((Frank Callahan continued from [url=http://s 1.zetaboards.com/SOTF_Mini/topic/4992919/2/]Every Cloud[/url] ))
Frank and Audrey had spent the better part of the few hours since leaving the slope walking and hashing out plans, strategies, at least some inkling of things they would be doing in the coming time. Most of it was distasteful, but Frank had sold himself on it being necessary. He had hoped Audrey was similarly onboard for all of it.
Their wandering had taken them clear to the other side of the valley, according to the map. The sun had dropped significantly in the sky, that much he could see even through the stands of pines they had started through.
Perhaps more important than the passage of time, however, was the fact that in wandering through the trees and stumbling upon what appeared to be a rundown shack, Frank had noticed someone else on a similar meandering course. He couldn't make out who it was, and it didn't occur to him it could be someone who didn't need a bullet in their head.
Pumped with adrenaline at the prospect of starting his work, Frank nodded to Audrey.
"May have one." He pointed out, to where the small clearing around the cabin met the pines. "Sit a the edge. Act hurt. Keep yourself in line of the door, make sure I get a clear shot."
With those instructions, Frank slipped into the cabin, following the line of the open portal all the way to back. He unslung the rifle and shouldered it, staring through the scope (taking care to keep it off of Audrey) and waited.
Frank had difficulty keeping a smile from cracking his face.
Trial and Error
PM for entry
((Audrey McKee continued from Every Cloud))
Audrey was a little less pumped than Frank about the whole thing. It seemed they were getting closer and closer to actually getting into a conflict with another of their classmates, and while they had made plans, it all came down to one thing.
At some point someone would probably get shot.
She just hoped it was someone who deserved it, if such a thing was possible. It was hard to imagine any of her classmates, people she knew, deserving death, but after Maxim's cruelty, she wasn't so sure anymore. For now, she could settle for that rationalization.
So when Frank told her to get into position, she did. She slumped against a tall pine tree, right in front of the cabin door, and slid down to the ground. Her head bowed, she clutched her side with her gloved hand.
The bark of the tree felt rough against the back of her blouse. Her glance strayed towards the cabin for a second, looking for Frank. Audrey wasn't sure if she saw him, but she soon realized that sort of thing would give them away once someone actually came. If someone actually came. She shook her head and went back to scanning the woods, her eyes flickering up every few seconds.
Audrey was a little less pumped than Frank about the whole thing. It seemed they were getting closer and closer to actually getting into a conflict with another of their classmates, and while they had made plans, it all came down to one thing.
At some point someone would probably get shot.
She just hoped it was someone who deserved it, if such a thing was possible. It was hard to imagine any of her classmates, people she knew, deserving death, but after Maxim's cruelty, she wasn't so sure anymore. For now, she could settle for that rationalization.
So when Frank told her to get into position, she did. She slumped against a tall pine tree, right in front of the cabin door, and slid down to the ground. Her head bowed, she clutched her side with her gloved hand.
The bark of the tree felt rough against the back of her blouse. Her glance strayed towards the cabin for a second, looking for Frank. Audrey wasn't sure if she saw him, but she soon realized that sort of thing would give them away once someone actually came. If someone actually came. She shook her head and went back to scanning the woods, her eyes flickering up every few seconds.
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** Angel Aguilar, male no. 14, start
Somewhere in the recesses of Angel’s subconscious, he’d always figured he’d be part of The Program. Call it paranoia, call it pessimism, call it whatever you like, but persecution was a constant in his life for as long as he could remember; being thrown into a death game was just another drop in the bucket. The person who coined ‘Hope for best, expect the worst’ had to be a minority, he was sure of that.
Thankfully for him, whatever dog of the government that dropped him off after being gassed put him deep enough in the pine stands that he didn’t risk stumbling upon anyone hoping to pick of fight, which wouldn’t have gone his way with the piece of shit excuse of a stick they’d given him for protection. It was almost funny, in a way. ‘Haha, let’s give the little brown boy a stick, maybe he can put a couple splinters in the competition’. Fucking cute.
They obviously didn’t know about Uncle Jorge spending a dime in the big house for armed robbery. Uncle Jorge who made sure to let everyone in the family who what a big dog he was, between smuggling shit in and finding unique ways to shut people up. Angel had to admit that Uncle Jorge was a resourceful bastard and with his life on the line, he couldn’t think of a more appropriate place to employ his uncle’s tactics. In jail, they’d apparently stuffed socks full of oranges stolen from the kitchen, hard enough to hurt, but soft enough not to leave bruises. Angel, on the other hand, was looking to leave more than bruises and opted for several medium sized rocks. It was heavy, but his time on the baseball team conditioned him well.
He couldn’t help but shake his head at his own weapon, lamenting the fact that he was still as ghetto as they came, having to make his own shit even when it came to weapons.
That was hours ago, though. The sun had already begun to sink into the horizon and he hadn’t encountered a single soul, nor had he stopped his trek once aside for a pit stop to take a piss and eat a couple hard pieces of bread. His whole body ached, crying out against the weight of the duffel bag and the sock of rocks, but stopping wasn’t an option; not while it was still light out.
And not without starting some trouble.
He finally had a chance to fight back against all the Snow Whites of the school, finally dirty them up a bit for the shit they put him through. This was his turf, he knew what it was to suffer and to have to fight. Kids like that were born with a silver spoon in their mouth and never had to deal with the shit they put everyone else through. It was about time to return the favor.
That’s why he was so happy to see Audrey McKee seated at the base of a tree, apparently in some sort of pain. Someone else probably got to her before he had, maybe Clara or Tas if they were in the same sort of mindset as he was. And they probably were.
Audrey was cute for a white chick, a little heavier than he liked, but nothing he’d kick out of bed. She was a bitch though, the type to stand around and watch a kid get beat on without doing anything. The worst kind of racist, in his mind, because they were always the types to walk around afterwards and pretend like nothing happened. She deserved what was coming to her.
Without missing a beat, Angel dropped his bag to the ground and sprinted toward the seated girl, his makeshift weapon clamped tightly in his hand as he put all his weight into swinging the sock at Audrey's head.
She deserved this.
The kid was moving fast as hell, fast enough to startle Frank for a minute. He thought there would have been some repartee, a little conversation.
He chided himself for thinking the colored people had any shred of decency in them.
He pulled the trigger, and the sniper rifle roared. The weapon kicked him in the shoulder, and suddenly he was happy he was braced against the wall of the shack. He was less happy with how his ears would likely be ringing the rest of the day.
He didn't even look to see if he made contact before he slammed the bolt home, ejecting the spent cartridge. He was on his feet, starting out the door in an instant.
He chided himself for thinking the colored people had any shred of decency in them.
He pulled the trigger, and the sniper rifle roared. The weapon kicked him in the shoulder, and suddenly he was happy he was braced against the wall of the shack. He was less happy with how his ears would likely be ringing the rest of the day.
He didn't even look to see if he made contact before he slammed the bolt home, ejecting the spent cartridge. He was on his feet, starting out the door in an instant.
At some point, Audrey realized, the plan they'd tried to set up so carefully had devolved into sheer terror.
When that happened she couldn't quite pinpoint, but it had probably been sometime between the moment she first spotted Angel coming out of the trees and when he was right in front of her face.
She'd only recognized at first that he was one of the minority kids. She'd had enough time to open her mouth, to say something.
Then there was no thinking, just reacting.
She shrieked, throwing her arms up in front of her face, as if that would protect her. It didn't, not really. Something heavy smashed into her left arm, into the side of her head and she fell onto the scattered pine needles of the forest floor, everything going black for an awful moment and coming back blurry.
There had been a loud burst of a sound but she couldn't even pinpoint what it had been as she tried desperately to crawl away. Her head hurt, her arm hurt; there was nothing on her mind but escape as her fingers scrabbled across the packed dirt.
When that happened she couldn't quite pinpoint, but it had probably been sometime between the moment she first spotted Angel coming out of the trees and when he was right in front of her face.
She'd only recognized at first that he was one of the minority kids. She'd had enough time to open her mouth, to say something.
Then there was no thinking, just reacting.
She shrieked, throwing her arms up in front of her face, as if that would protect her. It didn't, not really. Something heavy smashed into her left arm, into the side of her head and she fell onto the scattered pine needles of the forest floor, everything going black for an awful moment and coming back blurry.
There had been a loud burst of a sound but she couldn't even pinpoint what it had been as she tried desperately to crawl away. Her head hurt, her arm hurt; there was nothing on her mind but escape as her fingers scrabbled across the packed dirt.
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Casey The Undead*
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((Stella Barnes continued from Wash Away))
Well that had been a mess.
Stella's Program Experience wasn't quite living up to the expectations, thus far. Not only did she have a terrible weapon, but her first encounter had been quite disappointing. Lenny, Nancy, and Crazy-Tree-Person where certainly not the blazing patriots she hoped to run across. Nor where they the type of people she was aiming to get out of the game early. They were all weak and not worth her time, and not a one of them had a thing worth taking.
She hefted her garden gnome a little higher, readjusting her grip. She wasn't stupid-- no weapon was worse than a crap weapon -- but she wished she could get rid of it sooner instead of later. If only she could find an easy kill with a good draw; then she'd have her ticket to the top.
Stella consulted her map as she walked, frowning at it. She had half a mind to follow the stream towards the Lake. It was an easy path, and probably wouldn't require too much physically. Still, something in her gut told her to avoid the Lake. The stream would be hard to defend, and the lake might be a draw for kids looking to wash themselves of dirt or whatever. She didn't know how other people were thinking. Still. The lake felt off to her.
Instead, she turned direction and started marching towards the Woodman's Shack. It was small, and had walls and a floor. Worst case scenario, there were people she'd have to avoid. Best case scenario, she had a solid floor to sit on while she waited for someone to stumble into her surprise trap.
Not that she actually had a surprise trap, or any means of trapping people should they come across the shack. It was the thought that counted, though.
After a while of walking, mostly without incident or much thought, Stella saw the shack coming into view. She faintly thought she saw other figures on the distance as well. Shit. Don't tell me this place is already swarming. Maybe someone here ha-
Her thoughts were cut off by a startlingly loud sound. Stella wasn't an idiot; she knew gunfire when she heard it.
She also knew that she was completely defenseless against a gun, and she had no idea where the shooting was coming from or if it was aimed at her. She dropped to the ground instantly, covering her head with her hands. She crouched onto her knees, peeking towards the shack.
I need to get out of here. Or...or...
Or, if the person shooting was someone she liked, she needed to find them. An ally with a gun was almost as good as having a gun herself.
She chewed on her lower lip, considering. It was a gamble, and a goddamned risky one at that, but the risk was worth the reward if she was right. Slowly she began to crawl towards the shack, careful to keep her head down and her movements quiet.
Well that had been a mess.
Stella's Program Experience wasn't quite living up to the expectations, thus far. Not only did she have a terrible weapon, but her first encounter had been quite disappointing. Lenny, Nancy, and Crazy-Tree-Person where certainly not the blazing patriots she hoped to run across. Nor where they the type of people she was aiming to get out of the game early. They were all weak and not worth her time, and not a one of them had a thing worth taking.
She hefted her garden gnome a little higher, readjusting her grip. She wasn't stupid-- no weapon was worse than a crap weapon -- but she wished she could get rid of it sooner instead of later. If only she could find an easy kill with a good draw; then she'd have her ticket to the top.
Stella consulted her map as she walked, frowning at it. She had half a mind to follow the stream towards the Lake. It was an easy path, and probably wouldn't require too much physically. Still, something in her gut told her to avoid the Lake. The stream would be hard to defend, and the lake might be a draw for kids looking to wash themselves of dirt or whatever. She didn't know how other people were thinking. Still. The lake felt off to her.
Instead, she turned direction and started marching towards the Woodman's Shack. It was small, and had walls and a floor. Worst case scenario, there were people she'd have to avoid. Best case scenario, she had a solid floor to sit on while she waited for someone to stumble into her surprise trap.
Not that she actually had a surprise trap, or any means of trapping people should they come across the shack. It was the thought that counted, though.
After a while of walking, mostly without incident or much thought, Stella saw the shack coming into view. She faintly thought she saw other figures on the distance as well. Shit. Don't tell me this place is already swarming. Maybe someone here ha-
Her thoughts were cut off by a startlingly loud sound. Stella wasn't an idiot; she knew gunfire when she heard it.
She also knew that she was completely defenseless against a gun, and she had no idea where the shooting was coming from or if it was aimed at her. She dropped to the ground instantly, covering her head with her hands. She crouched onto her knees, peeking towards the shack.
I need to get out of here. Or...or...
Or, if the person shooting was someone she liked, she needed to find them. An ally with a gun was almost as good as having a gun herself.
She chewed on her lower lip, considering. It was a gamble, and a goddamned risky one at that, but the risk was worth the reward if she was right. Slowly she began to crawl towards the shack, careful to keep her head down and her movements quiet.
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.
Adrenaline surged through Angel’s body as his blow struck with a satisfying thud. He was like a maddened bull, ignoring the pain erupting in his arm from the force pulling at his muscles as his vision blurred red and his body worked of its own volition. He could barely grasp cognitive thought as the adrenaline overran his mind. All he knew was the satisfaction of watching Audrey scramble away from him on hands and knees like a broken bird. All the years he’d been waiting to dish out some much-deserved revenged and it was sweeter than he ever imagined it’d be.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have long to revel in his accomplishment before a loud pop pierced through the overbearing ringing in his ears. His heart dropped instantly, followed only a millisecond later by his body. He’d never heard a gunshot in person, what with the government’s ban on them, but the sound was unmistakable. His heartbeat beat against his eardrums as he quickly assessed his surroundings, though it didn’t take him long to find the owner of the gun.
Bolting from the cabin was Frank Callahan in his 9-foot-glory armed with a deadly looking gun. Right for Angel.
Frank wasn’t someone Angel liked to mess with, especially because he had a good eighty pounds on him. Back home, rules were there to stop people like Frank from kicking the shit out of people like Angel, but not here. This was no holds barred.
And Angel was definitely not on the winning side, from the looks of it. Frank was bigger, meaner, and stronger. He could probably have ripped Angel in two if he wanted. Angel was wily, sure, and given the proper situation, he could have probably out-ran the bigger boy, but he was closing in fast and there wasn’t enough time.
Panicked, Angel hastily got to his feet and moved to Audrey, whom had only momentarily escape from his mind. He wasn’t sure if they were together or if it was some fucking KKK loyalty or what, but she was his only ace in the hole.
“Hold up, Bro,” He yelled and retreated his hand into his right pocket as he loomed over Audrey, “Don’t do any stupid shit or this bitch gets stabbed, I’m not messin’ around.”
Unfortunately, he didn’t have long to revel in his accomplishment before a loud pop pierced through the overbearing ringing in his ears. His heart dropped instantly, followed only a millisecond later by his body. He’d never heard a gunshot in person, what with the government’s ban on them, but the sound was unmistakable. His heartbeat beat against his eardrums as he quickly assessed his surroundings, though it didn’t take him long to find the owner of the gun.
Bolting from the cabin was Frank Callahan in his 9-foot-glory armed with a deadly looking gun. Right for Angel.
Frank wasn’t someone Angel liked to mess with, especially because he had a good eighty pounds on him. Back home, rules were there to stop people like Frank from kicking the shit out of people like Angel, but not here. This was no holds barred.
And Angel was definitely not on the winning side, from the looks of it. Frank was bigger, meaner, and stronger. He could probably have ripped Angel in two if he wanted. Angel was wily, sure, and given the proper situation, he could have probably out-ran the bigger boy, but he was closing in fast and there wasn’t enough time.
Panicked, Angel hastily got to his feet and moved to Audrey, whom had only momentarily escape from his mind. He wasn’t sure if they were together or if it was some fucking KKK loyalty or what, but she was his only ace in the hole.
“Hold up, Bro,” He yelled and retreated his hand into his right pocket as he loomed over Audrey, “Don’t do any stupid shit or this bitch gets stabbed, I’m not messin’ around.”
Frank's face was pulled back in a hideous snarl, finger aching to pull the trigger again, feet driving him forward.
But he stopped. There was no telling what the kid had, whether it really was a knife or just his cock.
The barrel of the gun didn't drop, stayed up and leveled. Frank wasn't defused enough to let that go yet.
"You stick her and I break open that spic pinata you call a head with the next shot." Frank made a show of glaring through the scope. "I wanna know what kind of candy comes out."
"Audrey...you alright?" He said, the gun still unwavering. There would have to be revisions to the plan if they got out of this. Major revisions.
But he stopped. There was no telling what the kid had, whether it really was a knife or just his cock.
The barrel of the gun didn't drop, stayed up and leveled. Frank wasn't defused enough to let that go yet.
"You stick her and I break open that spic pinata you call a head with the next shot." Frank made a show of glaring through the scope. "I wanna know what kind of candy comes out."
"Audrey...you alright?" He said, the gun still unwavering. There would have to be revisions to the plan if they got out of this. Major revisions.
"This is why you're supposed to fight, Audrey."
Audrey could almost hear her brother's words in her ears, the words Clark would no doubt be saying, eventually be shouting at the television screen if he were watching. She'd never been sure if the military gave their troops a break from training to watch the Program. She thought now she'd probably never know.
Maybe if she had fought back, she wouldn't be the damsel in distress in this situation.
She wondered if this was why her brother fought, training in boot camp all these months, to now see her beaten on and threatened on national television. She'd never really liked him, and he'd never really liked her. She'd never see him again. She almost took the time to wonder if he missed her now, if he'd miss her in the end.
There were more pressing issues at the moment, though, as she eyed Angel's right pocket and fought back the fear and the pain. She'd recognized him now, for the little good it did her. At the very least, Frank hadn't cut and run. She could see him, pointing his gun like he was about to use it again, backing her up even though everything had gone to pieces.
"...I'm alright," Audrey said, pulling herself to a sitting position slowly, so as to not startle Angel. "I'd love to make threats too, but I'm afraid I don't have a, um, bitch to use as a bargaining chip."
Perhaps that was a little flippant, a little bitter, but she'd get stabbed or not either way, and she wasn't taking this abuse without getting in a word of her own.
Audrey could almost hear her brother's words in her ears, the words Clark would no doubt be saying, eventually be shouting at the television screen if he were watching. She'd never been sure if the military gave their troops a break from training to watch the Program. She thought now she'd probably never know.
Maybe if she had fought back, she wouldn't be the damsel in distress in this situation.
She wondered if this was why her brother fought, training in boot camp all these months, to now see her beaten on and threatened on national television. She'd never really liked him, and he'd never really liked her. She'd never see him again. She almost took the time to wonder if he missed her now, if he'd miss her in the end.
There were more pressing issues at the moment, though, as she eyed Angel's right pocket and fought back the fear and the pain. She'd recognized him now, for the little good it did her. At the very least, Frank hadn't cut and run. She could see him, pointing his gun like he was about to use it again, backing her up even though everything had gone to pieces.
"...I'm alright," Audrey said, pulling herself to a sitting position slowly, so as to not startle Angel. "I'd love to make threats too, but I'm afraid I don't have a, um, bitch to use as a bargaining chip."
Perhaps that was a little flippant, a little bitter, but she'd get stabbed or not either way, and she wasn't taking this abuse without getting in a word of her own.
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Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
Stella groaned a bit as she pushed forward on her stomach. She probably should have thought through this whole "crawling on the ground to see if she had an ally" thing. The gunfire had ceased, but she still had no idea who was shooting, or who they were shooting at, or who she could trust at all.
She continued pulling towards the Woodman's Shack, too far in to give up now.
That's about when she heard Angel. Brilliant. Not only was she now in the company of a rather vile, irritating person, but he also seemed to be holding something else hostage. Hopefully he wasn't the one with the gun, because if he saw Stella. Well. Needless to say she didn't have a great reputation with the Beaners of her school.
Another voice called out to Angel. Fuck, was that Frank? Frank! Stella could have gotten up and danced if it wouldn't have resulted in her being shot dead on the spot. Now Frank would be a friend. Frank would be an ally. Especially if Frank had a weapon.
But Angel would kill her, and she still didn't know who had the gun, and she still wasn't close enough to be effective at all.
"Right," she muttered under her breath. "I must be one with the snake, I guess." She arched her back up, cracking it a bit, and heaved forward yet again.
She continued pulling towards the Woodman's Shack, too far in to give up now.
That's about when she heard Angel. Brilliant. Not only was she now in the company of a rather vile, irritating person, but he also seemed to be holding something else hostage. Hopefully he wasn't the one with the gun, because if he saw Stella. Well. Needless to say she didn't have a great reputation with the Beaners of her school.
Another voice called out to Angel. Fuck, was that Frank? Frank! Stella could have gotten up and danced if it wouldn't have resulted in her being shot dead on the spot. Now Frank would be a friend. Frank would be an ally. Especially if Frank had a weapon.
But Angel would kill her, and she still didn't know who had the gun, and she still wasn't close enough to be effective at all.
"Right," she muttered under her breath. "I must be one with the snake, I guess." She arched her back up, cracking it a bit, and heaved forward yet again.
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.
Angel’s heart pounded against his throat, urging on a rush of nausea as he stared down the barrel of Frank’s gun.
He’d never expected it to work, not with what he knew about Frank and his temper. He thought for sure he’d be lit up before he could say a word, just another minority disposed of by a patriot of the country. And the country would commend him for it, too. Congratulate the fucker for taking out the dangerous spic kid who held the innocent white girl hostage. Nobody would cry for him.
Fuck America; he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He was smarter, more resourceful. He’d hustled for his life and he was damned if he wasn’t going to get away with it.
Digging his untrimmed fingernail in the back of Audrey’s neck to simulate the point of his knife, he clicked his tongue.
“You’re pretty mouthy for a bitch with a knife at her neck,” he said, the irony of the situation not lost on him in the least, “Tell him. Tell him what it feels like. Ask him if he’s willing to let you die just to put a hole in me, eh?”
He focused his attention back on Frank. He wanted to watch him squirm, get back some of the ego he’d taken from Angel himself.
“What’re you gonna do, bro? I’m just as curious as you are. Maybe she’ll bleed red, white and blue, eh? You willing to risk it? It’d be on your hands. Fuck if America wouldn’t turn their nose up to you after that. You’d be no better than a fucking spic yourself, yeah?”
For a moment, he’d forgotten about the gun and the game around them. In that brief space in time, it was just a battle for pride.
He’d never expected it to work, not with what he knew about Frank and his temper. He thought for sure he’d be lit up before he could say a word, just another minority disposed of by a patriot of the country. And the country would commend him for it, too. Congratulate the fucker for taking out the dangerous spic kid who held the innocent white girl hostage. Nobody would cry for him.
Fuck America; he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He was smarter, more resourceful. He’d hustled for his life and he was damned if he wasn’t going to get away with it.
Digging his untrimmed fingernail in the back of Audrey’s neck to simulate the point of his knife, he clicked his tongue.
“You’re pretty mouthy for a bitch with a knife at her neck,” he said, the irony of the situation not lost on him in the least, “Tell him. Tell him what it feels like. Ask him if he’s willing to let you die just to put a hole in me, eh?”
He focused his attention back on Frank. He wanted to watch him squirm, get back some of the ego he’d taken from Angel himself.
“What’re you gonna do, bro? I’m just as curious as you are. Maybe she’ll bleed red, white and blue, eh? You willing to risk it? It’d be on your hands. Fuck if America wouldn’t turn their nose up to you after that. You’d be no better than a fucking spic yourself, yeah?”
For a moment, he’d forgotten about the gun and the game around them. In that brief space in time, it was just a battle for pride.
Frank's eyes narrowed. For a heart-stopping second his finger squeezed. Audrey was a big girl. She could handle herself. If he got the kid before he could move, then the knife wouldn't matter.
He took a breath. Relaxed his finger. He sucked his teeth, rage kept to a few uncharacteristic tics instead of the beating that Frank wanted so badly to administer.
He caught Audrey's eyes. His was full of agony. Agony at inaction.
He looked back up to Angel.
"You hurt her, you die. Violated that once; you should be dead." The barrel of the rifle lowered an inch.
"Where's this leave us then?"
He took a breath. Relaxed his finger. He sucked his teeth, rage kept to a few uncharacteristic tics instead of the beating that Frank wanted so badly to administer.
He caught Audrey's eyes. His was full of agony. Agony at inaction.
He looked back up to Angel.
"You hurt her, you die. Violated that once; you should be dead." The barrel of the rifle lowered an inch.
"Where's this leave us then?"
The point where Angel's knife touched her neck felt like it was sending electrical signals all throughout her body - that was how nerves worked, she supposed, although she had never paid much attention in biology. Her skin prickled; it was all she could do not to shiver, get the knife driven even deeper into her neck.
Angel was spouting off some junk, but the knife seemed more important to Audrey at the moment. If he were to stab her, would she survive? It was an odd position for a knife, the back of the neck, and she couldn't help but have crazy thoughts about how getting stabbed there would look. Perhaps it was better than getting her throat slit. That was certain death. But the spinal cord was back there, she vaguely remembered. Maybe she'd never be able to move again.
Frank's eyes on her cut the thoughts off, and she looked back at him. The skin near her eyes twitched slightly, as she fought the urge to plead, to cry. Angel had attacked her without any reason, and he wasn't about to let her go just because she begged him to. So no. She wasn't going to listen to Angel, wasn't going to tell Frank anything about what her life being on the line felt like. She was going to be strong. She focused her eyes on Frank's before his eyes flickered back away.
The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, but not in mirth. Something had to happen soon. She just wished she knew what.
Angel was spouting off some junk, but the knife seemed more important to Audrey at the moment. If he were to stab her, would she survive? It was an odd position for a knife, the back of the neck, and she couldn't help but have crazy thoughts about how getting stabbed there would look. Perhaps it was better than getting her throat slit. That was certain death. But the spinal cord was back there, she vaguely remembered. Maybe she'd never be able to move again.
Frank's eyes on her cut the thoughts off, and she looked back at him. The skin near her eyes twitched slightly, as she fought the urge to plead, to cry. Angel had attacked her without any reason, and he wasn't about to let her go just because she begged him to. So no. She wasn't going to listen to Angel, wasn't going to tell Frank anything about what her life being on the line felt like. She was going to be strong. She focused her eyes on Frank's before his eyes flickered back away.
The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, but not in mirth. Something had to happen soon. She just wished she knew what.
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Casey The Undead*
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Stella frowned as silence fell. She could hear voices pretty clearly, but she couldn't quite make out what they were saying or who they belonged too. She rubbed her temples, cursing lightly under her breath. She needed to know who had that gun -- she needed that gun!
She crawled forward a bit more, hoping to grasp more of the conversation, but the sound of her movement drowned out most of it. She paused, resting her head in the grass.
Stella knew strategy, or so she figured. She knew the difference between smart moves and dumb ones, and she knew how to handle herself. She was a big girl. She knew that standing up with no cover after someone had just been shooting was a bad idea.
But no one was shooting now. No one was shooting and no one seemed to be dying and Stella really needed a fucking weapon, she really needed a leg up in this game. She weighed the options slowly, chewing on her lip. She wasn't going to be stupid. She wasn't going to do the stupid thing. She needed to get a weapon, she needed to get an ally, there would be other ways to do that.
She sighed lightly. "Fuck it," she muttered.
Stella pushed herself off the ground and stood up slowly.
She crawled forward a bit more, hoping to grasp more of the conversation, but the sound of her movement drowned out most of it. She paused, resting her head in the grass.
Stella knew strategy, or so she figured. She knew the difference between smart moves and dumb ones, and she knew how to handle herself. She was a big girl. She knew that standing up with no cover after someone had just been shooting was a bad idea.
But no one was shooting now. No one was shooting and no one seemed to be dying and Stella really needed a fucking weapon, she really needed a leg up in this game. She weighed the options slowly, chewing on her lip. She wasn't going to be stupid. She wasn't going to do the stupid thing. She needed to get a weapon, she needed to get an ally, there would be other ways to do that.
She sighed lightly. "Fuck it," she muttered.
Stella pushed herself off the ground and stood up slowly.
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.
(skipping to get death done)
There was movement. It was slow, nonthreatening; Frank, however, was hardwired. In the time it took his eyes to flick to the left and register another person, the gun was leveling and his finger was squeezing.
The report shattered the silence and tension of the moment. Frank grimaced against the kick of the gun. Whoever it was didn't stand for long.
For a moment he wondered why the person he shot had pale skin.
There was movement. It was slow, nonthreatening; Frank, however, was hardwired. In the time it took his eyes to flick to the left and register another person, the gun was leveling and his finger was squeezing.
The report shattered the silence and tension of the moment. Frank grimaced against the kick of the gun. Whoever it was didn't stand for long.
For a moment he wondered why the person he shot had pale skin.