The body laid there, unconscious as smoke poured out of the orange inferno in front of it. It flopped along the ground uselessly for a moment, and then, it's eyes opened.
Michael rubbed his eyes as he awoke, every inch of his body still throbbing in pain. It was in an instant he realized something was off. Something was pulling him, he knew somebody had a hold of him earlier that night, but who? Michael tried with the best of his strength to look behind him, to see who it was, but he couldn't get a good enough look. The only features he noticed was that whoever had a hold of him was really short, and had blonde hair. He felt everything go black a moment later.
Feet dragged themselves along the ground, the figure occasionally bumping himself into trees as it drunkenly stumbled through the island.
Michael's eyes fluttered open again as his feet were marching along the ground, next to whoever it was that decided to save him. His savior was dragging him along by the shoulder, looking dead ahead. He looked again at the face. There was something off about him. Not wrong, but something didn't add up. Michael didn't know who he was. He's never seen him before in his life, yet... He felt himself fading out again.
Walking through the woods the zombie pushed and forced it's way through brushes and tree lines, eyelids half closed, eyes inside doing the R.E.M. dance. It was clear to anyone watching that the lights were on, but nobody was home.
Maybe he was just being paranoid or something. This kid was about the same age as him, he was probably just another student at Denton, right? Yeah, he had to be right? The new guy finally spoke up. "You alright?"
Michael looked down at himself, at his stump, thinking of a reply. "Shit... I dunno, as good as I'll ever be at this point."
"You almost died back there, you know that right?" Michael stared at the ground, putting all the focus into keeping his feet moving one after the other, listening as the other guy spoke. "You know that was stupid what you tried to do back there... What were you thinking?!" Michael turned his head up towards his 'savior'. He looked fucking pissed. "After everything, you almost threw it all away for nothing... I mean, what were you thinking? Who was that stupid fucking 'duel' supposed to help?!"
"Man what the fuck was I supposed to do?! Let her go? What fucking difference does it make? I'm still alive aren't I? Why's it fucking matter?"
"Because I'm tired of seeing it happen! It happened, again, again, and again, and you still didn't learn! What's wrong with you? How can you say you care about the people closest to you when you're willing to die for the most petty shit?"
Michael pulled himself back from the boy, almost losing his balance in the process. "Listen buddy, I appreciate the help but what're you, huh? A fucking stalker? Why's it matter to you so much about who or what I care about? I've been through more shit then you'll ever go through, and I bet I've lost twice as much as you! Who are you, anyways?"
The boy stepped back, his face changed instantly. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. "I just... I just wanted to stop this from happening again. I know you don't remember me, and you probably never will, but I was just hoping that... maybe I could fix this. It's too late anyways, I'm too late." He sighed, then turned to walk back into the woods. "Your friends are just outside that path, go see them."
Michael just watched as his savior just started to leave like that. "W-wait, listen man, come with us! We're getting out of here, you don't have to just leave!" There was this twisted feeling of deja-vu as the next sentence left Michael's mouth. He remembered everything as he realized he couldn't stop him.
"Jon, wait! Before you leave, just tell me this!"
The guardian angel turned around.
"Am I ever going to see you again?"
His face changed into a smile...
"Soon, maybe... Maybe in another life... Not this one though. Your friends need you... You need them. Go see them while you got the time."
The two stared at each other for what felt like hours, then went their separate ways.
Michael stumbled out of the treeline, and rolled down the hill, just yards from Scarlett and Chuck.
(( Michael Crowe continued from You Got Me Burnin'))
He rubbed his head as he laid there on the ground. He looked around and realized he wasn't at the quarry anymore...
He was at the lake now. How did he get here?
To be honest, he couldn't remember a thing since he walked out of that inferno he left KK to rot in...
Shoulder of Orion
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Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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Primrosette
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Scarlett was quiet as Chuck was speaking to her about Lance and she wondered if she would ever have a chance to thank Lance for saving Chuck. She could do it later by saying a little prayer to Lance. Something that was very respectful to all of those that had died. Even the ones who had done things the wrong way.
Jasmine.
Scarlett's expression turned into one of sorrow. Jasmine had been the one who had taken Paris' life away. Scarlett never got a chance to see him or to say goodbye. She hadn't really thought about him after everything that had happened. She had been too crushed and guilt-ridden by all the horrible things that had happened over the days. She needed to do her own goodbye to Paris too.
"Chuck, about Lance, I think that-"
Scarlett heard some noises and movements out of the corner of her eye. She pulled out of the hug with Chuck and she cautiously got up to her feet. She noticed someone who looked like they were in a terrible condition and her eyes widened in recognition.
"Michael...!"
She rushed towards his battered form.
Jasmine.
Scarlett's expression turned into one of sorrow. Jasmine had been the one who had taken Paris' life away. Scarlett never got a chance to see him or to say goodbye. She hadn't really thought about him after everything that had happened. She had been too crushed and guilt-ridden by all the horrible things that had happened over the days. She needed to do her own goodbye to Paris too.
"Chuck, about Lance, I think that-"
Scarlett heard some noises and movements out of the corner of her eye. She pulled out of the hug with Chuck and she cautiously got up to her feet. She noticed someone who looked like they were in a terrible condition and her eyes widened in recognition.
"Michael...!"
She rushed towards his battered form.
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General Goose
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Holy shit.
Michael looked bad before, don't get Chuck wrong. Chuck had, much to his shame, idly let his gaze fall on Michael's form as they had chatted and conversed, finding some unwholesome satisfaction in the contours of his scars, the grotesque disfigurements of his amateurishly treated burns and cuts. To put it crudely, in the form of pop culture references, he looked like some cross of MadWorld and Happy Tree Friends.
Except real. And so instead of his ludicrous injuries and absurd perseverance being the epicentre of some twisted gross-out gore-heavy black comedy, it was tragic, and disturbing, and a testament to the strength of the human body and the force of Michael's personality. The man had looked lively, despite all that. Seemed to wear each scar as an omnipresent reminder of the stakes of their current predicament. Of the virtues of their cause. Of the righteousness of their fight. As every grisly flap of skin fluttered and trembled with Michael's still energetic movements, it made Michael seem alive.
Now? He looked dead.
Arm gone, for starters. The left arm wasn't much better. Chuck had thought it gone too, at first glance, its charred and discoloured appearance almost camouflaged in the foliage behind it. Chuck, for the first time he could remember, felt squeamish. Felt a pang of nausea in the pit of his stomach. Normally was good at handling this sort of thing, of being suitably concerned but not paralysed by disgust, but oh god...
Scarlett broke into a run first.
That shook Chuck out of his catatonic daze. He followed her. "Michael!", he repeated, joining her call. "Michael! Jesus fuck, man, what happened?"
Not the best question, probably. But he was happy he wasn't hearing this on Danya's inaccurate announcements.
Michael looked bad before, don't get Chuck wrong. Chuck had, much to his shame, idly let his gaze fall on Michael's form as they had chatted and conversed, finding some unwholesome satisfaction in the contours of his scars, the grotesque disfigurements of his amateurishly treated burns and cuts. To put it crudely, in the form of pop culture references, he looked like some cross of MadWorld and Happy Tree Friends.
Except real. And so instead of his ludicrous injuries and absurd perseverance being the epicentre of some twisted gross-out gore-heavy black comedy, it was tragic, and disturbing, and a testament to the strength of the human body and the force of Michael's personality. The man had looked lively, despite all that. Seemed to wear each scar as an omnipresent reminder of the stakes of their current predicament. Of the virtues of their cause. Of the righteousness of their fight. As every grisly flap of skin fluttered and trembled with Michael's still energetic movements, it made Michael seem alive.
Now? He looked dead.
Arm gone, for starters. The left arm wasn't much better. Chuck had thought it gone too, at first glance, its charred and discoloured appearance almost camouflaged in the foliage behind it. Chuck, for the first time he could remember, felt squeamish. Felt a pang of nausea in the pit of his stomach. Normally was good at handling this sort of thing, of being suitably concerned but not paralysed by disgust, but oh god...
Scarlett broke into a run first.
That shook Chuck out of his catatonic daze. He followed her. "Michael!", he repeated, joining her call. "Michael! Jesus fuck, man, what happened?"
Not the best question, probably. But he was happy he wasn't hearing this on Danya's inaccurate announcements.
Michael rolled around on the ground, when familiar voices called out to him. He turned his head to see Scarlett and Chuck running to him. He tried to get up, to join them half way, but his legs gave out underneath him the moment he attempted to stand up. He caught himself from faceplanting with his arm, his hand gripping at the grass.
He tried to get up again, but just fell on his back again. At this point he just went screw it, and forced himself to sit up. He wasn't getting any farther than that. He used his arm to support him as he saw Chuck and Scarlett getting closer to him. He wanted to ask them 'what happened' but they kind of beat him to the punch on that.
He stared ahead blankly, almost as if he didn't know the answer. There were bits and pieces, mostly what happened after lighting the flames. KK attacked, but mike was sure he won, right? It couldn't have been that ba- oboy, there's his arm it's gone. "I-is that my arm? Shit... Do you guys know where my arm is? Can't find it."
"Uhmmm..."
He just stared at them in a daze. He was starting to feel dizzy again so he fell onto his back to lay down. "The...fuck's goin' on?" He felt woozy as shit. Maybe he needed more sleep?
Michael's eyes fluttered shut again.
He tried to get up again, but just fell on his back again. At this point he just went screw it, and forced himself to sit up. He wasn't getting any farther than that. He used his arm to support him as he saw Chuck and Scarlett getting closer to him. He wanted to ask them 'what happened' but they kind of beat him to the punch on that.
He stared ahead blankly, almost as if he didn't know the answer. There were bits and pieces, mostly what happened after lighting the flames. KK attacked, but mike was sure he won, right? It couldn't have been that ba- oboy, there's his arm it's gone. "I-is that my arm? Shit... Do you guys know where my arm is? Can't find it."
"Uhmmm..."
He just stared at them in a daze. He was starting to feel dizzy again so he fell onto his back to lay down. "The...fuck's goin' on?" He felt woozy as shit. Maybe he needed more sleep?
Michael's eyes fluttered shut again.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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Primrosette
- Posts: 896
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- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Michael's arm is missing, Michael's arm is missing! Oh god! What happened, what happened?! Those were the panicking thoughts that would going through Scarlett's head as she got closer to him and she was by his side, trying not to show how upset and scared she was for him and his new injuries.
"Michael, h-hey! Don't give up! Please, you can't die!" She almost screamed the words in his face but all it came out in was a high-pitched voice that was cracking under pressure from the fear of possibly losing another friend.
It's not fair, it's not fair....
She felt tears start to roll down her cheeks and she tried to wipe them away with the back of her hand. She couldn't be crying like this. She had to do something. But she didn't know what she could do about Michael's arm. She felt useless, weak, powerless.
"D-Don't leave us...."
"Michael, h-hey! Don't give up! Please, you can't die!" She almost screamed the words in his face but all it came out in was a high-pitched voice that was cracking under pressure from the fear of possibly losing another friend.
It's not fair, it's not fair....
She felt tears start to roll down her cheeks and she tried to wipe them away with the back of her hand. She couldn't be crying like this. She had to do something. But she didn't know what she could do about Michael's arm. She felt useless, weak, powerless.
"D-Don't leave us...."
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
"Your arm..." Chuck mumbled at this point. Any confidence, any bravado, any reinvigorated faith in humanity that their plan had revived, was sapped by this sight. The reality of the island had come back, with a vengeance. And Michael, poor tough heroic rough-around-the-edges still-beautiful-on-the-inside Michael, had lost his arm. Chuck's Cajun accent was coming out, unfiltered and unadulterated.
Scarlett was responding like a normal person would. All the 'don't die please' stuff. Chuck would have said all that, but she had it covered.
Michael had asked a question about his arm. Chuck looked over Michael, trying to reassess if there was any bleeding. Any significant bleeding. "Michael, man, don't panic," Chuck continued, getting his words in whenever there was a moment of relative silence, between ragged breaths (coming from who, Chuck wasn't sure) and Scarlett's sobs. Chuck wanted to sob too. But Scarlett had beaten him to it.
"Michael, man, sorry, but you've...kinda got rid of your arm?" He said it with just a hint of levity, added in the final syllables as he realised the accidentally foolish phrasing he was deploying. Maybe a joke would reduce the tension. Allow cooler heads to prevail.
"Uh, maybe get a first aid kit?" Chuck whispered as an aside to Scarlett. He wasn't sure what they'd do with it.
Scarlett was responding like a normal person would. All the 'don't die please' stuff. Chuck would have said all that, but she had it covered.
Michael had asked a question about his arm. Chuck looked over Michael, trying to reassess if there was any bleeding. Any significant bleeding. "Michael, man, don't panic," Chuck continued, getting his words in whenever there was a moment of relative silence, between ragged breaths (coming from who, Chuck wasn't sure) and Scarlett's sobs. Chuck wanted to sob too. But Scarlett had beaten him to it.
"Michael, man, sorry, but you've...kinda got rid of your arm?" He said it with just a hint of levity, added in the final syllables as he realised the accidentally foolish phrasing he was deploying. Maybe a joke would reduce the tension. Allow cooler heads to prevail.
"Uh, maybe get a first aid kit?" Chuck whispered as an aside to Scarlett. He wasn't sure what they'd do with it.
Michael tried his hardest to sit up, but he could barely get his shoulder blades off the ground at this point. His head fell back to the ground again, his eyes fixed on the sun. He probably wasn't too worried about eye damage at this point. Everything hurt so damn bad. He was tired as hell, all he wanted to do was get back to sleep. He had a pretty good dream earlier, he couldn't remember it, but it felt comfy.
He heard voices in the distance. They sounded way more distance then they should be. Chuck had told him what was kinda obvious, he had lost his arm. Michael looked to Chuck, then to his arm, then back to Chuck. He was to tired to do the 'no shit sherlock' face though. He just laid back and stared at the sun some more.
Scarlett was crying. Why was she? He wasn't dying. He was tired. He just needed some sleep, so he was going to get some. They didn't have much to do now anyways, right? Rescue was coming. Michael closed his eyes. They beat this, they were going home. By the time he woke up, boats would be here to evac everyone...
If he woke up.
Oh shit!
Mike's eyes opened up wide as he realized the gravity of his situation. If he went to sleep, he would never wake up. He could not die, not now. He wasn't going to give those terrorist bastards or their cowardly stooges anymore of his blood than he had to.
He rolled over to his front and tried to push himself up. He got as far as his knees before he fell down, yet again. He felt so fucking tired, he just wanted some sleep, some comfort somewhere. No! No no no no no... You are not dying on them, get up! On your feet you fucking pussy!
He tried to push himself up, but he couldn't. It just wasn't working. He looked up to Scarlett and Chuck. He needed some help. He raised his arm up to them. "I-I've reconsidered my current tactic, and I'd rather not eat shit to be completely honest... C-can one of you guys help me up? My legs aren't doing what I'm telling them to."
He just had to hang on a little bit longer.
He heard voices in the distance. They sounded way more distance then they should be. Chuck had told him what was kinda obvious, he had lost his arm. Michael looked to Chuck, then to his arm, then back to Chuck. He was to tired to do the 'no shit sherlock' face though. He just laid back and stared at the sun some more.
Scarlett was crying. Why was she? He wasn't dying. He was tired. He just needed some sleep, so he was going to get some. They didn't have much to do now anyways, right? Rescue was coming. Michael closed his eyes. They beat this, they were going home. By the time he woke up, boats would be here to evac everyone...
If he woke up.
Oh shit!
Mike's eyes opened up wide as he realized the gravity of his situation. If he went to sleep, he would never wake up. He could not die, not now. He wasn't going to give those terrorist bastards or their cowardly stooges anymore of his blood than he had to.
He rolled over to his front and tried to push himself up. He got as far as his knees before he fell down, yet again. He felt so fucking tired, he just wanted some sleep, some comfort somewhere. No! No no no no no... You are not dying on them, get up! On your feet you fucking pussy!
He tried to push himself up, but he couldn't. It just wasn't working. He looked up to Scarlett and Chuck. He needed some help. He raised his arm up to them. "I-I've reconsidered my current tactic, and I'd rather not eat shit to be completely honest... C-can one of you guys help me up? My legs aren't doing what I'm telling them to."
He just had to hang on a little bit longer.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
[[Kyran Dean Continued From: Die Hand Die Verletzt.]]
The lake was coming into view as he made his way to the end of the treeline, but still he felt the vibration and sounds of footsteps behind him. Jeeze thought he lost them already.
Or maybe it was all in his head induced by the adrenaline and life preserving panic. Or maybe it was the others who he had dropped a line for, to meet his team. Yet he was afraid to turn his head for anything.
He saw them at the shore of the lake. Chuck, Scarlett and...
Oh friggin no.
In an instant a vaneer of optimism nearly shattered completely from the surface of Kyran's new found hope. Michael Crowe, on the ground, missing limbs.
But like an unbelieveable knight of badass, he was, Cap'n Crowe was still moving, still running his mouth.
Kyran ran to them as quickly as he could, urgency clear in his sentences.
"Guys," Kyran spoke, crouching down with the others, joining them instantly. With a scent of smoke off his clothing and his old bag he had missing for so many days, marked B14 on his shoulder, decorated with one bullet hole through the surface of one side.
"Saachi and Miranda are gunning for me. At least right now. They're hunting indiscriminately." He swiftly scanned the immediate area. "We gotta move fast."
To help Michael out of harms way. To live. To possibly keep this secret smiley face plan going.
"There," Kyran motioned at the dilapidated boat shack nearby.
It was shelter, it was something out of the open.
"Mike, you good buddy. I gotchu, we gotchu."
The lake was coming into view as he made his way to the end of the treeline, but still he felt the vibration and sounds of footsteps behind him. Jeeze thought he lost them already.
Or maybe it was all in his head induced by the adrenaline and life preserving panic. Or maybe it was the others who he had dropped a line for, to meet his team. Yet he was afraid to turn his head for anything.
He saw them at the shore of the lake. Chuck, Scarlett and...
Oh friggin no.
In an instant a vaneer of optimism nearly shattered completely from the surface of Kyran's new found hope. Michael Crowe, on the ground, missing limbs.
But like an unbelieveable knight of badass, he was, Cap'n Crowe was still moving, still running his mouth.
Kyran ran to them as quickly as he could, urgency clear in his sentences.
"Guys," Kyran spoke, crouching down with the others, joining them instantly. With a scent of smoke off his clothing and his old bag he had missing for so many days, marked B14 on his shoulder, decorated with one bullet hole through the surface of one side.
"Saachi and Miranda are gunning for me. At least right now. They're hunting indiscriminately." He swiftly scanned the immediate area. "We gotta move fast."
To help Michael out of harms way. To live. To possibly keep this secret smiley face plan going.
"There," Kyran motioned at the dilapidated boat shack nearby.
It was shelter, it was something out of the open.
"Mike, you good buddy. I gotchu, we gotchu."
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Primrosette
- Posts: 896
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Scarlett couldn't even move. All she could do was kneel on her knees. She was stuck in shock and grief. She couldn't even do the simple task of trying to help Michael. She was helpless.
Until Kyran arrived....
....And told them about Saachi and Miranda. They were both hunting for Kyran. Unforgivable.
"If they come here, I will make sure that they will never hurt anyone else." Scarlett said, feeling more determined than ever. "I can't let either of them go home. I don't care if I am doing the wrong thing. They have to both be stopped."
Scarlett got up to her feet and rushed back to her back. She got out her gun and the icepick. Two weapons were better than one. She would have more of an advantage.
Until Kyran arrived....
....And told them about Saachi and Miranda. They were both hunting for Kyran. Unforgivable.
"If they come here, I will make sure that they will never hurt anyone else." Scarlett said, feeling more determined than ever. "I can't let either of them go home. I don't care if I am doing the wrong thing. They have to both be stopped."
Scarlett got up to her feet and rushed back to her back. She got out her gun and the icepick. Two weapons were better than one. She would have more of an advantage.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Chuck nodded. Okay. Shit. This was worse than it looked. Both of their charismatic leaders had been...entangled in the line of duty. Encountered fierce opposition. Foolish opposition, from idiots who didn't understand the harm they were doing. How they were screwing over everyone.
The prisoner's dilemma came to mind.
Chuck stood up. Grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder. It hurt. Blew his posture to shit. The crossbow did not sit comfortably on his frame. But better than leaving it out in the open. "Sounds good, we'll..." It didn't sound good. It sounded terrible. But what better plan did they have? "The cabin. Good." He offered his hand out to Michael.
"Let's move."
The prisoner's dilemma came to mind.
Chuck stood up. Grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder. It hurt. Blew his posture to shit. The crossbow did not sit comfortably on his frame. But better than leaving it out in the open. "Sounds good, we'll..." It didn't sound good. It sounded terrible. But what better plan did they have? "The cabin. Good." He offered his hand out to Michael.
"Let's move."
((Miranda Millers continued from Die Hand Die Verletzt))
She was here again.
It felt like ages ago that she’d spent the night here. Even if it was only a few days ago at most. But it was here she cut her hair. It was here she’d run out in a panic after it was declared a dangerzone. It felt weird to be back.
But she knew Kyran was nearby.
She stepped forward, gripping the flashbang tightly. Each move and step made the pain in her leg worse, but she gritted her way through it. For a moment, she wondered again if it was a good idea to leave Saachi alone. Some part of her still wasn’t sure if she could trust her. But she still couldn’t help but worry. Maybe it was because Saachi meant something to her, a lot more than other people.
And, oh. More people. Lovely.
She didn’t recognize the person they were carrying limply, but her eyes narrowed some. Scarlett. This just got better and better, didn’t it?
For another moment, Miranda wondered if she was safe without Saachi.
Pounding heart. Deep breath.
She couldn’t take all of them at once.
Use the flashbang, and they won’t see you coming again. You could take out Scarlett with the tire iron, grab something better to use, and maybe take out someone else. Maybe Kyran, maybe whoever was limp. Did that make that a sicko she was thinking that? Maybe, but they were either a threat or someone injured enough that it was a mercy. Just like Kasumi-
Shake that thought away.
So why was she freezing? Hesitation? Perhaps. But she raised the flashbang in preparation. She was willing to use it.
She was here again.
It felt like ages ago that she’d spent the night here. Even if it was only a few days ago at most. But it was here she cut her hair. It was here she’d run out in a panic after it was declared a dangerzone. It felt weird to be back.
But she knew Kyran was nearby.
She stepped forward, gripping the flashbang tightly. Each move and step made the pain in her leg worse, but she gritted her way through it. For a moment, she wondered again if it was a good idea to leave Saachi alone. Some part of her still wasn’t sure if she could trust her. But she still couldn’t help but worry. Maybe it was because Saachi meant something to her, a lot more than other people.
And, oh. More people. Lovely.
She didn’t recognize the person they were carrying limply, but her eyes narrowed some. Scarlett. This just got better and better, didn’t it?
For another moment, Miranda wondered if she was safe without Saachi.
Pounding heart. Deep breath.
She couldn’t take all of them at once.
Use the flashbang, and they won’t see you coming again. You could take out Scarlett with the tire iron, grab something better to use, and maybe take out someone else. Maybe Kyran, maybe whoever was limp. Did that make that a sicko she was thinking that? Maybe, but they were either a threat or someone injured enough that it was a mercy. Just like Kasumi-
Shake that thought away.
So why was she freezing? Hesitation? Perhaps. But she raised the flashbang in preparation. She was willing to use it.
"Guess they... Guess they really don't wanna go home then... Well then fuck'em, our job's done. We're getting out of here."
Kyran's words did a great bit to wake Mike back up to reality, he did a good job of making it all sink in. Michael grabbed Chuck's hand as everything was falling in place around them, Michael doing his best to 'rally the troops' so to speak. It should've been obvious what was going on now. Michael wasn't the only one who got jumped, Kyran had a bad run in with Saachi and friends, and apparently they were pretty pissed about the fires too. Should have figured that...
"We're getting off, and so are the people who deserve it. These fucks wanna die so bad to prove a point? Then fuck it, let's oblige 'em."
The group began motioning towards the boat house. They'd make their stand there. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot... It was a really stupid thing to begin thinking about, but the irony of the situation had lit a fire underneath Mike's ass as he gained a sudden realization. As much as he tried to rationalize this, that this was all real that this wasn't a movie, events kept popping back up that proved the opposite of that theory.
No matter what he tried, no matter what type of mercy he tries to grant these freaks, they come back at him. They force him to kill them. No matter how close they get to beating him, he lucks out in the end. There's always something inches away from his grasp, an improvised item he can Macguyver into simultaneously a life saver, and a life ender. Always someone to rescue him in the nick of time. It all made sense really. That's why rescue hasn't came yet, that's part of the falling action. Right now they were smack dab in rising action, climax coming real soon as every murdering son of a bitch was rolling down to their position. They weren't getting home until they survived this Onslaught on Precinct Wherever the Hell this Island is. As much as he wanted those creeps to live to pay for what they done at home, he realized it probably wasn't happening...
Eh what the hell, killing them is fine too. 'Bout as karmic anyways.
Michael looked up as Scarlett got locked and loaded. Holy shit. Was she always this badass? He took the time to look around at the group. They all survived their trials, they all made it back in one piece, or most of their pieces, if Mike included himself and his happy accidents as Bob Ross would call them. They all had their issues at this point, each one of them with their fuckups and alterations. None of them would ever be the same when they got home... But that was okay.
Scarlett was absolutely right though. They couldn't let these fuckers win. She doubted herself, but Michael knew she was stronger than that. "Scarlett, look at me. We tried again and again to give them mercy. We gave them all second chances, hell I made the mistake of letting Blaine go, and letting KK die on her own terms. Too late for mercy now. They want violence, we give 'em it. No mercy, not anymore."
The group made it to the boathouse with some difficulty, but they made it, regardless. They were outside the doors now, ready to begin their last stand. "Alright, if Kyran's right, and they're still following us, then our best chance is to hold up in here, and shoot anything with a kill count that moves. The rest of you guys are armed and..." Michael looked at his stump with exasperation. He wasn't even trying to make a pun, but the situation forced him into it. He sighed. "Can shoot back. I'm uhhh... Not so much. I'll try my best to block the door and make sure none of them can make it in though. Any do, and I still got one pimp hand to punch their shit in with."
Truth be told, Michael was sure he was worthless at this point. He was pretty much just a useless cripple that lost anything of value to the group, but he wasn't going to give up yet. He could barely stand, but he didn't need legs to punch the fuck out of something, and he still had one arm, and that was enough for what he had.
Michael sighed and looked at the door, then looked to Kyran.
"We ready for this?"
Kyran's words did a great bit to wake Mike back up to reality, he did a good job of making it all sink in. Michael grabbed Chuck's hand as everything was falling in place around them, Michael doing his best to 'rally the troops' so to speak. It should've been obvious what was going on now. Michael wasn't the only one who got jumped, Kyran had a bad run in with Saachi and friends, and apparently they were pretty pissed about the fires too. Should have figured that...
"We're getting off, and so are the people who deserve it. These fucks wanna die so bad to prove a point? Then fuck it, let's oblige 'em."
The group began motioning towards the boat house. They'd make their stand there. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot... It was a really stupid thing to begin thinking about, but the irony of the situation had lit a fire underneath Mike's ass as he gained a sudden realization. As much as he tried to rationalize this, that this was all real that this wasn't a movie, events kept popping back up that proved the opposite of that theory.
No matter what he tried, no matter what type of mercy he tries to grant these freaks, they come back at him. They force him to kill them. No matter how close they get to beating him, he lucks out in the end. There's always something inches away from his grasp, an improvised item he can Macguyver into simultaneously a life saver, and a life ender. Always someone to rescue him in the nick of time. It all made sense really. That's why rescue hasn't came yet, that's part of the falling action. Right now they were smack dab in rising action, climax coming real soon as every murdering son of a bitch was rolling down to their position. They weren't getting home until they survived this Onslaught on Precinct Wherever the Hell this Island is. As much as he wanted those creeps to live to pay for what they done at home, he realized it probably wasn't happening...
Eh what the hell, killing them is fine too. 'Bout as karmic anyways.
Michael looked up as Scarlett got locked and loaded. Holy shit. Was she always this badass? He took the time to look around at the group. They all survived their trials, they all made it back in one piece, or most of their pieces, if Mike included himself and his happy accidents as Bob Ross would call them. They all had their issues at this point, each one of them with their fuckups and alterations. None of them would ever be the same when they got home... But that was okay.
Scarlett was absolutely right though. They couldn't let these fuckers win. She doubted herself, but Michael knew she was stronger than that. "Scarlett, look at me. We tried again and again to give them mercy. We gave them all second chances, hell I made the mistake of letting Blaine go, and letting KK die on her own terms. Too late for mercy now. They want violence, we give 'em it. No mercy, not anymore."
The group made it to the boathouse with some difficulty, but they made it, regardless. They were outside the doors now, ready to begin their last stand. "Alright, if Kyran's right, and they're still following us, then our best chance is to hold up in here, and shoot anything with a kill count that moves. The rest of you guys are armed and..." Michael looked at his stump with exasperation. He wasn't even trying to make a pun, but the situation forced him into it. He sighed. "Can shoot back. I'm uhhh... Not so much. I'll try my best to block the door and make sure none of them can make it in though. Any do, and I still got one pimp hand to punch their shit in with."
Truth be told, Michael was sure he was worthless at this point. He was pretty much just a useless cripple that lost anything of value to the group, but he wasn't going to give up yet. He could barely stand, but he didn't need legs to punch the fuck out of something, and he still had one arm, and that was enough for what he had.
Michael sighed and looked at the door, then looked to Kyran.
"We ready for this?"
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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Primrosette
- Posts: 896
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
"Michael, thank you. Just make sure that you don't give up. We're going to make it through this. If not, we can die trying and taking the sick and twisted players with us." Scarlett said, nodding her head and she moved closer to the three boys. "We are ready for this. We can-"
She had been looking around at her surroundings and she suddenly had see her.
Miranda....
A bitter taste was in her mouth as she stared at the girl. She decided that Miranda was never going to hurt anyone again. She was going to show her no mercy. If they wanted to continue killing people.... Then Scarlett was going to fight back for the others.
"Miranda...." She murmured her name bitterly.
Then she raised her gun in her hand....
And she fired a shot at her. Aimed right at Miranda without any hesitation.
She had been looking around at her surroundings and she suddenly had see her.
Miranda....
A bitter taste was in her mouth as she stared at the girl. She decided that Miranda was never going to hurt anyone again. She was going to show her no mercy. If they wanted to continue killing people.... Then Scarlett was going to fight back for the others.
"Miranda...." She murmured her name bitterly.
Then she raised her gun in her hand....
And she fired a shot at her. Aimed right at Miranda without any hesitation.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
There was a rather stark change in Michael's attitude. In his commitment to the whole 'bringing everyone to a trial, or face the stigma and repercussions their actions warranted' part of this. Which, you know, in an ideal world, they all would have preferred. Optimum outcome at this point, after all. But he was getting pragmatic, in a 'prioritise saving people, kill if necessary' mindset.
Chuck agreed with that. Didn't necessarily like it, but couldn't logically disagree with it.
And hey, Michael suited being an anti-hero, Chuck had to admit. He had the aesthetic for it.
Chuck began, with all the bedside manner and tenderness that the Soileaux family were renowned for, helping Michael move to a safer position. He could do this sort of thing. It was where his comparative advantage lied in this scenario. Not in leadership or in combat, but in stewardship and care. Yeah. This could still work.
And there was even a moment of levity with the whole 'armed' quip. Chuck couldn't help but laugh at that. He loved that sort of thing. Resisted the urge to pile on his own jokes. Let the man decide the quantity of gallows humour he's comfortable with.
But they were reunited again! Net loss of an arm and a Natali, sure, but that was pretty good by island standards. Shame about the arm.
"Natali's gonna feel like such a doofus when this works out..." Chuck muttered, half in response to Michael's stream of consciousness, half to himself. Chuck was going to call her profanity, but changed tack mid-sentence. She was a coward, not a villain.
Speaking of villains...
Miranda arrived. He overheard Scarlett mouth something. Followed her eyes. Spotted the new arrival on the scene. And before Chuck could make a decision about what to do, Scarlett had already unilaterally decided on a strategy. Probably smart. Keeping with the whole more ruthless strategy.
Still, he almost fell over in shock as the gunshot rang through his ears. "Come on, Mike, I'll get you to safety", he whispered, hoping no further gun shots would interrupt his assurances.
Chuck agreed with that. Didn't necessarily like it, but couldn't logically disagree with it.
And hey, Michael suited being an anti-hero, Chuck had to admit. He had the aesthetic for it.
Chuck began, with all the bedside manner and tenderness that the Soileaux family were renowned for, helping Michael move to a safer position. He could do this sort of thing. It was where his comparative advantage lied in this scenario. Not in leadership or in combat, but in stewardship and care. Yeah. This could still work.
And there was even a moment of levity with the whole 'armed' quip. Chuck couldn't help but laugh at that. He loved that sort of thing. Resisted the urge to pile on his own jokes. Let the man decide the quantity of gallows humour he's comfortable with.
But they were reunited again! Net loss of an arm and a Natali, sure, but that was pretty good by island standards. Shame about the arm.
"Natali's gonna feel like such a doofus when this works out..." Chuck muttered, half in response to Michael's stream of consciousness, half to himself. Chuck was going to call her profanity, but changed tack mid-sentence. She was a coward, not a villain.
Speaking of villains...
Miranda arrived. He overheard Scarlett mouth something. Followed her eyes. Spotted the new arrival on the scene. And before Chuck could make a decision about what to do, Scarlett had already unilaterally decided on a strategy. Probably smart. Keeping with the whole more ruthless strategy.
Still, he almost fell over in shock as the gunshot rang through his ears. "Come on, Mike, I'll get you to safety", he whispered, hoping no further gun shots would interrupt his assurances.
Well, shit.
They noticed.
Scarlett looked right at her, with a scornful look of her own. Miranda tensed up for a moment. Throw it, throw it. Don’t let her respond in some way. Just throw it.
She raised her arm further back to toss the flashbang, only for Scarlett to raise the gun, and-
The gun cracked. Her ears rang. And she felt something in her left shoulder.
Miranda screamed, almost dropping the flashbang for a moment. But instead, she instinctively reached up to grab at her shoulder, only to feel the cold metal of the grenade up against it. Even though she wasn’t directly touching it, she could feel warm wetness. Adrenaline dulled the pain, but she knew what it meant.
In reality, it was probably only a graze. She hoped. But she felt dizzy. Her heart pounded further. Her legs wobbled.
Throw it, damn it.
Miranda, with a shaking hand, raised the flashbang again. This time, she didn’t hesitate. It went flying into the air, and she limped out of range as fast as she could, clutching her shoulder. She seethed, letting the flashbang do its work. Once it did, she'd get closer.
They noticed.
Scarlett looked right at her, with a scornful look of her own. Miranda tensed up for a moment. Throw it, throw it. Don’t let her respond in some way. Just throw it.
She raised her arm further back to toss the flashbang, only for Scarlett to raise the gun, and-
The gun cracked. Her ears rang. And she felt something in her left shoulder.
Miranda screamed, almost dropping the flashbang for a moment. But instead, she instinctively reached up to grab at her shoulder, only to feel the cold metal of the grenade up against it. Even though she wasn’t directly touching it, she could feel warm wetness. Adrenaline dulled the pain, but she knew what it meant.
In reality, it was probably only a graze. She hoped. But she felt dizzy. Her heart pounded further. Her legs wobbled.
Throw it, damn it.
Miranda, with a shaking hand, raised the flashbang again. This time, she didn’t hesitate. It went flying into the air, and she limped out of range as fast as she could, clutching her shoulder. She seethed, letting the flashbang do its work. Once it did, she'd get closer.