All That I've Ever Known

[KingKamor†]

(Jackie Maxwell, continued from You're Gonna Go Far, Kid))

The crackling bits of bark and sawdust made enough noise to make Jackie's ears tense up and her shoulders cringe. The dust in the air almost made her sneeze a few times, but she was able to stifle them in the name of the need to stay quiet. Garrett, unfortunately, could not hold it back. She did not blame him, though, considering their surroundings. The majority of the ground in front of them was caked in soggy sawdust, and it seemed to have more than it's fair share of footprints in it already. The sight of them made her even more paranoid than she already was. Hell, even remembering the name of her current location sent a chill up her spine.

"The Sawmill." It sounded to her like some off shoot of of the "Texas Chainsaw Massacre," but with much fewer Texans and many more high school kids.

She made sure to follow Garrett quietly as he guided her along one of the sets of footprints. It was when she noticed several other students that she wished she hadn't followed his lead. The most noticeable student was one holding a scythe, just like the one Death seems to love using in all of his theatre incarnations that Jackie had seen. But this kid wore no black cloak, just normal everyday teenager clothes that she wouldn't mind wearing herself if they fit.

"I vote on getting out of this clusterfuck before someone goes fuckin' psycho."

Jackie simply nodded, keeping her eyes on the other kids just in case they were spotted. "I like that plan."

[Ruggahissy]

Ethan nodded at Duncan and took his place behind a table near the door. He gave Eleri a thumbs up at her performance and started looking around the room again for anything he could use. Actually, Eleri proved to be much sharper and more useful than Ethan had initially thought. He definitely wanted to keep his new tool around; who knows how many more honey traps they could set? Looking around, the sawmill was infuriatingly barren. Nothing much left except the tables and sawdust.

Fucking terrorists. They couldn't have even left the tools? I mean, not a rotary saw or a hammer or anything? The only thing that even gives you a clue that this place used to be a sawmill is all this fucking sawdust on the floo-

The light bulb in Ethan's mind sparked to life. He looked down and pushed a bit of the ubiquitous sawdust around with his foot and smiled. Ethan knelt down and started shoveling the wood dust and scrapings into his pockets. While he was down he waved frantically to get Duncan's attention. He mimed picking up the sawdust, throwing it in his eyes and flailing furiously, then nodded and stood back up, now with a handful of sawdust ready.

Sorry dudes, but you gotta fight dirty if you really want something.

[Ares]

((Debut of B071 - Brent Shanahan))

So what became of rebels
Who sang for you and me?
Grapplin' with their demons
In the search for liberty

Brent was singing along in his head to some Flogging Molly as he approached the Sawmill. After spending his first hour of consciousness calming down, checking his map, checking his weapons and checking his first aid kit, Brent came to the realization that something had to be done. He didn't know what, but he felt he would know when the time came.

The Sawmill looked to be a barren place, which struck a nerve with Brent as he had hoped he would find a melee weapon of some kind. His assigned weapons weren't bad or anything, but they required time to prepare. As he fumbled through the pockets of his green track pants, Brent found the lighter that had been tucked away in his first aid kit. Luckily for him it worked. He paused to think about how really he had been lucky in his weapon draw overall. Lucky in that he had been given six sticks of dynamite. Lucky that there had been a lighter in his kit. Lucky that he was a damn good baseball player, which should help him throw these suckers if need be.

As Brent wandered onto the grounds of the Sawmill, he could hear voices. A group of people were gathered a short distance ahead of him. Brent quickly ducked behind a nearby wall.

"DAMMIT SHANNY, YOU NEED TO BE MORE AWARE!"

All Brent could hear was Coach bellowing at him from the dugout.

Brent slowly creeped to the edge of the wall, hoping to hear what the group was saying. Maybe they were hostile? Maybe they weren't? Either way, this was not a time to just wander aimlessly up to a group. It seemed they were gathered outside of the warehouse area of the Sawmill. He strained his ears trying to catch a word of anything said.

"However, if this girl decides that the best course of action would be to attack me, I will have no choice but to rend her soul from her mortal body right here."

"Oh no..."

There was a guy with a scythe. There must have been people inside the warehouse. This guy was going to kill them. Brent Shanahan would not let that happen. If they were going to take her out, then he may as well send all of them out with a bang.

Brent slowly and quietly opened his bag and withdrew one of the dynamite sticks. The fuse on it was just long enough to give him time to light it and aim his throw.

Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, this is kind of stupid Brent. You are going to save that girl by blowing her up with the other people?

Yes. Who knows what they are planning to do to her? This way it is all over right away. Who knows, maybe she won't even get hit by the blast. She is inside the building after all.

Sound logic Shanny, sound logic indeed.

It was never a great feeling when even the voice in your head was sarcastic towards you, but Brent knew that almost everyone was going to die here anyways. Take out the bad guys at the cost of one good girl.

Brent's hand was shaking as he brought the stick of dynamite in front of him. He flicked open the Zippo style lighter. It was now or never. He flicked the flint wheel and started the small flame. He touched the flame to the end of the fuse. The fuse lit.

Oh my fucking lord I just lit a stick of...THROW THE FUCKING THING YOU IDIOT!

Brent stood up, stepped away from the wall and heaved the stick towards the group.

"Take that you motherfuckers!"

Brent decided not to stick around to see the end result. If one of the bads survived, they'd know he was there. He needed to get out of there. Brent turned tail and sprinted for the thickest part of the whittled forest ahead of him.

((Brent Shanahan continued in Hysteria))

[ET.Requiem†]

As soon as that stick flew towards the group standing nearby, Kevin knew it was time to start running. He scrabbled to his feet and started dashing as fast as he could away from the explosive. He rounded a corner or two to make that they didn't pick it up and throw it directly at him. That probably wouldn't happen, but it was a possibility that couldn't be ignored, especially not in this game of death.

Who the hell threw that at them? Fuck.... I just about shat myself when I saw it.

That terrifying scene that pounded the importance of keeping his guard up around others into his head. If he had been watching more carefully, he wouldn't be running away like this. He would be beating the stupid out of the one who tried to kill him with a stick of dynamite. As it stood, he managed to escape mostly unseen by the group he was spying on. If they were killed, that'd be great. But if the explosion didn't do the job.... Well, they would think that he was the one who tossed the stick at them. Kevin groaned as he reached the edge of the woods near the sawmill. If he faced them again, he was going to get killed.

But I can avoid that if I get a gun. I just need to find one...

He didn't stick around for the explosion. He just continued running and hoped that the dynamite got them.

((Kevin Harding continued in Regrets))

[Hollyquin†]

It's just like Fight Club. No matter how badly someone's getting beaten...blood flying everywhere...you can't stop watching.

That was the only explanation for why Garrett didn't leave right away. The tension in the area was so thick he could have cut it with a knife. It was clear something was about to go down- I mean, that dude has a fucking SCYTHE. What the fuck, man. He has a scythe and that girl Rose had a gun and I get a fucking STICK. What the HELL. This Danya bastard is gonna get fuckin' whaled on when I get to him. He's gonna be bleeding from his blood.

It was quiet for the moment. Both sides seemed to be preparing themselves. Garrett's instincts- such as they were- had always denied the flight side of fight-or-flight. He ALWAYS chose to fight. Which was why he'd gotten into so much trouble as a kid. Okay, that wasn't quite true- he'd chosen not to fight as he got older, mostly because he didn't want to get in trouble in school too much. But anywhere where he wouldn't be held responsible for it? It was on.

And hell, this was definitely one of those situations.

So despite what he'd said- despite having been the one to suggest leaving before things got ugly- he stayed put. His hand tightened around the shinai. He was gonna kick some ass out there. His first real fight since the last meeting of Fight Club. Damn STRAIGHT I'm ready for this.

That may have been true, but he'd never have the chance to find out.

"Take that you motherfuckers!"

What's that? Something...flying...is that-

So much for no flight instinct. Garrett's feet started running before his conscious mind had even registered what was there. He realized it after he'd already fled a good distance.

WHO THE FUCK GIVES A HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT DYNAMITE?!

Not that that mattered to him. He was long gone, running, directionless. He assumed that Jackie would follow him but he didn't much care either way.

Right now his priority was "not exploding".

[[Garrett Hunter continued in Take, Eat]]

[Super Llama†]

Though it was a bit hard to see the two from where he was hiding, Duncan kept his eyes peeled for any bit of hostility (though without a weapon, there wasn't really much he could do about it if there WAS hostility.) The last thing he wanted was somebody getting hurt right in front of him. He'd already written himself off the list of people he could see winning the game, but he couldn't just lie down and wait for death. He could at least help the people in front of him; people who apparently counted on him. If not help them until they could escape, then at least until they could have a relatively quick and painless death.

If he couldn't even do that, then how could he face Maria again? How could he protect her?

He noticed the boy motioning to him, looking over just in time to see him shoveling sawdust into his pockets. It seemed like a rather silly idea, and only a little less so as he pantomimed what the big idea was. Still, who was he to argue? It was either that or attack scorpio-

"Take that you motherfuckers!"

"What?" Okay, that voice was coming from a different direction, but he didn't have time to contemplate this as suddenly something landed near the trio. Something that looked suspiciously like...

"Oh, SHIT!" Duncan wasn't normally the swearing type, but a situation like this definitely called for it. Common sense would've told him to just hide and hope the explosion didn't bring the building down around their heads or anything, but his desire to protect his group knocked common sense (and just plain sense in general) out with a folding chair as he rushed to get to Feo.

He didn't even make it to the front doorway as the dynamite exploded and he was hit by an invisible linebacker, causing him to topple and hit the floor hard. If his head wasn't busy exploding and his eardrums trying hard not to go with them, he would've heard the wall in front of him giving a groan of protest, wooden supports splintering and sheet metal caving in (and even tearing in some places as debris struck it.) Underneath the invisible linebacker now doing a victory dance on the back of his skull, he could hear common sense telling him how much of a fucking idiot he was.

[Sunnybunny]

That big guy was both douchey and too dramatic for her taste, Feo decided. But before she even got the chance to respond to his bullshit . . .

"Take that you motherfuckers!"

. . . Someone came at her with even more bullshit. Feo had always considered herself a practical girl, so she didn't take the time to see what, exactly, she was running from. She just ran. Of course, when a stick of dynamite lands damn near where your feet were, how far could you get? Brent Shanahan had good aim, but Feo didn't know that.

It was strange, running from an invisible threat. Especially since she didn't hear any shots go off, what was the

Now, while dynamite has no shrapnel, it has it's own dangers. Hell, it was designed to move bulidings, so it had no trouble moving Girl 043. All she heard was the roar in her ears, her drums felt blasted out. Her arms were killing her too. But she only had a second to think about it, because she was launched head-first into a rather sturdy tree. Now, Feo isn't dead. She's only unconscious, as the result of her concussion. That concussion is the least of her problems right now.

Feo Eleri Smith was one of the hottest girls at Bayview High. Funny how a little dynamite can change things.

[laZardo†]

"It's not her time yet, either. In fact, this place is fairly dead in the area of souls that need reaping. We should probably go somewhere else, my assistant. There are people on this island whose time has already come," Joe The Reaper continued to explain, to Cisco's almost slavishly nodding approval.

"However, if this girl decides that the best course of action would be to attack me, I will have no choice but to rend her soul from her mortal body right here."

The lime-haired freak would have taken another look at the girl who had dropped in on this conversation...if he hadn't heard someone else shout in the vicinity.

"Take that you motherfuckers!"

The sound of someone screaming like that caused Cisco to turn around in reflex, still smiling from having been accepted as the disciple of Death incarnate. He couldn't see the attacker, or rather, not the source's entire body having only noticed the last of his limbs disappearing behind a wall. But as he turned back to Joe Rios, a bright spark caught his eye not too far across the room.

He squinted, trying to figure out what was sparking.

It looked like a lit stick of dynamite.

The smile did not have enough time to disappear from his face before his vision was once again engulfed in white, and his sense of gravity suddenly disappeared from under him. The next 5 seconds - in real time, anyway - were a mercilessly bright blur of color and sound.

And then, silence.

The next thing he knew, he was (still) not, in fact, dead. The force of the explosion, aided by the force of whatever the explosion had thrown at him, had chucked him across the workshop, causing him to land on and roll off a table, turning it over. He couldn't move, couldn't speak or hear himself speak through his shattered eardrums. It felt like fire was not only burning its way across his skin, but also slowly tunneling its way through his body from all the debris and whatever that had been embedded into him by the blast.

As a reflexive motion for those that were not inclined to pessimism, he groaned and seethed as he tried to keep himself alive and conscious through sheer force of willpower. Yet given the circumstances, and given that neither his senses, orientation or sanity had completely returned to him, he seemed almost extra determined to at least try to get back on his feet.

If Death had wanted to take Cisco Vasquez right then and there, he would not go with this much of a fight. In fact, the one thing he constantly reminded himself to do if and when he managed to get back up again was find the Reaper...perhaps inquire if this was all just a test of faith or at worst, a sick prank.

[KingKamor†]

At first, Jackie was left wondering why Garrett wasn't following after her, since it was his idea to leave in the first place. In fact, he looked damn near ready to whale on someone with that weird wooden sword of his. She hadn't gotten far, though, since she was trying to be quiet while getting away, and said, "What's the hold up?"

And then there was a shout of profanity that tore through the air like paper through a shredder.

The next thing she said was Garrett rushing past her without a backward glance. It seemed that all signs of subtlety had been thrown out the window, so she sprinted after him with all her might, not even wanting to know what had just happened back with the other group of kids.

((Jackie Maxwell, continued in Take, Eat))

[Sean†]

After Joe went on his little spiel, he noticed something very interesting a bit away from him and Cisco.

Something very interesting and dynamite-shaped. He glowered, turned tail and ran like hell.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, OH SHIT RUN! he thought to himself as he threw his body over a workbench and took cover behind it. Right as he landed, he heard a very loud bang, and then not much else over the ringing in his ears.

On the bright side, he was still alive and unharmed. On the less bright side, he couldn't hear for shit.

Then, he realized something: Cisco probably wasn't able to hear very much either, meaning the Grim Reaper impression (or more accurately, the Brian Blessed interpretation disguised as the Grim Reaper) was going to become much easier to maintain.

Joe smiled, and then he remembered the girl, who was distressingly close to the explosion. He wasn't sure whether he could drag her away from this very dangerous spot without bogging himself down, and he spent a bit of time mulling it over.

It can wait a bit. More pressing issues right now, he thought. Like seeing if Cisco was all right, and more importantly seeing if he himself was all right; adrenaline tends to mask pain until after an injury occurs.

[Ruggahissy]

Ethan heard someone scream something, a loud explosion, and then silence. When he came to his senses he found that he had been knocked quite forcefully into another work bench. Sawdust had gone flying everywhere, making the air thick with the particles. He groaned as he pried himself from the bench, but he couldn't hear it. All he heard was a high pitched buzzing. Ethan licked his thumb and wiped it on the inside of his glasses. He pulled his inhaler out of his pocket and gave himself a quick pump of air, then straightened out his frames on his face. Someone had thrown an explosive, but thanks to the fact that he was already hiding behind the door to the sawmill and a table, he had escaped direct impact from the explosion. His back hurt like a bitch from being slammed against the work table behind him, but a few bruises were things he could deal with. Shakily, he stood up and started trying to see through the haze to his two companions. He coughed and pushed open the door.

"Hey!" he tried yelling above the buzzing in his ears. He could feel the force it took to yell, but it hardly sounded like anything came out at all. He clutched his head and looked around. A little ways away he saw a familiar, small body on the floor.

"Shit, shit, shit," he mumbled. Ethan tried to wobble to his bag as fast as his body would allow and dragged it with him outside. Once near the body of Eleri he carefully turned her over and swept the hair from her face. Ethan lined up two fingers at her left ear and slid them down her neck. He felt the soft push of blood under his fingertips. Her chest rose and fell slightly. The buzzing was starting to die down now. He briefly scanned her face, torso and legs.

"Oh thank God. She's still hot," he said with a sigh of relief. He did not want to lose one of his nicest, shiniest tools that he had acquired. As long as she was still cute they could always set up another honey trap later when she woke up. If she woke up....

He started looked at her for injuries. Her formerly long, glossy black hair was now halved in length, the ends burned and frayed. Ethan tilted his head every which way, trying to see if anything else was off. The backs of her arms and legs were bright red; the first layer of skin had been burned off revealing a slick, pink layer beneath and the discarded outer layer bunched in some areas. The only major injury looked to be her hand. The girl's right hand was short one pinky and one index finger. Ethan grimaced and pulled the first aid kit out of his bag. He took a bit of disinfectant, rubbed it on the stubs of skin where formerly there had been delicate little fingers, and started wrapping the hand in gauze.

He took out another roll of gauze and loosely dressed some of the burned areas.

"You are one lucky piece of ass," he grumbled as he wound the gauze. "That close to the blast? All things considered you're lucky to be in this good of shape."


The dust was starting to settle once again. He turned to try and see if Duncan was around, but instead his he caught sight of something that portended much worse; a toppled, empty terrarium.

"Oh fuck me with a plastic rake," he murmured and pinched the bridge of his nose. He slipped his fingers behind Eleri's neck.

Rule number one. Do not move someone who you suspect may have a neck, head or spinal injury unless ABSOLUTLEY NESSICARY. Well, this time it's fucking necessary.

He weighed the options and decided to pick her up. Ethan placed one hand under the bend of her knees and one hand under her back, and then hoisted her up bridal-style. Her condition seemed unchanged at being lifted. The buzzing was almost all gone now. It still felt as if someone had shoved his ears full of cotton balls.

"Duncan!" he called out.

[Super Llama†]

Head exploding. Pain.

PAIN.

Duncan could barely even think straight as the force of the explosion rattled his brain around in his skull. After a few moments he tried to get up, but then OH GOD EVERYTHING'S SPINNING decided that probably wasn't a good idea right now.

"Hey!"

"What?" Duncan winced as the word seemed to turn around and stab him in the eyeballs as he spoke it. He thought he heard somebody say something, but he couldn't make it out through the ringing in his ears. Not that he could do much to acknowledge it right now. All he was capable of doing was just lying there and staring up at the ceiling as clouds of dust floated around above him, shook free from the explosion. At least when he could actually see it clearly. He couldn't feel his glasses on his face, and when he tried to focus his eyes it only brought more pain.

"Duncan!"

There was that voice again? Was that the guy he was with? It was so faint, he could barely make it out. Speaking of, did that girl make it out okay? He couldn't really see her at the moment (then again, he couldn't really see ANYBODY at the moment unless they were standing on the ceiling,) but he hoped that she didn't get killed, or horribly maimed.

Suddenly, he noticed something moving just below his field of vision. Fearing that it might be whoever decided to chuck that dynamite coming in to finish the job, he decided to just power through the pain and tilt his head down, looking down at his chest for a brief moment before dropping his head back again.

No need to worry. It was just a scorpion.


...


...


...


...


...







"SHIIIIIT!" Duncan bolted upright, ignoring the spinning as his threw off his jacket, following by reaching down and pulling off his shirt, tossing it aside (with the stingy bastard still inside.) As the shirt hit the ground, the scorpion came out of the collar and skittered away, apparently deciding it had enough of this shit.

Duncan then realized that his reality was still spinning around and stumbled like a drunk to the nearest workbench and practically slumped against it, shutting his eyes and trying to ride it out. Fortunately, it seemed like his hearing was beginning to come back, though, as he could hear some rustling noises, like somebody moving around. He could only hope it was somebody friendly, because he was in absolutely no condition to fend off any attacks.

[Sunnybunny]

Lights. Bright lights, the kind you see on a stage. Feo had become, at her mother's request, a beauty pageant contestant.

The five year-old girl loved it. And the crowd loved her. They loved her pretty sparkly dress, they loved her pretty eyes, they even loved that spray tan her mommy made her use. The dress was one of those poofy girly things, blue with sequins. It was a shame that she had to give it back, but it wasn't too bad. At least she got to keep the shiny new black mary-janes. So all she had to do was be pretty. She could do that.

And then there was the question portion. They only asked the girls one question each.

"What word do you not like to hear?"

And that was the easiest question she had ever been asked ever. What was every kid's least favorite word?

"I don't like to hear the word no. Because the word no always takes stuff away. No candy, no toys; no justice, no peace!" She really didn't know what the last phrase meant, but it sounded good. Feo heard the crowd laugh, what did that mean?

In the past, they stopped laughing and smiled. But for some reason, they wouldn't stop. Everyone pointed and laughed and jeered and it was really scary. Then the stage collasped. And everything was dark and ugly with monsters and teachers and classrooms and guns and nothing at all.

In her mind, Feo was going through hell. On the outside, she didn't even twitch when Ethan picked her up.

[laZardo†]

Seconds passed and he still couldn't regain enough of his bearings to get himself to sit up, let alone stand up. He ears were still ringing, his vision blurry and the rest of his senses just plain shot. He even had his arms wrapped tightly around his body, rolling from side to side at times as if to prevent that from exploding like the dynamite that had sent him into the table (or snapping the collar to cause said explosion. Of course, he didn't seem to care if these seconds passing felt like just seconds or an eternity.

Cisco Vasquez just didn't want to die. Every synapse of his brain was used in reaffirming to himself that he couldn't.

His eyes could barely recognize basic shapes in the split-seconds he could keep his eyes open at a time before the pain forced him to shut them again. Yet in those fleeting moments, it seemed he was able to make out a figure approaching, no, looming over him. And he was only able to tell that it was a person from the fact that he was somehow able to recognize the colors of human flesh and clothing swirling in a cloud amidst the sea of sickening reds and oranges and yellows that made up the rest of his vision.

He slowly managed to pry one of his arms away from his body and reach toward this cloud of color. His fingers were curled in pain, almost as if he was scratching at something invisible. It took the little lime-haired freak the remainder of what energy was left from holding his body intact to reach up. And what little energy was left from that was forcing his mouth into a smile, and his labored breathign into a chuckle. He could barely feel his cheeks stretching into place as he did, out of an almost maniacal ecstasy that emerged from knowing his survival was ensured by the entity he perceived to be standing above him.

"You...you came back for me..." he whimpered, a tear slowly trickling from the edge of his eye down to his ear, "I knew...I knew you would..."

[Sean†]

Fortunately for Joe's purposes, his sidekick had landed right nearby him. He looked over the workbench and found that, along the same lines, the girl was being carried away by someone, presumably an ally of hers.

Good, that's a hell of a load off of my shoulders. Literally, he mused to himself.

Even more fortunately, the ringing in his ears was starting to go away.

Whew. Close one, he thought to himself as his hearing began to return. And then Cisco suddenly spoke.

"You... you came back for me..." the green-haired idiot said, starting to cry. "I knew... I knew you would..."

Joe ordinarily would have wanted to strangle Cisco for being so stupid during a crisis like this, but this was an oddly heartwarming moment for him. For once, someone was actually relying on him. Shame they couldn't have picked a different time to do it. Joe decided to take the initiative and speak, since Cisco was at the very least conscious.

"Cisco, can you hear anything? If you can hear me, say something," Joe called out. It probably wasn't going to mean much, as Joe had a feeling Cisco was going to keep talking even if he couldn't hear a word Joe was saying, but at least it would be some peace of mind.