It didn't take long after his response to the girl before more people made their way into the graveyard. He could hear two or more voices. Couldn'te tell who it was, he didn't care who the fuck it was. He didn't want to be there anymore.
He yelled out at her."A-ah fuck! Get me out of here!" Panic set in for Jason as the thought of him, an easy target for players and robbers alike could get him done in.
He wasn't going out in a fuckin' graveyard. He was not some victim! He was fuckin' Jason Rosser and it'd be a cold day in hell if he'd go out here.
He tried to move, but the feeling in his shoulder shot out into the rest of him and locked up. It felt like he was trapped in his own body in a way his leg injury never did.
Tomb of the Forgotten
Phase 2 (13-24 Hours), Open
(Adopted from Espional)
Let's see here.
Beep. Beep. Beep
Luckily the controls here were pretty simple. Like, 'idiots guide to pyrotechnics' simple.
That was always nice. Grant really didn't want to blow himself up, especially not not he was finally putting his money where his mouth was when it came to his equalizer.
Charity wasn't looking in his direction. Grant half saluted her, pushed a button, and then, as the countdown on the nailbomb started down from 5, tossed it overhand towards the yammering on the ground.
Oh, and then he ran like hell.
((Grant continued in And An Ending))
Beep. Beep. Beep
Luckily the controls here were pretty simple. Like, 'idiots guide to pyrotechnics' simple.
That was always nice. Grant really didn't want to blow himself up, especially not not he was finally putting his money where his mouth was when it came to his equalizer.
Charity wasn't looking in his direction. Grant half saluted her, pushed a button, and then, as the countdown on the nailbomb started down from 5, tossed it overhand towards the yammering on the ground.
Oh, and then he ran like hell.
((Grant continued in And An Ending))
You know what. You fucking know what, Grant.
Charity couldn't say that she wasn't mad. At first it was eclipsed by confusion, then realization and panic. Then pain, the worst pain she'd ever felt in her life as the bomb went off and the shrapnel tore into all the soft parts of Charity's front because by time she put two and two together, her five seconds were up.
She couldn't even say something poetic about having felt worse emotional pain in her life, or anything. Her mom's death was a faint, far ache, her dad and her brother distant and dull like an old scar.
Shit, okay, that was kind of poetic, but not in the way she'd intended.
The point was. Charity didn't die instantly, because that wasn't how it worked most of the time. She had time to think, to dwell on the pain stabbing at her from a dozen different places as she collapsed and bled out in a motherfucking graveyard, because Grant was a dramatic piece of shit who probably liked the irony if he'd stopped to think about it. She had time to be scared, and then pissed.
Hell, she had time to be a little bit impressed.
He'd gotten one over on her. Fair do's, Golden Boy. He had the balls after all.
She didn't have enough time to settle on how exactly she felt about him or what she hoped happened to him after. Her emotions ran their little gamut, and then she had just enough time to give Grant the only thing she had left in the form of the classic one-finger salute in the direction he'd run off.
Charity didn't get time to think about anything deeper than that, and that was almost a relief.
F02 CHARITY GARDNER: DECEASED
Charity couldn't say that she wasn't mad. At first it was eclipsed by confusion, then realization and panic. Then pain, the worst pain she'd ever felt in her life as the bomb went off and the shrapnel tore into all the soft parts of Charity's front because by time she put two and two together, her five seconds were up.
She couldn't even say something poetic about having felt worse emotional pain in her life, or anything. Her mom's death was a faint, far ache, her dad and her brother distant and dull like an old scar.
Shit, okay, that was kind of poetic, but not in the way she'd intended.
The point was. Charity didn't die instantly, because that wasn't how it worked most of the time. She had time to think, to dwell on the pain stabbing at her from a dozen different places as she collapsed and bled out in a motherfucking graveyard, because Grant was a dramatic piece of shit who probably liked the irony if he'd stopped to think about it. She had time to be scared, and then pissed.
Hell, she had time to be a little bit impressed.
He'd gotten one over on her. Fair do's, Golden Boy. He had the balls after all.
She didn't have enough time to settle on how exactly she felt about him or what she hoped happened to him after. Her emotions ran their little gamut, and then she had just enough time to give Grant the only thing she had left in the form of the classic one-finger salute in the direction he'd run off.
Charity didn't get time to think about anything deeper than that, and that was almost a relief.
F02 CHARITY GARDNER: DECEASED
A grenade went off not long after those steps were taken. He didn't just hear it, he felt it. Especially when nails came flying towards him and embedded themselves into his chest and arms. With closed eyes, he stifled a scream as he laid there.
He didn't know where the girl had gone off to nor did he care. His mind was occoupied by the possibility that he'd fuckin' die in the forsaken graveyard. No way, he thought to himself. He'd get out of here and make it out. He was going to live even if it hurt like hell.
Forcing his head up and his eyes open. He saw outside of the graveyard.
He had to get out of there.
Jason didn't scream when the grenade went off. He didn't scream when the nails hit his body and impaled themselves in him. However, he did scream when he used his good arm to flip himself over to his stomach flat and started dragging himself along the ground. He screamed when he rolled himself down the hill and had to flip himself over again.
That didn't stop him though, he was going to get out.
Anytime now...
....................................................
"Fuckin' hell man!" Said the disturbed voice of Grayson as he poked the body with his gun. He'd seen his fair share of fucked up things across his career, this however was something else. The body laid on their face, but the blood trail was enough to tell him he didn't want to flip the body.
"I tell ya, these yanks are crazy! Doing this to each other." Greenley told him as he stood on the other side. He spat after he spoke and looked down, disgusted. "Poor bastard didn't even make it halfway."
Grayson looked aside. There was no way he'd make it. A leg covered in a cast and a fair amount of blood. Kid was screwed from the beginning. He couldn't even tell from the state of the body if it was torture or from a fight. Either or seemed plausible at this point.
He shook his head as he stood up. There was no point in figuring any of this out anymore. They just had to get them out.
"Let's get out of here. This is nothing to see." He walked away with Greenley as they continued their search.
((M11 Jason Rosser deceased))
He didn't know where the girl had gone off to nor did he care. His mind was occoupied by the possibility that he'd fuckin' die in the forsaken graveyard. No way, he thought to himself. He'd get out of here and make it out. He was going to live even if it hurt like hell.
Forcing his head up and his eyes open. He saw outside of the graveyard.
He had to get out of there.
Jason didn't scream when the grenade went off. He didn't scream when the nails hit his body and impaled themselves in him. However, he did scream when he used his good arm to flip himself over to his stomach flat and started dragging himself along the ground. He screamed when he rolled himself down the hill and had to flip himself over again.
That didn't stop him though, he was going to get out.
Anytime now...
....................................................
"Fuckin' hell man!" Said the disturbed voice of Grayson as he poked the body with his gun. He'd seen his fair share of fucked up things across his career, this however was something else. The body laid on their face, but the blood trail was enough to tell him he didn't want to flip the body.
"I tell ya, these yanks are crazy! Doing this to each other." Greenley told him as he stood on the other side. He spat after he spoke and looked down, disgusted. "Poor bastard didn't even make it halfway."
Grayson looked aside. There was no way he'd make it. A leg covered in a cast and a fair amount of blood. Kid was screwed from the beginning. He couldn't even tell from the state of the body if it was torture or from a fight. Either or seemed plausible at this point.
He shook his head as he stood up. There was no point in figuring any of this out anymore. They just had to get them out.
"Let's get out of here. This is nothing to see." He walked away with Greenley as they continued their search.
((M11 Jason Rosser deceased))