[[Luke Mendoza Continued From: Plenty Death To Go Around.]]
"Siobhan McCarthy took a bullet from the end of Madeline Harris' gun, as did Alex Thornton from Luke Mendoza."
Had he heard that announcement correctly? No. It couldn't be true. He didn't kill anybody! It was a definite shock. Something Luke had not expected at all. He expected deaths, yes. He was saddened by many of the deaths mentioned in the announcements - people he knew. He was already expecting Logan Sorenson's name to be mentioned, and prepared to keep himself from getting depressed and almost crying again, but no more than a few seconds later; Brigadier Adams announced a death, with Luke's name being attached as: the killer.
The rest of the announcement became a blur after that. He was still getting over it.
Luke had spent several minutes throwing up outside and he had just finished; his bag on the floor, him clutching his now almost emptied, queasy stomach. He had killed someone and he didn't even know it.
He ran back then, after shooting his victim on accident; the kill he didn't know he had under his name. So to viewers at home he looked like one of those cowardly killers, shooting and running. Those three bullets... Luke imagined them, all passing through different parts of Alex Thornton's body. Blood pouring out through every hole. Maybe bone, flesh, brain being lifted by each passing bullet, making Alex into one of those bloody dead bodies he saw like Henry Barren, Sydney Cole, Michael Sechooler, Sean Tucker, Sherilyn Schatcher.
Oh God...
His stomach heaved, as Luke once again puked outside of the Administration building.
He needed to recuperate. He needed to relax for a little bit. His Safe Haven - "Home" was inside. Nothing bad ever happened here. It was the most pleasant, peaceful place he'd been the whole game.
===
He was in the large lobby, waiting room, or break room area, of the Administration building. The room was very dimly lit. There were a few Sofas, seats and tables around the room. Luke needed to relax a bit. Drink some water. He did. But the thoughts were still flowing through his mind.
Alex Thornton was his victim. He killed Alex Thornton.
It wasn't on purpose. He didn't even know. Those were supposed to be warning shots! He didn't aim any of them at Alex! Nonononono. He wanted to kill The Mason Twins, any of them. He aimed at them and fired and missed. For Alex he wasn't shooting to kill, as he did with the Masons! Those were meant to miss! To scare him away or warn him! Alex was an alright kid! He wanted those evil twins dead, not him! When he shoots to kill he misses, but when he shoots to miss, he kills.
WHAT FUCKING GIVES?!!
In anger, Luke's hand curled up into a fist, as he punched, into the dry wall.
That felt good....
...
...
...
"OOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!"
"ow ow ow ow ow....!"
FUCK!
"..fuck.."
The skin off one of his knuckles had peeled off a bit. A small smidge of blood leaked from the cut. His knuckles looked like they'd be swollen after a few minutes. He dropped his unzipped duffel bag to the floor; Sor's Hatchet in his ok hand, and wildly shaking his more painful hand.
His inner voice ridiculing him again... Great job embarrassing yourself on National TV! You're officially the funniest person on The Program. Everyone's laughing at you!
With his state of dizziness, pain, noise, and embarrassment; Luke Mendoza was unaware, that there was already someone else in the room, having a little nap.
The Calamity Symphony
Not So Private Now. :)
Moderator: Sh4dE
((Joanne Seguin continued from Lightweights))
Joanne ran. The moment she exited the warehouse she had spent most of her time, she ran. She didn't know where she was going, or what she was hoping to find. She wouldn't be finding Nikki. She was already too late for that. Siobahn was already dead. Joanne was alone. She was scared. When she was scared, she ran.
Of course, usually when she ran, she was on her medication. Here she wasn't so lucky. Each step felt like she was about to pass out. But she kept going. She didn't stop until she reached the entrance of another building. Slumped against the wall, Joanne made her way to the door, pulling it open with much effort.
The inside wasn't much, but it had some couches. Checking to make sure no one else was in the area, Joanne lurched her way to the furthest couch, collapsing onto it and falling asleep almost immediately.
---
Joanne woke with a start, alerted to the presence of another person. She immediately grabbed her axe, holding it in her hands. She couldn't see very well due to the lighting, but the girl could see enough. Enough to notice that there was someone in the room at least. They were male, she could tell that much. They were also angry. Well, so was Joanne really. Not to mention she could use more food. Standing up to her full height, Joanne looked in the direction of the other person.
"Who's there?" she said in as authorative a voice as she could muster.
Joanne ran. The moment she exited the warehouse she had spent most of her time, she ran. She didn't know where she was going, or what she was hoping to find. She wouldn't be finding Nikki. She was already too late for that. Siobahn was already dead. Joanne was alone. She was scared. When she was scared, she ran.
Of course, usually when she ran, she was on her medication. Here she wasn't so lucky. Each step felt like she was about to pass out. But she kept going. She didn't stop until she reached the entrance of another building. Slumped against the wall, Joanne made her way to the door, pulling it open with much effort.
The inside wasn't much, but it had some couches. Checking to make sure no one else was in the area, Joanne lurched her way to the furthest couch, collapsing onto it and falling asleep almost immediately.
---
Joanne woke with a start, alerted to the presence of another person. She immediately grabbed her axe, holding it in her hands. She couldn't see very well due to the lighting, but the girl could see enough. Enough to notice that there was someone in the room at least. They were male, she could tell that much. They were also angry. Well, so was Joanne really. Not to mention she could use more food. Standing up to her full height, Joanne looked in the direction of the other person.
"Who's there?" she said in as authorative a voice as she could muster.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
In the middle of shaking the soreness out of his hand and clutching it, hoping for that pain to dissipate; Luke jumped. The voice surprised him. He had no idea he was sharing the break room with someone else. It was a feminine voice. A girl. Aside from Sor, Luke hadn't stumbled across any normal girls in the compound. The rest were either shunned minorities, or psychotic twins. Luke rapidly spun around looking in the direction of the voice behind him. He couldn't really see her in the dim room. It was somewhere around 5 something or 6 something. AM. The sun was just beginning to rise.
Luke quickly turned his head right to left, left to right and back again, examining the room and trying to find the owner of the voice. She had called out for his name, in a voice meant to be serious and authoritative, but canceled out by the girlish tone. The girl didn't seem to be dangerous, otherwise she'd have attacked him instead of asking for his name, if she were planning to kill him right? Maybe it was someone he knew, or someone he could use to 'help' him. He needed some sort of ally. Luke decided to do what he did best. He took a gamble.
"Relax. It's me. I'm Luke Mendoza!" He blurted out, making his name known. Leaving his opened duffel bag on the floor, he took a step closer to where he thought the girl was. When no shots rang out, Luke took another, and another. Maybe the gamble would pay off after all. With Sor's hatchet still in hand, he continued walking; a bit relieved now that he knew the girl wasn't going to go shooting at him. She seemed safe. Heck she sounded more frightened rather than a person to be afraid of earlier. Luke moved closer to where he thought he heard the voice, easier now, a bit more casually. Morning sun, slowly beginning to peek in through the window blinds.
He could now see the girl's silhouette standing on the far end of the room. "Who are you?" His voice was still a little annoyed at the throbbing self inflicted pain in his hand.
"Don't worry..." he said out loud, trying to make his voice sound friendlier, although it was still obviously cloaked in some self-hostility, despite his best efforts to hide it. "...I'm not gonna hurt you." His injured hand bumped into a vase, or a pot, or an astray, or something. All he knew, was that it was made out of something similar to glass by the way it sounded.
The way it sounded, when he angrily and instinctively batted the thing with his hatchet like a tennis ball and sending it crashing against a wall, that is.
Luke quickly turned his head right to left, left to right and back again, examining the room and trying to find the owner of the voice. She had called out for his name, in a voice meant to be serious and authoritative, but canceled out by the girlish tone. The girl didn't seem to be dangerous, otherwise she'd have attacked him instead of asking for his name, if she were planning to kill him right? Maybe it was someone he knew, or someone he could use to 'help' him. He needed some sort of ally. Luke decided to do what he did best. He took a gamble.
"Relax. It's me. I'm Luke Mendoza!" He blurted out, making his name known. Leaving his opened duffel bag on the floor, he took a step closer to where he thought the girl was. When no shots rang out, Luke took another, and another. Maybe the gamble would pay off after all. With Sor's hatchet still in hand, he continued walking; a bit relieved now that he knew the girl wasn't going to go shooting at him. She seemed safe. Heck she sounded more frightened rather than a person to be afraid of earlier. Luke moved closer to where he thought he heard the voice, easier now, a bit more casually. Morning sun, slowly beginning to peek in through the window blinds.
He could now see the girl's silhouette standing on the far end of the room. "Who are you?" His voice was still a little annoyed at the throbbing self inflicted pain in his hand.
"Don't worry..." he said out loud, trying to make his voice sound friendlier, although it was still obviously cloaked in some self-hostility, despite his best efforts to hide it. "...I'm not gonna hurt you." His injured hand bumped into a vase, or a pot, or an astray, or something. All he knew, was that it was made out of something similar to glass by the way it sounded.
The way it sounded, when he angrily and instinctively batted the thing with his hatchet like a tennis ball and sending it crashing against a wall, that is.
The name sounded familiar. From the announcement. Well, he was standing right there, so that could only mean one thing. He had killed someone. Which meant he wasn't safe. He needed to be stopped before her killed anyone else. Like her. That wouldn't be good. She liked living.
Gripping the axe in her hands, Joanne knew what she needed to do. If she let this man go, then he would end up killing someone else. She couldn't have that on her conscious. Not after Siobahn.
The blonde haired girl didn't say anything. There would be no point. She lunged at the other figure, swinging her axe with all her might at his torso. It wasn't the best attack, and he would probably avoid it, but it would send her message. She meant business.
Gripping the axe in her hands, Joanne knew what she needed to do. If she let this man go, then he would end up killing someone else. She couldn't have that on her conscious. Not after Siobahn.
The blonde haired girl didn't say anything. There would be no point. She lunged at the other figure, swinging her axe with all her might at his torso. It wasn't the best attack, and he would probably avoid it, but it would send her message. She meant business.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
"Stupid vase, bump my hand? Screw you."
Foot Steps. The girl. She was running. At him.
Luke had been cursing a bit at the broken object that decided to bump into his injured hand. As soon as he sent the glass object crashing into the wall, the girl he was just talking to, took advantage of the distraction.
"WHOOOOA WHAT TH-!"
The morning light was now starting to peek in much brighter. He could see her now, up close. Getting Closer. Closer now. RIGHT UP CLOSE. Lunging at him with a Fire AXE! Oh God!
He was still in a panicked shock, that he only moved on instinct at the last second. With the swing of her axe, she managed to swipe a wide arc through the air. Even with the distance Luke had put between her and himself by moving, that large arc still managed to swipe and cut through his jacket fabric and into the skin of his arm. She drew blood. He could feel it. "Arrgghhhh... Aaaaahhhhhhh WHAT THE FU-" She took another swing at him, getting a little on the side of his torso, slicing through his jacket again, and scraping against the skin on the sides of his ribs. His shades were knocked off his face and were flung across the room. He pulled his sweater jacket off and threw it at her face, in an attempt to obscure her vision as much as he could. The cuts, they hurt as much as getting cut would hurt. It was luckily minor enough to ignore, while fighting for survival.
He moved, and fell over the top of one of the sofa's, rolling from the top, to the seat itself. She swung again. The Fire Axe cutting and slicing through the Sofa Material, revealing the insides of the cushions. Luke rolled off the seat and onto the floor. Good it was a barrier! She would have to go around to get to him. This would leave him enough time to get up and run. So he got up off the floor and stood up...
...And Joanne Seguin (he recognized her face now) JUMPED OVER the Sofa. Motherfucker!
This girl was tough. He knew how she was. She was one of the most athletic and even strongest girls at school. She could definitely hold her own, what with how often he knew the girl went to gym and lifted weights. She probably weighed just as much as Luke himself. This chick was serious, one you wouldn't want to mess with. And she had it in for Luke for some odd reason.
Face to face now, Joanne lunged at him, thrusting her Axe at him again. No. Not again! Luke had nearly forgotten he had Logan's Hatchet in his hand still. He held it in front of him to block the attack, putting all his strength into it. The Axe blade pinged against the Hatchet blade. Luke stared into her face, as the Axe and Hatchet locked against each other, pressure being put on both sides. Any second now, either side could let go, and start swinging their weapon again, but Luke really wasn't planning on fighting other than in self-defense. He tried to reason with her. Although it didn't come out as elegant as he wanted it to.
"Crazy... CRAZY BITCH! What the hell are you doing!?! STOP!"
Foot Steps. The girl. She was running. At him.
Luke had been cursing a bit at the broken object that decided to bump into his injured hand. As soon as he sent the glass object crashing into the wall, the girl he was just talking to, took advantage of the distraction.
"WHOOOOA WHAT TH-!"
The morning light was now starting to peek in much brighter. He could see her now, up close. Getting Closer. Closer now. RIGHT UP CLOSE. Lunging at him with a Fire AXE! Oh God!
He was still in a panicked shock, that he only moved on instinct at the last second. With the swing of her axe, she managed to swipe a wide arc through the air. Even with the distance Luke had put between her and himself by moving, that large arc still managed to swipe and cut through his jacket fabric and into the skin of his arm. She drew blood. He could feel it. "Arrgghhhh... Aaaaahhhhhhh WHAT THE FU-" She took another swing at him, getting a little on the side of his torso, slicing through his jacket again, and scraping against the skin on the sides of his ribs. His shades were knocked off his face and were flung across the room. He pulled his sweater jacket off and threw it at her face, in an attempt to obscure her vision as much as he could. The cuts, they hurt as much as getting cut would hurt. It was luckily minor enough to ignore, while fighting for survival.
He moved, and fell over the top of one of the sofa's, rolling from the top, to the seat itself. She swung again. The Fire Axe cutting and slicing through the Sofa Material, revealing the insides of the cushions. Luke rolled off the seat and onto the floor. Good it was a barrier! She would have to go around to get to him. This would leave him enough time to get up and run. So he got up off the floor and stood up...
...And Joanne Seguin (he recognized her face now) JUMPED OVER the Sofa. Motherfucker!
This girl was tough. He knew how she was. She was one of the most athletic and even strongest girls at school. She could definitely hold her own, what with how often he knew the girl went to gym and lifted weights. She probably weighed just as much as Luke himself. This chick was serious, one you wouldn't want to mess with. And she had it in for Luke for some odd reason.
Face to face now, Joanne lunged at him, thrusting her Axe at him again. No. Not again! Luke had nearly forgotten he had Logan's Hatchet in his hand still. He held it in front of him to block the attack, putting all his strength into it. The Axe blade pinged against the Hatchet blade. Luke stared into her face, as the Axe and Hatchet locked against each other, pressure being put on both sides. Any second now, either side could let go, and start swinging their weapon again, but Luke really wasn't planning on fighting other than in self-defense. He tried to reason with her. Although it didn't come out as elegant as he wanted it to.
"Crazy... CRAZY BITCH! What the hell are you doing!?! STOP!"
Joanne heard the other person talking, but she wasn't listening. After the attack, her body took over, running on auto pilot. The rush of adrenaline kick started her, making her even more aware of her surroundings. Shrugging her opponent off, she took another swing, just barely missing.
Quickly rebalancing herself, she faked another swing, causing Luke to get caught up. This was quickly followed by a kick to the chest, forcing her hapless opponent to completely lose his balance. Flipping the axe in her hand so that the pick on the reverse side was at the front, she swung again, just barely missing his head as Luke moved it to the side.
Pulling the point out of the floor, Joanne watched the boy scramble for something. Sensing that the end was near, the blonde girl afforded herself a smile. He may not have been Siobahn's killer, but he had killed someone. Killing him would bring her one step closer to finding the other one. The one who killed Siobahn.
Without a second thought, Joanne lunged at Luke, bringing her axe down towards his head in what would undoubtedly be the killing blow.
Quickly rebalancing herself, she faked another swing, causing Luke to get caught up. This was quickly followed by a kick to the chest, forcing her hapless opponent to completely lose his balance. Flipping the axe in her hand so that the pick on the reverse side was at the front, she swung again, just barely missing his head as Luke moved it to the side.
Pulling the point out of the floor, Joanne watched the boy scramble for something. Sensing that the end was near, the blonde girl afforded herself a smile. He may not have been Siobahn's killer, but he had killed someone. Killing him would bring her one step closer to finding the other one. The one who killed Siobahn.
Without a second thought, Joanne lunged at Luke, bringing her axe down towards his head in what would undoubtedly be the killing blow.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
She wasn't listening. All the girl could see or think about was ending the life of her hapless victim. Joanne shrugged off Luke's hatchet from her own axe. She swung again, slicing into his shirt, with Luke barely escaping the graze of axe blade on his left pectoral.
Luke was ready for the next couple of attacks. She swung several more times, with Luke parrying her axe with his hatchet. The iron blades clashed together over and over again, as if the two were sword fighting with the two weapons in this Axe vs Hatchet fight.
The girl got smart. She faked a swing causing Luke to get caught up in the confusion. She managed to overpower the boy with a kick to the chest, with Luke losing his balance and stumbling over the small coffee table and down to the open space of the floor's carpeting.
Luke gazed up to see her heading his direction after being floored. He was only crawling, his back against the ground moving as best as he could using his hands to back up and move. He saw her flip her axe around and aim the pointed end at his face. Luke's eyes widened.
Move.
It was Sor's voice again; or his inner voice that took on Sor's voice like earlier. He quickly rolled over to one side.
Your Revolver. Get your Revolver.
Luke patted himself, realizing he didn't have it on him. Damn it! At least Joanne was busy pulling out her Axe blade which managed to get lodged in the floor. The gun was in his jacket. Earlier in the struggle he had thrown his sweater jacket at Joanne in an attempt to distract her and buy some time. It was now on the floor, a little to the side. He had to go get it. It was his last chance.
Joanne pulled the Axe from the floor and started marching up to Luke's direction, as he scrambled to reach for his jacket. Joanne caught up to him and kicked the hatchet from his hand. Luke was disarmed; nothing could stop Joanne from realizing her goal now. Luke could see the girl almost smile, looking forward at the wall, as if in a pleasant thought. Luke used the time to back up a little more to his jacket. There. There it was. He felt it, the revolver. He just had to pull it out now.
Joanne looked down at Luke, still with the pleasant smile on her face as she marched over to him. She stood above him. The smile on her face, feeling like she was doing the right thing. And then she lunged...
Luke was terrified. He held the gun above him as Joanne came down on upon him, lunging with her axe downward into what should be the final blow. The death blow.
Don't you die on me Luke! I told you not to go and get yourself killed! Shoot!
Joanne was nearing him now, her body over and above him completely, blocking everything else. He pressed his revolver's barrel into her abdomen point blank and then fired.
Joanne stopped. She let out a loud wail. She looked down at Luke and then screamed. Luke didn't know what to do! He just shot someone, and unlike Alex he actually saw himself do it, and knew it obviously hit. He couldn't move. He was shocked, especially with the girl's angry horrific expression, straight out of a horror movie gazing back at him.
The girl lowered her axe, and put her hand to her belly. Blood was flowing out. Some blood dripped onto Luke's pants. The girl was on her knees over his body, one knee to each side. She looked at her hand, with the blood on it, and gasped. Completely shocked at the sudden twist of fate and the sight of her own blood. Luke slowly tried to back up and slide himself away.
Joanne looked back over at Luke, her axe in hand as she lunged at him once more with her deadly axe.
Luke unloaded several more shots at the girl; about two more hitting through her body. The rest flew messily everywhere, hitting the the walls, ceiling, furniture, until the chamber was completely empty.
The girl collapsed on the floor in front of him.
Luke's heart beat at an uncontrollable speed, a few drops of sweat falling down his face. Luke laid back, his head now on the carpeting. Just need a rest.
A Scream.
No. Way.
Joanne wasn't dead yet! She had crawled toward him while he was trying to recuperate and grabbed his leg. Her axe in her other hand as she tried to keep him down. The axe in her one hand was quivering considerably. It was a two handed weapon, and the girl was also extremely weakened now. His gun was empty, so there was nothing he could do. She raised her axe to his head, quivering significantly and very slowly.
My hatchet, Luke.
The hatchet was very close, he reached for it, as Joanne slowly crawled up his body, her hands and knees pressing into his midsection; a manic smile on her face. Ready to bring her axe down once more. Total Drive.
But there it was. The handle was now firmly in his hand. Joanne, face to face on top of him, leering down.
Raise Some Hell.
He swung the hatchet upward and vertically from the ground like a tomahawk, aiming for her skull.
Luke was ready for the next couple of attacks. She swung several more times, with Luke parrying her axe with his hatchet. The iron blades clashed together over and over again, as if the two were sword fighting with the two weapons in this Axe vs Hatchet fight.
The girl got smart. She faked a swing causing Luke to get caught up in the confusion. She managed to overpower the boy with a kick to the chest, with Luke losing his balance and stumbling over the small coffee table and down to the open space of the floor's carpeting.
Luke gazed up to see her heading his direction after being floored. He was only crawling, his back against the ground moving as best as he could using his hands to back up and move. He saw her flip her axe around and aim the pointed end at his face. Luke's eyes widened.
Move.
It was Sor's voice again; or his inner voice that took on Sor's voice like earlier. He quickly rolled over to one side.
Your Revolver. Get your Revolver.
Luke patted himself, realizing he didn't have it on him. Damn it! At least Joanne was busy pulling out her Axe blade which managed to get lodged in the floor. The gun was in his jacket. Earlier in the struggle he had thrown his sweater jacket at Joanne in an attempt to distract her and buy some time. It was now on the floor, a little to the side. He had to go get it. It was his last chance.
Joanne pulled the Axe from the floor and started marching up to Luke's direction, as he scrambled to reach for his jacket. Joanne caught up to him and kicked the hatchet from his hand. Luke was disarmed; nothing could stop Joanne from realizing her goal now. Luke could see the girl almost smile, looking forward at the wall, as if in a pleasant thought. Luke used the time to back up a little more to his jacket. There. There it was. He felt it, the revolver. He just had to pull it out now.
Joanne looked down at Luke, still with the pleasant smile on her face as she marched over to him. She stood above him. The smile on her face, feeling like she was doing the right thing. And then she lunged...
Luke was terrified. He held the gun above him as Joanne came down on upon him, lunging with her axe downward into what should be the final blow. The death blow.
Don't you die on me Luke! I told you not to go and get yourself killed! Shoot!
Joanne was nearing him now, her body over and above him completely, blocking everything else. He pressed his revolver's barrel into her abdomen point blank and then fired.
Joanne stopped. She let out a loud wail. She looked down at Luke and then screamed. Luke didn't know what to do! He just shot someone, and unlike Alex he actually saw himself do it, and knew it obviously hit. He couldn't move. He was shocked, especially with the girl's angry horrific expression, straight out of a horror movie gazing back at him.
The girl lowered her axe, and put her hand to her belly. Blood was flowing out. Some blood dripped onto Luke's pants. The girl was on her knees over his body, one knee to each side. She looked at her hand, with the blood on it, and gasped. Completely shocked at the sudden twist of fate and the sight of her own blood. Luke slowly tried to back up and slide himself away.
Joanne looked back over at Luke, her axe in hand as she lunged at him once more with her deadly axe.
Luke unloaded several more shots at the girl; about two more hitting through her body. The rest flew messily everywhere, hitting the the walls, ceiling, furniture, until the chamber was completely empty.
The girl collapsed on the floor in front of him.
Luke's heart beat at an uncontrollable speed, a few drops of sweat falling down his face. Luke laid back, his head now on the carpeting. Just need a rest.
A Scream.
No. Way.
Joanne wasn't dead yet! She had crawled toward him while he was trying to recuperate and grabbed his leg. Her axe in her other hand as she tried to keep him down. The axe in her one hand was quivering considerably. It was a two handed weapon, and the girl was also extremely weakened now. His gun was empty, so there was nothing he could do. She raised her axe to his head, quivering significantly and very slowly.
My hatchet, Luke.
The hatchet was very close, he reached for it, as Joanne slowly crawled up his body, her hands and knees pressing into his midsection; a manic smile on her face. Ready to bring her axe down once more. Total Drive.
But there it was. The handle was now firmly in his hand. Joanne, face to face on top of him, leering down.
Raise Some Hell.
He swung the hatchet upward and vertically from the ground like a tomahawk, aiming for her skull.
This was it. She was going to win. Her first step toward ridding this world of the killer. Pinning the boy down with her weight, the axe raised above her head, Joanne allowed herself one last smile before swinging the weapon and ending his miserable life once and for al-
The barrel of the gun on her stomach stopped her mid swing, followed closely by a searing pain. Her hands dropped down, one hand clutching at her stomach. It was wet. The girl let out an involuntary gasp as she realized what had happened. She had been shot. Her eyes opened wide, a guttural scream escaping her lips.
She had been shot. By the bastard in front of her. She mentally cursed herself for not thinking this through, but it was too late now. He was going to pay for shooting her. Hauling herself up onto her feet, Joanne glared at Luke. She was about to die. But so was he.
The boy was scrambling along the ground, doing God knows what. She didn't care. She was focused solely on her goal of killing. Bringing the axe down one last time, everything would come to an end. Until Luke opened fire again.
Joanne jerked back, her blood staining her shirt from her left shoulder. A second round impacted into her stomach, knocking her off balance. Joanne sprawled on the floor, her vision blurring from the pain.
Most people at this point would probably accept the fact that they were defeated. Bleeding from at least three different wounds, exhausted, and dying. Joanne wasn't like that though. She still had a job to finish. She may not be able to avenge Siobahn any more, but at least she could avenge one of her classmates.
She forced her body up with her arms, letting out a scream from the pain of her wounds. Luke's leg was near her, and she reached out and grabbed it. He tried to kick her with his free leg, but Joanne just shrugged them off. Steadily, she forced herself to crawl further, grabbing bits of clothing and body parts to drag herself up.
She was going to do this. He had no where to run, nothing to defend himself with. In her dying breath, Joanne would kill her killer. Her face twisted itself into a distorted grin, readying herself to finish this fight. Luke was a dead man. There was nothing he could do.
And then her vision blacked out.
Female Student #12: Joanne Seguin, Deceased
The barrel of the gun on her stomach stopped her mid swing, followed closely by a searing pain. Her hands dropped down, one hand clutching at her stomach. It was wet. The girl let out an involuntary gasp as she realized what had happened. She had been shot. Her eyes opened wide, a guttural scream escaping her lips.
She had been shot. By the bastard in front of her. She mentally cursed herself for not thinking this through, but it was too late now. He was going to pay for shooting her. Hauling herself up onto her feet, Joanne glared at Luke. She was about to die. But so was he.
The boy was scrambling along the ground, doing God knows what. She didn't care. She was focused solely on her goal of killing. Bringing the axe down one last time, everything would come to an end. Until Luke opened fire again.
Joanne jerked back, her blood staining her shirt from her left shoulder. A second round impacted into her stomach, knocking her off balance. Joanne sprawled on the floor, her vision blurring from the pain.
Most people at this point would probably accept the fact that they were defeated. Bleeding from at least three different wounds, exhausted, and dying. Joanne wasn't like that though. She still had a job to finish. She may not be able to avenge Siobahn any more, but at least she could avenge one of her classmates.
She forced her body up with her arms, letting out a scream from the pain of her wounds. Luke's leg was near her, and she reached out and grabbed it. He tried to kick her with his free leg, but Joanne just shrugged them off. Steadily, she forced herself to crawl further, grabbing bits of clothing and body parts to drag herself up.
She was going to do this. He had no where to run, nothing to defend himself with. In her dying breath, Joanne would kill her killer. Her face twisted itself into a distorted grin, readying herself to finish this fight. Luke was a dead man. There was nothing he could do.
And then her vision blacked out.
Female Student #12: Joanne Seguin, Deceased
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
The Hatchet slammed against Joanne's skull with an audible: Crack! Luke let go, as Joanne gave in, dropping her fire axe to the side and wobbling for a few seconds before ultimately collapsing onto the boy with the hatchet still stuck in her forehead.
She lay on Luke, body over body in what should of been a very compromising position. Her face rested on his, cheek to cheek, with wide open eyes, staring back at his.
"Ah... Ahh! AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
He moved himself back, forcing the girl's weight off his body. He moved all the way back until his back came in contact with the nearby wall. Morning light reflected in through the windows and seemed to put a spot light on Joanne's body. Blood soaked into the carpet in different spots, with Joanne laying at the center, in a pool of her own blood. The hatchet was the only thing separating her face from touching the floor. Luke wasn't sure yet, she'd gotten up before.
After waiting it out a few minutes, Luke got up and walked over to her body, flipping her over onto her back. The eyes. They were the worst part. A dead stare gazing back at him, telling him what he had just done. Joanne, she was dead. Just like with Alex, Luke was responsible. But unlike Alex, he knew full well what he did. He knew he killed her and this time it wasn't an accident.
There was no other choice. He had to kill her, or she was gonna kill him.
All in Self Defense... All in Self Defense...
Luke kept repeating those words in his mind, trying to help reason with himself for ending the life of another classmate. He put his hand around the handle of the hatchet still stuck in Joanne's forehead and pulled. It was tough and he should have probably left it where it was, instead of defiling Joanne's body even more, but he had to. It was Sor's, he couldn't just leave it behind. He put his foot onto her body, to hold her in place as he tugged the hatchet out. The hatchet was set free from her skull, following up with blood flowing out from the fissure on the girl's head. Luke closed his eyes. He couldn't look. It was just too much.
All in Self Defense...
Luke stepped backwards. No, there was no pleasure in doing this. He killed two, already, but that wasn't supposed to happen. There was no pleasure in killing Joanne. He wasn't gonna take this as his opportunity to go killing even more people. This wasn't easy at all. There was no excuses.
All in Self Defense?
On top the far end of a couch now; Luke curled himself into a fetal position. He didn't care what anyone watching at home thought of him. There was no way any of them would know how this feels like. He quietly sobbed onto his sleeves.
She lay on Luke, body over body in what should of been a very compromising position. Her face rested on his, cheek to cheek, with wide open eyes, staring back at his.
"Ah... Ahh! AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
He moved himself back, forcing the girl's weight off his body. He moved all the way back until his back came in contact with the nearby wall. Morning light reflected in through the windows and seemed to put a spot light on Joanne's body. Blood soaked into the carpet in different spots, with Joanne laying at the center, in a pool of her own blood. The hatchet was the only thing separating her face from touching the floor. Luke wasn't sure yet, she'd gotten up before.
After waiting it out a few minutes, Luke got up and walked over to her body, flipping her over onto her back. The eyes. They were the worst part. A dead stare gazing back at him, telling him what he had just done. Joanne, she was dead. Just like with Alex, Luke was responsible. But unlike Alex, he knew full well what he did. He knew he killed her and this time it wasn't an accident.
There was no other choice. He had to kill her, or she was gonna kill him.
All in Self Defense... All in Self Defense...
Luke kept repeating those words in his mind, trying to help reason with himself for ending the life of another classmate. He put his hand around the handle of the hatchet still stuck in Joanne's forehead and pulled. It was tough and he should have probably left it where it was, instead of defiling Joanne's body even more, but he had to. It was Sor's, he couldn't just leave it behind. He put his foot onto her body, to hold her in place as he tugged the hatchet out. The hatchet was set free from her skull, following up with blood flowing out from the fissure on the girl's head. Luke closed his eyes. He couldn't look. It was just too much.
All in Self Defense...
Luke stepped backwards. No, there was no pleasure in doing this. He killed two, already, but that wasn't supposed to happen. There was no pleasure in killing Joanne. He wasn't gonna take this as his opportunity to go killing even more people. This wasn't easy at all. There was no excuses.
All in Self Defense?
On top the far end of a couch now; Luke curled himself into a fetal position. He didn't care what anyone watching at home thought of him. There was no way any of them would know how this feels like. He quietly sobbed onto his sleeves.
((Matthew Payne continues from Actions Speak Louder Than Words))
God knows how long ago he heard the gunshots. Matthew landed himself here only a short while ago, and what do you know, a stupid choice. There was...one dead person. Jerry Aarons, whatever his name was, he decided to do the decent thing and not leave Matt any weapons. Matt threw down his bag and mumbled incomprehensible grievances against the dead kid's body.
Now really, how could there be, what, half the entire grade dead and not one fucking weapon around here to show for the whole fucking th-
...Wow. I'm really turning into a cold SOB, that's true.
But...it really was the fact of the game. They had a group. However stupid the name, he was part of a group that was gonna ride this thing until the end. They needed something more than a football helmet for that. Protection, not aggression. Protection.
...was there really anyone here he wanted to protect?
Well, there was one, but...damn, Matt hadn't even seen him yet. His heart almost skipped a beat when he heard the name out on the loudspeakers (seriously, it was like him and Matt were the only guys in the grade who shared names with someone else), but he was...somewhat thankful it wasn't him.
Of course, he couldn't do SQUAT without a fucking weapon, now could he? After he left Jerry's empty body, he started searching the second floor of the building, but still nothing. Looks like this was turning up fruitless. No little protection games without a knife, a blade, a club, or even a gun-
His fuming musings were interrupted by several loud pops that resonated for a few seconds, before fading back into the dim light.
And Matt was on his feet.
Gunshots. That was a 96% chance of a gun being behind it (yes, there were a few ways for this to not be a gun, he'd done the math in his head), so if they just happened to be somewhat distracted enough to be using said gun, well Matt could probably figure out a way to use said distraction as an advantage to land his hand on a gun for Megan and Brendon and himself.
But silence followed those gunshots. Scraping sounds off in the distance were muffled through wall and distance, so...looks like they were no longer distracted.
He almost didn't see the staircase leading towards the second floor appear in front of him. Matt slid down said staircase banister with a little friction, but he ultimately got down faster than aimless flailing of legs on the descent would have allowed.
More doorways, hallways, and most importantly, silence ensued as he rocketed through, heading towards what he thought was the source. And...well, he was right.
Matthew turned the corner, skidding to a halt and taking in the carnage that engulfed the dim lit room. Stuff was smashed. Things were in tatters. And...holy crap dead body.
There was a giant gash where this girl's forehead used to be. Matthew couldn't tell what the hell caused it, but...she was definitely dead, no mistaking that. Just like Jerry. He blinked a few times, but his stomach stood strong and his focus remained clear.
But there wasn't a silence anymore. Someone was crying. Matthew turned his head towards one of the nearby couches, and saw someone he never in his wildest dreams expected to see in this place, this position, or this state of mind.
"Luke?"
But there was an ever more pressing matter that he couldn't keep off the tip of his tongue.
"Dude...what the fuck did you do?"
All the while, he couldn't help notice what was sticking out of that bag. And Luke probably could see his gaze wander there too.
God knows how long ago he heard the gunshots. Matthew landed himself here only a short while ago, and what do you know, a stupid choice. There was...one dead person. Jerry Aarons, whatever his name was, he decided to do the decent thing and not leave Matt any weapons. Matt threw down his bag and mumbled incomprehensible grievances against the dead kid's body.
Now really, how could there be, what, half the entire grade dead and not one fucking weapon around here to show for the whole fucking th-
...Wow. I'm really turning into a cold SOB, that's true.
But...it really was the fact of the game. They had a group. However stupid the name, he was part of a group that was gonna ride this thing until the end. They needed something more than a football helmet for that. Protection, not aggression. Protection.
...was there really anyone here he wanted to protect?
Well, there was one, but...damn, Matt hadn't even seen him yet. His heart almost skipped a beat when he heard the name out on the loudspeakers (seriously, it was like him and Matt were the only guys in the grade who shared names with someone else), but he was...somewhat thankful it wasn't him.
Of course, he couldn't do SQUAT without a fucking weapon, now could he? After he left Jerry's empty body, he started searching the second floor of the building, but still nothing. Looks like this was turning up fruitless. No little protection games without a knife, a blade, a club, or even a gun-
His fuming musings were interrupted by several loud pops that resonated for a few seconds, before fading back into the dim light.
And Matt was on his feet.
Gunshots. That was a 96% chance of a gun being behind it (yes, there were a few ways for this to not be a gun, he'd done the math in his head), so if they just happened to be somewhat distracted enough to be using said gun, well Matt could probably figure out a way to use said distraction as an advantage to land his hand on a gun for Megan and Brendon and himself.
But silence followed those gunshots. Scraping sounds off in the distance were muffled through wall and distance, so...looks like they were no longer distracted.
He almost didn't see the staircase leading towards the second floor appear in front of him. Matt slid down said staircase banister with a little friction, but he ultimately got down faster than aimless flailing of legs on the descent would have allowed.
More doorways, hallways, and most importantly, silence ensued as he rocketed through, heading towards what he thought was the source. And...well, he was right.
Matthew turned the corner, skidding to a halt and taking in the carnage that engulfed the dim lit room. Stuff was smashed. Things were in tatters. And...holy crap dead body.
There was a giant gash where this girl's forehead used to be. Matthew couldn't tell what the hell caused it, but...she was definitely dead, no mistaking that. Just like Jerry. He blinked a few times, but his stomach stood strong and his focus remained clear.
But there wasn't a silence anymore. Someone was crying. Matthew turned his head towards one of the nearby couches, and saw someone he never in his wildest dreams expected to see in this place, this position, or this state of mind.
"Luke?"
But there was an ever more pressing matter that he couldn't keep off the tip of his tongue.
"Dude...what the fuck did you do?"
All the while, he couldn't help notice what was sticking out of that bag. And Luke probably could see his gaze wander there too.
((OOC - Everything is GM'd with permission.))
From his fetal position, Luke Mendoza looked up after hearing another voice call out his name. Looking at him about a meter or two away was none other than Matthew Payne. Luke quickly wiped his eyes. He was never caught crying, by anyone ever. Now Matt Payne, out of all people, was the one who found him in this sad, pitiful state. He hadn't expected anyone to show up this soon, especially Matt. But of course, the gunshots lured someone to the area, the same way, his gunshots probably lured someone to Jethro earlier. This was actually kind of embarrassing.
Trying to save face at the last moment, Luke tried to speak and act, back as he normally did. "M-Matt?" He wiped his wet eyes, probably looking a little swollen. Where were his shades? Did they get knocked off during his struggle with Joanne? Well they were somewhere in this room at least. But really, now would have been the perfect time to have them on. Luke was actually really relieved to see a chum from school here. Wasn't he with Brendan and Megan the last time he saw them? Where the heck were they now?
"Matt, Man... I'm so glad to see you here." Luke said, as he got up, trying to regain composure, the best he could. This was good. It was part of the game plan he thought up earlier, while playing cowboys for pretend. Namely: Find some people, anyone to keep him from losing his mind. Matt would be a good choice. He's generally cool, albeit, sexed up guy.
"Dude...what the fuck did you do?"
*
Matt's sudden choice of words and tone snapped Luke out of his recovering optimistic thoughts. Luke could see Matt shaking his head, and backing away slowly. His eyes transfixed on something Luke's hand. It was the hatchet. Still bloody. Matt had undoubtedly seen Joanne's horrific corpse just a few feet away.
"Matt..." Luke said inching slowly to his latest acquaintance. "Matt..." he continued cautiously, still walking slowly. "I had to do it in Self-defense, Matt." Luke tried to be a little cheery, show that it was the same old Luke, not some kind of psycho like he might of looked like right now.
"Come on man, you know me! I wouldn't lie to you to about something like that. Self Defense. That's all it was."
"Ok." Matt said, still backing up. "Self Defense. Got it. Right..." Several feet behind him, was Luke's duffel bag. Sticking out, were two extremely dangerous weapons. The handle of a machete, and the muzzle of Jethro Stuart's Grendel R31 semi-automatic carbine. Even closer to Matt than the bag of weapons was Luke's own Heritage .45 Rough Rider revolver, laying on the ground. Matt turned his head to the bag of weapons, and to the other fire arm laying on the floor.
There was suspicion in Matt's voice. Luke noted it, along with Matt's look in direction to Luke's weapons, and raised his voice. He really didn't want this to be another situation like with Joanne. He didn't need to be in that situation again, especially so soon, but Matt's movements looked like it was heading that way.
"Look Matt! I had no choice! I HAD to kill her! I had to! I tried to reason with her, but I couldn't! She wouldn't listen! I had to kill her or she was gonna kill me!"
Matt picked up the unloaded gun on the ground and pointed it at the other boy. Luke already knew it was unloaded, but raised his hands anyway and stayed still.
"So, did you have to kill Alex Thornton in self defense, as well? Was he trying to kill you too, Luke!?"
"No Matt! That.. That one was an accident. I.. I didn't mean too. I was just -"
"It was an accident? You didn't mean to shoot him?"
Luke was scared and worried. Matt's sudden flurry of words, just overwhelmed him, and he didn't know what to say.
"Look, Luke. I really, really want to believe you. You're a good guy, a friend even.. But things are just not adding up. You have a whole arsenal of weapons in your bag. No one would just leave weapons like that lying around for you to just take them..."
Matt kept the Revolver steady. "I saw Jerry Aarons in another room here. Did you kill him too, and then take his weapon?"
"What? NO! Of course not! I didn't kill him! I didn't kill Jerry! Who the fuck is Jerry!?"
"Calm down Luke. Easy.. easy. Just calm down. Let's say you're telling the truth, I still have to be cautious, just in case." Matt said as he continued to the bag, with the revolver still focused on Luke.
"Calm down? Matt! I'm NOT a Fucking Psycho!" Luke put the hatchet onto the floor attempting to put a point across, and then raised his hands. Luke was scared now. With Matt not trusting Luke, Luke couldn't trust Matt. Matt was like Joanne. He was gonna punish Luke for 'playing' wasn't he?
From his fetal position, Luke Mendoza looked up after hearing another voice call out his name. Looking at him about a meter or two away was none other than Matthew Payne. Luke quickly wiped his eyes. He was never caught crying, by anyone ever. Now Matt Payne, out of all people, was the one who found him in this sad, pitiful state. He hadn't expected anyone to show up this soon, especially Matt. But of course, the gunshots lured someone to the area, the same way, his gunshots probably lured someone to Jethro earlier. This was actually kind of embarrassing.
Trying to save face at the last moment, Luke tried to speak and act, back as he normally did. "M-Matt?" He wiped his wet eyes, probably looking a little swollen. Where were his shades? Did they get knocked off during his struggle with Joanne? Well they were somewhere in this room at least. But really, now would have been the perfect time to have them on. Luke was actually really relieved to see a chum from school here. Wasn't he with Brendan and Megan the last time he saw them? Where the heck were they now?
"Matt, Man... I'm so glad to see you here." Luke said, as he got up, trying to regain composure, the best he could. This was good. It was part of the game plan he thought up earlier, while playing cowboys for pretend. Namely: Find some people, anyone to keep him from losing his mind. Matt would be a good choice. He's generally cool, albeit, sexed up guy.
"Dude...what the fuck did you do?"
*
Matt's sudden choice of words and tone snapped Luke out of his recovering optimistic thoughts. Luke could see Matt shaking his head, and backing away slowly. His eyes transfixed on something Luke's hand. It was the hatchet. Still bloody. Matt had undoubtedly seen Joanne's horrific corpse just a few feet away.
"Matt..." Luke said inching slowly to his latest acquaintance. "Matt..." he continued cautiously, still walking slowly. "I had to do it in Self-defense, Matt." Luke tried to be a little cheery, show that it was the same old Luke, not some kind of psycho like he might of looked like right now.
"Come on man, you know me! I wouldn't lie to you to about something like that. Self Defense. That's all it was."
"Ok." Matt said, still backing up. "Self Defense. Got it. Right..." Several feet behind him, was Luke's duffel bag. Sticking out, were two extremely dangerous weapons. The handle of a machete, and the muzzle of Jethro Stuart's Grendel R31 semi-automatic carbine. Even closer to Matt than the bag of weapons was Luke's own Heritage .45 Rough Rider revolver, laying on the ground. Matt turned his head to the bag of weapons, and to the other fire arm laying on the floor.
There was suspicion in Matt's voice. Luke noted it, along with Matt's look in direction to Luke's weapons, and raised his voice. He really didn't want this to be another situation like with Joanne. He didn't need to be in that situation again, especially so soon, but Matt's movements looked like it was heading that way.
"Look Matt! I had no choice! I HAD to kill her! I had to! I tried to reason with her, but I couldn't! She wouldn't listen! I had to kill her or she was gonna kill me!"
Matt picked up the unloaded gun on the ground and pointed it at the other boy. Luke already knew it was unloaded, but raised his hands anyway and stayed still.
"So, did you have to kill Alex Thornton in self defense, as well? Was he trying to kill you too, Luke!?"
"No Matt! That.. That one was an accident. I.. I didn't mean too. I was just -"
"It was an accident? You didn't mean to shoot him?"
Luke was scared and worried. Matt's sudden flurry of words, just overwhelmed him, and he didn't know what to say.
"Look, Luke. I really, really want to believe you. You're a good guy, a friend even.. But things are just not adding up. You have a whole arsenal of weapons in your bag. No one would just leave weapons like that lying around for you to just take them..."
Matt kept the Revolver steady. "I saw Jerry Aarons in another room here. Did you kill him too, and then take his weapon?"
"What? NO! Of course not! I didn't kill him! I didn't kill Jerry! Who the fuck is Jerry!?"
"Calm down Luke. Easy.. easy. Just calm down. Let's say you're telling the truth, I still have to be cautious, just in case." Matt said as he continued to the bag, with the revolver still focused on Luke.
"Calm down? Matt! I'm NOT a Fucking Psycho!" Luke put the hatchet onto the floor attempting to put a point across, and then raised his hands. Luke was scared now. With Matt not trusting Luke, Luke couldn't trust Matt. Matt was like Joanne. He was gonna punish Luke for 'playing' wasn't he?
((What Keaka said))
"Look...dude, seriously, you've killed, what 2 people now. You're telling me there was nothing - NOTHING - you could have done to avoid that? How about not shooting him? How about taking away her fucking weapon? Seriously, man, what the fuck is wrong with you? I thought you were better than this!"
His hand was sweating now. He'd only been in danger of his life one time before, but this felt heavier. Matt knew this guy, he was track mates with him, hell, they could be called friends one way or another, but this was way out of hand. His friend, one of his best friends, was a killer.
"Matt, I told you, it was Self! Defence! I couldn't do anything else, just...believe me!" Luke pleaded, but Matt shook his head and readjusted his aim.
"Dude...I can't honestly believe you. Seriously, and...I'm sorry." Matt started.
...what the hell was he supposed to do now? Look at it this way. He had weapons, and he was a killer. A friend, but..a killer. He was technically doing his team's work for them. Picking off the competition. Cold. SOB, he was, but it was reality. Face the facts. Either them or you. But...the three of them wouldn't be able to get out of here without at least one kill, the rest of his classmates weren't gonna be gracious enough to lay down and die for them to live.
So...
The aim of the game was to see if you could kill your best friend.
And here stood one of those people, right in front of him.
He had reason to do it. He had motive to do it. He had a need to do it. Luke was a killer, and those people were the easiest people to kill.
So he could do it no sweat.
Matthew swallowed.
Took in a deep breath.
Looped his finger around the trigger.
Compressed.
...
...
.
....
..
.......
.
...
....
...
*chnk*
His eyes flew from Luke to the chamber of the gun, where a shadow of the scene in front passed through a hollow and empty slot.
He pulled again.
*chnk*
Again.
*chnk*
Again again again again
*chnk chnk chnk chnk*
Nothing.
And that was when his gaze snapped back to Luke, charging at him with something in his hands.
Matthew dropped the revolver almost immediately and tried to step back, avoiding whatever was in his hands, but even there he wasn't quick enough. Whatever he had in his hand, whatever Matthew couldn't see, it struck him.
Right on the face.
He let out a yell and propelled himself backwards, clutching his face. He couldn't see what the hell he did, but that wasn't what mattered. What mattered, might you ask? There was blood pouring down the left side of his face. A throbbing wound was gushing torrents of the stuff down his face.
His FACE.
His FACE, of all things he had to aim for his FACE.
"AAARGH FUCKING-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK!" Matt screamed as his eyes started to water from the pain.
"You...YOU FUCKING WETBACK! YOU ALMOST CUT OUT MY FUCKING EYE YOU FUCKING POCHO! FUCK! YOU!" Matt couldn't help but let this array of slurs out. He'd already failed himself when he started down this path, so failing on his parents beliefs against the ridiculous government regime wasn't too farfetched, even now.
"YOU WANNA MESS WITH ME, HUH, SPIC? WELL YOU JUST GOT YOURSELF A FUCKING DATE!"
Not even running on cool, rational thought anymore, he ran at Luke in an attempt to tackle him down.
"Look...dude, seriously, you've killed, what 2 people now. You're telling me there was nothing - NOTHING - you could have done to avoid that? How about not shooting him? How about taking away her fucking weapon? Seriously, man, what the fuck is wrong with you? I thought you were better than this!"
His hand was sweating now. He'd only been in danger of his life one time before, but this felt heavier. Matt knew this guy, he was track mates with him, hell, they could be called friends one way or another, but this was way out of hand. His friend, one of his best friends, was a killer.
"Matt, I told you, it was Self! Defence! I couldn't do anything else, just...believe me!" Luke pleaded, but Matt shook his head and readjusted his aim.
"Dude...I can't honestly believe you. Seriously, and...I'm sorry." Matt started.
...what the hell was he supposed to do now? Look at it this way. He had weapons, and he was a killer. A friend, but..a killer. He was technically doing his team's work for them. Picking off the competition. Cold. SOB, he was, but it was reality. Face the facts. Either them or you. But...the three of them wouldn't be able to get out of here without at least one kill, the rest of his classmates weren't gonna be gracious enough to lay down and die for them to live.
So...
The aim of the game was to see if you could kill your best friend.
And here stood one of those people, right in front of him.
He had reason to do it. He had motive to do it. He had a need to do it. Luke was a killer, and those people were the easiest people to kill.
So he could do it no sweat.
Matthew swallowed.
Took in a deep breath.
Looped his finger around the trigger.
Compressed.
...
...
.
....
..
.......
.
...
....
...
*chnk*
His eyes flew from Luke to the chamber of the gun, where a shadow of the scene in front passed through a hollow and empty slot.
He pulled again.
*chnk*
Again.
*chnk*
Again again again again
*chnk chnk chnk chnk*
Nothing.
And that was when his gaze snapped back to Luke, charging at him with something in his hands.
Matthew dropped the revolver almost immediately and tried to step back, avoiding whatever was in his hands, but even there he wasn't quick enough. Whatever he had in his hand, whatever Matthew couldn't see, it struck him.
Right on the face.
He let out a yell and propelled himself backwards, clutching his face. He couldn't see what the hell he did, but that wasn't what mattered. What mattered, might you ask? There was blood pouring down the left side of his face. A throbbing wound was gushing torrents of the stuff down his face.
His FACE.
His FACE, of all things he had to aim for his FACE.
"AAARGH FUCKING-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK!" Matt screamed as his eyes started to water from the pain.
"You...YOU FUCKING WETBACK! YOU ALMOST CUT OUT MY FUCKING EYE YOU FUCKING POCHO! FUCK! YOU!" Matt couldn't help but let this array of slurs out. He'd already failed himself when he started down this path, so failing on his parents beliefs against the ridiculous government regime wasn't too farfetched, even now.
"YOU WANNA MESS WITH ME, HUH, SPIC? WELL YOU JUST GOT YOURSELF A FUCKING DATE!"
Not even running on cool, rational thought anymore, he ran at Luke in an attempt to tackle him down.
He wouldn't believe. Matt really thought, Luke killed two people in cold blood and it didn't seem likely for him to shake that thought.
"...I'm sorry." Matt had said as Luke watched him aim the revolver. Luke dropped his head and just looked at the floor. He knew the revolver was empty, but still...
*chnk*
He heard Matt pull the trigger. Even though Luke expected it to be empty, it still hurt. How could this happen? Knowing that someone who he was acquainted enough with to consider a friend wanted to gun him down, felt horrible in the inside. He had to struggle to hold back more tears. Luke felt like just giving up.
If you think I'm just gonna let you get killed by this moron, then you are sorely mistaken.
It was her again.
*chnk*
Pick up the hatchet. - I can't, he's a friend...
*chnk*
Your "friend" is shooting at you. If that gun was loaded you'd be dead. When he figures that out, he'll get your other two weapons, and then you'll really be dead.
*chnk*
Keep him away from those weapons...
Sor was right. Luke wasn't going to kill Matt, but he needed to make sure Matt wasn't gonna kill him. Luke needed to get those weapons away from Matt while he was distracted.
*chnk*
And he needed to move, now.
Luke ran for the bag that was almost directly behind Matt. He needed to get as close as he can before Matt... Oh shit, he saw me!
With out really thinking, to bide time, so he could get closer to the bag of weapons; Luke threw whatever he had in his hand to distract Matt... which unfortunately happened to be the hatchet.
He threw it about 3 feet from Matt while running - which was really close. He aimed it over Matt's head, hoping it would miss. It didn't. Although it mostly caught air, a partial section of the blade managed to slice into the side of his face, from the brow line to the edge of the cheek, narrowly missing the eye. Had Matt not moved a little in the nick of time, he'd have a face full of hatchet.
Matt let out a scream, that Luke could hear, as he dove for the duffel bag. He couldn't think about that now, what's important was he keep these weapons away from Matt.
"AAARGH FUCKING-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK!" Luke looked up from the floor to see Matt holding his face in pain. Blood was dripping to the floor. To the side, Luke could see the hatchet had nailed itself into the wall.
Luke stood up gripping the bag, he could have run out now, but he felt terrible, he couldn't just leave him here, injured like that. Matt was still a friend. It should be ok... Luke had the weapons now at least. "Oh jesus, Matt.. you ok.. I'm so sorr-"
"You...YOU FUCKING WETBACK! YOU ALMOST CUT OUT MY FUCKING EYE YOU FUCKING POCHO! FUCK! YOU!"
It was obvious Matt was in too much pain and rage to listen to anything being said. Luke's heart also sank, when he heard those racist slurs being directed at him. From a friend. At him. He was a minority. Luke stood still, in disbelief at Matt's words. Luke managed to be on the lucky end, he wasn't an obvious minority, mostly white, so he managed to avoid being ridiculed except from the extreme racists like Gourlay. But From Matthew Payne? He was simply dumbfounded.
"YOU WANNA MESS WITH ME, HUH, SPIC? WELL YOU JUST GOT YOURSELF A FUCKING DATE!"
All of a sudden Luke found himself in the air.
Time stood still.
The bag he was just holding was flung over his head somewhere.
It was like that summer before he entered General's Pride. The time he had play fought with his friend Dante, in the Luciano's backyard. MMA style like a couple of dumbass kids, before he slammed his face against a jagged rock. Getting a cut on his face, now a scar. Similar to the one he had just given to Matt's face. Something Matt took great pride in. And Luke ruined it. It was no wonder why Matt was so angry and upset.
And suddenly Luke was on the ground. That takedown had taken him off his feet, on his back onto the floor. It would have knocked the wind out of Luke, if it wasn't for the fact that he had landed right onto the glass shards of the vase, he had broken earlier.
Luke's eyes and mouth opened up wide. The pain was immense. He writhed and contorted his body at weird angles. It was a lucky shot for Luke, that none of the edges had stabbed into him. He could only feel a few shards poke at his back, but not really doing too much damage, maybe a few minor cuts. The shock of the impact seemed to be what freaked Luke out.
Then he saw it, Matt was back on him again. His hands were curled up into fists ready to strike. Luke put his arms over his head to protect himself. It was like he was in one of those many MMA fights he had seen on TV, only real this time, and not for sport. Matt was in the dominant position, and Luke could feel Matt's fist making contact against his arms. Matt was certainly intent in fucking up Luke's face much worse than his by twofold.
His arms were starting to hurt now. Luke tried to roll over, but Matt kept his position. He moved his arms, only to feel bare knuckle against his cheek. Luke's hands searched... for something.. anything.
The revolver again. He had it in his hand. But unlike with Joanne, it was completely empty now. What was he supposed to do with that?
THUMP!
The gun made impact against Matt's face, causing the boy to reach for his face in agony once more. It seemed to work, so Luke swung his arm to pistol whip Matt's face one more time. The hit managed to stun Matt, enough for Luke to kick him off.
Now for the bag. Right there, behind a sofa, next to Joanne's body. Luke turned to see Matt shaking off the pain.
Luke ran.
Matt ran.
Luke got to the bag first.
*
Pulling out the Grendel R31, Luke turned to Matt. His knees to the floor, his hands up. The telescopic light aimed for his head.
Fear. Reasoning never seemed to work for Luke, so maybe, Fear, would... "I took away your fucking weapons. I didn't shoot you. I am better than that."
"...I'm sorry." Matt had said as Luke watched him aim the revolver. Luke dropped his head and just looked at the floor. He knew the revolver was empty, but still...
*chnk*
He heard Matt pull the trigger. Even though Luke expected it to be empty, it still hurt. How could this happen? Knowing that someone who he was acquainted enough with to consider a friend wanted to gun him down, felt horrible in the inside. He had to struggle to hold back more tears. Luke felt like just giving up.
If you think I'm just gonna let you get killed by this moron, then you are sorely mistaken.
It was her again.
*chnk*
Pick up the hatchet. - I can't, he's a friend...
*chnk*
Your "friend" is shooting at you. If that gun was loaded you'd be dead. When he figures that out, he'll get your other two weapons, and then you'll really be dead.
*chnk*
Keep him away from those weapons...
Sor was right. Luke wasn't going to kill Matt, but he needed to make sure Matt wasn't gonna kill him. Luke needed to get those weapons away from Matt while he was distracted.
*chnk*
And he needed to move, now.
Luke ran for the bag that was almost directly behind Matt. He needed to get as close as he can before Matt... Oh shit, he saw me!
With out really thinking, to bide time, so he could get closer to the bag of weapons; Luke threw whatever he had in his hand to distract Matt... which unfortunately happened to be the hatchet.
He threw it about 3 feet from Matt while running - which was really close. He aimed it over Matt's head, hoping it would miss. It didn't. Although it mostly caught air, a partial section of the blade managed to slice into the side of his face, from the brow line to the edge of the cheek, narrowly missing the eye. Had Matt not moved a little in the nick of time, he'd have a face full of hatchet.
Matt let out a scream, that Luke could hear, as he dove for the duffel bag. He couldn't think about that now, what's important was he keep these weapons away from Matt.
"AAARGH FUCKING-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK!" Luke looked up from the floor to see Matt holding his face in pain. Blood was dripping to the floor. To the side, Luke could see the hatchet had nailed itself into the wall.
Luke stood up gripping the bag, he could have run out now, but he felt terrible, he couldn't just leave him here, injured like that. Matt was still a friend. It should be ok... Luke had the weapons now at least. "Oh jesus, Matt.. you ok.. I'm so sorr-"
"You...YOU FUCKING WETBACK! YOU ALMOST CUT OUT MY FUCKING EYE YOU FUCKING POCHO! FUCK! YOU!"
It was obvious Matt was in too much pain and rage to listen to anything being said. Luke's heart also sank, when he heard those racist slurs being directed at him. From a friend. At him. He was a minority. Luke stood still, in disbelief at Matt's words. Luke managed to be on the lucky end, he wasn't an obvious minority, mostly white, so he managed to avoid being ridiculed except from the extreme racists like Gourlay. But From Matthew Payne? He was simply dumbfounded.
"YOU WANNA MESS WITH ME, HUH, SPIC? WELL YOU JUST GOT YOURSELF A FUCKING DATE!"
All of a sudden Luke found himself in the air.
Time stood still.
The bag he was just holding was flung over his head somewhere.
It was like that summer before he entered General's Pride. The time he had play fought with his friend Dante, in the Luciano's backyard. MMA style like a couple of dumbass kids, before he slammed his face against a jagged rock. Getting a cut on his face, now a scar. Similar to the one he had just given to Matt's face. Something Matt took great pride in. And Luke ruined it. It was no wonder why Matt was so angry and upset.
And suddenly Luke was on the ground. That takedown had taken him off his feet, on his back onto the floor. It would have knocked the wind out of Luke, if it wasn't for the fact that he had landed right onto the glass shards of the vase, he had broken earlier.
Luke's eyes and mouth opened up wide. The pain was immense. He writhed and contorted his body at weird angles. It was a lucky shot for Luke, that none of the edges had stabbed into him. He could only feel a few shards poke at his back, but not really doing too much damage, maybe a few minor cuts. The shock of the impact seemed to be what freaked Luke out.
Then he saw it, Matt was back on him again. His hands were curled up into fists ready to strike. Luke put his arms over his head to protect himself. It was like he was in one of those many MMA fights he had seen on TV, only real this time, and not for sport. Matt was in the dominant position, and Luke could feel Matt's fist making contact against his arms. Matt was certainly intent in fucking up Luke's face much worse than his by twofold.
His arms were starting to hurt now. Luke tried to roll over, but Matt kept his position. He moved his arms, only to feel bare knuckle against his cheek. Luke's hands searched... for something.. anything.
The revolver again. He had it in his hand. But unlike with Joanne, it was completely empty now. What was he supposed to do with that?
THUMP!
The gun made impact against Matt's face, causing the boy to reach for his face in agony once more. It seemed to work, so Luke swung his arm to pistol whip Matt's face one more time. The hit managed to stun Matt, enough for Luke to kick him off.
Now for the bag. Right there, behind a sofa, next to Joanne's body. Luke turned to see Matt shaking off the pain.
Luke ran.
Matt ran.
Luke got to the bag first.
*
Pulling out the Grendel R31, Luke turned to Matt. His knees to the floor, his hands up. The telescopic light aimed for his head.
Fear. Reasoning never seemed to work for Luke, so maybe, Fear, would... "I took away your fucking weapons. I didn't shoot you. I am better than that."
((And the mysterious Inky, who is currently posting on his newly set-up family computer when he should be helping unpack, finally posts. Just need one more post on my end to get this thing over and done with!))
Of all the things not to take into account, hell of all the things that could have been taken into account, no one would have suspected that Matthew still had a weapon on him after dropping that gun.
When Luke cold-cocked him during that brutal assault, he'd fallen backwards onto the ground. The tiled floor scattered with shards and glass, and it just so happened that he'd fallen backwards onto a particularly nasty shard of ceramic that was lain there quite the while ago. And yes, it was particularly bad. The shard was thick, deep, and hurt a lot more than it should have. It tore open the cloth and skin only just near the spinal column, a mere few inches away from total paralysis.
And it fucking hurt.
Of course, he wasn't paying attention to that, the pain in his face near his eye still gushing a healthy stream of vivacious red blood was a force of pain to be reckoned with. Matt had to get something to fight off/kill/what the fuck ever Luke.
And then, the tables were turned. Luke had his own gun, his own loaded gun, tote to Matt's chin. Cold metal sent pins of recollection back to the pain in his back, and he let out a gurgle yelp. Of course, Luke wouldn't know that. A natural reaction to being held with a gun under your own head and hoist to your feet, perhaps?
The stuff he said, the bullshit he tried to spew out, it echoed through his mind for a few seconds, but was quickly drowned out by a series of nervous and pained shakings, followed by another involuntary gasp.
The pressure building up behind his wound was cause a miraculous amount of pain. Well, there was just another way to get rid of that.
Before Luke would even have time to react, Matt grabbed the shard with his left hand and yanked.
There it went, he could feel the blood flowing, but that wasn't important. Once Luke, the boy who at one time, in one place, used to be his friend, was out of the way, he could get himself patched up with Megan and Brendon and oh dear god why the hell is this hurting so much?
Almost a split second later, he had the shard at his front, driven towards Luke's chest.
But...wrong hand. Wrong human condition. Wrong set of fucking circumstances. It all went horribly wrong.
Cause Luke saw what he was doing, and grabbed his hand.
There was movement.
And a turn of events.
A turn of the hand as well.
Because before he knew it, the shard of ceramic went plunging into Matthew's abdomen.
Of all the things not to take into account, hell of all the things that could have been taken into account, no one would have suspected that Matthew still had a weapon on him after dropping that gun.
When Luke cold-cocked him during that brutal assault, he'd fallen backwards onto the ground. The tiled floor scattered with shards and glass, and it just so happened that he'd fallen backwards onto a particularly nasty shard of ceramic that was lain there quite the while ago. And yes, it was particularly bad. The shard was thick, deep, and hurt a lot more than it should have. It tore open the cloth and skin only just near the spinal column, a mere few inches away from total paralysis.
And it fucking hurt.
Of course, he wasn't paying attention to that, the pain in his face near his eye still gushing a healthy stream of vivacious red blood was a force of pain to be reckoned with. Matt had to get something to fight off/kill/what the fuck ever Luke.
And then, the tables were turned. Luke had his own gun, his own loaded gun, tote to Matt's chin. Cold metal sent pins of recollection back to the pain in his back, and he let out a gurgle yelp. Of course, Luke wouldn't know that. A natural reaction to being held with a gun under your own head and hoist to your feet, perhaps?
The stuff he said, the bullshit he tried to spew out, it echoed through his mind for a few seconds, but was quickly drowned out by a series of nervous and pained shakings, followed by another involuntary gasp.
The pressure building up behind his wound was cause a miraculous amount of pain. Well, there was just another way to get rid of that.
Before Luke would even have time to react, Matt grabbed the shard with his left hand and yanked.
There it went, he could feel the blood flowing, but that wasn't important. Once Luke, the boy who at one time, in one place, used to be his friend, was out of the way, he could get himself patched up with Megan and Brendon and oh dear god why the hell is this hurting so much?
Almost a split second later, he had the shard at his front, driven towards Luke's chest.
But...wrong hand. Wrong human condition. Wrong set of fucking circumstances. It all went horribly wrong.
Cause Luke saw what he was doing, and grabbed his hand.
There was movement.
And a turn of events.
A turn of the hand as well.
Because before he knew it, the shard of ceramic went plunging into Matthew's abdomen.
[[OOC- Edited in a few parts toward the end, just incase you've already read this before hand]]
"Unlike the last gun." Luke dropped the revolver in front of Matt. "This gun is loaded." bam-bam-bam-bam. The rate of fire for the gun was pretty quick. Just as quick, Luke put the telescopic light back on Matt. "See?" Luke said after he shot holes into the farthest couch.
"I already knew the revolver was empty cause I was the one who used it. If I was some kind of psycho I'd have killed you earlier, but I'm not. You forced me to do that, Matt. I tried to reason with you, but you wouldn't listen, just like that bitch over there." He nodded toward Joanne, surprised at his own words. "Why'd you have to go and be a bitch too, Matt?" Luke put the gun's muzzle under Matt's chin and nudged him up into a standing position.
"I don't want to kill you Matt, but I will if I have to... Like you said, I've already killed two people, possibly more. So don't test me..."
In between some pained gasps, or was it fright, Matt had nodded. "All I need is your trust kay?" Matt nodded again. Did the fear work? Matt seemed to listen.
"Good, I'm gonna lower the gun now..." And he did.
Stupid move.
As soon as he did, Matt wrestled the gun out of Luke's hand, making it smash into his face by surprise and dazing Luke for a moment. The gun fell behind the couch.
Matt gave a primal and pained scream, after reaching behind to pull something from... his back? He had it in front of him now. It was bloody. It was large and it was sharp. Luke watched in confusion and fear of his own.
Coming at him now, was Matt with the pointed shard, aimed for his chest.
Luke backed up and grabbed Matt's wrist, twisting him around, to resist the pointed shard from stabbing into his body. With his other hand, Luke readied a punch. He closed his hand into a fist, rotating a few degrees to the right, and swung. The haymaker made full contact to the side of Matt's face.
Matt started to wobble. Luke put both hands onto Matt's bloody fist and turned the point around. Matt still wouldn't let go though, so Luke had to do something else.
Tackle him.
He pushed forward, with Matt in front of him with all the force he could muster. As they neared the wall, Luke pushed harder. He slammed Matt against the wall. Again and again. Matt's eyes widened, giving another gasp, one of realization. Luke gave a gasp of his own. He backed up, letting go.
There was blood on his hands. Luke could only watch as Matt slid down from the wall to the floor. Luke put his hands on his own head and stared on in terrified disbelief and bewilderment. What had he just done?
The shard was in deep. Luke tried to help, he had to. Matt was a friend. Even though he called him a spic, a wetback a FUCKING Pocho!
Luke gave Matt a kick. He felt ashamed afterward.
"I-I TOLD you not to.. to test me! You shouldn't have called me all those fucking words. All I needed was your trust Matt! Your trust!" Luke was a mix of sadness, anger and frustration. He pointed his trembling finger at the laying, bleeding boy.
"Then you wouldn't be on the floor dying like this. I wasn't gonna kill you! You could of lived! You should have listened Matt! You should have FUCKING LISTENED!" Luke quickly tried to get a hold of himself. He was shouting at his dying friend. "Oh shit, I am so sorry man... oh fuck. There's got to be something I can do to help..."
The wound was deep, and it was large. The end was sticking out of Matt's body. Luke gripped his hand around it, making sure not to cut himself as he pulled. He pulled hard, but it was difficult. Matt gave a loud agonized cry. It was no use. The help, the apologizing won't work. The shard had done it's job. Matt was suffering, dying slowly and painfully. There was nothing he could do to help now.
He wasn't supposed to get his hands dirty. Now they were bloody. This was not part of "the plan."
"Unlike the last gun." Luke dropped the revolver in front of Matt. "This gun is loaded." bam-bam-bam-bam. The rate of fire for the gun was pretty quick. Just as quick, Luke put the telescopic light back on Matt. "See?" Luke said after he shot holes into the farthest couch.
"I already knew the revolver was empty cause I was the one who used it. If I was some kind of psycho I'd have killed you earlier, but I'm not. You forced me to do that, Matt. I tried to reason with you, but you wouldn't listen, just like that bitch over there." He nodded toward Joanne, surprised at his own words. "Why'd you have to go and be a bitch too, Matt?" Luke put the gun's muzzle under Matt's chin and nudged him up into a standing position.
"I don't want to kill you Matt, but I will if I have to... Like you said, I've already killed two people, possibly more. So don't test me..."
In between some pained gasps, or was it fright, Matt had nodded. "All I need is your trust kay?" Matt nodded again. Did the fear work? Matt seemed to listen.
"Good, I'm gonna lower the gun now..." And he did.
Stupid move.
As soon as he did, Matt wrestled the gun out of Luke's hand, making it smash into his face by surprise and dazing Luke for a moment. The gun fell behind the couch.
Matt gave a primal and pained scream, after reaching behind to pull something from... his back? He had it in front of him now. It was bloody. It was large and it was sharp. Luke watched in confusion and fear of his own.
Coming at him now, was Matt with the pointed shard, aimed for his chest.
Luke backed up and grabbed Matt's wrist, twisting him around, to resist the pointed shard from stabbing into his body. With his other hand, Luke readied a punch. He closed his hand into a fist, rotating a few degrees to the right, and swung. The haymaker made full contact to the side of Matt's face.
Matt started to wobble. Luke put both hands onto Matt's bloody fist and turned the point around. Matt still wouldn't let go though, so Luke had to do something else.
Tackle him.
He pushed forward, with Matt in front of him with all the force he could muster. As they neared the wall, Luke pushed harder. He slammed Matt against the wall. Again and again. Matt's eyes widened, giving another gasp, one of realization. Luke gave a gasp of his own. He backed up, letting go.
There was blood on his hands. Luke could only watch as Matt slid down from the wall to the floor. Luke put his hands on his own head and stared on in terrified disbelief and bewilderment. What had he just done?
The shard was in deep. Luke tried to help, he had to. Matt was a friend. Even though he called him a spic, a wetback a FUCKING Pocho!
Luke gave Matt a kick. He felt ashamed afterward.
"I-I TOLD you not to.. to test me! You shouldn't have called me all those fucking words. All I needed was your trust Matt! Your trust!" Luke was a mix of sadness, anger and frustration. He pointed his trembling finger at the laying, bleeding boy.
"Then you wouldn't be on the floor dying like this. I wasn't gonna kill you! You could of lived! You should have listened Matt! You should have FUCKING LISTENED!" Luke quickly tried to get a hold of himself. He was shouting at his dying friend. "Oh shit, I am so sorry man... oh fuck. There's got to be something I can do to help..."
The wound was deep, and it was large. The end was sticking out of Matt's body. Luke gripped his hand around it, making sure not to cut himself as he pulled. He pulled hard, but it was difficult. Matt gave a loud agonized cry. It was no use. The help, the apologizing won't work. The shard had done it's job. Matt was suffering, dying slowly and painfully. There was nothing he could do to help now.
He wasn't supposed to get his hands dirty. Now they were bloody. This was not part of "the plan."