More people had died; Victoria crinkled her nose but wasn't entirely certain if it were at that fact or at the horrendous smell that seemed to assail her from every direction. She had barely taken more than three steps inside the cannery when the speakers had crackled to life - both startling her and giving her reason to pause. The names weren't overly familiar, much as many of them hadn't been on the first announcement. She wasn't completely sure who Oliver or Cassandra were, but Tiny was familiar to her, if only for the misnomer that his name produced. That he had killed someone neither surprised nor dismayed Victoria.
Death was a matter of course in this awful situation, and there was no getting away from that.
((Victoria Amaro continued from For What It's Worth))
The Cannery wasn't a place that Victoria would have ever thought to visit in a normal situation; knowing how the food got into the cans by way of a video was enough. As fascinated as she was with the inner workings of technology and the way that things got to where they were, a food packing plant wasn't exciting nor sexy enough to waste time on; an olfactory treat it was not.
Shelter was something that was undoubtedly at a premium. Smarter students would have found some sort of building or place to hole up in and try to wait out the storm, much as she had tried with the bar. Even the house that she had originally woken up within had been used previously as shelter for some unknown people, readily apparent by the old barricades that had been left behind. That would have been an ideal place to fortify, but then someone - Cedric, as it had turned out, had gone and gotten himself killed, sending her scrambling for safety from his killer.
The spoils of which she still held within her hands.
Taking a moment to lean against the wall just inside of the Cannery door, Victoria examined her weapon a little more closely. She'd read the manual that had come with Cedric's bag and discarded it once she was through, but the formidable firearm still felt like a foreign object in her hands. Soldiers carried weapons like this. To them, it was comfortable, like an extension of their arms or hands. For Victoria, it felt like a burden. A necessary, powerful burden, but a burden nonetheless.
She had already unleashed that burden once. The egg on the back of her head felt like a small price to pay for survival. Checking the magazine, she found it was still primed and ready to fire. Were she to find herself in such a situation again, she would be ready to act. No more reactionary moves - that was why Rue had gotten killed. Why Victoria was among the list of names with blood staining their conscience. She only wished that she felt worse about Rue's death. Or about letting Molly live.
Victoria didn't feel much of anything about either.
Only numbness.
Behind the open door to the Cannery, she waited. Going further inside didn't seem like a smart idea; the factory was large and indefensible, but the route back was exposed and now that daylight was starting to shine through, so definitely not the smartest idea.
So instead, she waited for a better option to come to mind.
True Dark Is Coming From the Inside
Private, I guess
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Frozen Smoke
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- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
The one upside of the smell of rot that permeated the brick building was that it helped him feel less hungry.
((Yian Griffiths continued from Paper or Plastic?))
He'd hoped that there would be some food here, maybe. There hadn't been, at least, not in a state that wouldn't leave him worse off for having forced it down. What there was however, was something that he'd not expected to find anywhere - Water pressure. The taps in the sink were broken of course, but after some dejected kicking and the turning of a valve he'd realised that the large coils of hose that hung from the ceiling still worked. He wasn't sure if it was exactly drinking water, but it sure tasted clean enough, even if it was hard to drink in a manner approaching dignified.
He still felt tired though. He'd not slept well last night, at all, and the chicken had been used to propel him here. He had literally nothing left. No food, no weapon, no bag. Just the clothes on his back, the metal tin of the first aid kit that was sitting on the floor in front of him, and his hose.
He had to stay awake though. He needed to wait until the night, and move then, when everyone had settled down for the night. He couldn't outrun anyone, or outfight anyone, he was pretty sure - But if he kept moving and found safe places to stay, he'd probably be ok, for now at least. It took weeks for someone to die of starvation, right?
((Yian Griffiths continued from Paper or Plastic?))
He'd hoped that there would be some food here, maybe. There hadn't been, at least, not in a state that wouldn't leave him worse off for having forced it down. What there was however, was something that he'd not expected to find anywhere - Water pressure. The taps in the sink were broken of course, but after some dejected kicking and the turning of a valve he'd realised that the large coils of hose that hung from the ceiling still worked. He wasn't sure if it was exactly drinking water, but it sure tasted clean enough, even if it was hard to drink in a manner approaching dignified.
He still felt tired though. He'd not slept well last night, at all, and the chicken had been used to propel him here. He had literally nothing left. No food, no weapon, no bag. Just the clothes on his back, the metal tin of the first aid kit that was sitting on the floor in front of him, and his hose.
He had to stay awake though. He needed to wait until the night, and move then, when everyone had settled down for the night. He couldn't outrun anyone, or outfight anyone, he was pretty sure - But if he kept moving and found safe places to stay, he'd probably be ok, for now at least. It took weeks for someone to die of starvation, right?
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
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- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Something was there; something moved.
Victoria froze.
It could have been an animal or other small creature, but there hadn't been any wildlife to speak of that had even been remotely present since she'd been wandering around this island that they found themselves on. It was eerie, in a way. No squirrels to scurry around, no deer to pause and stare at. Anything and everything that found itself within the borders set up by the Americans inevitably found itself dead.
So a noise could only mean one thing: someone was here with her.
Weapon at the ready, Victoria flattened herself against the wall, and waited. She didn't see any movement, no one called out, but she thought she could hear someone else's breathing. Her own breath was shallow and light, and she had learned how to block its sound out. The instincts that had not been used to worrying about people coming from behind her were sharper now and she knew that this time, she would not be caught unawares.
This time, if she needed to act, she would.
So silently, Victoria Amaro waited for something that would tell her what the next move would be.
Victoria froze.
It could have been an animal or other small creature, but there hadn't been any wildlife to speak of that had even been remotely present since she'd been wandering around this island that they found themselves on. It was eerie, in a way. No squirrels to scurry around, no deer to pause and stare at. Anything and everything that found itself within the borders set up by the Americans inevitably found itself dead.
So a noise could only mean one thing: someone was here with her.
Weapon at the ready, Victoria flattened herself against the wall, and waited. She didn't see any movement, no one called out, but she thought she could hear someone else's breathing. Her own breath was shallow and light, and she had learned how to block its sound out. The instincts that had not been used to worrying about people coming from behind her were sharper now and she knew that this time, she would not be caught unawares.
This time, if she needed to act, she would.
So silently, Victoria Amaro waited for something that would tell her what the next move would be.
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Frozen Smoke
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Yian's lips felt dry, and his throat itched. He wasn't sure if it was really just thirst, or the nervous desire to do something, though. He didn't want to drink too much, or he'd get hyponatremia and die. And he wasn't even sure if the water was clean, after all - It could be full of all sorts of parasites, or coming through lead tubes. Those were long term problems, at least, so it wasn't likely he'd really have to deal with them on his own, if at all. Which wasn't a cheery thought.
Wasn't like he had much else to concentrate on though. All he had to do was wait inside, until it got dark enough he could move somewhere else, and hide again. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to get any sleep, and the manual that had come with his gun had been too waterlogged to read, and even if he had that the light was dim enough he'd probably strain his eyes trying to read for too long.
He sighed, and reached over to the spigot, careful to only turn it a tiny amount. The full force of it wasn't exactly something you wanted to direct at your mouth, as he'd quickly realised after finding the place, and let the still water that was left in the hose drain out in an arc, splashing against the floor in front of him. The piping creaked and groaned around him subtly, but he paid it no mind, flicking the hose back and forth in a vague pattern to entertain himself as he waited.
Wasn't like he had much else to concentrate on though. All he had to do was wait inside, until it got dark enough he could move somewhere else, and hide again. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to get any sleep, and the manual that had come with his gun had been too waterlogged to read, and even if he had that the light was dim enough he'd probably strain his eyes trying to read for too long.
He sighed, and reached over to the spigot, careful to only turn it a tiny amount. The full force of it wasn't exactly something you wanted to direct at your mouth, as he'd quickly realised after finding the place, and let the still water that was left in the hose drain out in an arc, splashing against the floor in front of him. The piping creaked and groaned around him subtly, but he paid it no mind, flicking the hose back and forth in a vague pattern to entertain himself as he waited.
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
A pipe very loudly groaned above her, and coupled with a sigh from further inside of the cannery there was now no longer any doubt whatsoever. Someone else was inside of the building. Going over the possible scenarios in her mind for a moment, Victoria found herself coming to the same conclusion over and over: she had to find them before they found her. The back of her head still ached, and served as a reminder of what she had been forced to do in order to defend herself.
Stepping forward into the cannery, she deliberately moved in the opposite direction from the groaning pipes. If Victoria could manage to come upon the person first, she could avoid a confrontation, and hopefully another sneak attack. She was very conscious of her lack of social acumen compared to her classmates. Talking her way out of such a confrontation didn't seem very likely.
Someone who was simply staying here was liable not to be willing to harm anyone else, and so if she were able to -
Victoria froze in place as she stepped around a cluster of pipes and came face-to-face with the exact situation she was trying to avoid. The boy was holding something - a gun? It was dark and hard to tell, so her own weapon came up and pointed directly at him.
She said nothing, but held her breath.
Stepping forward into the cannery, she deliberately moved in the opposite direction from the groaning pipes. If Victoria could manage to come upon the person first, she could avoid a confrontation, and hopefully another sneak attack. She was very conscious of her lack of social acumen compared to her classmates. Talking her way out of such a confrontation didn't seem very likely.
Someone who was simply staying here was liable not to be willing to harm anyone else, and so if she were able to -
Victoria froze in place as she stepped around a cluster of pipes and came face-to-face with the exact situation she was trying to avoid. The boy was holding something - a gun? It was dark and hard to tell, so her own weapon came up and pointed directly at him.
She said nothing, but held her breath.
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Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 375
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
The water that had been sitting in the hose for the past few hours had probably been washed out by now, Yian decided, as he put his hand on the spigot - about to slow the flow down to a trickle so he wouldn't accidentally waterboard himself - when a figure appeared out of the darkness. Yian froze for a moment, his jaw lowering for a moment as he realised he recognised her. He didn't know her name, but she'd been there when Cedric had died, when he'd had to kill him. She'd been talking to him before Cedric attacked him. Working with him.
His heart felt like it had stopped, even though he could still hear each thump in his ear as his eyes tracked down and saw the glint of metal in her hands, a gun. He didn't have time to scream before he reacted, turning the spigot in his hand wildly, the hose jerking in his hand the gentle stream of water that had once arced calmly across the room intensified into an angry, frothy line that splattered noisily against the floor.
It wasn't much of a weapon. But it was all he had.
He pointed the hose at Victoria.
His heart felt like it had stopped, even though he could still hear each thump in his ear as his eyes tracked down and saw the glint of metal in her hands, a gun. He didn't have time to scream before he reacted, turning the spigot in his hand wildly, the hose jerking in his hand the gentle stream of water that had once arced calmly across the room intensified into an angry, frothy line that splattered noisily against the floor.
It wasn't much of a weapon. But it was all he had.
He pointed the hose at Victoria.
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
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- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
There was barely a moment to react; the boy across the room beat her to it.
Again.
He pointed the business-end of his weapon at her and pulled the trigger. She braced for the hail of bullets, but instead of a loud bang, it was only a thundering hiss and then - Victoria stumbled backwards as the icy cold sting of water smashed into her face, covering her glasses and her entire body. The pressure was intense, to the point that it felt as though she'd been smacked across the face with a baseball bat or a sledgehammer.
It stung and she cried out as the water continued to impact against her.
"Stop!"
It didn't, so Victoria did the only thing that she could to make it so.
She squeezed her finger against the trigger, and only now did she hear the telltale bang as the bullets left the chamber. The last time she had fired, it was but a vague memory.
Victoria would remember this one.
Again.
He pointed the business-end of his weapon at her and pulled the trigger. She braced for the hail of bullets, but instead of a loud bang, it was only a thundering hiss and then - Victoria stumbled backwards as the icy cold sting of water smashed into her face, covering her glasses and her entire body. The pressure was intense, to the point that it felt as though she'd been smacked across the face with a baseball bat or a sledgehammer.
It stung and she cried out as the water continued to impact against her.
"Stop!"
It didn't, so Victoria did the only thing that she could to make it so.
She squeezed her finger against the trigger, and only now did she hear the telltale bang as the bullets left the chamber. The last time she had fired, it was but a vague memory.
Victoria would remember this one.
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Frozen Smoke
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Yian had time to scream now, as the water slammed into her. She was trying to say something, but it was garbled by the water as he tried to get up, his legs protesting and making it feel slow. He ignored the pain as best as he could, and the wordless screaming helped, just a little bit. He had to get out. If she was stunned for just a bit, maybe he could get out of the door, and maybe he could outrun her again. He'd done it once, he could do it again, maybe.
Yian hadn't even taken a step before the flash of gunfire lit up the room. Then again, and again, and again, and again. Everything looked like it was stuttering, as the light intensified and faded, movements only briefly visible. He could see her face, at last.
She looked scared.
The hose dropped out of his hand, flailing around on the floor as it kept spraying water out of it's own, unguided accord. He stumbled backwards, hitting the pipes behind him with a dull thud, and sliding down them, back into the half-crouch he'd been in just a moment before.
He felt weak, all of a sudden. He wanted to run, but he couldn't. He felt hot. And tired.
He looked down, and noticed the three new splotches of red which had joined the dark brown of Cedric's faded blood on his shirt, forming a diagonal line across his stomach. He stared at them for a few moments, trying to figure out how bad it was, as he took careful, shallow breaths.
He couldn't feel it. It didn't hurt.
That was a bad sign, wasn't it.
"Oh."
Yian hadn't even taken a step before the flash of gunfire lit up the room. Then again, and again, and again, and again. Everything looked like it was stuttering, as the light intensified and faded, movements only briefly visible. He could see her face, at last.
She looked scared.
The hose dropped out of his hand, flailing around on the floor as it kept spraying water out of it's own, unguided accord. He stumbled backwards, hitting the pipes behind him with a dull thud, and sliding down them, back into the half-crouch he'd been in just a moment before.
He felt weak, all of a sudden. He wanted to run, but he couldn't. He felt hot. And tired.
He looked down, and noticed the three new splotches of red which had joined the dark brown of Cedric's faded blood on his shirt, forming a diagonal line across his stomach. He stared at them for a few moments, trying to figure out how bad it was, as he took careful, shallow breaths.
He couldn't feel it. It didn't hurt.
That was a bad sign, wasn't it.
"Oh."
((Samuel Rosen continued from Hiding From The Truth))
Put one foot in front of the other.
…
Ignore the throbbing in your leg.
…
Disregard the fact that your entire body feels like it’s made of lead.
…
To stop and rest would be no better than lying down and accepting death.
…
The journey over had been fairly uneventful. As one could probably imagine, Sam wasn’t much in the mood for small talk, and long explanations were similarly out of the question. Ashley had been reliable so far, but not long enough to really mean much. He had learned his lesson about trusting people before they had earned it, and there was no need to fully explain his plans to someone who could turn around and fuck him over at any time.
Sam could feel his lungs burning as his eyes traveled to the plain walls of the cannery, the place where he should have learned that lesson, back when he and Oliver had rested there. In any case, if that bastard had come back, they’d be able to finally tie up that loose end. The building was poorly defensible, and the cramped quarters meant that Sam’s lack of range and mobility wouldn’t be nearly as much of an issue.
Any further reflection on getting his revenge - no, eliminating a danger to himself and his classmates was interrupted by the sudden crack of gunshots. A million possibilities ran through his mind as he rushed to the wall near the door, waving silently for Ashley to follow him as he peered into the darkness. His grip tightened on his cane as he prepared to remove the sword. There was no time to waste. If Oliver was in there, their best chance would be to take him out while he was distracted.
Oh, and possibly save his intended victim. Yeah, that would be good too.
Put one foot in front of the other.
…
Ignore the throbbing in your leg.
…
Disregard the fact that your entire body feels like it’s made of lead.
…
To stop and rest would be no better than lying down and accepting death.
…
The journey over had been fairly uneventful. As one could probably imagine, Sam wasn’t much in the mood for small talk, and long explanations were similarly out of the question. Ashley had been reliable so far, but not long enough to really mean much. He had learned his lesson about trusting people before they had earned it, and there was no need to fully explain his plans to someone who could turn around and fuck him over at any time.
Sam could feel his lungs burning as his eyes traveled to the plain walls of the cannery, the place where he should have learned that lesson, back when he and Oliver had rested there. In any case, if that bastard had come back, they’d be able to finally tie up that loose end. The building was poorly defensible, and the cramped quarters meant that Sam’s lack of range and mobility wouldn’t be nearly as much of an issue.
Any further reflection on getting his revenge - no, eliminating a danger to himself and his classmates was interrupted by the sudden crack of gunshots. A million possibilities ran through his mind as he rushed to the wall near the door, waving silently for Ashley to follow him as he peered into the darkness. His grip tightened on his cane as he prepared to remove the sword. There was no time to waste. If Oliver was in there, their best chance would be to take him out while he was distracted.
Oh, and possibly save his intended victim. Yeah, that would be good too.
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Cactus
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- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Her reaction had done the job; the painful water spray stopped. Releasing her finger from the trigger, Victoria grimaced, opening her eyes which she'd shut tightly in response to the spray. Water was everywhere, the hose which she now realized was the other student's defense mechanism had simply thudded to the ground, water shooting from the handle along the ground in any which direction. Taking one hand off of her weapon, she wiped her eyes and pushed some stray wet hairs out of her eyes. Victoria was soaked from head to toe, her skin stinging from contact with the water. Her face was sore, but otherwise she was fine.
After taking stock, she looked over at the other student, who had stumbled back against the pipes. He looked decidedly not okay, as his chest now had three dark red stains from which more redness was rapidly spreading. He had a surprised expression on his face, obviously not having expected the response to his meek attempt at defense. Taking a few steps towards him, Victoria sized the situation up. The wounds were severe, and in areas to which she expected would prove to be fatal.
Once again, Victoria was a killer.
She pursed her lips, mildly dismayed. She had reconciled her earlier action as self-defense, and if she extended herself, she could probably say the same here. He had assailed her with a high-pressure hose, though her reaction was likely a bit extreme. Yet, had he called out rather than taking the offensive, he would not be in this situation. Once more, her inability to act promptly proved to be someone else's undoing. Had she said something, anything at all, it was very possible that this boy would not have ended up shot.
So once more, Victoria was a killer, but maybe not a murderer.
The rationale stood on very thin ice, and she could almost see the cracks forming around where she stood upon it. It was no matter, though. Action had been taken, she had reacted, and this was where they stood. Once more, she had been lucky. Had he been wielding some sort of pistol or even a flare gun, harpoon, crossbow? She might be on the ground with wounds herself. A small part of her regarded the struggling boy with pity. He had been in above his depth, and he had likely acted out of fear rather than malice.
Much as she had.
Fear - that was an interesting realization. Evidently, her fear was manifesting itself differently than she expected. It was more of a pragmatic fear, a want; no, a need to survive and she was reacting so strongly against anything that threatened that. Victoria knew that she could not afford to be acted upon any more.
The next time she was faced with this decision, she knew she would have to force herself to do something, before it was too late. Her luck would eventually run out.
Looking down at the bleeding boy, Victoria knew she should say something to him, comfort him in some way. That was the human thing to do, the right thing to do.
She didn't really know how.
"For what it's worth," she said simply, trying to sound as sympathetic as she could muster, "I am truly sorry."
Her brothers might have given her a 4/10, mostly for effort. She just wasn't effusive nor emotional enough to give her words the meaning that this poor boy truly deserved. If anything, that was perhaps her biggest regret about this entire situation. He was going to die by her hand, and he deserved someone more effective to comfort him.
But that wasn't her.
Lowering her weapon at the ground, Victoria took off her glasses and shook some water off of them. Unable to offer any more comfort, she turned around and started to walk away from the fallen boy - her victim. There was no need for her to be here any longer.
After taking stock, she looked over at the other student, who had stumbled back against the pipes. He looked decidedly not okay, as his chest now had three dark red stains from which more redness was rapidly spreading. He had a surprised expression on his face, obviously not having expected the response to his meek attempt at defense. Taking a few steps towards him, Victoria sized the situation up. The wounds were severe, and in areas to which she expected would prove to be fatal.
Once again, Victoria was a killer.
She pursed her lips, mildly dismayed. She had reconciled her earlier action as self-defense, and if she extended herself, she could probably say the same here. He had assailed her with a high-pressure hose, though her reaction was likely a bit extreme. Yet, had he called out rather than taking the offensive, he would not be in this situation. Once more, her inability to act promptly proved to be someone else's undoing. Had she said something, anything at all, it was very possible that this boy would not have ended up shot.
So once more, Victoria was a killer, but maybe not a murderer.
The rationale stood on very thin ice, and she could almost see the cracks forming around where she stood upon it. It was no matter, though. Action had been taken, she had reacted, and this was where they stood. Once more, she had been lucky. Had he been wielding some sort of pistol or even a flare gun, harpoon, crossbow? She might be on the ground with wounds herself. A small part of her regarded the struggling boy with pity. He had been in above his depth, and he had likely acted out of fear rather than malice.
Much as she had.
Fear - that was an interesting realization. Evidently, her fear was manifesting itself differently than she expected. It was more of a pragmatic fear, a want; no, a need to survive and she was reacting so strongly against anything that threatened that. Victoria knew that she could not afford to be acted upon any more.
The next time she was faced with this decision, she knew she would have to force herself to do something, before it was too late. Her luck would eventually run out.
Looking down at the bleeding boy, Victoria knew she should say something to him, comfort him in some way. That was the human thing to do, the right thing to do.
She didn't really know how.
"For what it's worth," she said simply, trying to sound as sympathetic as she could muster, "I am truly sorry."
Her brothers might have given her a 4/10, mostly for effort. She just wasn't effusive nor emotional enough to give her words the meaning that this poor boy truly deserved. If anything, that was perhaps her biggest regret about this entire situation. He was going to die by her hand, and he deserved someone more effective to comfort him.
But that wasn't her.
Lowering her weapon at the ground, Victoria took off her glasses and shook some water off of them. Unable to offer any more comfort, she turned around and started to walk away from the fallen boy - her victim. There was no need for her to be here any longer.
((Ashley Pontecorvo continued from Hiding From The Truth))
Sam wasn't much of a conversationalist on the walk over. It was kind of unsettling; from what Ashley remembered of him in school, in the little time they'd ever spent together, Sam had always seemed like he was hard to shut up. What she gathered was that this building, which stunk even from the outside, was where Oliver had been the last time Sam saw him.
She wasn't sure why Sam expected Oliver to return to the scene of the crime - if she'd tried to shoot somebody and it turned out they were still up and kicking and might come after her, she probably would have steered clear. Then again, she probably wouldn't have shot anybody in the first place, and Oliver clearly didn't have that kind of common sense going for him.
Anyway, all of Ashley's pondering was rendered moot by the cracking, popping noise that jarred up an unexpected panic in her. Gunshots. She'd heard that before. When the teachers died.
Fuck it, maybe Sam had been onto something.
She pressed her mouth into a line as Sam gestured, indicating for her to stay quiet. She moved the scythe from where it hard rested across her shoulders into her hands. It occurred to her now that it wasn't going to do a lot of good if Oliver or whoever the fuck jumped out of the shadows within the building and started spraying fire, but it felt good to have something in her hands.
Ashley nodded at Sam, hoping it conveyed- shit, something. With the sudden lump in her throat and her elevated pulse in the wake of the noise, it would have been hard for her to speak anyway. They hadn't laid out any sort of plan on the way over, because Ashley hadn't expected to actually find anything, and that was starting to feel like kind of an oversight.
Sam wasn't much of a conversationalist on the walk over. It was kind of unsettling; from what Ashley remembered of him in school, in the little time they'd ever spent together, Sam had always seemed like he was hard to shut up. What she gathered was that this building, which stunk even from the outside, was where Oliver had been the last time Sam saw him.
She wasn't sure why Sam expected Oliver to return to the scene of the crime - if she'd tried to shoot somebody and it turned out they were still up and kicking and might come after her, she probably would have steered clear. Then again, she probably wouldn't have shot anybody in the first place, and Oliver clearly didn't have that kind of common sense going for him.
Anyway, all of Ashley's pondering was rendered moot by the cracking, popping noise that jarred up an unexpected panic in her. Gunshots. She'd heard that before. When the teachers died.
Fuck it, maybe Sam had been onto something.
She pressed her mouth into a line as Sam gestured, indicating for her to stay quiet. She moved the scythe from where it hard rested across her shoulders into her hands. It occurred to her now that it wasn't going to do a lot of good if Oliver or whoever the fuck jumped out of the shadows within the building and started spraying fire, but it felt good to have something in her hands.
Ashley nodded at Sam, hoping it conveyed- shit, something. With the sudden lump in her throat and her elevated pulse in the wake of the noise, it would have been hard for her to speak anyway. They hadn't laid out any sort of plan on the way over, because Ashley hadn't expected to actually find anything, and that was starting to feel like kind of an oversight.
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Frozen Smoke
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Yian's breathing was shallow. Little motions of air in and out of his mouth. He was trying not to move his stomach, and that meant not expanding his lungs. He knew he was supposed to put pressure on the wond, but there was three holes, and he only had two hands. He reached out with his right hand, trying to get a grip on the metal tin of his first aid kit, his last possession. His hands felt numb, it was hard to tell whether he had a firm enough grip on it, but he managed to drag it across the concrete floor, making an awful dragging sound as he did so.
The girl was talking at him, saying she was sorry. It was nice, he supposed, as he tried to get the lid off. It was hard. The ridge on it that was supposed to make it easy to open had been bent slightly, and for some reason his left arm hurt too, and he didn't want to move it either, so he was just trying to wedge it off with his thumb. But it kept slipping off. And even though his thumb was numb, it started to hurt, so he stopped.
He let his head fall backwards, trying to sit up a little, but not quite having the strength to hold his neck level. The cool metal of the pipe behind him felt nice. He was hot, all of a sudden, really hot. He shivered a little.
He watched as the figure of the girl began to walk away, heading back through the pipes, barely able to focus on her as he looked down his nose.
"please..." he murmured, voice drowned out by the hose that still sat beside him, spraying loudly. It writhed on the floor now beside him, like a wounded animal, lashing back and forth. He groaned. He didn't want to move. But he had to.
His left arm hurt as he slid it up and around the pipe. His armpit and chest felt like it was going to tear apart, but it wasn't like it mattered anyway. He let out a little sob as he gripped the spigot, clenching his fist hurt even more, but he kept moving. The hose beside him went still, and he gingerly lowered his arm back to his side.
He could hear her footsteps now, more distant.
"Don't..."
He said, trying to shout, but not finding the oxygen to give his demand life.
He took a deep, pained breath in.
"Don't leave!" he managed to shout, wincing and gritting his teeth.
The footsteps stopped for a moment. He hoped he had her attention.
"I don't want to..."
He wasn't sure how to finish that. He swallowed a lump in his throat, it still feeling dry, after all this time.
He'd never gotten his drink of water, had he?
"... Don't let me die alone ..."
The girl was talking at him, saying she was sorry. It was nice, he supposed, as he tried to get the lid off. It was hard. The ridge on it that was supposed to make it easy to open had been bent slightly, and for some reason his left arm hurt too, and he didn't want to move it either, so he was just trying to wedge it off with his thumb. But it kept slipping off. And even though his thumb was numb, it started to hurt, so he stopped.
He let his head fall backwards, trying to sit up a little, but not quite having the strength to hold his neck level. The cool metal of the pipe behind him felt nice. He was hot, all of a sudden, really hot. He shivered a little.
He watched as the figure of the girl began to walk away, heading back through the pipes, barely able to focus on her as he looked down his nose.
"please..." he murmured, voice drowned out by the hose that still sat beside him, spraying loudly. It writhed on the floor now beside him, like a wounded animal, lashing back and forth. He groaned. He didn't want to move. But he had to.
His left arm hurt as he slid it up and around the pipe. His armpit and chest felt like it was going to tear apart, but it wasn't like it mattered anyway. He let out a little sob as he gripped the spigot, clenching his fist hurt even more, but he kept moving. The hose beside him went still, and he gingerly lowered his arm back to his side.
He could hear her footsteps now, more distant.
"Don't..."
He said, trying to shout, but not finding the oxygen to give his demand life.
He took a deep, pained breath in.
"Don't leave!" he managed to shout, wincing and gritting his teeth.
The footsteps stopped for a moment. He hoped he had her attention.
"I don't want to..."
He wasn't sure how to finish that. He swallowed a lump in his throat, it still feeling dry, after all this time.
He'd never gotten his drink of water, had he?
"... Don't let me die alone ..."
Sam's heart pounded in his chest as the seconds ticked by. His sweaty palms gripped the surface of the cane, slowly beginning to crack it open as he pressed himself tightly to the cannery wall. From the look on Ashley's face, she was clearly on board with this course of action as well, though, honestly, how could she not be? There was no way that they could turn back, not after coming all this way. Now, the only thing to do would be to make sure what had to be done, without hesitation. They couldn't afford to let Oliver get away.
As if right on cue, a voice rang out from inside, begging the killer to stay. It sounded vaguely familiar, though in his adrenaline-crazed state, it would be impossible for him to place exactly. The edges of his vision began to blur as the tension in his legs aggravated his wound. He could tell that if he didn't get this over with soon, he'd collapse. It was now or never.
Giving a nod to Ashley, he unsheathed his sword and stumbled in through the door, the raised blade glinting in the light emanating from a small window somewhere high above. However, he was soon brought to an abrupt stop by two disturbing realizations.
First of all, the killer wasn't Oliver. And more importantly...
She was looking right at him.
As if right on cue, a voice rang out from inside, begging the killer to stay. It sounded vaguely familiar, though in his adrenaline-crazed state, it would be impossible for him to place exactly. The edges of his vision began to blur as the tension in his legs aggravated his wound. He could tell that if he didn't get this over with soon, he'd collapse. It was now or never.
Giving a nod to Ashley, he unsheathed his sword and stumbled in through the door, the raised blade glinting in the light emanating from a small window somewhere high above. However, he was soon brought to an abrupt stop by two disturbing realizations.
First of all, the killer wasn't Oliver. And more importantly...
She was looking right at him.
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Victoria stiffened as the voice cried out at her; begging, yearning for some comfort or company during the last moments of his life. She'd already decided that it wasn't her place, yet something made her stop in place. Standing still, she thought for a moment on the matter. Emotionality wasn't her thing. She could no more make someone feel warm than she could climb a twenty-foot tree. Particularly so, considering that she was the one who'd reacted and signed his death warrant. Yet the desperation of the voice rooted her in place, leaving her staring at the exit to the cannery.
The human thing to do would have been to oblige him. To stay with him, to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. But that would expose her, would consume valuable time that she didn't necessarily have. People could have heard the gunshots, the screams of the boy behind her as he died slowly, painfully. Were they to come running, that would only -
That glint.
Slowly, she put her glasses back on her face, and the world became clearer; the entranceway no longer empty but filled by another boy, another unfamiliar face, holding a sword in hand, the steel glinting in the moonlight. They locked eyes; he was ready to do battle. He had obviously heard the screams. Victoria's jaw set and her shoulders drooped just a little. The sword looked dangerous, and the surprise on the boy's face indicated that she was not the person that he expected to see. She would have been surprised on the contrary - many of her classmates were unfamiliar and their identities a detail generally too unimportant to immediately come to mind.
But this was it. This was the moment that she had been dreading. This would be the third opportunity that she had to choose action or reaction. Twice before, she had waited. The first time had resulted in her being attacked from behind. The second, the assault had come from the front. Two times, two reactions; two people that ended up shot by her hand. Victoria knew that, she knew that up until this moment, while she was a killer, she had not acted offensively. There had been no malice within her to indicate that she wished to murder anyone. It had just happened.
She thought about it for a split-second longer.
She saw the sword in hand.
The surprised expression on his face.
His posture, obviously ready to go on the offensive against someone; if not her, someone else.
There was only one logical move from here; it was finally time.
Victoria acted.
Without any expression, she raised her submachine gun, took aim, and fired.
The human thing to do would have been to oblige him. To stay with him, to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. But that would expose her, would consume valuable time that she didn't necessarily have. People could have heard the gunshots, the screams of the boy behind her as he died slowly, painfully. Were they to come running, that would only -
That glint.
Slowly, she put her glasses back on her face, and the world became clearer; the entranceway no longer empty but filled by another boy, another unfamiliar face, holding a sword in hand, the steel glinting in the moonlight. They locked eyes; he was ready to do battle. He had obviously heard the screams. Victoria's jaw set and her shoulders drooped just a little. The sword looked dangerous, and the surprise on the boy's face indicated that she was not the person that he expected to see. She would have been surprised on the contrary - many of her classmates were unfamiliar and their identities a detail generally too unimportant to immediately come to mind.
But this was it. This was the moment that she had been dreading. This would be the third opportunity that she had to choose action or reaction. Twice before, she had waited. The first time had resulted in her being attacked from behind. The second, the assault had come from the front. Two times, two reactions; two people that ended up shot by her hand. Victoria knew that, she knew that up until this moment, while she was a killer, she had not acted offensively. There had been no malice within her to indicate that she wished to murder anyone. It had just happened.
She thought about it for a split-second longer.
She saw the sword in hand.
The surprised expression on his face.
His posture, obviously ready to go on the offensive against someone; if not her, someone else.
There was only one logical move from here; it was finally time.
Victoria acted.
Without any expression, she raised her submachine gun, took aim, and fired.
((Breaking post order with permission))
Sam’s world exploded in a cavalcade of light and sound as he felt himself be blown backward, his head hitting the ground with a sickening thud. The walls of the room began to collapse inward as he lay there, gasping desperately for the air that seemed to have been sucked right out of his lungs. An odd warmth began to spread around him, trickling across his body as if he was just taking a warm bath. Altogether, it wasn't exactly an unpleasant feeling, especially once he had started breathing again, his shallow gasps echoing throughout the cannery.
After a few moments more of hesitation, he attempted to push himself off the ground, his hands weakly pressing at the floor beneath him. He managed to lift himself a few centimetres before straining again, with no better results. A strange fog of confusion began to envelop his mind as he struggled to get himself up and into a fighting position.
It was at this moment that his wandering eyes met the several gaping holes in his torso, widening at the sight of the massive flow of blood seeping out through the tatters of his shirt. The whole scene felt unreal, as if it was being displayed on a movie screen rather than right in front of his eyes. Another futile attempt to pull himself to his feet left him no better off than before, his strength rapidly draining out of him with every passing second.
Where was Ashley? She was supposed to come in with him, back him up. His eyes darted around, desperately searching for his companion as the chill of fear began to envelop his body. This… this wasn't like the other time he was shot. He needed help, and he needed it right fucking now.
A sickly groan forced its way out of his lips as he managed to flip himself over, blood dripping onto the ground as he attempted the world's most horrifying pushup, trying desperately to at least make it to his knees.
Sam’s world exploded in a cavalcade of light and sound as he felt himself be blown backward, his head hitting the ground with a sickening thud. The walls of the room began to collapse inward as he lay there, gasping desperately for the air that seemed to have been sucked right out of his lungs. An odd warmth began to spread around him, trickling across his body as if he was just taking a warm bath. Altogether, it wasn't exactly an unpleasant feeling, especially once he had started breathing again, his shallow gasps echoing throughout the cannery.
After a few moments more of hesitation, he attempted to push himself off the ground, his hands weakly pressing at the floor beneath him. He managed to lift himself a few centimetres before straining again, with no better results. A strange fog of confusion began to envelop his mind as he struggled to get himself up and into a fighting position.
It was at this moment that his wandering eyes met the several gaping holes in his torso, widening at the sight of the massive flow of blood seeping out through the tatters of his shirt. The whole scene felt unreal, as if it was being displayed on a movie screen rather than right in front of his eyes. Another futile attempt to pull himself to his feet left him no better off than before, his strength rapidly draining out of him with every passing second.
Where was Ashley? She was supposed to come in with him, back him up. His eyes darted around, desperately searching for his companion as the chill of fear began to envelop his body. This… this wasn't like the other time he was shot. He needed help, and he needed it right fucking now.
A sickly groan forced its way out of his lips as he managed to flip himself over, blood dripping onto the ground as he attempted the world's most horrifying pushup, trying desperately to at least make it to his knees.