Jae pushed away from the shelf, only to stagger into the shelf on the opposite side of the aisle. He struggled to get his breathing under control, finally retrieving a bolt from his bag and loading it. How many did he have left now? He couldn't remember.
There was a sound nearby, something falling to the floor. Jae whipped around towards it, bringing the crossbow up again.
"Just-"
His voice came out in a rough, strained whisper. He wasn't even sure what he was trying to say. Just leave me alone, or just die. Something like that.
Jae lurched to the end of the aisle and fired again in the direction of the sound.
友達
Friends; Day 9; Open
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
The third bolt went clean through the shelves Nate had been hiding behind. It went over the pile of tomes he'd pulled down, and impacted without remorse.
Luckily, Nate had already moved.
He kept his head down, powering through the panic that tried to make him squeal out again. His head was swimming, poisoned by the adrenaline and terror, and he wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest.
He didn't want Min-Jae to find him, though.
He was doing his best to catch his breath without breathing out loud, but it was no good. Any second now, he'd buckle over and not be able to pick himself back up again. He was more exhausted than he'd ever been.
He heard footsteps. Picked his head up. Saw a figure on the other side of the books.
He pulled his hands up to cover his mouth, eyes drawing back into his skull. All Min-Jae had to do was turn around, look down, and he'd be seen. If he ran, he'd probably get heard. If he stayed still, he'd get spotted. If he started crying, they'd both happen at once. He was trapped.
Through whatever combination of fear and fatigue, a thought entered his mind. With no clue where the idea came from, but no time to come up with another, he took two steps back, braced his body, and threw himself at the bookshelf between them.
Luckily, Nate had already moved.
He kept his head down, powering through the panic that tried to make him squeal out again. His head was swimming, poisoned by the adrenaline and terror, and he wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest.
He didn't want Min-Jae to find him, though.
He was doing his best to catch his breath without breathing out loud, but it was no good. Any second now, he'd buckle over and not be able to pick himself back up again. He was more exhausted than he'd ever been.
He heard footsteps. Picked his head up. Saw a figure on the other side of the books.
He pulled his hands up to cover his mouth, eyes drawing back into his skull. All Min-Jae had to do was turn around, look down, and he'd be seen. If he ran, he'd probably get heard. If he stayed still, he'd get spotted. If he started crying, they'd both happen at once. He was trapped.
Through whatever combination of fear and fatigue, a thought entered his mind. With no clue where the idea came from, but no time to come up with another, he took two steps back, braced his body, and threw himself at the bookshelf between them.
Jae had straightened up somewhat, breathing shallowly but still breathing, fingers fumbling in the bag again for more ammo. He'd fired... twice? Not more than three times, surely. How much did he have left? There was too much buzzing in his ears and static in his vision for him to even work through the simple math.
And of course all of that was moot when a thick volume toppled off the shelf Nate had thrown himself against and smacked Jae in the back of the head.
He stumbled, gasping because he didn't quite have enough breath to yell, tenderness that he had all but forgotten about from the last time he had hit his head blossoming into pain again. A couple other books hit him in the back and shoulder, only serving to throw him more off-balance. He grabbed at the shelf with his free hand to try and regain his balance, but just ended up jarring his broken fingers, drawing up a pained whine.
The dizziness welled up, and he saw only static. When it finally receded, Jae was prone on the floor.
And of course all of that was moot when a thick volume toppled off the shelf Nate had thrown himself against and smacked Jae in the back of the head.
He stumbled, gasping because he didn't quite have enough breath to yell, tenderness that he had all but forgotten about from the last time he had hit his head blossoming into pain again. A couple other books hit him in the back and shoulder, only serving to throw him more off-balance. He grabbed at the shelf with his free hand to try and regain his balance, but just ended up jarring his broken fingers, drawing up a pained whine.
The dizziness welled up, and he saw only static. When it finally receded, Jae was prone on the floor.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Nate staggered back from the bookcase he'd thrown himself at, needing an extra step to regain his balance from the clumsy manoeuvre done on empty batteries. Despite everything, he still found himself wincing in sympathy as the books crashed down on Min-Jae and sent him to the floor.
His first instinct was to reach out, offer to help. He stopped himself, because he had to, but guilt was creeping up on him. After all, he'd already claimed he wasn't trying to hurt anyone.
"Sorry." he said, loud enough for Jae to hear but only just that. He stayed where he was, trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing, when he caught sight of the crossbow that three times had been used in an attempt to kill him.
He didn't want to be doing this, but he didn't want to die either.
The thought stayed with him for a moment, until he was finally able to get moving again. He ran, all the way out of the library, away from Min-Jae, and further into the madhouse.
((Nate Turner continued in Darkness in the Light))
His first instinct was to reach out, offer to help. He stopped himself, because he had to, but guilt was creeping up on him. After all, he'd already claimed he wasn't trying to hurt anyone.
"Sorry." he said, loud enough for Jae to hear but only just that. He stayed where he was, trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing, when he caught sight of the crossbow that three times had been used in an attempt to kill him.
He didn't want to be doing this, but he didn't want to die either.
The thought stayed with him for a moment, until he was finally able to get moving again. He ran, all the way out of the library, away from Min-Jae, and further into the madhouse.
((Nate Turner continued in Darkness in the Light))
Jae groaned into the carpet. When he felt in control of his limbs again, he gingerly reached up to touch the stinging spot at the back of his head. Fortunately, he felt no blood or broken skin, but it still hurt like a bitch along with his hand.
When the person on the other side of the shelf whimpered a "sorry" at him and fled, he almost had enough breath to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Slowly and painfully, Jae worked himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the shelf. So what had he accomplished here? Nothing. Nada. Zero. Zip. Zilch. He'd terrorized somebody who probably wasn't terrorizing him in turn and got another bump on the head for it.
Was there still somebody out there in the fading twilight, waiting for him?
Jae sat for a long time, surrounded by bodies in the darkening library, wondering.
((Min-jae Parker continued in Chew Until It Bleeds))
When the person on the other side of the shelf whimpered a "sorry" at him and fled, he almost had enough breath to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Slowly and painfully, Jae worked himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the shelf. So what had he accomplished here? Nothing. Nada. Zero. Zip. Zilch. He'd terrorized somebody who probably wasn't terrorizing him in turn and got another bump on the head for it.
Was there still somebody out there in the fading twilight, waiting for him?
Jae sat for a long time, surrounded by bodies in the darkening library, wondering.
((Min-jae Parker continued in Chew Until It Bleeds))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."