Clive stood at a standstill with the delightfully horrible Liam. This could is everything and nothing to him. If Clive actually had a sense to love something, Liam would have been it. The two are a perfect alignment of terrible exterior and interior factors, in a brutal storm.
I've got a better idea, he thought to himself.
And that's when he put the gun down, grabbed Liam by the back of the neck, and proceeded to bite him square on the opposite end of the neck from where he was grabbing.
Battle of Epic Proportions
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"Sweet monkey potatoes!" Liam exclaimed, throwing up his hands in a near submissive manner, his accent quite a bit thicker than usual. "What happened to the warnings?"
He made a mock pout but made no effort to stop Clive from the biting. He just kinda stood there and let it happen. Hurt like a bitch, but Liam liked the pain... hence why he had only exclaimed out of surprise and not pain.
He made a mock pout but made no effort to stop Clive from the biting. He just kinda stood there and let it happen. Hurt like a bitch, but Liam liked the pain... hence why he had only exclaimed out of surprise and not pain.
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(Madison Conner continued from Don't Panic)
Madison Conner, Female Student no. 01, had just killed two people. That was more than most people could say, but that wasn't nearly enough. Oh no, that was too low of a number. If she was going to make an impact, the number was going to be much larger. Much larger than two, than four, than ten. If she was going to play then she wasn't going to cut corners. She was going to go all the way, and luckily it wasn't long before she found someone else. Another target.
Well... targets, but it was all the same for her.
She stood always off, from behind the two, hidden in the dark. She was glad, no huge reactions from the fighters was a good thing, it meant they didn't spot her. One of them had a gun... that was going to present some problems, but she didn't mind it. Another gun for her. Perfect way to think of it.
That was when he dropped the gun.
That's my cue, She thought to herself. Taking the initiative, without holding anything back, she came from out of the shadows and held the gun up with both of her hands. The gun... there was no way neither of them were going to protect themselves. They were too distracted by their own perversions that Madison had the perfect opportunity. They were facing away from her, she had a perfect view of the two of them. No way to escape. No way to run. No way, whatsoever. The bullets sprayed out of the gun with ease, the recoil felt like it could have flown away had she been using only one hand. With two, aiming it was a breeze. The boy with the gun, he had to get taken down first. Then the british one. No room for error at all.
"No hard feelings." She said, loading everything she had at them.
Madison Conner, Female Student no. 01, had just killed two people. That was more than most people could say, but that wasn't nearly enough. Oh no, that was too low of a number. If she was going to make an impact, the number was going to be much larger. Much larger than two, than four, than ten. If she was going to play then she wasn't going to cut corners. She was going to go all the way, and luckily it wasn't long before she found someone else. Another target.
Well... targets, but it was all the same for her.
She stood always off, from behind the two, hidden in the dark. She was glad, no huge reactions from the fighters was a good thing, it meant they didn't spot her. One of them had a gun... that was going to present some problems, but she didn't mind it. Another gun for her. Perfect way to think of it.
That was when he dropped the gun.
That's my cue, She thought to herself. Taking the initiative, without holding anything back, she came from out of the shadows and held the gun up with both of her hands. The gun... there was no way neither of them were going to protect themselves. They were too distracted by their own perversions that Madison had the perfect opportunity. They were facing away from her, she had a perfect view of the two of them. No way to escape. No way to run. No way, whatsoever. The bullets sprayed out of the gun with ease, the recoil felt like it could have flown away had she been using only one hand. With two, aiming it was a breeze. The boy with the gun, he had to get taken down first. Then the british one. No room for error at all.
"No hard feelings." She said, loading everything she had at them.
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((This is random, unexpected, and I can't tell of it's god modding or not, but this certainly presents an opportunity))
Whoever this girl was, she was making two mistakes:
1. Interrupting man on man time.
2. Saying something before trying to empty a mag at a target.
If she didn't have enough ammo to send them flying into V4 then he would have taken a few shots out of pure pleasure, but even Clive has his limits as to how much he can take before the whole dying thing happens.
After briefly pushing Liam out of the way, Clive (presenting his ever great skills as an athlete) ran as fast as he could in circles around her as she fired her shots.
Having the gun emptied by someone other than himself royally pissed Clive off, and once she had, he took that as the opportunity to run and attempt to tackle her at full force.
With the pure intention of causing her the UNPLEASANT kind of pain.
Whoever this girl was, she was making two mistakes:
1. Interrupting man on man time.
2. Saying something before trying to empty a mag at a target.
If she didn't have enough ammo to send them flying into V4 then he would have taken a few shots out of pure pleasure, but even Clive has his limits as to how much he can take before the whole dying thing happens.
After briefly pushing Liam out of the way, Clive (presenting his ever great skills as an athlete) ran as fast as he could in circles around her as she fired her shots.
Having the gun emptied by someone other than himself royally pissed Clive off, and once she had, he took that as the opportunity to run and attempt to tackle her at full force.
With the pure intention of causing her the UNPLEASANT kind of pain.
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((Maybe, maybe not, but I'd say outrunning an entire fully automatic clip being fired at 13 rounds per second by running in a circle is.
On another note: Bobby continued from Sadist))
For the first couple of minutes after leaving the mess hall all Bobby was concerned about was putting distance between himself and any pursuers or players who decided they wanted to add to their kill tally. He couldn't run blindly forever though, it was dark (even if the sky was lightening up a little) and sooner or later, he was bound to run smack into trouble.
He paused for a few moments to take a breather, swinging his rather weighty pack from his shoulder and onto a patch of ground which seemed slightly drier than the rest of the sodden jungle. The bag hit the ground with a clatter, which Bobby knew must have come from the golf club. To tell the truth, he wasn't really sure why he hadn't dumped the thing yet. It was fairly heavy yet wouldn't be all that great in melee. In fact, Bobby would much rather use his fists or one of his other close combat weapons. The range it afforded was a meagre advantage compared to the scalpel's sharp blade and the sheer weight and blunt force power of the pipewrench. If that thing hit you, you weren't going to get up with a happy smile on your face.
Bobby had to admit, he was bringing the golf club with him 'just in case' he couldn't really think of a situation where he would need it specifically, but he was sure there would be an application for it somewhere along the line. He would much rather have the golf club and not need it, then suddenly be in a situation where he would think 'man, I need something with range that I can use as a weapon' only to remember he had dumped his club a day ago or something.
As Bobby pushed thoughts of weaponry from his mind, opening up his daypack it occurred to him, as he spotted some food underneath loose magazines for the armalon and the lock of his hair that he had kept after slicing off his dreadlocks, that he was rather hungry. He hadn't eaten in quite a while it was true, and with a sigh, Bobby sat down underneath the tree, in the spot which was marginally less wet than the rest. It looked as if he would be staying here for a while. He quickly pulled out a loaf, and after a moment's consideration, a tin of crackers too. Having taken rations at every opportunity he had received, Bobby was in no danger of running short any time soon.
Several massive bites later, and the loaf was so many crumbs on the sodden ground, quickly disappearing into the mud formed by the rain. It hadn't taken long for the jungle floor to turn into a total quagmire. Other locations, Bobby reflected, would be even worse. The boxer shifted around where he was sitting and went back into his pack again, this time pulling out a water bottle. He wasn't really very thirsty, but he knew he needed to drink to stop himself getting dehydrated, and by the time you actually felt thirst, he recalled, you already were.
His cut man had told him that, at least... he thought it had been his cut man.
Bobby downed half of the water in one go, and was fleetingly amused as he saw some of the rain enter into the bottle through the open top, splashing on the insides of it. After a moment or two, he popped open the tin of crackers and took out a handful. Bobby ate a couple of them, but after chomping down the breadloaf so quickly, he found he had little appetite. Nevertheless, he forced a few more down before conceding that to eat any more would be to force himself to be sick. Bobby replaced the lid and tossed the crackers into his bag again, before draining his water bottle. After a moment's consideration, he threw that back in the pack too. Putting everything away swiftly, Bobby stood up and swung the daypack onto his shoulder, then headed off into the jungle again.
After walking for a little while, Bobby felt something snag underfoot. Looking down, he saw, caught on his ankle, a tripwire. A broken tripwire. Acting on instinct, Bobby dived aside with as much power as he could muster, and a split-second later, heard something go whooshing past. Bobby rolled over, and saw a large chunk of wood, bristling with spikes, swinging between the two trees that the tripwire had been strung between.
Traps? Now that is ridiculous.
Picking himself up on the ground, Bobby continued on his way – this time taking better care of checking where he was going. In time, he broke from the trees and emerged into... a field? It was dark, but by this point Bobby had developed fairly good night vision, his eyes becoming 'used to' the low-light conditions. The plants swishing around his feet looked like, as far as he could tell, a massive number of flowers...
Muzzle flashes. Repeating automatic gunfire. Most importantly, close by.
Bobby instantly went low, falling into a sort of crouch. The gunfire was from only a short distance away, and as he turned his head, he could clearly see two figures. One had the gun and was firing, the other looked to be running in some kind of odd arc around the shooter. Stealthily, Bobby stole forward, heading in the direction of the confrontation. Hopefully, the low light, coupled with how mud-spattered (and admittedly dark-skinned) Bobby was, would prevent the combatants from readily detecting him.
He was making good progress when just about everything went wrong at once. His foot suddenly knocked against something with a clanking noise which sounded to Bobby as loud as a klaxon. There would be no doubt that the other fighters would hear him. Simultaneously, Bobby spotted another person nearby. Ironically, in the dark, he had been so focused on avoiding detection he had failed to see somebody else.
Then, something went right.
Bobby looked down and saw just what it was he had knocked with his foot. Somebody had evidently been foolish enough to put their weapon down. Not thinking twice, Bobby swiped the pistol up off the ground then hit the deck emphatically – he didn't want to catch a bullet just after finding a weapon after all. Then again, considering the circumstances, the one running in that odd circle would likely be the one now ruing putting their gun down. Given that the runner was between Bobby and the shooter, he was at less risk than he had initially thought.
Finders keepers I guess. What kind of moron drops their weapon anyway?
((That big part at the beginning (before arriving at the field) was a way to make up for the fact that strictly speaking, Bobby spent almost the whole day in Sadist.))
On another note: Bobby continued from Sadist))
For the first couple of minutes after leaving the mess hall all Bobby was concerned about was putting distance between himself and any pursuers or players who decided they wanted to add to their kill tally. He couldn't run blindly forever though, it was dark (even if the sky was lightening up a little) and sooner or later, he was bound to run smack into trouble.
He paused for a few moments to take a breather, swinging his rather weighty pack from his shoulder and onto a patch of ground which seemed slightly drier than the rest of the sodden jungle. The bag hit the ground with a clatter, which Bobby knew must have come from the golf club. To tell the truth, he wasn't really sure why he hadn't dumped the thing yet. It was fairly heavy yet wouldn't be all that great in melee. In fact, Bobby would much rather use his fists or one of his other close combat weapons. The range it afforded was a meagre advantage compared to the scalpel's sharp blade and the sheer weight and blunt force power of the pipewrench. If that thing hit you, you weren't going to get up with a happy smile on your face.
Bobby had to admit, he was bringing the golf club with him 'just in case' he couldn't really think of a situation where he would need it specifically, but he was sure there would be an application for it somewhere along the line. He would much rather have the golf club and not need it, then suddenly be in a situation where he would think 'man, I need something with range that I can use as a weapon' only to remember he had dumped his club a day ago or something.
As Bobby pushed thoughts of weaponry from his mind, opening up his daypack it occurred to him, as he spotted some food underneath loose magazines for the armalon and the lock of his hair that he had kept after slicing off his dreadlocks, that he was rather hungry. He hadn't eaten in quite a while it was true, and with a sigh, Bobby sat down underneath the tree, in the spot which was marginally less wet than the rest. It looked as if he would be staying here for a while. He quickly pulled out a loaf, and after a moment's consideration, a tin of crackers too. Having taken rations at every opportunity he had received, Bobby was in no danger of running short any time soon.
Several massive bites later, and the loaf was so many crumbs on the sodden ground, quickly disappearing into the mud formed by the rain. It hadn't taken long for the jungle floor to turn into a total quagmire. Other locations, Bobby reflected, would be even worse. The boxer shifted around where he was sitting and went back into his pack again, this time pulling out a water bottle. He wasn't really very thirsty, but he knew he needed to drink to stop himself getting dehydrated, and by the time you actually felt thirst, he recalled, you already were.
His cut man had told him that, at least... he thought it had been his cut man.
Bobby downed half of the water in one go, and was fleetingly amused as he saw some of the rain enter into the bottle through the open top, splashing on the insides of it. After a moment or two, he popped open the tin of crackers and took out a handful. Bobby ate a couple of them, but after chomping down the breadloaf so quickly, he found he had little appetite. Nevertheless, he forced a few more down before conceding that to eat any more would be to force himself to be sick. Bobby replaced the lid and tossed the crackers into his bag again, before draining his water bottle. After a moment's consideration, he threw that back in the pack too. Putting everything away swiftly, Bobby stood up and swung the daypack onto his shoulder, then headed off into the jungle again.
After walking for a little while, Bobby felt something snag underfoot. Looking down, he saw, caught on his ankle, a tripwire. A broken tripwire. Acting on instinct, Bobby dived aside with as much power as he could muster, and a split-second later, heard something go whooshing past. Bobby rolled over, and saw a large chunk of wood, bristling with spikes, swinging between the two trees that the tripwire had been strung between.
Traps? Now that is ridiculous.
Picking himself up on the ground, Bobby continued on his way – this time taking better care of checking where he was going. In time, he broke from the trees and emerged into... a field? It was dark, but by this point Bobby had developed fairly good night vision, his eyes becoming 'used to' the low-light conditions. The plants swishing around his feet looked like, as far as he could tell, a massive number of flowers...
Muzzle flashes. Repeating automatic gunfire. Most importantly, close by.
Bobby instantly went low, falling into a sort of crouch. The gunfire was from only a short distance away, and as he turned his head, he could clearly see two figures. One had the gun and was firing, the other looked to be running in some kind of odd arc around the shooter. Stealthily, Bobby stole forward, heading in the direction of the confrontation. Hopefully, the low light, coupled with how mud-spattered (and admittedly dark-skinned) Bobby was, would prevent the combatants from readily detecting him.
He was making good progress when just about everything went wrong at once. His foot suddenly knocked against something with a clanking noise which sounded to Bobby as loud as a klaxon. There would be no doubt that the other fighters would hear him. Simultaneously, Bobby spotted another person nearby. Ironically, in the dark, he had been so focused on avoiding detection he had failed to see somebody else.
Then, something went right.
Bobby looked down and saw just what it was he had knocked with his foot. Somebody had evidently been foolish enough to put their weapon down. Not thinking twice, Bobby swiped the pistol up off the ground then hit the deck emphatically – he didn't want to catch a bullet just after finding a weapon after all. Then again, considering the circumstances, the one running in that odd circle would likely be the one now ruing putting their gun down. Given that the runner was between Bobby and the shooter, he was at less risk than he had initially thought.
Finders keepers I guess. What kind of moron drops their weapon anyway?
((That big part at the beginning (before arriving at the field) was a way to make up for the fact that strictly speaking, Bobby spent almost the whole day in Sadist.))
((You know, there IS the fact that the person closest to the gun is still Liam.
And the fact that any person picking up that gun would be in clear sight of him, and the other people here. Just sayin'.
Anyway, I'm a gonna be modding my post. Dodging those many bullets, now that I think about it while sober, is rather ridiculous))
And the fact that any person picking up that gun would be in clear sight of him, and the other people here. Just sayin'.
Anyway, I'm a gonna be modding my post. Dodging those many bullets, now that I think about it while sober, is rather ridiculous))
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((It's dark and raining and nobody, as far as I have read, has got out any kind of light to speak of. Maybe clear sight in the day, but hunched over, covered in mud, and coupled with the fact that it's night time and overcast, and it's an entirely different situation))
((I just thought I'd put my two cents in, while we're all figuring out where to go next through all of this, but even if it's dark and rainy, a person will still be able to see a figure if it's right next to them. Camping in Oregon where it rains all the time, and dark, and muddy, and absolutely lame, I have always been to see something moving in front or beside me. And since Clive dropped the gun, right next to Liam, there is absolutely no way that Liam wouldn't have seen someone grabbing it. Especially if he's being shot at by someone else, he's going to be on high alert and looking for anything coming at him or moving around him.
Oh, and I also thought I'd add my thoughts on the 'Clive being shot at' situation as well. While dodging bullets isn't really plausible, I understand that sometimes it's hard to have a character react any other way when they've been backed into a proverbial corner. Being shot at in rapid succession with no knowledge of it going to happen beforehand, can cause the defenses to raise, because it's a situation where Clive would have either been seriously debilitated, or most likely killed on spot. Hence why I'm calling it the proverbial corner, since it's either get killed or unrealistically keep being from killed.))
Oh, and I also thought I'd add my thoughts on the 'Clive being shot at' situation as well. While dodging bullets isn't really plausible, I understand that sometimes it's hard to have a character react any other way when they've been backed into a proverbial corner. Being shot at in rapid succession with no knowledge of it going to happen beforehand, can cause the defenses to raise, because it's a situation where Clive would have either been seriously debilitated, or most likely killed on spot. Hence why I'm calling it the proverbial corner, since it's either get killed or unrealistically keep being from killed.))
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(Damn it. My plans are foiled! XD)
Madison wished she had hit Clive, then she wouldn't have to actually deal with having to fight him. She had just lucked out with Paul, he had just let his guard down long enough for her to drive the final blow to him. This was certainly not the case with Clive, who not only dodged all the bullets that she fired at him, but was charging at her. Whether she should be upset or glad that he was coming closer, Madison had no time to decipher. She felt like smiling, because unbeknowest to the boy foolishly charging at her she had more than just a gun at her disposal. The odds were in her favor.
Making quick time, she pulled the laser dazzler out of her pocket and shot a beam of light into Clive's eyes. There was no way he was going to know that she had alot of time to move out of the way of his tackle, nor did he notice when she pulled the blood-covered axe out of her bag. It was small, smaller than your average axe so it wasn't completely difficult enough to hold with one hand.
"You really shoulda thought that through more, you stupid son of a bitch." she said, feeling like the hero in an action movie before she swung the axe her hardest. She wanted to say something that fit the moment more but the only thing that came to mind was...
'Let me axe you a question...'
No.
Just.... no.
Madison wished she had hit Clive, then she wouldn't have to actually deal with having to fight him. She had just lucked out with Paul, he had just let his guard down long enough for her to drive the final blow to him. This was certainly not the case with Clive, who not only dodged all the bullets that she fired at him, but was charging at her. Whether she should be upset or glad that he was coming closer, Madison had no time to decipher. She felt like smiling, because unbeknowest to the boy foolishly charging at her she had more than just a gun at her disposal. The odds were in her favor.
Making quick time, she pulled the laser dazzler out of her pocket and shot a beam of light into Clive's eyes. There was no way he was going to know that she had alot of time to move out of the way of his tackle, nor did he notice when she pulled the blood-covered axe out of her bag. It was small, smaller than your average axe so it wasn't completely difficult enough to hold with one hand.
"You really shoulda thought that through more, you stupid son of a bitch." she said, feeling like the hero in an action movie before she swung the axe her hardest. She wanted to say something that fit the moment more but the only thing that came to mind was...
'Let me axe you a question...'
No.
Just.... no.
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Liam, whilst startled only briefly when his bum made contact with the ground, had quickly gone on high alert. Bullets were flying, Clive was dodging. And god damn... many just stole Clive's gun. Well, fine, he'd give the illusion of victory for a moment. Let him get all into the gun-holding.
Liam smirked inwardly at this, his eyes moving away from Clive for a moment. His eyes seemed to darken, though no one would really see this when it was too dark to decipher colors. Just shadowed figures made up of greys and blacks. Slowly, he stood, uselessly brushing his hands on his clothes as if this would somehow remove the mud and the disgusting rain. He'd seemed to be quite out of it, focused on his clothing and not the dangers, but in truth he was taking everything in, plotting.
But then he glanced back at Clive, squinting to be able to see through the rain. He saw Clive's larger figure rushing a smaller one. Saw a beam of light, and then some sort of shadow attached to the smaller one's hand. He couldn't make out what it was, but if the sudden dropping of his stomach was any indication, it could be no good. Crap. Bloody... bloody... just... BLOODY!
With a cry that was a mix between the rage of a warrior and a disfigured and wounded animal, Liam forgot the gun and rushed the smallest figure. Woman. A woman. Of course it was. He hated those conniving, evil women. Never could they be trusted. Oh, if he got to her in time, even if he didn't, he was going to make her hurt. He didn't need a weapon. Rage was enough for him. He had plans.
So it was with these thoughts, and this red-vision-inducing anger that had him running swiftly over, slightly hunched and head forward as he bull rushed the girl.
Liam smirked inwardly at this, his eyes moving away from Clive for a moment. His eyes seemed to darken, though no one would really see this when it was too dark to decipher colors. Just shadowed figures made up of greys and blacks. Slowly, he stood, uselessly brushing his hands on his clothes as if this would somehow remove the mud and the disgusting rain. He'd seemed to be quite out of it, focused on his clothing and not the dangers, but in truth he was taking everything in, plotting.
But then he glanced back at Clive, squinting to be able to see through the rain. He saw Clive's larger figure rushing a smaller one. Saw a beam of light, and then some sort of shadow attached to the smaller one's hand. He couldn't make out what it was, but if the sudden dropping of his stomach was any indication, it could be no good. Crap. Bloody... bloody... just... BLOODY!
With a cry that was a mix between the rage of a warrior and a disfigured and wounded animal, Liam forgot the gun and rushed the smallest figure. Woman. A woman. Of course it was. He hated those conniving, evil women. Never could they be trusted. Oh, if he got to her in time, even if he didn't, he was going to make her hurt. He didn't need a weapon. Rage was enough for him. He had plans.
So it was with these thoughts, and this red-vision-inducing anger that had him running swiftly over, slightly hunched and head forward as he bull rushed the girl.
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((On the other hand, this IS called BATTLE OF EPIC PROPORTIONS))
"Gah, son of a bitch!"
Clive fell to the floor when he was temporarily blinded by the dazzler. Wherever this bitch came from, she came prepared, to an annoying extent, and was made even more annoying by the fact that Clive was as hard as a rock in the groin area from his encounter with Liam moments prior, and now he's being cock blocked by a bitch who randomly decided to show up. But that wasn't the only problem.
Though hard to see, Clive knew there was a fourth person here. And this said fourth person was in possession of Clive's one weapon that had any sort of meaning to him. That gun was Lilah's, and is now his.
Permanently.
That poor wretch doesn't realize he is holding the Golden Apple, the Holy Grail, the Original Scripture, and the word of God in his hand right now, and the only person in this world that should have access to it's infinite wisdom is Clive. No one else, no way, no how.
With Liam charging the woman who blinded him, Clive got up and, in the most ungrateful fashion, went in for a clothesline on the unknown figure.
--------------------------------------
"WHAT?! What do you mean Clive is part of SOTF?!"
Siouxsie was on the phone with Daniel, Andi's dad, who was still on vacation with his wife and kid.
"Yeah. First Andi, and now my cousin. God has a sense of humor all right."
"You seem rather calm about this."
"Well, from what I've seen, he seems to be handling himself well, to a point where I'm thinking I'm glad he turned out to be a sadistic bastard. I'll lecture him for lying to me, but if he survives, at least I can say I was related to the next Dodd."
"Are you trying to be funny?"
"No, I'm trying to be realistic. Being funny is not something we can afford ourselves these days."
"How are his parents taking it?"
"Pissed off, more than anything thing."
"Don't blame them, really."
Siouxsie went outside of his cousin's house and lit up a cigarette. This is not something that she wanted to talk about, nor was it something she really felt she needed to deal with again. In reality, it didn't affect her all that much. She had been so desensitized to the whole deal that, at this point, it no longer mattered.
"So, how's your vacation?"
"Gah, son of a bitch!"
Clive fell to the floor when he was temporarily blinded by the dazzler. Wherever this bitch came from, she came prepared, to an annoying extent, and was made even more annoying by the fact that Clive was as hard as a rock in the groin area from his encounter with Liam moments prior, and now he's being cock blocked by a bitch who randomly decided to show up. But that wasn't the only problem.
Though hard to see, Clive knew there was a fourth person here. And this said fourth person was in possession of Clive's one weapon that had any sort of meaning to him. That gun was Lilah's, and is now his.
Permanently.
That poor wretch doesn't realize he is holding the Golden Apple, the Holy Grail, the Original Scripture, and the word of God in his hand right now, and the only person in this world that should have access to it's infinite wisdom is Clive. No one else, no way, no how.
With Liam charging the woman who blinded him, Clive got up and, in the most ungrateful fashion, went in for a clothesline on the unknown figure.
--------------------------------------
"WHAT?! What do you mean Clive is part of SOTF?!"
Siouxsie was on the phone with Daniel, Andi's dad, who was still on vacation with his wife and kid.
"Yeah. First Andi, and now my cousin. God has a sense of humor all right."
"You seem rather calm about this."
"Well, from what I've seen, he seems to be handling himself well, to a point where I'm thinking I'm glad he turned out to be a sadistic bastard. I'll lecture him for lying to me, but if he survives, at least I can say I was related to the next Dodd."
"Are you trying to be funny?"
"No, I'm trying to be realistic. Being funny is not something we can afford ourselves these days."
"How are his parents taking it?"
"Pissed off, more than anything thing."
"Don't blame them, really."
Siouxsie went outside of his cousin's house and lit up a cigarette. This is not something that she wanted to talk about, nor was it something she really felt she needed to deal with again. In reality, it didn't affect her all that much. She had been so desensitized to the whole deal that, at this point, it no longer mattered.
"So, how's your vacation?"
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Madison noticed instantly when the boy she had swung her axe at left, and stopped her attack halfway. What was he running at, in this field of darkness? Madison didn't have a damned clue, she couldn't see anyone around in the darkness so it was very unlikely he would either. He was probably a coward, running away from her instead of fighting her like a man. Well, what she though wasn't entirely true. After all, there was this one man rushing at her headfirst as fast as he could, waiting to cause her a most painfull headbutt.
Wait a minute...
Madison didn't have enough time to get out of the way completely, but she did have enough time to sidestep the rush enough so Liam could only hit the side of her chest. It hurt like all get out and the force of the hit sent her spinning like a top, but she regained her composure a few seconds later and was ready to start another attack on the other boy. She took the dassler out again and flashed it in Liam's face, ready to swing her axe again when her mind interrupted.
Wait. What the hell are you doing Madi? Why are you using your axe when you have a fucking gun? Use the gun, Madi, blow that son-of-a-bitch away.
And that was what she was planning to do. Rushing away while still facing Liam's shadow, Madison managed to pull out her submachine gun. Letting her axe fall to the ground and stepping down on it with her left foot, she fumbled around with the ammo before she finally managed to reload the gun. She really didn't want to get into a confrontation now, when she realized that these boys were probably players as well. Then again, if she doesn't kill them then they'll probably get their dirty hands on a gun themselves, and she couldn't have that. She looked down on the desperate ones, the ones who were actually enjoying harming others...
That was very ironic, because Madison herself had enjoyed killing two other people. But that was then and this is now.
Making sure not to make the mistake of speaking before firing, Madison let out a small burst of bullets. She wanted to make Liam notice that she was going to kill him if she had to, and if he ever made a rush at her again she was going to fill him with as much bullets as she could. She wasn't afraid of him, none whatsoever.
Wait a minute...
Madison didn't have enough time to get out of the way completely, but she did have enough time to sidestep the rush enough so Liam could only hit the side of her chest. It hurt like all get out and the force of the hit sent her spinning like a top, but she regained her composure a few seconds later and was ready to start another attack on the other boy. She took the dassler out again and flashed it in Liam's face, ready to swing her axe again when her mind interrupted.
Wait. What the hell are you doing Madi? Why are you using your axe when you have a fucking gun? Use the gun, Madi, blow that son-of-a-bitch away.
And that was what she was planning to do. Rushing away while still facing Liam's shadow, Madison managed to pull out her submachine gun. Letting her axe fall to the ground and stepping down on it with her left foot, she fumbled around with the ammo before she finally managed to reload the gun. She really didn't want to get into a confrontation now, when she realized that these boys were probably players as well. Then again, if she doesn't kill them then they'll probably get their dirty hands on a gun themselves, and she couldn't have that. She looked down on the desperate ones, the ones who were actually enjoying harming others...
That was very ironic, because Madison herself had enjoyed killing two other people. But that was then and this is now.
Making sure not to make the mistake of speaking before firing, Madison let out a small burst of bullets. She wanted to make Liam notice that she was going to kill him if she had to, and if he ever made a rush at her again she was going to fill him with as much bullets as she could. She wasn't afraid of him, none whatsoever.
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Bobby had thought, for a brief moment, that he had escaped notice altogether. Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent that this was not the case. Spasmodic lighting from further gunfire, and at one point, some sort of laser, quickly alerted Bobby to the fact he was being targeted. It was probably the previous owner of the gun he had picked up returning to try and reclaim his lost weapon. Whatever his motives were didn't matter - he wasn't going to succeed.
The boxer surged to his feet, shoving his carbine through a loop in his daypack and pulling his scalpel from its place. He had been both reluctant and somewhat short on the time to attempt to use lethal force against Brad - even though he had tried to shoot him twice. There hadn't really been time to equip himself with any of his auxilary armaments. The scalpel was Bobby's favoured melee weapon for a number of reasons, (although of course he would always have a natural affinity for his fists, plain and simple). The scalpel was small, light, and most certainly capable of dealing a fatal wound. Perfect, then, for close quarters combat.
As Clive rapidly approached (Bobby being able to make him out from silhouette from the light cast by the MP5's muzzle flashes) Bobby tensed himself, and as Clive was just about to impact, lowered himself and powered his body forward into a tackle directed straight into Clive's abdomen. The momentum of his opponent would make the attack all the more potent, and the last second nature of the move would prevent Clive from avoiding it, unless he could somehow change the direction of his head long sprint, something which Bobby heavily doubted.
Bobby really needed to take Clive out and get gone ASAP though. Whoever the shooter was now taking target practice on wouldn't last long, and he would be next in line for a bullet. The carbine and pistol were good enough armaments, that was true, but they were no match for a fully automatic weapon.
The boxer surged to his feet, shoving his carbine through a loop in his daypack and pulling his scalpel from its place. He had been both reluctant and somewhat short on the time to attempt to use lethal force against Brad - even though he had tried to shoot him twice. There hadn't really been time to equip himself with any of his auxilary armaments. The scalpel was Bobby's favoured melee weapon for a number of reasons, (although of course he would always have a natural affinity for his fists, plain and simple). The scalpel was small, light, and most certainly capable of dealing a fatal wound. Perfect, then, for close quarters combat.
As Clive rapidly approached (Bobby being able to make him out from silhouette from the light cast by the MP5's muzzle flashes) Bobby tensed himself, and as Clive was just about to impact, lowered himself and powered his body forward into a tackle directed straight into Clive's abdomen. The momentum of his opponent would make the attack all the more potent, and the last second nature of the move would prevent Clive from avoiding it, unless he could somehow change the direction of his head long sprint, something which Bobby heavily doubted.
Bobby really needed to take Clive out and get gone ASAP though. Whoever the shooter was now taking target practice on wouldn't last long, and he would be next in line for a bullet. The carbine and pistol were good enough armaments, that was true, but they were no match for a fully automatic weapon.
The gunfire howled throughout the area, and seemed to give off brief lights that made the darkness almost seem lit. It was like a bad Christmas light show. Whatever the case was, it annoyed Clive.
As he charged forward towards the thief at full force, Clive found himself feeling a familiar feeling. A warm feeling. A painful feeling. And one that he was warmly expecting despite it's random entrance.
The pain he felt surged through him quickly as he felt at least one bullet from the unknown shooter pierce through the skin of his arm, and into it. The pain was a sensation so loving and cruel that it overwhelmed Clive, and he fell to the floor briefly, taking it in.
He was close enough at the time to get a good look at the person who stole his beloved weapon, and recognize him.
Clive went ahead, dived forward aiming to grab the person's leg, and bite full force.
It's all he could come up with, what can I say?
As he charged forward towards the thief at full force, Clive found himself feeling a familiar feeling. A warm feeling. A painful feeling. And one that he was warmly expecting despite it's random entrance.
The pain he felt surged through him quickly as he felt at least one bullet from the unknown shooter pierce through the skin of his arm, and into it. The pain was a sensation so loving and cruel that it overwhelmed Clive, and he fell to the floor briefly, taking it in.
He was close enough at the time to get a good look at the person who stole his beloved weapon, and recognize him.
Clive went ahead, dived forward aiming to grab the person's leg, and bite full force.
It's all he could come up with, what can I say?
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((Margaret Tweedy and Quincy Archer continued from In Case God Doesn't Show))
All it took to stop Margaret's hypothetical rampage of revenge was the sounds of truly promiscuous amounts of gunfire. She inched out over the field until she could see the four combatants in the distance, or at least the shapes of four people fighting. She thought she could make out one girl, a burly guy, and two skinny guys, but she'd be damned if she could tell which one was winning, let alone make out the faces on the mystery brawlers.
Margaret knew exactly how well she would fare if she joined in someone fired a goddamn machine gun. Running was an option, but she was loath to depart on the off chance that Melina was involved in the melee. No, she would wait and see what happened next. Afterwards... well, she'd burn that bridge when she came to it.
A rustle from behind her caused her to spin around and catch sight of a fifth silhouette watching the fight with interest. This one, however, was easily identified. "What th' hell're you doing here?" she whispered to him.
Quincy shrugged. "Watching the match of the day, much like yourself. Which one's your money on?"
"How the hell should I know?" she replied. "I can't see worth shit! Also, I don't have any money, and even if I did, what good could it do in this hellhole?"
"Hm. Valid points all." Quincy squinted and peered at the melee. "It would suck to be the guy who's up against the machine gun, though."
All it took to stop Margaret's hypothetical rampage of revenge was the sounds of truly promiscuous amounts of gunfire. She inched out over the field until she could see the four combatants in the distance, or at least the shapes of four people fighting. She thought she could make out one girl, a burly guy, and two skinny guys, but she'd be damned if she could tell which one was winning, let alone make out the faces on the mystery brawlers.
Margaret knew exactly how well she would fare if she joined in someone fired a goddamn machine gun. Running was an option, but she was loath to depart on the off chance that Melina was involved in the melee. No, she would wait and see what happened next. Afterwards... well, she'd burn that bridge when she came to it.
A rustle from behind her caused her to spin around and catch sight of a fifth silhouette watching the fight with interest. This one, however, was easily identified. "What th' hell're you doing here?" she whispered to him.
Quincy shrugged. "Watching the match of the day, much like yourself. Which one's your money on?"
"How the hell should I know?" she replied. "I can't see worth shit! Also, I don't have any money, and even if I did, what good could it do in this hellhole?"
"Hm. Valid points all." Quincy squinted and peered at the melee. "It would suck to be the guy who's up against the machine gun, though."
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