((more skips for dying))
Stella heard the shot before she felt it, but not by long. She didn't even have the time to register that someone had pulled a trigger before pain blasted through her abdomen. She felt heavy with the force of it, and her knees quivered with the effort to keep herself upright.
But she didn't fall. Somewhere in the back of her head she knew she couldn't fall. She knew that collapsing to the ground would be it, that'd be the sentence. If she fell she'd be dead, but if she was still standing --
If she was still standing --
Shit. Shit, what had her parents always said? Something about standing, something about standing. You might get shot, you might get hurt, but if you're standing you have a chance, there's more you can do, just take your weapon and
Take your weapon and do something but keep standing you've got to keep standing!
Her legs shook more, and the weight and agony in her chest twisted harshly. She didn't know what it looked like, she didn't want to look, so instead she pressed her hands to the wound and winced sharply at the pain. She could feel the blood seeping through her fingers, fuck, no holy shit. She had to keep standing, this was the fucking Program, this was her fucking chance! She was a fucking American! She was here for her patriotic duty, she had to finish! She had to finish, they had to let her finish, and they would let her finish if she just kept standing --
She saw the blur of her shooter on the horizon. She couldn't tell anything about him from far away, but she knew the type of person to shoot without honor, and this was not an honor shot, not even a little. She had to get him, had to make him pay, had to show him real patriotic fucking duty. She had too keep. fucking. standing.
Stella breathed in. The air tasted like copper, felt shaky and too thin. But she was still standing. She took a faltering step forward. Her knees wobbled and she would have cursed if she wasn't scared it would take up her energy.
She couldn't think about anything besides standing, that was all she needed to focus on. Fuck death and fuck her parents and fuck everyone else. Fuck all that sentimental bullshit that contestants would weep through beforehand. Fuck sitting around and sobbing and begging to go home. Fuck all of that. All she needed to do was stand. Everything would be okay if she could just keep standing. Everything.
She took another step forward.
Stella fell.
((F12-STELLA BARNES: DECEASED))
Trial and Error
PM for entry
-
Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Things had come to a complete stand-still, neither boy willing to put some slack in the tension rope. Angel, whom was rarely at a loss for words, found himself quiet and steely eye-d searching for the words that would get him out of the situation. He'd been too cocky, he knew that, but he wanted the rise from Frank. He wanted to see him get mad, maybe throw a temper tantrum right on the spot. He was, essentially, gambling with his life by poking the bear, though, and even he knew someone with his luck was bound to bust.
"What are we gonna do? Well, you could start by--,"
Angel hadn't heard the rustling and the gunshot itself had taken a moment to register. Instead, before anything else, Angel saw the fury in Frank's eyes. It wasn't fear over being caught off guard or surprise, it was pure anger. He was shooting to kill, nothing else.
Heart in his throat, Angel followed the gunshot only to find and muddied Stella Barnes hobbling toward them clutching her wound. He didn't look at her eyes, none to eager to see the light of life flicker from them. For a brief second, he watched her fight, sickly drawn to her as she struggled to stand. She was dead already, there was no helping her.
Not that he would have anyway.
It gave him an opening, at the very least. Not waiting to see Stella fall, Angel planted his foot hard in Audrey's back, with more anger than he'd intended. Maybe he was embarrassed to lose, or maybe he was angry it didn't go his way, it didn't matter. All that mattered was not getting shot as he sprinted toward the treeline.
Somewhere deep down, Angel was disappointed he wouldn't be able to see Frank's reaction toward shooting a patriot.
Even deeper down, he wondered why he wasn't more satisfied a patriot had died.
"What are we gonna do? Well, you could start by--,"
Angel hadn't heard the rustling and the gunshot itself had taken a moment to register. Instead, before anything else, Angel saw the fury in Frank's eyes. It wasn't fear over being caught off guard or surprise, it was pure anger. He was shooting to kill, nothing else.
Heart in his throat, Angel followed the gunshot only to find and muddied Stella Barnes hobbling toward them clutching her wound. He didn't look at her eyes, none to eager to see the light of life flicker from them. For a brief second, he watched her fight, sickly drawn to her as she struggled to stand. She was dead already, there was no helping her.
Not that he would have anyway.
It gave him an opening, at the very least. Not waiting to see Stella fall, Angel planted his foot hard in Audrey's back, with more anger than he'd intended. Maybe he was embarrassed to lose, or maybe he was angry it didn't go his way, it didn't matter. All that mattered was not getting shot as he sprinted toward the treeline.
Somewhere deep down, Angel was disappointed he wouldn't be able to see Frank's reaction toward shooting a patriot.
Even deeper down, he wondered why he wasn't more satisfied a patriot had died.
** Angel Aguilar, male no. 14, continued in…Rout or Rally
Audrey had had a gun pointed at her earlier. She'd heard Maxim shoot Dylan, but this was different. She saw the trigger pulled, the sound of the shot immediately after.
For a moment she was afraid she'd been shot, but there was no pain, and she realized this was her chance, that the situation had just reached boiling point.
She still felt the knife on her neck. Perhaps Frank had missed. But Angel must have been distracted, had to be. The only leverage he had on her was that knife. She was betting her life that he wouldn't be able to stab her.
But she didn't need to. Before she could spring forward, away from Angel, she felt a sudden force on her back, and she sprawled face first into the dirt.
Audrey scrambled up to her feet, her eyes wide, but only saw Angel running away. Somehow, she was free.
"What-" A look at Frank's face, and she didn't want to ask what happened anymore. "Let's just get out of here."
((Audrey McKee continued in Rout or Rally))
For a moment she was afraid she'd been shot, but there was no pain, and she realized this was her chance, that the situation had just reached boiling point.
She still felt the knife on her neck. Perhaps Frank had missed. But Angel must have been distracted, had to be. The only leverage he had on her was that knife. She was betting her life that he wouldn't be able to stab her.
But she didn't need to. Before she could spring forward, away from Angel, she felt a sudden force on her back, and she sprawled face first into the dirt.
Audrey scrambled up to her feet, her eyes wide, but only saw Angel running away. Somehow, she was free.
"What-" A look at Frank's face, and she didn't want to ask what happened anymore. "Let's just get out of here."
((Audrey McKee continued in Rout or Rally))
This signature intentionally left blank.
Frank jacked the bolt on the rifle, ejecting the spent shell.
Who was that?
There was movement, and Audrey was sent down to his feet. Maybe Angel got scared, knew that Frank meant business. Whatever happened, the Mexican was running now, the crisis was averted.
Part of him thought he should go check his ki...the dead person. But part of him was afraid of what he would find.
Part of him knew what he would find.
He watched Angel go for a second, considering trying to shoot, but it would be a waste. Frank was no marksman; it was sheer luck he had hit whoever popped up out of the grass. Angel disappeared into the trees too quickly anyway.
"I'll see you later, boy."
He looked down to Audrey, nodded, and grabbed her hand to help her up. They had cleared out immediately after.
((Frank Callahan continued Rout or Rally))
Who was that?
There was movement, and Audrey was sent down to his feet. Maybe Angel got scared, knew that Frank meant business. Whatever happened, the Mexican was running now, the crisis was averted.
Part of him thought he should go check his ki...the dead person. But part of him was afraid of what he would find.
Part of him knew what he would find.
He watched Angel go for a second, considering trying to shoot, but it would be a waste. Frank was no marksman; it was sheer luck he had hit whoever popped up out of the grass. Angel disappeared into the trees too quickly anyway.
"I'll see you later, boy."
He looked down to Audrey, nodded, and grabbed her hand to help her up. They had cleared out immediately after.
((Frank Callahan continued Rout or Rally))