"Oh? You need some water?"
Willow put herself in position. She had played baseball for the grand total of one time, and she remembered the posture from Coach Skinner. She had something along the lines that Willow 'wouldn't break the bat on the first try' followed with a laugh. Willow wasn't quite sure what Mrs. Skinner meant, but she rolled along.
"Here."
The first bottle flew directly Justin as it was followed by the second and then the third time. The first one missed because of a clever sidestep, but Willow had adjusted her aim. The moment the third bottle impacted against Justin's body, Willow was already running toward her bag that had been sitting on the ground next to her bag. The mud felt particularly dry underneath her sole.
As she reached her bag, she dropped to her knees. She snatched her cleaver with her right hand and the strap of her bag with the other.
"Come on!" She screamed. "Let's fucking go Kat!"
7 Rings
Day 11 late morning. Open
Katrina felt a bit nervous as Justin got closer, telling them he wanted supplies. She wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to do so. He was a notable killer, and with so few people remaining, supplies mattered. That's why Katrina was purifying lake water. And, of course, being really scary looking and holding a gun didn't look so good. This was one of those moments where they had to think and act carefully, otherwise they'd be screwed. This was Tyrell in the house all over again.
And then Willow started chucking water bottles at Justin.
"Willow! What?!?" Katrina shouted.
Willow was already running back to their stuff. Without thinking, Katrina bolted as well. Forget about diplomacy. That was surely off the table now. Katrina had to grab Sierra's rifle and be ready for whatever Justin did next.
And then Willow started chucking water bottles at Justin.
"Willow! What?!?" Katrina shouted.
Willow was already running back to their stuff. Without thinking, Katrina bolted as well. Forget about diplomacy. That was surely off the table now. Katrina had to grab Sierra's rifle and be ready for whatever Justin did next.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Willow threw something and Justin lunged to the left, taking several steps just to catch his balance after hurtling his upper body in one direction sharply. He pulled his right foot behind him to let him turn and see just what was the danger, because it looked like Willow had thrown... a water bottle. Ask for water, receive water. Justin straightened his body and turned back to Willow when a second bottle came for him. The bottom of the plastic bottle filled almost all the way to the brim bounced off his crown, knocking his hat off his head.
So, that was how it was going to be? Justin thought with a scowl, and a third bottle made a beeline for his chest which he made no attempt to block or avoid, only turning his cheek in a natural reaction to not wanting to get clocked in the face. The two started running toward a bicycle propped up along with the distinctive rucksack bags that must have held all their belongings that the terrorists had given to them or let them keep. They intended to run off and leave him without anything but a mere three bottles of water. Part of him thought it might be beneficial to just cut ties here and take the fresh water, knowing at least he wouldn't die of thirst.
But they were getting close to the end. Those two were competition and, in an ideal situation, they wouldn't be needing those supplies for much longer anyway. And what if some other killer got to them first and took the stuff instead? Food, weapons, first aid supplies... all things Justin was going to need, as ammunition was getting to be in short supply.
That was why, when he choked up on the gun, crouching to brace it against his other arm to fire, he did so in short bursts.
So, that was how it was going to be? Justin thought with a scowl, and a third bottle made a beeline for his chest which he made no attempt to block or avoid, only turning his cheek in a natural reaction to not wanting to get clocked in the face. The two started running toward a bicycle propped up along with the distinctive rucksack bags that must have held all their belongings that the terrorists had given to them or let them keep. They intended to run off and leave him without anything but a mere three bottles of water. Part of him thought it might be beneficial to just cut ties here and take the fresh water, knowing at least he wouldn't die of thirst.
But they were getting close to the end. Those two were competition and, in an ideal situation, they wouldn't be needing those supplies for much longer anyway. And what if some other killer got to them first and took the stuff instead? Food, weapons, first aid supplies... all things Justin was going to need, as ammunition was getting to be in short supply.
That was why, when he choked up on the gun, crouching to brace it against his other arm to fire, he did so in short bursts.
"What part of 'go' don't you get?" She shouted back. "Jesus fucking Christ, lady."
Willow turned toward Katrina, expecting to see her face making that dork-ish expression of confusion. Instead, she found Katrina fumbling with her gun. It wasn't hard! You just had to aim and press the trigger. It wasn't something like rocket science or some other bullshit like this.
Katrina, however, clearly struggled with it. This wasn't the time. This wasn't the fucking time to fumble with a fucking gun as a killer was running toward her. Willow wanted to get up and wrap her hands around her throat, but instead, her little fantasy was cut short by the familiar sound of gunfire.
It sounded like firecrackers, really. She turned instinctively toward the shooter and then put her eyes back on her ally. Kat-
Kat-
"Katrina!"
Katrina was covered in blood and Willow could only see red.
"You fucking cunt," she screamed again, grabbing a rock the size of her thumb, "eat shit."
Willow turned toward Katrina, expecting to see her face making that dork-ish expression of confusion. Instead, she found Katrina fumbling with her gun. It wasn't hard! You just had to aim and press the trigger. It wasn't something like rocket science or some other bullshit like this.
Katrina, however, clearly struggled with it. This wasn't the time. This wasn't the fucking time to fumble with a fucking gun as a killer was running toward her. Willow wanted to get up and wrap her hands around her throat, but instead, her little fantasy was cut short by the familiar sound of gunfire.
It sounded like firecrackers, really. She turned instinctively toward the shooter and then put her eyes back on her ally. Kat-
Kat-
"Katrina!"
Katrina was covered in blood and Willow could only see red.
"You fucking cunt," she screamed again, grabbing a rock the size of her thumb, "eat shit."
Katrina ran over to her bag, which had Sierra's rifle and the nodachi laying on it. She quickly scooped up the rifle and raised it up. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do in this moment. She knew the basics of shooting a gun, obviously. Raise the gun, aim it at the target, and pull the trigger. But did this gun have a safety? She knew guns had safety buttons, but was this one? Where was it? Was it a literal button or a switch?
She didn't find it in time.
There were several more gunshots, and then, Katrina's chest burned. It wasn't like when Yuka slashed her, and it didn't feel like the stitches were tearing. She felt herself stumbling back, then lost her balance. Katrina fell onto her back, dropping the rifle to her side and crying out as she felt her head hit the dirt.
She gasped and felt more surges of pain emanating from her chest. She tried to glance down. There were now two shots in her lower torso. Blood was starting to ooze out and staining her shirt.
Katrina cried out again, hearing Willow shouting something at Justin. This was the end, wasn't it?
Another surge of pain through her body.
Yeah, looked like it.
She didn't find it in time.
There were several more gunshots, and then, Katrina's chest burned. It wasn't like when Yuka slashed her, and it didn't feel like the stitches were tearing. She felt herself stumbling back, then lost her balance. Katrina fell onto her back, dropping the rifle to her side and crying out as she felt her head hit the dirt.
She gasped and felt more surges of pain emanating from her chest. She tried to glance down. There were now two shots in her lower torso. Blood was starting to ooze out and staining her shirt.
Katrina cried out again, hearing Willow shouting something at Justin. This was the end, wasn't it?
Another surge of pain through her body.
Yeah, looked like it.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
The way Katrina turned and fell let Justin see exactly what it was she had been fussing with. The rifle clattered to the ground next to her. She was hit -- hard to tell if it was a fatal shot, but he'd got her. It looked to be the only gun the two had, too. Justin zoned in on it; he had been shot twice already, and he wasn't about to let it happen a third time. Another serious injury could kill him. Another careless mistake could be the last one he made. His vision tunneled on Katrina, knowing he had ample room to get closer and Willow shouldn't have been a factor.
Justin started to jog, loudly huffing through a dry, open-hanging mouth as he closed the distance to no more than twenty feet. Missing at this distance should have been impossible.
Willow screamed something, and Justin was toeing the line on whether he should put more bullets into Kat to ensure a quick, clean death without her getting the gun, or silence Willow and remove her as a factor in the whole situation. A moment's indecisiveness, like deciding whether to run left or right in the face of an oncoming car. Willow drew her arm back and hurled something at him. This time Justin didn't hesitate, pulling the gun up with the decision made for him.
In hindsight, he probably should have chosen to duck.
The SMG erupted into another torrent of gunfire as Justin's head jerked back and the rest of his body followed. It was surprising in some sense just how loud the impact against his head was, just off dead-center of his brow and closer to above his left eye than his right. His heartbeat leapt into his brain and he could feel the pulsing across both temples, forcing his eyes open. His right eye even opened, just a little and he knew it saw light because it made the right side of his head hurt more than his left... but only for that split second it had opened. He'd have time to process the discovery that there was still an intact eyeball in that socket, though, because he was more trying to overcome the head trauma. Growling and grunting and trying to form a few words that just melted into each other, Justin rolled onto his right side, using his elbow to help prop him upright so he could stand.
Kat could wait or bleed out. Now was Willow's turn.
Justin started to jog, loudly huffing through a dry, open-hanging mouth as he closed the distance to no more than twenty feet. Missing at this distance should have been impossible.
Willow screamed something, and Justin was toeing the line on whether he should put more bullets into Kat to ensure a quick, clean death without her getting the gun, or silence Willow and remove her as a factor in the whole situation. A moment's indecisiveness, like deciding whether to run left or right in the face of an oncoming car. Willow drew her arm back and hurled something at him. This time Justin didn't hesitate, pulling the gun up with the decision made for him.
In hindsight, he probably should have chosen to duck.
The SMG erupted into another torrent of gunfire as Justin's head jerked back and the rest of his body followed. It was surprising in some sense just how loud the impact against his head was, just off dead-center of his brow and closer to above his left eye than his right. His heartbeat leapt into his brain and he could feel the pulsing across both temples, forcing his eyes open. His right eye even opened, just a little and he knew it saw light because it made the right side of his head hurt more than his left... but only for that split second it had opened. He'd have time to process the discovery that there was still an intact eyeball in that socket, though, because he was more trying to overcome the head trauma. Growling and grunting and trying to form a few words that just melted into each other, Justin rolled onto his right side, using his elbow to help prop him upright so he could stand.
Kat could wait or bleed out. Now was Willow's turn.
“Fuck off,” she stood up, barking at Justin once again, “fuck off!”
Back on her feet with her cleaver in hand, Willow weighed her option. The tree line was a reminder of possible safety, the lake was becoming more and more a death trap, and giving up seemed like an interesting if bloody opportunity. She was sure which one to take, really.
Willow took a step back, her foot slipping on a rock. As she stumbled backward, she couldn’t help but yelp as Justin continued his advance toward her with his weapon ready blast her down.
“Suck my fucking dick, you fucking loser!”
Her voice started to hurt. It felt like acid had burnt trails down her throat. Was she crying? She wasn’t sure at this point. It could be sweat or blood; it could be anything.
“Fuck off!” She repeated, clinging to her bag. Suddenly, she swung her arms around, launching her duffel bag at the boy.
Back on her feet with her cleaver in hand, Willow weighed her option. The tree line was a reminder of possible safety, the lake was becoming more and more a death trap, and giving up seemed like an interesting if bloody opportunity. She was sure which one to take, really.
Willow took a step back, her foot slipping on a rock. As she stumbled backward, she couldn’t help but yelp as Justin continued his advance toward her with his weapon ready blast her down.
“Suck my fucking dick, you fucking loser!”
Her voice started to hurt. It felt like acid had burnt trails down her throat. Was she crying? She wasn’t sure at this point. It could be sweat or blood; it could be anything.
“Fuck off!” She repeated, clinging to her bag. Suddenly, she swung her arms around, launching her duffel bag at the boy.
Katrina started to come back to the world. The pain was still surging through her entire body, but she was starting to hear and see more from the area around her. She could see Justin getting closer to Willow, who was screaming at him. Katrina tried to roll on her side, but only felt the pain increase. She looked down at her now-red stomach.
"Oh god..." she muttered.
She looked around her. The rifle was down on the ground, but it was basically useless to her. She was never going to figure that thing out in time, not with Justin so close to executing Willow. She had to act quicker.
Katrina pushed herself off the ground and up onto her knees. She quickly looked around. The nodachi. It was still there. That massive, crazy, quite-deadly sword that had been a part of her life for the last eleven days. She glanced at it, then at Justin. He was still focused on Willow, who was now tossing a bag at him.
Katrina reached over and grabbed the sword. It was huge enough that even the biggest stretch could grab onto it. She pulled it close to her, quickly unsheathing it and tossing the sheathe to the side. Katrina knew she didn't have much time. Every move and action from here on had to be quickly decided and acted. It wasn't going to be like Yuko and Tyrell. Justin was in her sight, and there was no way she was going to let Willow die here.
"One big push," Katrina muttered to herself. "One last time."
Katrina put her free hand on the ground, curled her feet, and pushed off the ground. She swung the nodachi up in the air, and with a scream, swung it down.
"Oh god..." she muttered.
She looked around her. The rifle was down on the ground, but it was basically useless to her. She was never going to figure that thing out in time, not with Justin so close to executing Willow. She had to act quicker.
Katrina pushed herself off the ground and up onto her knees. She quickly looked around. The nodachi. It was still there. That massive, crazy, quite-deadly sword that had been a part of her life for the last eleven days. She glanced at it, then at Justin. He was still focused on Willow, who was now tossing a bag at him.
Katrina reached over and grabbed the sword. It was huge enough that even the biggest stretch could grab onto it. She pulled it close to her, quickly unsheathing it and tossing the sheathe to the side. Katrina knew she didn't have much time. Every move and action from here on had to be quickly decided and acted. It wasn't going to be like Yuko and Tyrell. Justin was in her sight, and there was no way she was going to let Willow die here.
"One big push," Katrina muttered to herself. "One last time."
Katrina put her free hand on the ground, curled her feet, and pushed off the ground. She swung the nodachi up in the air, and with a scream, swung it down.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Justin rose. Willow fell. He didn't care why she'd lost her footing and he didn't feel bad for her losing it. There was no room for pity in the game, a lesson he had to remind himself of again and again when he felt bad for each life he took. It had scared him before when he was trying to drink moments ago, back when he had the peace to think, that he was starting to forget some of the faces and the names in the shuffle. He thought he was starting to understand why: the thought that nearly all the kids who died here would be forgotten by and large and no longer matter, footnotes on some wikipedia page... that terrified him. That's why he had to keep fighting to avoid that.
Time was up for Willow, but with her death alongside Katrina's, Justin got to live. For a little while longer, he was still in the game. Somebody was going to make it out of here. Somebody was going to live. This close to the end, it had to be him.
Willow shouted at him again and again, Justin looking confused for a moment. Willow had a dick? ... Oh. Joke. Right. Still, seemed a little appropriate to scream. Maybe 'bite my tits' would be better. Justin frowned and raised the gun, arm wavering in fatigue as it was forced to bear the weight of the weapon alone. The gun came crashing down by the force of the bag Willow threw dropping down onto it. Annoyed more than anything, Justin crossed his left leg over and swept it outward to roughly slide the bag to the side. He snorted, then raised the gun again, if a bit slower this time.
He squeezed the trigger and was met with the defeaning sound... of footsteps rushing behind him. Justin pivoted to his right and spun all the way around. In fact, he'd even overshot a little bit, nearly spinning off his feet and stumbling to the side while he threw the conspicuously silent SMG to the side in a fit of desperation and fleeting balance. He should have still had bullets, there should have been enough to take care of Willow, then deal with the woman surging toward him. Why? What happened, what went wrong!? Justin didn't have the time to play back his folly, for when he tried to reach behind him, the oversized curved blade in Katrina's hands had sunk into the meat of his left arm just below the shoulder, hacking through muscle and striking deep to the bone, the impact of which sent an internal shock up into his chest. It was the same feeling he'd gotten when striking something particularly solid with the tire iron, only now that feeling was internal, coming up through the bone and nerves as if his arm were a wire with part of its insulator stripped away.
Justin exhaled sharply, immediately, and found himself unable to breathe in as the searing pain of such a deep cut burst through him. Mentally he was screaming, yet his throat was unable to sing that curdling song of agony. The strike had taken a lot out of the both of them, giving him the bare amount of time needed to stumble away from a second frenzied strike's windup.
"Gu... uuu... UUUUAAAAAAAUGH!"
His diaphragm had stopped spasming and Justin pulled air into his lungs for a scream. Pain, anguish, rage, maybe all of those things. The screaming distracted him from the pain if nothing else. Something was running down his face at several points. The stuff above his eye was probably blood, which was now seeping down his ruined arm, no doubt. The stuff pooling over his lips might have been snot, blood, or both. He wasn't sure. The shock and adrenaline surging through him let him ignore the comparatively minor pain caused by opening his right eye, allowing both to glare at Katrina in a frenzy.
She should have been dead.
Time was up for Willow, but with her death alongside Katrina's, Justin got to live. For a little while longer, he was still in the game. Somebody was going to make it out of here. Somebody was going to live. This close to the end, it had to be him.
Willow shouted at him again and again, Justin looking confused for a moment. Willow had a dick? ... Oh. Joke. Right. Still, seemed a little appropriate to scream. Maybe 'bite my tits' would be better. Justin frowned and raised the gun, arm wavering in fatigue as it was forced to bear the weight of the weapon alone. The gun came crashing down by the force of the bag Willow threw dropping down onto it. Annoyed more than anything, Justin crossed his left leg over and swept it outward to roughly slide the bag to the side. He snorted, then raised the gun again, if a bit slower this time.
He squeezed the trigger and was met with the defeaning sound... of footsteps rushing behind him. Justin pivoted to his right and spun all the way around. In fact, he'd even overshot a little bit, nearly spinning off his feet and stumbling to the side while he threw the conspicuously silent SMG to the side in a fit of desperation and fleeting balance. He should have still had bullets, there should have been enough to take care of Willow, then deal with the woman surging toward him. Why? What happened, what went wrong!? Justin didn't have the time to play back his folly, for when he tried to reach behind him, the oversized curved blade in Katrina's hands had sunk into the meat of his left arm just below the shoulder, hacking through muscle and striking deep to the bone, the impact of which sent an internal shock up into his chest. It was the same feeling he'd gotten when striking something particularly solid with the tire iron, only now that feeling was internal, coming up through the bone and nerves as if his arm were a wire with part of its insulator stripped away.
Justin exhaled sharply, immediately, and found himself unable to breathe in as the searing pain of such a deep cut burst through him. Mentally he was screaming, yet his throat was unable to sing that curdling song of agony. The strike had taken a lot out of the both of them, giving him the bare amount of time needed to stumble away from a second frenzied strike's windup.
"Gu... uuu... UUUUAAAAAAAUGH!"
His diaphragm had stopped spasming and Justin pulled air into his lungs for a scream. Pain, anguish, rage, maybe all of those things. The screaming distracted him from the pain if nothing else. Something was running down his face at several points. The stuff above his eye was probably blood, which was now seeping down his ruined arm, no doubt. The stuff pooling over his lips might have been snot, blood, or both. He wasn't sure. The shock and adrenaline surging through him let him ignore the comparatively minor pain caused by opening his right eye, allowing both to glare at Katrina in a frenzy.
She should have been dead.
Where the fuck was her stun gun? Where was it hiding? Her free hand moved across her chest, searching for the familiar lump. She crawled backward as Justin pulled a gun-
he pulled a-
He pulled a fucking gun on her.
She was at his mercy and he was going to shoot her like a pig stuck in barbed wire. He was going to kill her with a gun, not even with his fist or a knife or even Roxie's prosthetic leg. He wasn't worth her time. He wasn't worth anything. She didn't want to die by being shot by some incel, it would be closed-fist beatdown or nothing else. That wasn't part of the plan.
If he wasn't such a fucking coward, he would have finished her with his hands. That was on him that the gun didn't work. That was his fucking problem, and Willow started to cackle. Her voice booming and echoing in her head. It wasn't a laugh comparable to the icons like Kefka but it could solidly land into the top thirty.
She crawled backward, her eyes flashing around for a solution. A piece of the puzzle to pull on and to trigger a new reaction somewhere else, but there was nothing. And then, as she drifted her eyes a bit more to the left, Katrina appeared. Bloodied, dying, suffering, but she appeared with her sword.
Fucking shit.
Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!
No fucking way Katrina was going to play the hero, this wasn't part of the plan. This wasn't part of any plans. She snarled as Katrina struck through Justin's body. This was hers, this wasn't anyone else's. She worked for this tirelessly and she-
Willow sobbed. She sobbed. Katrina was going to be the hero and she will never be able to pay it back to her and she wanted to fucking vomit at the thought of seeing her family. This wasn't part of the plan, of any plans, this wasn't supposed to happen. If Katrina was going to die, it was going to be by her hands, not like this. She was supposed to go home and be a fucking pop star, not die like this. Unfair. Un-fucking-fair. Willow didn't want to win, it was her plan b, she didn't- she didn't want to do this.
"Fuck you." She barked, one last time, before reaching for her bag. As she grabbed it, she made a run for the treeline.
he pulled a-
He pulled a fucking gun on her.
She was at his mercy and he was going to shoot her like a pig stuck in barbed wire. He was going to kill her with a gun, not even with his fist or a knife or even Roxie's prosthetic leg. He wasn't worth her time. He wasn't worth anything. She didn't want to die by being shot by some incel, it would be closed-fist beatdown or nothing else. That wasn't part of the plan.
If he wasn't such a fucking coward, he would have finished her with his hands. That was on him that the gun didn't work. That was his fucking problem, and Willow started to cackle. Her voice booming and echoing in her head. It wasn't a laugh comparable to the icons like Kefka but it could solidly land into the top thirty.
She crawled backward, her eyes flashing around for a solution. A piece of the puzzle to pull on and to trigger a new reaction somewhere else, but there was nothing. And then, as she drifted her eyes a bit more to the left, Katrina appeared. Bloodied, dying, suffering, but she appeared with her sword.
Fucking shit.
Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!
No fucking way Katrina was going to play the hero, this wasn't part of the plan. This wasn't part of any plans. She snarled as Katrina struck through Justin's body. This was hers, this wasn't anyone else's. She worked for this tirelessly and she-
Willow sobbed. She sobbed. Katrina was going to be the hero and she will never be able to pay it back to her and she wanted to fucking vomit at the thought of seeing her family. This wasn't part of the plan, of any plans, this wasn't supposed to happen. If Katrina was going to die, it was going to be by her hands, not like this. She was supposed to go home and be a fucking pop star, not die like this. Unfair. Un-fucking-fair. Willow didn't want to win, it was her plan b, she didn't- she didn't want to do this.
"Fuck you." She barked, one last time, before reaching for her bag. As she grabbed it, she made a run for the treeline.
The sword connected with Justin. Katrina was horrified, but amazed that she actually succeeded. She finally landed a major hit on a mass murderer. Katrina winced as her stomach wounds continued to sting, as she tried to dislodge the sword from Justin.
She heard Willow curse at Justin and start to run off. Katrina was sad to see Willow go, but in a way, she was glad. She was saving Willow from Justin. She was doing something right for once after eleven miserable days here.
The sword finally was released from Justin's shoulder and Katrina stumbled back a bit. Katrina couldn't wait. She was running on limited time, and if Willow was to survive this, then Katrina had to finish him off.
Katrina swung the sword back at Justin. She filled the lakeside with the sound of her attack.
She heard Willow curse at Justin and start to run off. Katrina was sad to see Willow go, but in a way, she was glad. She was saving Willow from Justin. She was doing something right for once after eleven miserable days here.
The sword finally was released from Justin's shoulder and Katrina stumbled back a bit. Katrina couldn't wait. She was running on limited time, and if Willow was to survive this, then Katrina had to finish him off.
Katrina swung the sword back at Justin. She filled the lakeside with the sound of her attack.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Justin shrieked again as the sword pulled free, and he swore he could feel it cutting through the bone more as it was dragged along, like the motion of a chef's knife. That probably wasn't how it worked, but he was the son of an electrician, not a butcher. Katrina's ferocity and resilience had both caught him off guard, and in that moment he'd realized his error. Katrina was a survivor. She'd made it this far, seen enough of the island to withstand it. Justin thought that at this point, they would be worn down by the horrors they'd seen or experienced. They should have been easier to kill.
Katrina was proving the opposite. Just like Shauna, in the face of approaching death and shrugging off injury, she was still coming at him. Now, Shauna made more sense. And in a way, Mackenzie made more sense. Benny did too.
Well... shit, that was inconvient.
Katrina's next swing was overhead, like she was trying to chop him in half with that ridiculously long blade, and Justin believed she could do it. Falling in the same direction he was leaning or simply ducking wouldn't work, and the other way... there was no time to thing about options. He threw himself, knees buckling, to his left side and almost under Katrina's right arm. He already had his hand on his failsafe, the handgun in his trousers which were quite possibly on their very last bullets as well... and unlike the Madsen, there were no backup magazines. Once they were gone, they were gone.
As Justin's weight crashed down onto arm where Shauna had blown his elbow to oblivion and Katrina had damn near sliced it in half, he decided those bullets were worth using, and he emptied all four that remained squarely into the girl's torso.
Fall down.
Let me live. Please.
Katrina was proving the opposite. Just like Shauna, in the face of approaching death and shrugging off injury, she was still coming at him. Now, Shauna made more sense. And in a way, Mackenzie made more sense. Benny did too.
Well... shit, that was inconvient.
Katrina's next swing was overhead, like she was trying to chop him in half with that ridiculously long blade, and Justin believed she could do it. Falling in the same direction he was leaning or simply ducking wouldn't work, and the other way... there was no time to thing about options. He threw himself, knees buckling, to his left side and almost under Katrina's right arm. He already had his hand on his failsafe, the handgun in his trousers which were quite possibly on their very last bullets as well... and unlike the Madsen, there were no backup magazines. Once they were gone, they were gone.
As Justin's weight crashed down onto arm where Shauna had blown his elbow to oblivion and Katrina had damn near sliced it in half, he decided those bullets were worth using, and he emptied all four that remained squarely into the girl's torso.
Fall down.
Let me live. Please.
Katrina continued to swing the sword. She was trying to get one final hit that would end Justin for good. With a sword as big as this, there had to be something she could do to stop him. She was running out of time, life, blood, and adrenaline, so she had to get that final push in.
But before she could, she felt four more stinging sensations into her chest. She cried out and fell back. She lost her grip on the nodachi and heard it fall to the ground. Her chest was burning and stinging more than before. She tried to lift her head off the ground, but could barely lift it.
Katrina tried to speak, but felt a violent coughing sensation. Suddenly, she felt something boil up from her throat and she spat it into the air. The coppery taste told her it was blood.
She laid on the ground, staring up at the sky. She couldn't move. She could reach the sword. She couldn't see Justin or Willow.
Katrina had failed.
But before she could, she felt four more stinging sensations into her chest. She cried out and fell back. She lost her grip on the nodachi and heard it fall to the ground. Her chest was burning and stinging more than before. She tried to lift her head off the ground, but could barely lift it.
Katrina tried to speak, but felt a violent coughing sensation. Suddenly, she felt something boil up from her throat and she spat it into the air. The coppery taste told her it was blood.
She laid on the ground, staring up at the sky. She couldn't move. She could reach the sword. She couldn't see Justin or Willow.
Katrina had failed.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
He waited for her to fall, to caugh and spit up the proof that she was dying, and then Justin allowed himself to roll onto his stomach. He pushed himself up to his knees on the one arm that still worked, his trusted handgun abandoned before him. It had served its purpose one more time and in killing Katrina, it expended the last of its possible uses.
Somewhere between rolling on the ground and forcing himself into something more vertical, his arm had come out of its makeshift sling. It freely dangled, blood running into the thick swath of bandages at his elbow. He thought the blood dripping in front of him, onto the grip of the pistol, might have been from his fingertips but no; the blood was coming down his nose instead. Another wound he'd have to take care of, something that probably would have required a trip to the hospital to get some stitches. Here? Justin wasn't sure he'd do.
He left Katrina where she lay, knowing in moments, she would be gone. No time to try and comfort her when he'd been torn up. Katrina would die alone, and he was truly sorry about that. He heard Saku crying again, about what had happened to Sean. Felt that all over again.
Get the gun. The SMG, empty but with some bullets to spare in his pockets.
Get the bag, the one abandoned with Katrina, the one Willow didn't get away with.
Walk a short way, get the bottles one by one. One, two... Justin almost couldn't will himself to crouch a third time to pick up that last bottle. He would have left it, but it felt like thirst could take him in less than an hour. He shuffled on his knees for a bit before his shins could find themselves underneath him in their proper place again.
He pressed on.
((Justin Greene, continued in It all went wrong))
Somewhere between rolling on the ground and forcing himself into something more vertical, his arm had come out of its makeshift sling. It freely dangled, blood running into the thick swath of bandages at his elbow. He thought the blood dripping in front of him, onto the grip of the pistol, might have been from his fingertips but no; the blood was coming down his nose instead. Another wound he'd have to take care of, something that probably would have required a trip to the hospital to get some stitches. Here? Justin wasn't sure he'd do.
He left Katrina where she lay, knowing in moments, she would be gone. No time to try and comfort her when he'd been torn up. Katrina would die alone, and he was truly sorry about that. He heard Saku crying again, about what had happened to Sean. Felt that all over again.
Get the gun. The SMG, empty but with some bullets to spare in his pockets.
Get the bag, the one abandoned with Katrina, the one Willow didn't get away with.
Walk a short way, get the bottles one by one. One, two... Justin almost couldn't will himself to crouch a third time to pick up that last bottle. He would have left it, but it felt like thirst could take him in less than an hour. He shuffled on his knees for a bit before his shins could find themselves underneath him in their proper place again.
He pressed on.
((Justin Greene, continued in It all went wrong))
Justin had left.
Katrina had stayed.
Willow looking at the scene as if she were tiptoeing in front of a window, looking at it as an outsider. It was how she looked at most things these days. There was always a distance between her and the subject, a type of trench dug over the blood and the flesh of her enemies and then flooded with the unconsolable guilt and the spite that flowed through her.
As if the script tipped her, Willow walked back into the scene. Whether Katrina was dead or alive didn't really matter, Willow was doing damage control. In an attempt to limit her loss, she counted the bags. Hers attached to her hip, Roxie's attached to the bike, Sierra's leftover next to the lake, but Katrina's was missing, probably gone with the man who took it.
Jonathan was somewhere else, stranded in some place that Willow had stopped caring about. So was Em's, apparently. The distance, the walking, the non-stop moving had stranded it somewhere else. She wasn't attached to it anyways.
She stepped again, walking toward the bloodied figure of Katrina. Despite its breathing, Willow addressed it - the body, the corpse, the soul - as dead.
"Hey," she whispered to the dead girl. "When I said run, I meant it."
From one dead girl to another, gallows humor never hurt.
"But seriously," she put her knee next to the living body, "is there anything you want me to do?"
Katrina had stayed.
Willow looking at the scene as if she were tiptoeing in front of a window, looking at it as an outsider. It was how she looked at most things these days. There was always a distance between her and the subject, a type of trench dug over the blood and the flesh of her enemies and then flooded with the unconsolable guilt and the spite that flowed through her.
As if the script tipped her, Willow walked back into the scene. Whether Katrina was dead or alive didn't really matter, Willow was doing damage control. In an attempt to limit her loss, she counted the bags. Hers attached to her hip, Roxie's attached to the bike, Sierra's leftover next to the lake, but Katrina's was missing, probably gone with the man who took it.
Jonathan was somewhere else, stranded in some place that Willow had stopped caring about. So was Em's, apparently. The distance, the walking, the non-stop moving had stranded it somewhere else. She wasn't attached to it anyways.
She stepped again, walking toward the bloodied figure of Katrina. Despite its breathing, Willow addressed it - the body, the corpse, the soul - as dead.
"Hey," she whispered to the dead girl. "When I said run, I meant it."
From one dead girl to another, gallows humor never hurt.
"But seriously," she put her knee next to the living body, "is there anything you want me to do?"