He wasn't in the doorway long. Two, maybe three seconds. The impression wasn't for them. He didn't care who they were, if they knew him, or if they saw him.
When he threw the grenade, he wasn't aiming for anything but the sounds of their voices. He didn't expect it to even come close. That didn't matter. It wasn't about them. It was all about the image.
He threw the grenade through the doorway, and recoiled back to wait for the explosion. That was his cue.
Discordant
Open
-
Latin For Dragula
- Posts: 399
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:28 pm
Jackson's eyes snapped to the object that came rolling into the lobby, not too far from where they were sitting. It took maybe two more seconds to parse what it was, to realize it meant nothing but death.
"Holy shit!"
In only a few moments, he was shoving the bag off his lap and exploding out of his seat in a burst of sudden moment past Cathryn, arm out to catch her, maybe get them to what he hoped to God was safe distance. Or that whatever was on the ground wasn't what it thought he was. All that mattered was that he get them both out of there.
"Holy shit!"
In only a few moments, he was shoving the bag off his lap and exploding out of his seat in a burst of sudden moment past Cathryn, arm out to catch her, maybe get them to what he hoped to God was safe distance. Or that whatever was on the ground wasn't what it thought he was. All that mattered was that he get them both out of there.
Blink.
Cathryn grabbed onto Jackson, and ran with him, for the first time, actually struggling to catch her breath.
Blink.
The distance between them and the grenade grew more and more, but would it be enough? Would this next footstep be enough? Or this one?
Blink.
She turned around and almost fell outside the exit of the building. She cowered behind the wall, and wasn't quite sure whether Jackson was with her at the moment. It didn't matter, not now, nothing did. Only one thing went through her mind.
Everything was out of her hands now.
She squeezed her eyes shut as the grenade ignited and the shrapnel flew.
Cathryn grabbed onto Jackson, and ran with him, for the first time, actually struggling to catch her breath.
Blink.
The distance between them and the grenade grew more and more, but would it be enough? Would this next footstep be enough? Or this one?
Blink.
She turned around and almost fell outside the exit of the building. She cowered behind the wall, and wasn't quite sure whether Jackson was with her at the moment. It didn't matter, not now, nothing did. Only one thing went through her mind.
Everything was out of her hands now.
She squeezed her eyes shut as the grenade ignited and the shrapnel flew.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
-
Latin For Dragula
- Posts: 399
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:28 pm
The grenade went off, and he was through the door.
There was still smoke in the room from the explosion, but that didn't stop him from firing blindly in the general direction he'd heard them scuffling. He just wanted to keep them down and out of sight until he could find somewhere to hunker in. There wasn't any good spot for him to hide in for the moment, though. so he sauntered around the court with the carbine up, scanning for targets in the empty court.
"Marco."
Nice, sweet, short little one-liners. They'd like that. They always liked that.
There was still smoke in the room from the explosion, but that didn't stop him from firing blindly in the general direction he'd heard them scuffling. He just wanted to keep them down and out of sight until he could find somewhere to hunker in. There wasn't any good spot for him to hide in for the moment, though. so he sauntered around the court with the carbine up, scanning for targets in the empty court.
"Marco."
Nice, sweet, short little one-liners. They'd like that. They always liked that.
Does the world fucking hate me?
It was an idle, useless thought, but Jackson went ahead and had it just the same. They had made it outside, the cold shocking him out of the adrenaline-filled stupor he'd been in. If there was any left, the thump-WHAM of the grenade going off woke him up the rest of the way.
He pressed himself against the same wall as Cathryn, trying to formulate a plan and only coming up with panicked screams inside his own head.
All of it was compounded by the fact now that he had lost the bag, and his gun. They were under attack, and they were defenseless. And whover it was, they had fucking grenades.
He didn't know what else to do, so he reached out and put a hand on Cathryn's shoulder. Ostensibly it was to reassure her. But he was certain it was as much to do the same for him.
It was an idle, useless thought, but Jackson went ahead and had it just the same. They had made it outside, the cold shocking him out of the adrenaline-filled stupor he'd been in. If there was any left, the thump-WHAM of the grenade going off woke him up the rest of the way.
He pressed himself against the same wall as Cathryn, trying to formulate a plan and only coming up with panicked screams inside his own head.
All of it was compounded by the fact now that he had lost the bag, and his gun. They were under attack, and they were defenseless. And whover it was, they had fucking grenades.
He didn't know what else to do, so he reached out and put a hand on Cathryn's shoulder. Ostensibly it was to reassure her. But he was certain it was as much to do the same for him.
Cathryn didn't put her hands up to her ears in time, and so thundering booms and splintering wood and screams that may have been hers or not were quickly replaced by this dull ringing.
She opened her eyes to smoke billowing from the door they'd just run out of, particles of dust floating through the air. The next thing she did was look to her right to find Jackson there, next to her, without any bag in his hands.
No bag, no gun, no weapon.
Cathryn, her entire body trembling, looked at him, and mouthed, maybe whispered, she couldn't quite tell through the tinnitus, these few words.
"What the fuck do we do now?"
She wasn't quite sure who she was asking.
She opened her eyes to smoke billowing from the door they'd just run out of, particles of dust floating through the air. The next thing she did was look to her right to find Jackson there, next to her, without any bag in his hands.
No bag, no gun, no weapon.
Cathryn, her entire body trembling, looked at him, and mouthed, maybe whispered, she couldn't quite tell through the tinnitus, these few words.
"What the fuck do we do now?"
She wasn't quite sure who she was asking.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
-
Latin For Dragula
- Posts: 399
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:28 pm
Nobody was volunteering a location. Vahka traced the edges of the court slowly as he approached the wreck his grenade had left. Somebody's bag was here, and he reckoned they weren't going to go too far without it. They were just waiting for him to move on.
"Maaaarco," he called again, dragging the word out slowly as he pushed the bag with his foot. "Think I've got somethin' of yours. Shame if somethin' happened to it."
His eyes roamed between the doorways. They had to come from somewhere. That'd be the next cue. It'd go to hell from there, but he had that one solid piece of direction to hang on to for now: they had to come from somewhere. He just had to catch them.
That was his role.
"Maaaarco," he called again, dragging the word out slowly as he pushed the bag with his foot. "Think I've got somethin' of yours. Shame if somethin' happened to it."
His eyes roamed between the doorways. They had to come from somewhere. That'd be the next cue. It'd go to hell from there, but he had that one solid piece of direction to hang on to for now: they had to come from somewhere. He just had to catch them.
That was his role.
Jackson wasn't ready for responsibility. Just a moment ago they were sitting down and talking. That's all. What did the world want from him?
But still, Cathryn looked to him like he had ideas, like he had answers. And then the guy who tossed the little piece of hell into their midst was calling out, taunting, mocking.
Jackson inclined his head toward Cathryn's bag, raising his eyebrows. The unspoken question was clear, equated with the hope she had something a little dangeorus in there to respond to their new friend with. He wasn't passing the buck, really; just seeing if she could take hold of it for a minute.
But still, Cathryn looked to him like he had ideas, like he had answers. And then the guy who tossed the little piece of hell into their midst was calling out, taunting, mocking.
Jackson inclined his head toward Cathryn's bag, raising his eyebrows. The unspoken question was clear, equated with the hope she had something a little dangeorus in there to respond to their new friend with. He wasn't passing the buck, really; just seeing if she could take hold of it for a minute.
((Alice Young continued from But You Won't See Me))
A shower. That was her greatest desire, her strongest wish right now. Her mind and body begged for sleep, demanded it, but with blood staining her clothes, her face, her hair and her hands, literally and metaphorically, she knew sleep wouldn’t come. She wouldn’t be able to get any rest until she felt clean again.
Alice trudged on, through the falling snow and the biting cold, in the direction of her goal where she hoped she would be able to scrub herself clean for a few hours. There were showers at the condos, dozens of them, but she couldn’t stay there any longer, not after what had happened, not even in a different part of the building. She had considered the hotel, both for a shower and for a bed, but the idea that there might be more people there, all looking for a place to sleep for the night, had convinced her not to try.
But then she had thought of the sports centre. She saw it, nestled way up in the far corner of the map; a remote location that offered little in terms of food, weapons or accommodation. What it did have, what it hopefully had, were locker rooms and showers. What it wouldn’t have, what it hopefully lacked, were people.
Warm water would be a miracle, but Alice would settle for running at the moment, so long as it worked.
With a destination in mind the distance between the condos and the sports centre melted away in no time at all; just endless snow and one foot in front of the other and nothing interesting happening until the complex loomed into sight.
It was larger than she would have thought and had more outdoor facilities than she imagined a place like this might have, though of course it wouldn’t be this cold all year round.
It seemed quiet at first, but then it always did. Alice couldn’t see anyone outside but then she hadn’t expected to; nobody would willingly wait outside when shelter was so close, unless they were hesitating on whether to go inside or not like she was.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of being hurt anymore, not entirely. Her crossbow was fully stocked again, but that thought was sickening more than reassuring; even after what had just happened she still felt unable to move forward unless she wielded something dangerous in front of her. No matter what it meant for anyone else. What had she become?
No, she wasn’t afraid for herself anymore. After the events of the condo she was more worried about what she might do to anyone she met, rather than what they might do to her. It was not her blood which covered her so completely after all.
The silence was broken suddenly, like shattering glass, the air shuddering with the force of an explosion close by. Alice’s eyes were drawn to the front door of the main sports complex building in time to see someone disappear through the entrance and the door close behind them.
She froze. It didn’t take long for the situation to sink in. She had just stumbled across something dangerous, again.
Whoever she had just seen was likely the one who caused that explosion and since most people didn’t do that for no reason it was safe to assume there was someone else in that building as well. Most likely whoever had just gone inside intended to kill whoever they found.
She should have run then, just turned around and ignored everything she had just seen. Something kept her in place. Something drew her forward. Each hesitant step brought her closer to the building and the doorway and every step was another lost opportunity to run.
Alice remembered what had happened back at the restaurant, listening to that girl beat two people to death as she huddled inside her cabinet and prayed she wouldn’t be heard or found. She didn’t want to go through that again, having to watch or hear someone die, but at the same time she couldn’t just walk away knowing it was going to happen.
What did she think she was going to do? Was she thinking of trying to save someone? What good would that do in the long run when everyone was going to die anyway? Was she thinking that her seeing what happened might make a difference? Like bearing witness would make what happened inside more meaningful, if someone knew what happened? It wouldn’t, a terrible death was still terrible no matter what, and there were already plenty of people willing to watch what happened through the TV screen.
She reached the door and paused.
What was she doing here?
A shower. That was her greatest desire, her strongest wish right now. Her mind and body begged for sleep, demanded it, but with blood staining her clothes, her face, her hair and her hands, literally and metaphorically, she knew sleep wouldn’t come. She wouldn’t be able to get any rest until she felt clean again.
Alice trudged on, through the falling snow and the biting cold, in the direction of her goal where she hoped she would be able to scrub herself clean for a few hours. There were showers at the condos, dozens of them, but she couldn’t stay there any longer, not after what had happened, not even in a different part of the building. She had considered the hotel, both for a shower and for a bed, but the idea that there might be more people there, all looking for a place to sleep for the night, had convinced her not to try.
But then she had thought of the sports centre. She saw it, nestled way up in the far corner of the map; a remote location that offered little in terms of food, weapons or accommodation. What it did have, what it hopefully had, were locker rooms and showers. What it wouldn’t have, what it hopefully lacked, were people.
Warm water would be a miracle, but Alice would settle for running at the moment, so long as it worked.
With a destination in mind the distance between the condos and the sports centre melted away in no time at all; just endless snow and one foot in front of the other and nothing interesting happening until the complex loomed into sight.
It was larger than she would have thought and had more outdoor facilities than she imagined a place like this might have, though of course it wouldn’t be this cold all year round.
It seemed quiet at first, but then it always did. Alice couldn’t see anyone outside but then she hadn’t expected to; nobody would willingly wait outside when shelter was so close, unless they were hesitating on whether to go inside or not like she was.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of being hurt anymore, not entirely. Her crossbow was fully stocked again, but that thought was sickening more than reassuring; even after what had just happened she still felt unable to move forward unless she wielded something dangerous in front of her. No matter what it meant for anyone else. What had she become?
No, she wasn’t afraid for herself anymore. After the events of the condo she was more worried about what she might do to anyone she met, rather than what they might do to her. It was not her blood which covered her so completely after all.
The silence was broken suddenly, like shattering glass, the air shuddering with the force of an explosion close by. Alice’s eyes were drawn to the front door of the main sports complex building in time to see someone disappear through the entrance and the door close behind them.
She froze. It didn’t take long for the situation to sink in. She had just stumbled across something dangerous, again.
Whoever she had just seen was likely the one who caused that explosion and since most people didn’t do that for no reason it was safe to assume there was someone else in that building as well. Most likely whoever had just gone inside intended to kill whoever they found.
She should have run then, just turned around and ignored everything she had just seen. Something kept her in place. Something drew her forward. Each hesitant step brought her closer to the building and the doorway and every step was another lost opportunity to run.
Alice remembered what had happened back at the restaurant, listening to that girl beat two people to death as she huddled inside her cabinet and prayed she wouldn’t be heard or found. She didn’t want to go through that again, having to watch or hear someone die, but at the same time she couldn’t just walk away knowing it was going to happen.
What did she think she was going to do? Was she thinking of trying to save someone? What good would that do in the long run when everyone was going to die anyway? Was she thinking that her seeing what happened might make a difference? Like bearing witness would make what happened inside more meaningful, if someone knew what happened? It wouldn’t, a terrible death was still terrible no matter what, and there were already plenty of people willing to watch what happened through the TV screen.
She reached the door and paused.
What was she doing here?
Cathryn just widened her eyes at Jackson. Was he... did he... fuck, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Fuck. So much waiting, too much patience, and look where it got her. And fuck, the bag was in there, with- finally, the name came to her- Vahka. That name had come up more than a few times in the announcements. Scary dude, both of them had nothing against him, it was useless.
Her legs tensed up, her right in mid-step, but before she took off running, she remembered. She wasn't supposed to get out of here without that gun in her hand. No matter what. Because if, if she did, that meant another Nina, another tortured death at her hand, and shit, the bile was coming up her throat- no, not now, not now.
She shook her head at him, and whispered frantically.
"No, no, I don't have any weapon, nothing good against that."
And would she leave it off at that? Should she just accept her losses, try to find someone else to bamboozle?
Nina. Leah.
No.
"...just come with me there, please."
Her legs tensed up, her right in mid-step, but before she took off running, she remembered. She wasn't supposed to get out of here without that gun in her hand. No matter what. Because if, if she did, that meant another Nina, another tortured death at her hand, and shit, the bile was coming up her throat- no, not now, not now.
She shook her head at him, and whispered frantically.
"No, no, I don't have any weapon, nothing good against that."
And would she leave it off at that? Should she just accept her losses, try to find someone else to bamboozle?
Nina. Leah.
No.
"...just come with me there, please."
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
-
Latin For Dragula
- Posts: 399
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:28 pm
No response, or none that he could pick up on at least. It was fine. Just meant he'd have to escalate.
He nudged the bag with his foot as he called out loudly. "Alright. Here's how this plays." His fingers laced around the zipper. It tugged open as he pulled it back, leaving the mouth of the bag hanging wide. "I'm good for supplies. So ya'll got ten seconds to come out, then I zip this up with somethin' to remember me by, and I'm gone."
The tip of the zweihander tapped against the ground anxiously as he glanced around. "That's the choice. Come out, or stay safe, and I torch you're shit. Pretty simple for both of us, I'd say."
He nudged the bag with his foot as he called out loudly. "Alright. Here's how this plays." His fingers laced around the zipper. It tugged open as he pulled it back, leaving the mouth of the bag hanging wide. "I'm good for supplies. So ya'll got ten seconds to come out, then I zip this up with somethin' to remember me by, and I'm gone."
The tip of the zweihander tapped against the ground anxiously as he glanced around. "That's the choice. Come out, or stay safe, and I torch you're shit. Pretty simple for both of us, I'd say."
So Cathryn had nothing. Their assailant was making what sounded like a shit offer. Shit because both options seemed to lead the same way.
It was a bag, anyway. So what? Fuck it.
Fuck it seemed the order of the day. Was a sight better than just stepping out.
Jackson scanned the wall. Exits didn't seem readily available, but he was sure if they got moving they'd be fine.
"Let's just get of here. He can have the fucking bag." Saying it made the action easier to accept, even if it meant losing his supplies, his gun."
He could take a loss in stride. Preferably a long, fast one.
It was a bag, anyway. So what? Fuck it.
Fuck it seemed the order of the day. Was a sight better than just stepping out.
Jackson scanned the wall. Exits didn't seem readily available, but he was sure if they got moving they'd be fine.
"Let's just get of here. He can have the fucking bag." Saying it made the action easier to accept, even if it meant losing his supplies, his gun."
He could take a loss in stride. Preferably a long, fast one.
Alice stood outside, off to one side of the door so that anyone who turned and looked through the glass wouldn’t be able to see her. Every now and then she peeked around the edge of the doorframe to see what she could; mostly all she could see what the back of the boy who must have thrown the grenade, pacing around an otherwise empty room. She ducked back anytime she thought the large boy might turn around.
She was still as unsure now what her purpose here was as she had been when she decided to stay; whatever was going on inside didn’t involve her unless she involved herself and she didn’t know what she would achieve in doing so or what could possibly be worth the risk to her to do so.
Another look around the frame and she could see that the boy had stopped moving; instead he was leaning down to unzip a bag at his feet. Now that she had her head out she could hear him as well; it sounded like he was giving an ultimatum to whomever it was he had found inside. Either they stepped out of wherever they were hiding or he put another grenade in their bag and walked away. What would happen once the person stepped out went unspoken; there was no need to give voice to something so obvious.
Alice knew what she would do in that case. Either run away while your possessions were destroyed and step out and die so that they were no use to you anyway. Even if the person in question had a weapon, as Alice might in their situation, and were thinking of trying to reclaim their property there couldn’t possibly be anything in that bag worth risking your life over.
Going hungry with no food, thirsty with no water or cold with no extra clothing was all better alternative that being killed.
It occurred to her that whatever decision she was going to come to about whether or not to intervene, she had better make it soon. If she remained an observer as she was, passive, all that would happen is that she would either get to witness the scene of someone’s death or potentially be caught by someone terrifying once he had dropped his grenade and walked away from the explosion.
During the times she had looked so far she had seen the boy carrying both a large gun of some kind and an even bigger sword, not to mention the grenades he had thrown earlier and the simple fact that this boy, this man, was very large in size. She did not want to be found by someone like that, nor did she much feel like confronting him.
She realised then, a sudden thought that struck her colder than the climate already had, that running wasn’t exactly an option either; not anymore. The sports centre was somewhat isolated and there wasn’t much around it, meaning Alice would need to cross a lot of open ground as she ran. She still wore her red cloak and her clothing was stained with blood; she would be visible as a red beacon on a white background if she ran.
If she had gone sooner, or hadn’t stopped at all she probably would have been able to get further away. As it was now running wasn’t an option that was available to her; if she was seen she would either be chased her or just shot in the back.
She could always throw the cloak away, but without its meagre protection she wasn’t sure how long she would last in the cold; even with it she was tired and drained enough that she might not make it to the next bit of shelter.
She was in essence stranded, unable to leave this building and unwilling to go any further than she already had while the danger inside remained. Her options were limited and all she could see available to her were hiding and confrontation. Neither was good for her.
Hiding posed the same problems as running, in terms of visibility and whether she had enough time to get somewhere safe. Confrontation... confrontation meant doing what she did back at the condos, holding up the boy inside with her crossbow and trying to intimidate him into leaving.
Her heart sank; time and again she had proved intimidation didn’t work; to intimidate someone you needed to be stronger than them, scarier or just have some advantage they didn’t that you could hold over them. At the hotel she had an element of surprise and was pointing a weapon at someone who was unarmed; she had lost that advantage when a third person showed up, leaving her surprised and no longer the only armed person. The situation had spiralled rapidly out of control thereafter.
Her body still ached in the aftermath of what had happened, the cold only making the hurt sink deeper, and she suspected she would never shake the images of what she had done to the boy or the girl back there. Nor would she be able to shake the feeling of utter helplessness as she had been driven to the ground and savagely beaten and the desperation as she begun stabbing away
She wanted to avoid a repeat of that more than anything else.
It was pointless to think about anyway. This boy had more weapons than her, more stature and it was safe to assume a lot more confidence and force of personality than Alice did. All she would have if she attempted to confront him would be surprise and the fact her weapon was pointed at him while his were aimed down. She also potentially had whoever was inside on her side if they decided to help.
It was more likely they would run. She would.
Anything she did do however, it would have to be done inside. Standing outside Alice was sure the temperature was dropping even further, or maybe she was just feeling what little heat she had managed to hold onto fleeing her body; in either case she needed to get indoors as a priority, regardless of what lay inside.
With another quick look around the door to ensure the figure in the room was not looking her way, Alice carefully stepped out into plain view and slowly pulled the door open. She let herself in, hoping she wasn’t making too much noise or that the figure wouldn’t notice a sudden chill as she let the cold air in with her.
She froze just inside the door, not willing to step in any direction until she had to lest she make any alerting sounds. Her eyes roved around the room, searching for any hiding places that would let her go unseen while also shielding her from any potential explosions, aware of how little time she had.
All the while she made sure to keep the large and broad figure in her peripheral vision at all times.
She was still as unsure now what her purpose here was as she had been when she decided to stay; whatever was going on inside didn’t involve her unless she involved herself and she didn’t know what she would achieve in doing so or what could possibly be worth the risk to her to do so.
Another look around the frame and she could see that the boy had stopped moving; instead he was leaning down to unzip a bag at his feet. Now that she had her head out she could hear him as well; it sounded like he was giving an ultimatum to whomever it was he had found inside. Either they stepped out of wherever they were hiding or he put another grenade in their bag and walked away. What would happen once the person stepped out went unspoken; there was no need to give voice to something so obvious.
Alice knew what she would do in that case. Either run away while your possessions were destroyed and step out and die so that they were no use to you anyway. Even if the person in question had a weapon, as Alice might in their situation, and were thinking of trying to reclaim their property there couldn’t possibly be anything in that bag worth risking your life over.
Going hungry with no food, thirsty with no water or cold with no extra clothing was all better alternative that being killed.
It occurred to her that whatever decision she was going to come to about whether or not to intervene, she had better make it soon. If she remained an observer as she was, passive, all that would happen is that she would either get to witness the scene of someone’s death or potentially be caught by someone terrifying once he had dropped his grenade and walked away from the explosion.
During the times she had looked so far she had seen the boy carrying both a large gun of some kind and an even bigger sword, not to mention the grenades he had thrown earlier and the simple fact that this boy, this man, was very large in size. She did not want to be found by someone like that, nor did she much feel like confronting him.
She realised then, a sudden thought that struck her colder than the climate already had, that running wasn’t exactly an option either; not anymore. The sports centre was somewhat isolated and there wasn’t much around it, meaning Alice would need to cross a lot of open ground as she ran. She still wore her red cloak and her clothing was stained with blood; she would be visible as a red beacon on a white background if she ran.
If she had gone sooner, or hadn’t stopped at all she probably would have been able to get further away. As it was now running wasn’t an option that was available to her; if she was seen she would either be chased her or just shot in the back.
She could always throw the cloak away, but without its meagre protection she wasn’t sure how long she would last in the cold; even with it she was tired and drained enough that she might not make it to the next bit of shelter.
She was in essence stranded, unable to leave this building and unwilling to go any further than she already had while the danger inside remained. Her options were limited and all she could see available to her were hiding and confrontation. Neither was good for her.
Hiding posed the same problems as running, in terms of visibility and whether she had enough time to get somewhere safe. Confrontation... confrontation meant doing what she did back at the condos, holding up the boy inside with her crossbow and trying to intimidate him into leaving.
Her heart sank; time and again she had proved intimidation didn’t work; to intimidate someone you needed to be stronger than them, scarier or just have some advantage they didn’t that you could hold over them. At the hotel she had an element of surprise and was pointing a weapon at someone who was unarmed; she had lost that advantage when a third person showed up, leaving her surprised and no longer the only armed person. The situation had spiralled rapidly out of control thereafter.
Her body still ached in the aftermath of what had happened, the cold only making the hurt sink deeper, and she suspected she would never shake the images of what she had done to the boy or the girl back there. Nor would she be able to shake the feeling of utter helplessness as she had been driven to the ground and savagely beaten and the desperation as she begun stabbing away
She wanted to avoid a repeat of that more than anything else.
It was pointless to think about anyway. This boy had more weapons than her, more stature and it was safe to assume a lot more confidence and force of personality than Alice did. All she would have if she attempted to confront him would be surprise and the fact her weapon was pointed at him while his were aimed down. She also potentially had whoever was inside on her side if they decided to help.
It was more likely they would run. She would.
Anything she did do however, it would have to be done inside. Standing outside Alice was sure the temperature was dropping even further, or maybe she was just feeling what little heat she had managed to hold onto fleeing her body; in either case she needed to get indoors as a priority, regardless of what lay inside.
With another quick look around the door to ensure the figure in the room was not looking her way, Alice carefully stepped out into plain view and slowly pulled the door open. She let herself in, hoping she wasn’t making too much noise or that the figure wouldn’t notice a sudden chill as she let the cold air in with her.
She froze just inside the door, not willing to step in any direction until she had to lest she make any alerting sounds. Her eyes roved around the room, searching for any hiding places that would let her go unseen while also shielding her from any potential explosions, aware of how little time she had.
All the while she made sure to keep the large and broad figure in her peripheral vision at all times.
Oh, so Jackson wouldn't come with Cathryn?
Fine then. Fuck you too. If another person has to struggle, kick, claw, bite for ten minutes straight, hold onto that last remnant of Pandora's box for eternities, if another person has to go out not with some poetic address, or some goodbyes, or even a 'fuck you', but with grunts and shouts and whimpers and tears, then that's on him. And yes, it would be on her also, and the pain she'd dealt, those violent struggles for life, for another breath, for the sake of Cathryn getting another breath, another day, another life, those pushes against a towel wrapped around her mouth that slowly regressed to nudges and shoves and then to nothing at all, no matter how much she tried to forget her heart, to gag her conscience, it would always be in her nightmares and in her dreams and in her thoughts, she'd always come back to that. She knew. But no, no, now, it was on him, it had to be. Who cares if he didn't know what her motives were, much less try to resist it? No, even if ignorance could excuse him indirectly causing more misery, even if he could excuse himself from these mental gymnastics Cathryn had used, there was still the sin of cowardice and stupidity, and she'd do things herself then, she'd walk in and get that bag from Vahka, and then maybe she'd shoot them both dead. At least it'd be quick, painless, just like how it should be.
Except no, she'd seen this exact type of situation countless times before, on the movies with those cliched horror movies, probably written by people whose idea of 'imagination' was a pretty sunset, on the TV screens with the Friday night reruns, even on this very show, she'd seen this ineptness, and now, she knew it wasn't idiocy but desperation. But even if it wasn't stupid but necessary, that still didn't change the inevitable results. So, no, Cathryn couldn't walk through that bear trap. In fact, the very thought of it made her sweat cold, made her body vibrate.
Cathryn still had her bag with her, strung around her shoulder. She could still keep warm, fill her stomach, quench her thirst. She could live. That was all that mattered. As for Jackson, well, it wouldn't hurt her. Not like their bandannas were the same color anyways.
Without another word, she briskly walked, and then jogged, away from the sports center. There were buildings quite close by if Vahka came out, and even if he did, Jackson was still there. She'd have enough time, hopefully, maybe.
She did glance at the boy she was abandoning one last time, and, in the midst of all that terror, and the all too familiar anger (when was that not the case?), was the slightest twinge of guilt. But if he lived through this, when the announcements came on, he'd be thankful and would realize what bullet he dodged, what really was supposed to happen after that conversation. There was that.
And so, she left behind what was supposed to be her gun, that gambit that was just seconds away from being pulled off. Fucking seconds.
If it helped, there were always other guns, and other people to fear her and to help spread the word, maybe, just maybe, convince she herself that she truly could be one of the fittest.
((Cathryn Bailey continues in Stuck in the Middle with You))
Fine then. Fuck you too. If another person has to struggle, kick, claw, bite for ten minutes straight, hold onto that last remnant of Pandora's box for eternities, if another person has to go out not with some poetic address, or some goodbyes, or even a 'fuck you', but with grunts and shouts and whimpers and tears, then that's on him. And yes, it would be on her also, and the pain she'd dealt, those violent struggles for life, for another breath, for the sake of Cathryn getting another breath, another day, another life, those pushes against a towel wrapped around her mouth that slowly regressed to nudges and shoves and then to nothing at all, no matter how much she tried to forget her heart, to gag her conscience, it would always be in her nightmares and in her dreams and in her thoughts, she'd always come back to that. She knew. But no, no, now, it was on him, it had to be. Who cares if he didn't know what her motives were, much less try to resist it? No, even if ignorance could excuse him indirectly causing more misery, even if he could excuse himself from these mental gymnastics Cathryn had used, there was still the sin of cowardice and stupidity, and she'd do things herself then, she'd walk in and get that bag from Vahka, and then maybe she'd shoot them both dead. At least it'd be quick, painless, just like how it should be.
Except no, she'd seen this exact type of situation countless times before, on the movies with those cliched horror movies, probably written by people whose idea of 'imagination' was a pretty sunset, on the TV screens with the Friday night reruns, even on this very show, she'd seen this ineptness, and now, she knew it wasn't idiocy but desperation. But even if it wasn't stupid but necessary, that still didn't change the inevitable results. So, no, Cathryn couldn't walk through that bear trap. In fact, the very thought of it made her sweat cold, made her body vibrate.
Cathryn still had her bag with her, strung around her shoulder. She could still keep warm, fill her stomach, quench her thirst. She could live. That was all that mattered. As for Jackson, well, it wouldn't hurt her. Not like their bandannas were the same color anyways.
Without another word, she briskly walked, and then jogged, away from the sports center. There were buildings quite close by if Vahka came out, and even if he did, Jackson was still there. She'd have enough time, hopefully, maybe.
She did glance at the boy she was abandoning one last time, and, in the midst of all that terror, and the all too familiar anger (when was that not the case?), was the slightest twinge of guilt. But if he lived through this, when the announcements came on, he'd be thankful and would realize what bullet he dodged, what really was supposed to happen after that conversation. There was that.
And so, she left behind what was supposed to be her gun, that gambit that was just seconds away from being pulled off. Fucking seconds.
If it helped, there were always other guns, and other people to fear her and to help spread the word, maybe, just maybe, convince she herself that she truly could be one of the fittest.
((Cathryn Bailey continues in Stuck in the Middle with You))
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
-
Latin For Dragula
- Posts: 399
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:28 pm
Nothing.
Shit, maybe they were already gone. He didn't have a clue what the layout for this place was. For all he knew, he was talking to the walls.
So he stopped.
Instead of blowing up the bag and wasting a grenade, he started looking through it, keeping a careful eye on the room for movement. There was nothing of much value inside, other than a small pistol. At this point, that was hardly worth taking, given everything else he had going for him.
He shouldered the bag and carried it back to his own by the wall, then sat against it with the carbine in his lap and the zweihander resting against his shoulder. A few more minutes. Just a few more, to see what would come.
Shit, maybe they were already gone. He didn't have a clue what the layout for this place was. For all he knew, he was talking to the walls.
So he stopped.
Instead of blowing up the bag and wasting a grenade, he started looking through it, keeping a careful eye on the room for movement. There was nothing of much value inside, other than a small pistol. At this point, that was hardly worth taking, given everything else he had going for him.
He shouldered the bag and carried it back to his own by the wall, then sat against it with the carbine in his lap and the zweihander resting against his shoulder. A few more minutes. Just a few more, to see what would come.