tyrell Lahti continued from Borrowed Time))
It didn't take too long to reach the set of buildings down from the Temple. He'd been walking at a brisk pace, without much cause to take cover. Ty still felt a faint burning sensation across his neck. A reminder of where this was all headed. It looked like he had to take a detour before meeting his end. The island was beautiful, even picturesque. Erika had always been going on about how much she enjoyed taking hikes. On some level he was starting to see the appeal.
Easy on the eyes, though that temple was a little bit strange - Claude notwithstanding. Though, what the hell was he laughing about?
A strange quiet had occupied his mind since he'd left. He'd been thinking. This was one of the least survivable situations he could think of, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that deep down, he didn't want to die. Nothing about life seemed appealing, but he couldn't bear the thought of meeting a meaningless end. Something that couldn't justify all that he'd been through. Troubling images kept popping into his head. His skull in pieces. Blood leaving his body. A spanner knocking out his teeth, cutting a deep scar across his face. The taste of blood. Erika's corpse. It made his chest tight, and only made the burning sensation on his neck more difficult to ignore.
Then what? What's a good way to go?
The doubt. The fear. He couldn't let it dominate him. Not again. Not ever. Consciously, he knew he shouldn't have been afraid. Most people here probably couldn't take him in a hand-to-hand fight. It wasn't worth it for any of the guys his size to challenge him, not this early in the game. There were plenty of easier targets. His only challenge at the moment was from someone armed with a firearm. Even then, they had to hit him first.
What if I suffer? What if I'm lying there, bleeding out and no one comes to end it? What if it takes days?
He slowed his pace. It gave him pause. Death was certain. It had always been certain, but it wasn't supposed to happen so quickly. Before he'd had a reason to keep going, before he'd thought of going to Europe and becoming someone better - he'd figured thirty, at least. Before the trip he assumed maybe seventy, if he was lucky. Someone was going to write an obituary for him. Who was going to read it? Maybe Rudi and Irene. They were good people.
Coward. Victim. An easy target, that no one's going to feel sorry for putting down.
Ty stopped in his tracks. She'd know what to do. Maybe he could help her make it to the end, and she could kill him. Maybe it wouldn't be so frightening if he didn't feel so alone.
Lost in his thoughts, Ty continued walking into the set of buildings. Before long, he found himself stepping between overgrown gardens and barely-standing wooden walls. It seemed peaceful. Maybe she'd be drawn to somewhere-
A hail of gunfire and profanity caused Ty to dive for cover. He smelled sulfur and saw clouds of white smoke floating nearby.
What the fuck?
Hearing a gap in the shooting, he ran ahead to a stone wall, adjacent to a gate. Stone was better cover than wood. Taking a moment to breathe, he looked to his right and noted the muzzle of a shotgun vaguely pointed in his direction.
"Oh, hey Johnny. Didn't see you there. How's it goin'?"
It didn't take too long to reach the set of buildings down from the Temple. He'd been walking at a brisk pace, without much cause to take cover. Ty still felt a faint burning sensation across his neck. A reminder of where this was all headed. It looked like he had to take a detour before meeting his end. The island was beautiful, even picturesque. Erika had always been going on about how much she enjoyed taking hikes. On some level he was starting to see the appeal.
Easy on the eyes, though that temple was a little bit strange - Claude notwithstanding. Though, what the hell was he laughing about?
A strange quiet had occupied his mind since he'd left. He'd been thinking. This was one of the least survivable situations he could think of, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that deep down, he didn't want to die. Nothing about life seemed appealing, but he couldn't bear the thought of meeting a meaningless end. Something that couldn't justify all that he'd been through. Troubling images kept popping into his head. His skull in pieces. Blood leaving his body. A spanner knocking out his teeth, cutting a deep scar across his face. The taste of blood. Erika's corpse. It made his chest tight, and only made the burning sensation on his neck more difficult to ignore.
Then what? What's a good way to go?
The doubt. The fear. He couldn't let it dominate him. Not again. Not ever. Consciously, he knew he shouldn't have been afraid. Most people here probably couldn't take him in a hand-to-hand fight. It wasn't worth it for any of the guys his size to challenge him, not this early in the game. There were plenty of easier targets. His only challenge at the moment was from someone armed with a firearm. Even then, they had to hit him first.
What if I suffer? What if I'm lying there, bleeding out and no one comes to end it? What if it takes days?
He slowed his pace. It gave him pause. Death was certain. It had always been certain, but it wasn't supposed to happen so quickly. Before he'd had a reason to keep going, before he'd thought of going to Europe and becoming someone better - he'd figured thirty, at least. Before the trip he assumed maybe seventy, if he was lucky. Someone was going to write an obituary for him. Who was going to read it? Maybe Rudi and Irene. They were good people.
Coward. Victim. An easy target, that no one's going to feel sorry for putting down.
Ty stopped in his tracks. She'd know what to do. Maybe he could help her make it to the end, and she could kill him. Maybe it wouldn't be so frightening if he didn't feel so alone.
Lost in his thoughts, Ty continued walking into the set of buildings. Before long, he found himself stepping between overgrown gardens and barely-standing wooden walls. It seemed peaceful. Maybe she'd be drawn to somewhere-
A hail of gunfire and profanity caused Ty to dive for cover. He smelled sulfur and saw clouds of white smoke floating nearby.
What the fuck?
Hearing a gap in the shooting, he ran ahead to a stone wall, adjacent to a gate. Stone was better cover than wood. Taking a moment to breathe, he looked to his right and noted the muzzle of a shotgun vaguely pointed in his direction.
"Oh, hey Johnny. Didn't see you there. How's it goin'?"
Johnny shot at the trees! He shot at the trees!
Gervais had to decide: Run or attack. Run or attack.
Johnny threatened to come. Gervais was not intimated by that. It was a bluff - a statement exclaimed during the panic of being shot at.
Johnny would not come. But if he did, Gervais would be prepared. He would not flee. He would wait until Johnny came out and would shoot him.
Gervais finishes the things he starts.
Gervais had to decide: Run or attack. Run or attack.
Johnny threatened to come. Gervais was not intimated by that. It was a bluff - a statement exclaimed during the panic of being shot at.
Johnny would not come. But if he did, Gervais would be prepared. He would not flee. He would wait until Johnny came out and would shoot him.
Gervais finishes the things he starts.
Johnny had waited for a few seconds, maybe ten, before deciding he was a moron. If Gervais hadn't known exactly where he was to train his gun, he knew now. And since Johnny didn't know where Gervais was, he had no way of getting out without getting shot now because he couldn't shoot back. He thought about this for a few more seconds. If he went down the path the other way, he'd have a little bit of an edge. Gervais wasn't a crack shot, probably, so if he had a head start he could maybe get enough distance that-
Movement, near. Very near. Johnny turned, but luckily for Ty his hand wasn't on the trigger so in his fumbled attempt to reflexively shoot the poor bastard he was delayed enough to think otherwise.
"What the fuck."
Who just...he just...what?! Now, Johnny knew Ty. Ty was a tough fucker, he got into fights and shit. Johnny had no bone to pick with him, so he'd never spent much time around the dude. He was smart enough to know if one of them set the other off he'd end up with fractures. He looked his new cover-buddy up and down. He had blood on his hand, so presumably someone already fucked with that. For some reason. God people were stupid
Johnny needed a moment to process. Ty wasn't carrying a gun, or like, a sword or something. He let the gun lower itself to the ground. Now his finger was on the trigger, but he was doing that on purpose. If Ty rushed him, he couldn't afford to be slow. What was he saying? He was being awfully goddamn chill. Johnny closed his mouth, which he'd forgotten to do because what even. He blinked.
"Fucking Gervais is shooting at me. I dunno where he is. Over there?" He gestured towards the wall. He paused for a moment. Johnny was already compromised. Maybe he could..."Hey Gervais the fuck did you go?!"
Worth a shot? Sure, why not. Words were free.
Movement, near. Very near. Johnny turned, but luckily for Ty his hand wasn't on the trigger so in his fumbled attempt to reflexively shoot the poor bastard he was delayed enough to think otherwise.
"What the fuck."
Who just...he just...what?! Now, Johnny knew Ty. Ty was a tough fucker, he got into fights and shit. Johnny had no bone to pick with him, so he'd never spent much time around the dude. He was smart enough to know if one of them set the other off he'd end up with fractures. He looked his new cover-buddy up and down. He had blood on his hand, so presumably someone already fucked with that. For some reason. God people were stupid
Johnny needed a moment to process. Ty wasn't carrying a gun, or like, a sword or something. He let the gun lower itself to the ground. Now his finger was on the trigger, but he was doing that on purpose. If Ty rushed him, he couldn't afford to be slow. What was he saying? He was being awfully goddamn chill. Johnny closed his mouth, which he'd forgotten to do because what even. He blinked.
"Fucking Gervais is shooting at me. I dunno where he is. Over there?" He gestured towards the wall. He paused for a moment. Johnny was already compromised. Maybe he could..."Hey Gervais the fuck did you go?!"
Worth a shot? Sure, why not. Words were free.
Ty cocked an eyebrow. At least he'd lowered the shotgun. He knew Johnny to be a pretty angry kid, not unlike himself. They were from the same part of town, but Ty had been inclined to avoid him - he was too quick to anger and it was probably not that interesting to mess with him. The shotgun was a good enough reason to stay polite at the moment. From the sounds of it, he hadn't been the one to start the gunfight.
Didn't take them too long to drop all pretense of trying to do the right thing.
"Gervais? That wiry fuck's shooting at you?" He shot Johnny an annoyed look, as if he expected someone else to have snapped and started shooting. At the very least, he knew which of the two he preferred, and which one hadn't yet decided to shoot him dead. Maybe it was their similar reputation. Maybe he just didn't have the balls to do it. Either way, Ty had already picked a side.
"Hey, Gerry!" Ty called out in the direction Johnny had been taking cover from. "Not too subtle, are ya bud?"
Gervais had been someone Ty had given a lot of shit to in the past. At first it was just because he was kind of a dweeb. Not the fun, colourful kind of outcast, but the lame and cringey type who were likely to run away screaming if a girl so much as looked at them. Those kids didn't all stay that way, but Gervais? He'd made a hard turn to being some kind of pseudo-jock arrogance oozing out of every orifice. That only made Ty want to push his buttons more, and he'd not felt the same kind of regret at calling him a "poser" as he might've calling the kid a nerd.
It took you what, how long to make the decision to shoot at us? How many other people were just waiting for an excuse? I thought I was the messed up one.
He was trying desperately to be something he wasn't, and all that told Ty was that even he knew whoever he was wasn't worth much consideration. Being on the other end of this drop-of-the-hat psycho only seemed to confirm his initial impression back in school. This wasn't a person worth dying to, or for.
Ty gave Johnny a nod, readying his crowbar. Hopefully Johnny was smart enough to get the message. He leaned his head out of cover, searching for Gervais amidst the smoke and overgrowth. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of a face, and the barrel of a gun.
Didn't take them too long to drop all pretense of trying to do the right thing.
"Gervais? That wiry fuck's shooting at you?" He shot Johnny an annoyed look, as if he expected someone else to have snapped and started shooting. At the very least, he knew which of the two he preferred, and which one hadn't yet decided to shoot him dead. Maybe it was their similar reputation. Maybe he just didn't have the balls to do it. Either way, Ty had already picked a side.
"Hey, Gerry!" Ty called out in the direction Johnny had been taking cover from. "Not too subtle, are ya bud?"
Gervais had been someone Ty had given a lot of shit to in the past. At first it was just because he was kind of a dweeb. Not the fun, colourful kind of outcast, but the lame and cringey type who were likely to run away screaming if a girl so much as looked at them. Those kids didn't all stay that way, but Gervais? He'd made a hard turn to being some kind of pseudo-jock arrogance oozing out of every orifice. That only made Ty want to push his buttons more, and he'd not felt the same kind of regret at calling him a "poser" as he might've calling the kid a nerd.
It took you what, how long to make the decision to shoot at us? How many other people were just waiting for an excuse? I thought I was the messed up one.
He was trying desperately to be something he wasn't, and all that told Ty was that even he knew whoever he was wasn't worth much consideration. Being on the other end of this drop-of-the-hat psycho only seemed to confirm his initial impression back in school. This wasn't a person worth dying to, or for.
Ty gave Johnny a nod, readying his crowbar. Hopefully Johnny was smart enough to get the message. He leaned his head out of cover, searching for Gervais amidst the smoke and overgrowth. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of a face, and the barrel of a gun.
Oh shit. It was a trap. Another person was hiding behind the little kiosk. He was outnumbered. There was the possibility of there being a third person hiding, armed with god-knows-what. As much as he wanted to continue the battle with lousy roommate, it had been smarter to abort this conflict at the moment. He was not going to be outsmarted by Johnny out of all people and willingly fall into a potential trap.
Gervais jumped away from the tree that he was hiding behind, and looked at the direction of where Johnny was hiding, pointing his rifle. He recognised a head popping out - perfect. He pulled the trigger once again, this time the recoil felt much more tameable and the treeline was filled with thick, stinky smoke. A perfect cloud for Gervais to bolt away from the kiosk, with him trying to run as if he wanted to run a homerun with the gun in hand as if he was holding a slightly heavier baseball bat - just with him not actually dropping the gun or bat which is something you would do in baseb- you get the point.
[[Gervais continued elsewhere]]
Gervais jumped away from the tree that he was hiding behind, and looked at the direction of where Johnny was hiding, pointing his rifle. He recognised a head popping out - perfect. He pulled the trigger once again, this time the recoil felt much more tameable and the treeline was filled with thick, stinky smoke. A perfect cloud for Gervais to bolt away from the kiosk, with him trying to run as if he wanted to run a homerun with the gun in hand as if he was holding a slightly heavier baseball bat - just with him not actually dropping the gun or bat which is something you would do in baseb- you get the point.
[[Gervais continued elsewhere]]
Johnny had a gun. Ty did not. Seemed Ty shouldn't be giving him shit for getting shot at. Biggest bitch on the planet, hand them a gun, they can kill a bunch of folks, easy.
Luckily for Ty, Johnny did not have the energy to give enough of a fuck. Gervais didn't respond to either of them, but Ty seemed, and that was the important word, to be on his side? He looked ready to go at the dude with his crowbar. The crowbar Johnny hadn't noticed because he was looking for a real weapon not a goddamned gangbanger...thing. Fuck.
Ty moved towards one side, and Johnny silently moved to the other. If Ty wanted to be the bait, hey, his funeral. Johnny didn't want him to get shot, but, c'mon. Better him than Johnny right? Yeah.
Ty poked around, and as Johnny stepped into position, there was another explosive sound, followed by a crack that was way too close. "Fuck!" Johnny stepped back into cover, turning to look at Ty, mouth open. Okay, okay, there was dust and shit everywhere, but Ty wasn't lying on the ground with an extra face hole. He was bloody though.
Johnny exhaled sharply and stood with his back to the wall, holding the gun to his chest. From the chunks of rock on the ground and the hole in the wall ,it looked like the shot had hit the stone and the debris had hit Ty. Johnny knew a thing or two about shrapnel now. It sucked.
Ty was cursing. Johnny couldn't blame him. Gervais was-okay Johnny had no idea. The plan had worked about not at all. "Uh, you good, dude?" Fuck, what now? Probably had lacerations or, like, something. Johnny was not a doctor. At some point in his life he'd hoped to be an animal doctor, but that was pretty fucked now. Awesome.
Luckily for Ty, Johnny did not have the energy to give enough of a fuck. Gervais didn't respond to either of them, but Ty seemed, and that was the important word, to be on his side? He looked ready to go at the dude with his crowbar. The crowbar Johnny hadn't noticed because he was looking for a real weapon not a goddamned gangbanger...thing. Fuck.
Ty moved towards one side, and Johnny silently moved to the other. If Ty wanted to be the bait, hey, his funeral. Johnny didn't want him to get shot, but, c'mon. Better him than Johnny right? Yeah.
Ty poked around, and as Johnny stepped into position, there was another explosive sound, followed by a crack that was way too close. "Fuck!" Johnny stepped back into cover, turning to look at Ty, mouth open. Okay, okay, there was dust and shit everywhere, but Ty wasn't lying on the ground with an extra face hole. He was bloody though.
Johnny exhaled sharply and stood with his back to the wall, holding the gun to his chest. From the chunks of rock on the ground and the hole in the wall ,it looked like the shot had hit the stone and the debris had hit Ty. Johnny knew a thing or two about shrapnel now. It sucked.
Ty was cursing. Johnny couldn't blame him. Gervais was-okay Johnny had no idea. The plan had worked about not at all. "Uh, you good, dude?" Fuck, what now? Probably had lacerations or, like, something. Johnny was not a doctor. At some point in his life he'd hoped to be an animal doctor, but that was pretty fucked now. Awesome.
For all he'd read about war and the kinds of things guns could do to people, Ty had more or less expected that bullets were too fast to hear - let alone see. He'd been prepared to hear a bang, and suddenly discover a gaping, bloody hole punched somewhere in his body. What he hadn't expected was the momentary image of a blur heading towards his face, tearing out of the cloud of smoke, fire, and still-burning gunpowder. The thunderclap of the gun going off was accompanied by a strange hum, which terminated in the explosion of the stone wall directly adjacent to Ty's face. It was no more than a few inches away from hitting him in the eye.
Dust and pieces of rock struck Ty on his left side, leaving thin gashes across his face that quickly began to bleed. His eyes instinctively shut, and he dove back behind cover. Blinking and rubbing his eyes in a vain attempt to see once again, he dropped the crowbar next to him.
"Motherfucker! I can't fucking see!"
Reaching for the canteen of water that had been provided to him, Ty opened it and promptly upended most of its contents onto his face. Blinking a few times, his left eye seeming to have more trouble than the right, the world came back into focus. There was bloody dust all over his clothing, and a few of the pieces of rock had torn into his shirt. Aside from his face, it looked like he had a few shallow cuts on his chest too. Moreover, as he looked to the ground he saw clearly just -what- had been fired in his direction.
"Holy fuck, did they give that kid a cannon? What the hell was that?!"
A sizable chunk of twisted lead lay at Ty's feet, having taken on a curious mushroom-like shape after hitting the wall. It was hard to imagine what it might've done to his head. He glanced at Johnny, a mixture of disbelief and excitement in his face, before looking back down at the bullet. It would have taken most of his head off.
But it didn't, and I'm still here.
He chuckled, looking down as the piece of lead staring back at him from the ground below. That was twice this morning he'd narrowly escaped it. Except this time, all he felt was a rush. The same kind of thing he'd known at the beginning of a fight, or when he found an empty stretch of highway to open up his bike on. This was pain that meant something, that came as a cost of standing up for himself. The kind of pain Ty had always turned to his advantage, that he'd used to push himself further. The blood dripping down onto his shirt was ink, inscribing onto him a truth. Something he'd been ignorant of until now.
I'm not dead yet. There's more to this than just the end. There always was, even when it wasn't staring at me. If I'm still alive, I'm no one's victim. Not even my own.
Noticing a distinct lack of return fire on Johnny's part, Ty looked back up to him with a giddy smile. Brushing back his hair, now slightly matted with blood, he nodded at the other boy.
"I'm good. Better, I think. I feel..."
He paused as he picked up the mangled bullet, weighing it in his hand.
"...I feel alive. You?"
Dust and pieces of rock struck Ty on his left side, leaving thin gashes across his face that quickly began to bleed. His eyes instinctively shut, and he dove back behind cover. Blinking and rubbing his eyes in a vain attempt to see once again, he dropped the crowbar next to him.
"Motherfucker! I can't fucking see!"
Reaching for the canteen of water that had been provided to him, Ty opened it and promptly upended most of its contents onto his face. Blinking a few times, his left eye seeming to have more trouble than the right, the world came back into focus. There was bloody dust all over his clothing, and a few of the pieces of rock had torn into his shirt. Aside from his face, it looked like he had a few shallow cuts on his chest too. Moreover, as he looked to the ground he saw clearly just -what- had been fired in his direction.
"Holy fuck, did they give that kid a cannon? What the hell was that?!"
A sizable chunk of twisted lead lay at Ty's feet, having taken on a curious mushroom-like shape after hitting the wall. It was hard to imagine what it might've done to his head. He glanced at Johnny, a mixture of disbelief and excitement in his face, before looking back down at the bullet. It would have taken most of his head off.
But it didn't, and I'm still here.
He chuckled, looking down as the piece of lead staring back at him from the ground below. That was twice this morning he'd narrowly escaped it. Except this time, all he felt was a rush. The same kind of thing he'd known at the beginning of a fight, or when he found an empty stretch of highway to open up his bike on. This was pain that meant something, that came as a cost of standing up for himself. The kind of pain Ty had always turned to his advantage, that he'd used to push himself further. The blood dripping down onto his shirt was ink, inscribing onto him a truth. Something he'd been ignorant of until now.
I'm not dead yet. There's more to this than just the end. There always was, even when it wasn't staring at me. If I'm still alive, I'm no one's victim. Not even my own.
Noticing a distinct lack of return fire on Johnny's part, Ty looked back up to him with a giddy smile. Brushing back his hair, now slightly matted with blood, he nodded at the other boy.
"I'm good. Better, I think. I feel..."
He paused as he picked up the mangled bullet, weighing it in his hand.
"...I feel alive. You?"
Ty felt alive. That was just...messed up, dude. "Suuure." Johnny said warily. There was a huge bullet on the ground, and Ty's face was all bloody, and he almost got his brains blown out, but he was fine. Good, even. What?
"I'm not...I'm okay. Considering." Johnny crouched and picked up the biggest chunk of rock he saw. It was about the size of a baseball, and he the gun in his right hand with the barrel brushing the ground. Nodding to Ty, Johnny took a couple steps to the side threw the rock overhand southpaw style, a clumsy throw but a solid one. The chunk of wall smacked into a tree and bounced off about twenty feet away. Whatever, he didn't play baseball.
Nothing happened. If Gervais had an itchy trigger finger, which he apparently did, he'd probably have taken a shot. Well, Johnny hoped so, at least. Bracing the shotgun to his shoulder, Johnny poked his head out the other side, ducking back quickly and then poking out again. Nothing. "Okay, we're good. I think." Johnny exhaled. "Fuckin' retard."
How many shots had Johnny taken? The magazine-cartridge? Clip? Fuck if he knew-was apparently built into the gun. He had individual bullets, and if he could reload now, he should, or he might get fucked by running out shots later on. Johnny crouched and started loading the shells into the cartridge(?) tube. It was clumsy and he almost dropped the first one, but he managed. "Hang on."
With any luck, he'd be able to use this thing pretty well when he needed to. With more luck, he'd never need to use it. But at that point he might as well hope some magical goddamn pixies came down and whisked them all away to Candyland for scones or...fuck. Johnny got out a bottle of water and started drinking it. He downed a third of it, capped it, and looked back up at Ty.
"Well, now what? You got a plan, or?" If Ty had a plan, and it wasn't something dumb or suicidal, Johnny would take that as his miracle for the day.
"I'm not...I'm okay. Considering." Johnny crouched and picked up the biggest chunk of rock he saw. It was about the size of a baseball, and he the gun in his right hand with the barrel brushing the ground. Nodding to Ty, Johnny took a couple steps to the side threw the rock overhand southpaw style, a clumsy throw but a solid one. The chunk of wall smacked into a tree and bounced off about twenty feet away. Whatever, he didn't play baseball.
Nothing happened. If Gervais had an itchy trigger finger, which he apparently did, he'd probably have taken a shot. Well, Johnny hoped so, at least. Bracing the shotgun to his shoulder, Johnny poked his head out the other side, ducking back quickly and then poking out again. Nothing. "Okay, we're good. I think." Johnny exhaled. "Fuckin' retard."
How many shots had Johnny taken? The magazine-cartridge? Clip? Fuck if he knew-was apparently built into the gun. He had individual bullets, and if he could reload now, he should, or he might get fucked by running out shots later on. Johnny crouched and started loading the shells into the cartridge(?) tube. It was clumsy and he almost dropped the first one, but he managed. "Hang on."
With any luck, he'd be able to use this thing pretty well when he needed to. With more luck, he'd never need to use it. But at that point he might as well hope some magical goddamn pixies came down and whisked them all away to Candyland for scones or...fuck. Johnny got out a bottle of water and started drinking it. He downed a third of it, capped it, and looked back up at Ty.
"Well, now what? You got a plan, or?" If Ty had a plan, and it wasn't something dumb or suicidal, Johnny would take that as his miracle for the day.
It was reassuring to see Johnny round the corner and ensure Gervais had left. Ty had half-expected another shot to come and punch a fist-sized hole in Johnny, but all was still. Good. The loser had fucked off. Maybe he'd run into someone who was better with a gun, and they'd put him down for good.
Surprised Johnny didn't do it, with that thing in his hands.
The feeling of assurance quickly dissipated as he saw the other boy fumble with the shotgun shells. Part of him wondered if he'd tried to shoot Ty the moment he'd seen him, and just forgotten how to. For his own sake, Ty hoped he'd learn well enough before the day was done. It wasn't that he expected Johnny to go far, or even that he wanted him to win. This situation was bound to repeat sooner or later though, and it would work out better for the people Ty cared about if he actually managed to hit what he was aiming at.
Can't say I'd do much better. This kid needs the help more than I do.
Pocketing the twisted chunk of lead, Ty stood back up. He spat to the ground, the dust from the wall having clung to his lips. The other boy downed a gulp of water, and then asked him about a plan. No, looked to him for a plan. For a moment, Ty stood puzzled. The notion that someone might actually look to him for guidance in a situation like this simply hadn't occurred to him. What indicated he had any more of an idea what he was doing than the two idiots who'd decided on the very first day to start blasting each other to pieces?
I've been just exuding confidence so far. What did Claude say? I'm "no coward." I shouldn't "waste my gifts." So I'm a gifted, brave leader now? Who the fuck is going to buy that?
Ty snorted. "A plan to do what, exactly? Honestly dude, I just thought Gervais was an arrogant prick who likes to pretend to be someone he's not. Right now he's pretending to be a player or whatever the fuck he's going to call it. He's just another victim, he just doesn't know it yet. So it was that, or you."
Probably good TV for the people sick or broken enough to watch this.
Looking Johnny up and down, Ty seemed to let down his guard slightly. Decent shape, already willing to shoot back instead of just cowering, clearly running on anger and hate more than fear. In many ways Johnny was as unabashed as the gun he held in his hands. He didn't need protecting, or guidance. It would surprise Ty if he even listened to any supposed leader. Still, some part of him felt compelled to offer his thoughts on the insane situation they were in, if only to spur him to potentially weed out people like Gervais. The people who shot first.
"You're okay. Better than him, at least. So you'll do fine. Maybe not win, but they're long odds anyways. I'm going to find something better to do than die for the next few days, until my options run out." He paused, shouldering his bag and grabbing the crowbar in his off-hand. "Alone. I've got some things to work out. If you're still alive by then-" Tyrell motioned towards the shotgun. "-I hope you'll have learned how to use that."
He extended his hand towards Johnny, hoping to part on good terms. If not, Ty was more than ready to close the distance and feed the shotgun to him.
"You understand me, right?"
Surprised Johnny didn't do it, with that thing in his hands.
The feeling of assurance quickly dissipated as he saw the other boy fumble with the shotgun shells. Part of him wondered if he'd tried to shoot Ty the moment he'd seen him, and just forgotten how to. For his own sake, Ty hoped he'd learn well enough before the day was done. It wasn't that he expected Johnny to go far, or even that he wanted him to win. This situation was bound to repeat sooner or later though, and it would work out better for the people Ty cared about if he actually managed to hit what he was aiming at.
Can't say I'd do much better. This kid needs the help more than I do.
Pocketing the twisted chunk of lead, Ty stood back up. He spat to the ground, the dust from the wall having clung to his lips. The other boy downed a gulp of water, and then asked him about a plan. No, looked to him for a plan. For a moment, Ty stood puzzled. The notion that someone might actually look to him for guidance in a situation like this simply hadn't occurred to him. What indicated he had any more of an idea what he was doing than the two idiots who'd decided on the very first day to start blasting each other to pieces?
I've been just exuding confidence so far. What did Claude say? I'm "no coward." I shouldn't "waste my gifts." So I'm a gifted, brave leader now? Who the fuck is going to buy that?
Ty snorted. "A plan to do what, exactly? Honestly dude, I just thought Gervais was an arrogant prick who likes to pretend to be someone he's not. Right now he's pretending to be a player or whatever the fuck he's going to call it. He's just another victim, he just doesn't know it yet. So it was that, or you."
Probably good TV for the people sick or broken enough to watch this.
Looking Johnny up and down, Ty seemed to let down his guard slightly. Decent shape, already willing to shoot back instead of just cowering, clearly running on anger and hate more than fear. In many ways Johnny was as unabashed as the gun he held in his hands. He didn't need protecting, or guidance. It would surprise Ty if he even listened to any supposed leader. Still, some part of him felt compelled to offer his thoughts on the insane situation they were in, if only to spur him to potentially weed out people like Gervais. The people who shot first.
"You're okay. Better than him, at least. So you'll do fine. Maybe not win, but they're long odds anyways. I'm going to find something better to do than die for the next few days, until my options run out." He paused, shouldering his bag and grabbing the crowbar in his off-hand. "Alone. I've got some things to work out. If you're still alive by then-" Tyrell motioned towards the shotgun. "-I hope you'll have learned how to use that."
He extended his hand towards Johnny, hoping to part on good terms. If not, Ty was more than ready to close the distance and feed the shotgun to him.
"You understand me, right?"
Alright, Johnny could dig it. Ty wasn't the kind of guy he figured had some grand strategy or something, but it was worth a shot. And eventually one of them was gonna get killed, so...yeah. They could leave on good terms now and hope the other one took down some others with them. Jesus, that was morbid. Johnny stood up and shrugged.
"Fair 'nuff." He shook Ty's hand. "Least I rank above that fucker to you. If I see him again he's dead meat." Like, literally, Johnny might kill him. It wasn't about being angry-well, it was. But he was also not stupid. If he had to shoot a dude to keep them from killing him, he'd do it. If that dude came after him, or if anyone else was willing to fuck with him to save their own asses, it was only fair he return the feeling in kind. He didn't have much of a life back home, but like, he had friends outside of the school, and He had his dog, who, God, someone better be fucking looking after.
Plus, Johnny finally had the goddamn ambition and dreams and shit his parents had tried to beat into him his whole life. He wondered how they were reacting now. They probably weren't thrilled. But he didn't need to care about how they were feeling. He just needed to get the fuck out of this place.
"Yeah, uh, try not to die." Johnny nodded, turning and walking away in the other direction, turning his head back to look every couple of seconds, just in case. He seemed to have his cards on the table and Johnny didn't expect a dirty trick but y'know. Good habit to get into.
Now, time to get out of this depressing goddamn zoo.
((He'd check the map later on. He had a map, right?))
"Fair 'nuff." He shook Ty's hand. "Least I rank above that fucker to you. If I see him again he's dead meat." Like, literally, Johnny might kill him. It wasn't about being angry-well, it was. But he was also not stupid. If he had to shoot a dude to keep them from killing him, he'd do it. If that dude came after him, or if anyone else was willing to fuck with him to save their own asses, it was only fair he return the feeling in kind. He didn't have much of a life back home, but like, he had friends outside of the school, and He had his dog, who, God, someone better be fucking looking after.
Plus, Johnny finally had the goddamn ambition and dreams and shit his parents had tried to beat into him his whole life. He wondered how they were reacting now. They probably weren't thrilled. But he didn't need to care about how they were feeling. He just needed to get the fuck out of this place.
"Yeah, uh, try not to die." Johnny nodded, turning and walking away in the other direction, turning his head back to look every couple of seconds, just in case. He seemed to have his cards on the table and Johnny didn't expect a dirty trick but y'know. Good habit to get into.
Now, time to get out of this depressing goddamn zoo.
((He'd check the map later on. He had a map, right?))