((Kris Hartmann continued from Corpsewalker))
Had you asked Kris Hartmann exactly where rough terrain had given way to ordered streets and rows of houses, she probably would have been unable to tell you. Heck, if you'd asked Kris Hartmann where the mountain had ended and the countryside had begun, an answer would have been unlikely to be forthcoming. She was... not in the best state of mind.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Spike.
Straight.
Through.
Blll
ooo
d
Scream. Murder. Again? Again.
Again.
Again.
Control?
None.
Smiling, Kris tripped over a metallic box and faceplanted on the cobblestones around the fountain. Her hand twitched, very nearly pressing the button on the detonator switch inadvertantly. That'd have been something. She rolled over so that she was face up, one foot still on whatever the heck it was she'd tripped over.
Sprawled out. Kris giggled. Just a little.
She stared up at the sky for a few seconds, eyes rolling drastically, then touched her free hand to her forehead, still ringing from the impact against the hard ground. Kris touched wetness, brought her hand forward, and saw yet more blood on her hands. A cut? A graze? Either way, it didn't seem to hurt too badly. What was that trickle compared to the bursting gouts that had come from...
the others... all of them. Reika, Kimberly, Amber, Al, Etain, Janet. Her victims. One failed kill, one not directly her... but her fault nevertheless. Four dead. Because of her. Stone hard facts, up on the announcement, that only ever reached her when her own name came up. Kris could've stumbled straight into a DZ and wouldn't have noticed.
And yet, through all that... and this was the first time she'd personally shed blood.
Kris's expression turned sombre and she stared into nothingness.
Hurt...
Feral Intelligence
((R.J. Lowe continued from They're Made Out Of Meat))
It'd been a solid day of training in the woods, and R.J. was confident. Confident, and more than a little tired. He'd heard the announcement, but was barely cognizant of it. All he wanted now was peace, quiet, and rest. He remembered the town. He reasoned that there were beds there. And with the danger zone only just clearing up, it seemed unlikely this would be like the previous two times he'd passed through this area of the island, and with fatigue and pain rapidly taking their toll, it was the least he could hope for, especially with Mary-Ann not far behind. He wasn't about to lead her into danger. Not after all they'd been through.
He planted his sword in the dirt in front of him, dropping to his knees. His grip tightened around the handle, face contorting in agony as his abdomen burned.
He stared down at the ground. Leaned forward, head rested against the flat of the blade. Deep breaths.
One.
Two.
Three.
Crash.
Giggle.
Look up.
They weren't alone. A girl lay sprawled out on the ground before him, not thirty feet ahead. A girl who was all too familiar by now.
Blond hair.
Blood.
Murderer.
Threat.
It'd been a solid day of training in the woods, and R.J. was confident. Confident, and more than a little tired. He'd heard the announcement, but was barely cognizant of it. All he wanted now was peace, quiet, and rest. He remembered the town. He reasoned that there were beds there. And with the danger zone only just clearing up, it seemed unlikely this would be like the previous two times he'd passed through this area of the island, and with fatigue and pain rapidly taking their toll, it was the least he could hope for, especially with Mary-Ann not far behind. He wasn't about to lead her into danger. Not after all they'd been through.
He planted his sword in the dirt in front of him, dropping to his knees. His grip tightened around the handle, face contorting in agony as his abdomen burned.
He stared down at the ground. Leaned forward, head rested against the flat of the blade. Deep breaths.
One.
Two.
Three.
Crash.
Giggle.
Look up.
They weren't alone. A girl lay sprawled out on the ground before him, not thirty feet ahead. A girl who was all too familiar by now.
Blond hair.
Blood.
Murderer.
Threat.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Stark. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
((Mary-Ann Warren continued from They're Made of Meat))
Mary-Ann's arms were sore from practicing all day, but it was a good kind of sore. She was proud of herself for the progress she'd made in such a short amount of time. However she and R.J. were both long overdue for some rest, R.J. especially. Mary-Ann was worried about him; she knew that even when she rested he didn't sleep much. It made her feel a little guilty that he was exerting himself while she had been snoring away.
At the moment the two were heading down to the little town area. R.J. reasoned it should be safe since it was just freeing up from being a danger zone.
There should be lots of places we could haul up, hide for just a little while and sleep together. Well, no! Not SLEEP TOGETHER, just.....sleep next to each other at the same time. We really need to get some recuperation time in. He really needs to.
Suddenly R.J. doubled over, using the sword for support. His face was twisted in pain. Mary-Ann zipped to his side and knelt down next to him.
"R.J. what's wrong? Let's sit down for a sec. You have to take it a little easier."
He looked up ahead and his expression changed from one of just pain to something like rage. She followed his gaze and saw Kris sprawled out on the ground, laughing to herself.
"Kris.....Come on, we can go around her or something. There's got to be another way to get to the houses," she whispered.
Mary-Ann's arms were sore from practicing all day, but it was a good kind of sore. She was proud of herself for the progress she'd made in such a short amount of time. However she and R.J. were both long overdue for some rest, R.J. especially. Mary-Ann was worried about him; she knew that even when she rested he didn't sleep much. It made her feel a little guilty that he was exerting himself while she had been snoring away.
At the moment the two were heading down to the little town area. R.J. reasoned it should be safe since it was just freeing up from being a danger zone.
There should be lots of places we could haul up, hide for just a little while and sleep together. Well, no! Not SLEEP TOGETHER, just.....sleep next to each other at the same time. We really need to get some recuperation time in. He really needs to.
Suddenly R.J. doubled over, using the sword for support. His face was twisted in pain. Mary-Ann zipped to his side and knelt down next to him.
"R.J. what's wrong? Let's sit down for a sec. You have to take it a little easier."
He looked up ahead and his expression changed from one of just pain to something like rage. She followed his gaze and saw Kris sprawled out on the ground, laughing to herself.
"Kris.....Come on, we can go around her or something. There's got to be another way to get to the houses," she whispered.
((Eiko Haraguchi continued from Amazing Journey/Sparks))
As it turned out, her detour was anything but quick. Peter's instructions to finding the supplies he left for her hadn't been the best. The mansion was a big place, and it would have been far more helpful of him to specify where in the mansion he'd hidden those supplies. So it took a good amount of time for her to find them; it was fortunate that she didn't encounter anyone else in the meantime. Finally, she found in a closet what must have been Peter's gift: a few outfits he'd found for her and two more tins of crackers. He'd been true to his word.
Eiko immediately changed into one of them, finding that it was mostly her size, except for some tightness around the waist. Another victory for small blessings. She'd have to bathe later and maybe wash her dirty clothes in a river or something; she'd do it now, but she didn't know if the mansion had running water and she'd spent enough time there already.
As for the other part of her plan, tracking Chase and Bennett's trail, well, that didn't go as well as she'd planned at all. It was dark when she arrived back at the tunnels, so even if they'd left a trail an untrained tracker like Eiko could follow, she couldn't see any part of it. Defeated, Eiko slumped against a rock, clutching her polearm reflexively.
Well, it was back to square one for her. Did she want to try and find Peter, possibly berate him for leaving her behind? Go in the vague direction she remembered Chase leaving in and hope she stumbled across them or another friendly, instead of a bloodthirsty madman like Lombardi or Hartmann? Try to find someone with a gun and trick them out of it? As much as she hated to admit it, her goals of trying to survive this wretched game and preserving her image as a sane, respectable woman to the audience watching at home looked more mutually exclusive by the sec-
"Hey kids, it's Uncle Danya!"
DANYA.
No honorific could possibly convey the contempt Eiko had for the man who ruined her life. She had a future. She was going to Yale. She was a favorite to become valedictorian, or at least salutatorian. Now she would be a corpse or a pariah, as anathema to the business world as shell-shocked war veterans. And for what? So she and her peers could be used as marketing icons or sacrifices to prove a vague political point?
Every morning, it hurt her to listen to that sneering, ugly voice for even the short time it took to announce deaths and danger zones, but Eiko tried her best to suffer through it. The fact that she could put faces to half the names she heard didn't make it any easier. This corpse was her date for Prom. That corpse was her study partner in statistics. That other corpse was the student body president. So many other futures utterly destroyed. She could barely imagine the shock and despair the other students were feeling, not to mention their families and friends from outside the game, another lifetime ago. She could barely imagine what her own family must be going through.
Then two magical sentences at the end of the announcement gave her a shock to the heart.
"Our last winner made a horrible waste of her reward and left it sitting in the town center. Her loss is somebody else's gain, I suppose!"
She checked her map. The town center was directly north of her, scarcely a third of the map away. She could reach it in one, two hours tops.
With as much haste as she could muster she set her pack on her shoulder and jogged north to where her salvation lay. Doubts and second-guessing sprouted in her mind as she ran, of course. They always did.
There would be others coming, others more savage and desperate and deadly. But she would take that chance; she wasn't the sort to pass up a golden opportunity, even one as risky as this.
She had no idea what weapon awaited her; it could be even more useless than her current one. But that was unlikely, and she'd never know for sure if she didn't go.
What would the home audience think of her craven scavenging and opportunism? They would see it as the actions of a girl driven to desperation; if not, would dying really be a better option?
-----
Eiko came to the town center light-headed from her sleepless night and achy from the exertion of sprinting from the tunnels. Her vision blurred briefly, and she shook her head to clear it. All she needed to do now was find the prize before anyone else did.
Speaking of anyone else, she quickly found three other people in the square. The first she didn't recognize, a girl traveling with a friend, probably one that she depended on for protection. That friend was R.J. Lowe, whom Eiko recognized as the boy who couldn't speak. The third was a little harder to make out; she lied down, staring up at the sky and not caring one whit about her surroundings, it seemed. It wasn't until Eiko was thirty feet away that she saw her face, and recognition made her heart skip a beat.
It was Hartmann, Kris Hartmann. The same Kris Hartmann who'd murdered four or five people already. Discounting the far more dangerous Lombardi, she was a strong candidate for the worst person on the island to run into. Eiko held her polearm in front of her, on edge and ready to bolt as soon as Hartmann noticed and attacked her. She almost considered leaving altogether, and letting Lowe and his friend deal with Hartmann themselves.
But then she saw something next to Hartmann's legs.
As it turned out, her detour was anything but quick. Peter's instructions to finding the supplies he left for her hadn't been the best. The mansion was a big place, and it would have been far more helpful of him to specify where in the mansion he'd hidden those supplies. So it took a good amount of time for her to find them; it was fortunate that she didn't encounter anyone else in the meantime. Finally, she found in a closet what must have been Peter's gift: a few outfits he'd found for her and two more tins of crackers. He'd been true to his word.
Eiko immediately changed into one of them, finding that it was mostly her size, except for some tightness around the waist. Another victory for small blessings. She'd have to bathe later and maybe wash her dirty clothes in a river or something; she'd do it now, but she didn't know if the mansion had running water and she'd spent enough time there already.
As for the other part of her plan, tracking Chase and Bennett's trail, well, that didn't go as well as she'd planned at all. It was dark when she arrived back at the tunnels, so even if they'd left a trail an untrained tracker like Eiko could follow, she couldn't see any part of it. Defeated, Eiko slumped against a rock, clutching her polearm reflexively.
Well, it was back to square one for her. Did she want to try and find Peter, possibly berate him for leaving her behind? Go in the vague direction she remembered Chase leaving in and hope she stumbled across them or another friendly, instead of a bloodthirsty madman like Lombardi or Hartmann? Try to find someone with a gun and trick them out of it? As much as she hated to admit it, her goals of trying to survive this wretched game and preserving her image as a sane, respectable woman to the audience watching at home looked more mutually exclusive by the sec-
"Hey kids, it's Uncle Danya!"
DANYA.
No honorific could possibly convey the contempt Eiko had for the man who ruined her life. She had a future. She was going to Yale. She was a favorite to become valedictorian, or at least salutatorian. Now she would be a corpse or a pariah, as anathema to the business world as shell-shocked war veterans. And for what? So she and her peers could be used as marketing icons or sacrifices to prove a vague political point?
Every morning, it hurt her to listen to that sneering, ugly voice for even the short time it took to announce deaths and danger zones, but Eiko tried her best to suffer through it. The fact that she could put faces to half the names she heard didn't make it any easier. This corpse was her date for Prom. That corpse was her study partner in statistics. That other corpse was the student body president. So many other futures utterly destroyed. She could barely imagine the shock and despair the other students were feeling, not to mention their families and friends from outside the game, another lifetime ago. She could barely imagine what her own family must be going through.
Then two magical sentences at the end of the announcement gave her a shock to the heart.
"Our last winner made a horrible waste of her reward and left it sitting in the town center. Her loss is somebody else's gain, I suppose!"
She checked her map. The town center was directly north of her, scarcely a third of the map away. She could reach it in one, two hours tops.
With as much haste as she could muster she set her pack on her shoulder and jogged north to where her salvation lay. Doubts and second-guessing sprouted in her mind as she ran, of course. They always did.
There would be others coming, others more savage and desperate and deadly. But she would take that chance; she wasn't the sort to pass up a golden opportunity, even one as risky as this.
She had no idea what weapon awaited her; it could be even more useless than her current one. But that was unlikely, and she'd never know for sure if she didn't go.
What would the home audience think of her craven scavenging and opportunism? They would see it as the actions of a girl driven to desperation; if not, would dying really be a better option?
-----
Eiko came to the town center light-headed from her sleepless night and achy from the exertion of sprinting from the tunnels. Her vision blurred briefly, and she shook her head to clear it. All she needed to do now was find the prize before anyone else did.
Speaking of anyone else, she quickly found three other people in the square. The first she didn't recognize, a girl traveling with a friend, probably one that she depended on for protection. That friend was R.J. Lowe, whom Eiko recognized as the boy who couldn't speak. The third was a little harder to make out; she lied down, staring up at the sky and not caring one whit about her surroundings, it seemed. It wasn't until Eiko was thirty feet away that she saw her face, and recognition made her heart skip a beat.
It was Hartmann, Kris Hartmann. The same Kris Hartmann who'd murdered four or five people already. Discounting the far more dangerous Lombardi, she was a strong candidate for the worst person on the island to run into. Eiko held her polearm in front of her, on edge and ready to bolt as soon as Hartmann noticed and attacked her. She almost considered leaving altogether, and letting Lowe and his friend deal with Hartmann themselves.
But then she saw something next to Hartmann's legs.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
I'm not sure how long I've been searching, but all traces of Quincy Jones and Tiffany Chanders have turned up fruitless.
After leaving the Fair, and Goth Girl Chase to her own devices, I started North. I once again had to skip the Mansion, as it was not a place I intended to go any time soon now. I'm not sure if Chase has been following me, I haven't even bothered to check. Frankly, she looks far too precious to watch me commit such...atrocities crimes revenge(?), so once I stop, I'll check.
I further travelled North to the clinic, where I saw only a few people. Should I have bothered to check inside, I probably would have found more. I spotted that Sarah Xu, the communist dyke who runs that Activism Club, and what do you know, Bridget Connolly. It'd be fair to call Bridget a^n...acquaintance of mine. I'm not really sure what brought us together, but we remain on speaking terms. Or we would have, were I not slightly irked off by Simon Telamon, lurking around. I know he's a killer now. I didn't want to tangle with more than I had to, so I left.
Next would have been the Docks, but instead I was forced to skip them since they were also declared a Danger Zone. I travelled North, to the Lighthouse, where I spotted some people I also wished to not tangle with. From there, I headed back to town. I searched. I failed to find the two, even with my most thorough of all possible searches.
But I did not check here yet.
It's the centre of town, and according to the big gelatinous slob of a man that is MR DAYNA there is also a weapon here. I won't need it. Only the really desperate scramble for weapons when they have no confidence in their goal.
I, however, do not. I know the one thing I need to do, and that is all now.
I will write up my findings and discoveries later.
~*~
((Aston Bennett continues from Later, Buddy))
The notepad she packed with an absent mind met her hands for the first time. After deciding she wouldn't play almost a week ago, she saw no need to get it out. Her final words didn't need to be written down, not when she had a solid, independent voice. She was better than that.
But...this path was going to be tough. You can't remain rational and observant and throw away all of your previous mantra without learning a little from the experience. The attitude she adopted for her pre-choice travels were inadequate for this road.
She needed to remember the basics of who Aston Bennett was, and how Aston Bennett was going to murder Quincy Jones and Tiffany Chanders.
First of all, she didn't trust the first people she came across unless she had a damn good reason to. No more business with Marty, it was straight up "can you benefit me?" or "Why should I trust you?". If you're not on Team Aston, or if Aston isn't on Team Aston, then she was out like that. No questions. No exceptions. No begging from a goth girl to change her mind. Yes, or no.
Next, this came from first. Let people know that she was in the mood for killing. Be honest. Tell them what you really mean by it, don't pointlessly scare them if they're already on edge. You're not going to kill them unless their names specifically spell out the one you're looking for.
And finally, don't make mistakes. It can be that one little action, or inaction, which will fuck you up big time. That's what happened to Michelle. To Ben. To Flare Girl. To...Josh...
Why do I still miss you...
The town centre approached rapidly, and before she knew it, there it was. People. A whole group of them, and not one of them resembling a boxer or a pretty peroxide princess.
However...
Hmm...
This was interesting.
The strong back of a familiar figure was seen doubled over on the ground, sharing the company of two short haired girls and...the girl from the caves.
Aston stowed away her gun. It was time to find out who she could trust, and all the while remain an impartial observer as long as she didn't find out who the focus of attention was on.
If it was her, then bye-bye.
After leaving the Fair, and Goth Girl Chase to her own devices, I started North. I once again had to skip the Mansion, as it was not a place I intended to go any time soon now. I'm not sure if Chase has been following me, I haven't even bothered to check. Frankly, she looks far too precious to watch me commit such...atrocities crimes revenge(?), so once I stop, I'll check.
I further travelled North to the clinic, where I saw only a few people. Should I have bothered to check inside, I probably would have found more. I spotted that Sarah Xu, the communist dyke who runs that Activism Club, and what do you know, Bridget Connolly. It'd be fair to call Bridget a^n...acquaintance of mine. I'm not really sure what brought us together, but we remain on speaking terms. Or we would have, were I not slightly irked off by Simon Telamon, lurking around. I know he's a killer now. I didn't want to tangle with more than I had to, so I left.
Next would have been the Docks, but instead I was forced to skip them since they were also declared a Danger Zone. I travelled North, to the Lighthouse, where I spotted some people I also wished to not tangle with. From there, I headed back to town. I searched. I failed to find the two, even with my most thorough of all possible searches.
But I did not check here yet.
It's the centre of town, and according to the big gelatinous slob of a man that is MR DAYNA there is also a weapon here. I won't need it. Only the really desperate scramble for weapons when they have no confidence in their goal.
I, however, do not. I know the one thing I need to do, and that is all now.
I will write up my findings and discoveries later.
~*~
((Aston Bennett continues from Later, Buddy))
The notepad she packed with an absent mind met her hands for the first time. After deciding she wouldn't play almost a week ago, she saw no need to get it out. Her final words didn't need to be written down, not when she had a solid, independent voice. She was better than that.
But...this path was going to be tough. You can't remain rational and observant and throw away all of your previous mantra without learning a little from the experience. The attitude she adopted for her pre-choice travels were inadequate for this road.
She needed to remember the basics of who Aston Bennett was, and how Aston Bennett was going to murder Quincy Jones and Tiffany Chanders.
First of all, she didn't trust the first people she came across unless she had a damn good reason to. No more business with Marty, it was straight up "can you benefit me?" or "Why should I trust you?". If you're not on Team Aston, or if Aston isn't on Team Aston, then she was out like that. No questions. No exceptions. No begging from a goth girl to change her mind. Yes, or no.
Next, this came from first. Let people know that she was in the mood for killing. Be honest. Tell them what you really mean by it, don't pointlessly scare them if they're already on edge. You're not going to kill them unless their names specifically spell out the one you're looking for.
And finally, don't make mistakes. It can be that one little action, or inaction, which will fuck you up big time. That's what happened to Michelle. To Ben. To Flare Girl. To...Josh...
Why do I still miss you...
The town centre approached rapidly, and before she knew it, there it was. People. A whole group of them, and not one of them resembling a boxer or a pretty peroxide princess.
However...
Hmm...
This was interesting.
The strong back of a familiar figure was seen doubled over on the ground, sharing the company of two short haired girls and...the girl from the caves.
Aston stowed away her gun. It was time to find out who she could trust, and all the while remain an impartial observer as long as she didn't find out who the focus of attention was on.
If it was her, then bye-bye.
The heel of Kris's trainer drummed on the metal box aimlessly, entirely unwares of exactly what was held within it. For a few seconds longer, she stared up at a cloudless sky, unseeing. Then, Kris's eyes dipped down to regard the shoe making a thunking beat on the surface of the container. It was a sort of faded red. Ah. Right... she remembered...
Force. Her. Down. Crunching bone. Pained gasps. Blood spatter, spurter. Pitter-patter, like rain... pitter-patter on the sneakers...
Momentarily fascinated, Kris stopped twitching and stared at her blood-soaked trainer, angled higher then her head because of where it was resting. A moment or two of that and then... she blinked. For the first time, she looked beyond merely what was right in front of her, and saw him. A familiar face.
That encounter... well, here, more or less. Not by the fountain, but definitely in the streets. When she'd collapsed and awoken to find herself restricted, grabbed by others. Accusing, pouring guilt and judgement on her. ...Deserved. Kris had managed to extricate herself from that group, just barely. This guy... well this guy was back, now. He had somebody else with him. A name came to Kris's head. Not the girl, the tall dude with the sword. R.J.
How'd she know that? She couldn't remember, maybe they shared a class somewhere. R.J. looked far warier now than he ever had done before. Kris's reputation preceded her.
Herald... herald of blood. Herald of unspeakable acts...
Kris pushed herself up off the ground, detonator clutched in her fist almost unconciously. She slid forward, up onto the box, then perched on it and hauled herself into a sitting position. The container wasn't massive, so Kris was still close to the ground, looking up.
Her expression... was not welcoming. Nor was it hostile. She simply stared placidly, eyes that little bit vacant beneath a blood-matted fringe. Seeing, yet... glazed over.
Will there be more?
Festival?
Force. Her. Down. Crunching bone. Pained gasps. Blood spatter, spurter. Pitter-patter, like rain... pitter-patter on the sneakers...
Momentarily fascinated, Kris stopped twitching and stared at her blood-soaked trainer, angled higher then her head because of where it was resting. A moment or two of that and then... she blinked. For the first time, she looked beyond merely what was right in front of her, and saw him. A familiar face.
That encounter... well, here, more or less. Not by the fountain, but definitely in the streets. When she'd collapsed and awoken to find herself restricted, grabbed by others. Accusing, pouring guilt and judgement on her. ...Deserved. Kris had managed to extricate herself from that group, just barely. This guy... well this guy was back, now. He had somebody else with him. A name came to Kris's head. Not the girl, the tall dude with the sword. R.J.
How'd she know that? She couldn't remember, maybe they shared a class somewhere. R.J. looked far warier now than he ever had done before. Kris's reputation preceded her.
Herald... herald of blood. Herald of unspeakable acts...
Kris pushed herself up off the ground, detonator clutched in her fist almost unconciously. She slid forward, up onto the box, then perched on it and hauled herself into a sitting position. The container wasn't massive, so Kris was still close to the ground, looking up.
Her expression... was not welcoming. Nor was it hostile. She simply stared placidly, eyes that little bit vacant beneath a blood-matted fringe. Seeing, yet... glazed over.
Will there be more?
Festival?
His gaze was sharp enough to cut a silk cloth in mid-fall. How many had died now as a direct result of his misguided acts of mercy? How many families would never see their children again because of his inaction? He had two chances to stop her cold, and twice, he failed. Who else was going to die because he had too big a heart? Mary-Ann?
Fuck.
That.
Noise.
R.J. pulled himself to his feet, using his sword for leverage. With his right hand, he made a gesture behind his back to Mary-Ann. Pinky and ring fingers extended, thumb pointed up, bent back ninety degrees at the interphalangeal joint. She knew what this meant. They'd practiced it. The message delivered, he wrapped the fingers of both his hands tightly around the handle of the khanda. Kris moved into a seated position atop a metal box. What was in it, R.J. neither knew nor cared. He had one objective in mind. He had to eliminate every threat to Mary-Ann's survival that he possibly could. If he failed now, it wouldn't be because he didn't try. If she got away this time, it wouldn't because he showed her mercy.
His eyes never left the blonde, his face fixed in a feral scowl, eyebrows threatening to sever his nose. Thousand yard stare met thousand yard stare. He approached her with long, slow strides, raising the blade toward the sky. Once he was in range, he would allow gravity to take care of the rest.
Third time's a charm.
Fuck.
That.
Noise.
R.J. pulled himself to his feet, using his sword for leverage. With his right hand, he made a gesture behind his back to Mary-Ann. Pinky and ring fingers extended, thumb pointed up, bent back ninety degrees at the interphalangeal joint. She knew what this meant. They'd practiced it. The message delivered, he wrapped the fingers of both his hands tightly around the handle of the khanda. Kris moved into a seated position atop a metal box. What was in it, R.J. neither knew nor cared. He had one objective in mind. He had to eliminate every threat to Mary-Ann's survival that he possibly could. If he failed now, it wouldn't be because he didn't try. If she got away this time, it wouldn't because he showed her mercy.
His eyes never left the blonde, his face fixed in a feral scowl, eyebrows threatening to sever his nose. Thousand yard stare met thousand yard stare. He approached her with long, slow strides, raising the blade toward the sky. Once he was in range, he would allow gravity to take care of the rest.
Third time's a charm.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Stark. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
-
Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
The girl was just rolling around on that crate. She didn't seem to care about anything at all as she stared blankly up at the sky.
Mary-Ann knew the signal. R.J. had made sure she was absolutely, one hundred percent clear on what to do when the time came. She nodded slightly and picked up the gun. It was always threw her off at how heavy it was, but after she'd spent time practicing with it, the gun had become oddly familiar in it's heaviness.
This time it wasn't practice. She knew that this time if she pulled the trigger it wasn't going to just be that hollow air sound and an empty 'click.' Mary-Ann's fingers tingled unpleasantly and felt cold against the gun.
"Whatever you do.....I trust you, R.J. I don't want to fight someone. I don't want to have to use the stuff you taught me. But if you decide that that's what we gotta do, then I'll follow you. I trust you to do the right thing," she whispered.
Soon the girl was upright sitting on the box. Mary-Ann squinted to see what she held in her hand, but couldn't really make it out. When she'd stopped looking at her hand, Mary-Ann noticed that the girl's dull, straight gaze was directed right at them
Mary-Ann knew the signal. R.J. had made sure she was absolutely, one hundred percent clear on what to do when the time came. She nodded slightly and picked up the gun. It was always threw her off at how heavy it was, but after she'd spent time practicing with it, the gun had become oddly familiar in it's heaviness.
This time it wasn't practice. She knew that this time if she pulled the trigger it wasn't going to just be that hollow air sound and an empty 'click.' Mary-Ann's fingers tingled unpleasantly and felt cold against the gun.
"Whatever you do.....I trust you, R.J. I don't want to fight someone. I don't want to have to use the stuff you taught me. But if you decide that that's what we gotta do, then I'll follow you. I trust you to do the right thing," she whispered.
Soon the girl was upright sitting on the box. Mary-Ann squinted to see what she held in her hand, but couldn't really make it out. When she'd stopped looking at her hand, Mary-Ann noticed that the girl's dull, straight gaze was directed right at them
Eiko stood still for the next few seconds, just observing the murderer taking center stage in the square. Hartmann didn't look well, to put it mildly. Instead of behaving sensibly in this sort of situation and standing with any sort of weapon at ready when meeting new people, she was lying on her back and gazing up at the sky as though she were attending a picnic and basking in nature's glory. And the way she gazed around in wonder at her surroundings indicated a childish mindset Eiko could have sworn she didn't have before all of this.
Is this what would happen to her if she killed people? Would she have to choose between her life and her sanity?
But then her eyes darted back to the box Hartmann sat on. It didn't look like it belonged. It sat right in the middle of the town square, looking brand new and barely battered at all. If the box didn't contain Gweneth's abandoned prize, Eiko would eat the rotten flesh of her dead peers.
That still put Hartmann in the way of better self-defense. Although, Eiko had to admit, she thought there might be a possibility she could take Hartmann now. All she's have to do is swat her prone form off the box, snatch up the contents, and run.
...unless this was just an act Hartmann was putting on to get a victim in close. No, that would be stupid. Anyone with a gun could pick her off at a distance. But something like that wouldn't matter to an insane girl.
Better to wait and see. Her eyes turned to the other spectators in the audience. Lowe and his friend - her name started with W - didn't look like they noticed the crate, or at least didn't know what it meant. They just looked concerned for their safety.
Suddenly, she spotted another girl. It was Bennett! Somehow Eiko'd met up with her again without even trying. But... Bennett was acting shifty, looking for escape routes and trying to read everyone else she could see.
In other words, behaving almost like Eiko herself was.
No words were spoken, aside from whispers to Lowe from W-san. Perhaps it should come to her to break the ice. "Hartmann-sa-"
Wait, what was Lowe doing with that sword?
Is this what would happen to her if she killed people? Would she have to choose between her life and her sanity?
But then her eyes darted back to the box Hartmann sat on. It didn't look like it belonged. It sat right in the middle of the town square, looking brand new and barely battered at all. If the box didn't contain Gweneth's abandoned prize, Eiko would eat the rotten flesh of her dead peers.
That still put Hartmann in the way of better self-defense. Although, Eiko had to admit, she thought there might be a possibility she could take Hartmann now. All she's have to do is swat her prone form off the box, snatch up the contents, and run.
...unless this was just an act Hartmann was putting on to get a victim in close. No, that would be stupid. Anyone with a gun could pick her off at a distance. But something like that wouldn't matter to an insane girl.
Better to wait and see. Her eyes turned to the other spectators in the audience. Lowe and his friend - her name started with W - didn't look like they noticed the crate, or at least didn't know what it meant. They just looked concerned for their safety.
Suddenly, she spotted another girl. It was Bennett! Somehow Eiko'd met up with her again without even trying. But... Bennett was acting shifty, looking for escape routes and trying to read everyone else she could see.
In other words, behaving almost like Eiko herself was.
No words were spoken, aside from whispers to Lowe from W-san. Perhaps it should come to her to break the ice. "Hartmann-sa-"
Wait, what was Lowe doing with that sword?
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Ha...no way.
Well, look at that, 7 days gone and R.J. Lowe was still alive.
Now, who the hell would've thought that was even possible? Look, R.J. was a huge fucking guy, a really huge fucking guy. He had a great body, even someone who didn't give a crap about that sort of thing like Aston could admit that, so he wasn't just a weak little twig like that guy he saw walking around with the fedora. But...honestly, he couldn't speak. That was either a gamebreaker or the gamemaker.
But...somehow, he'd done it. He's survived. He'd killed two people, two people she didn't care about. And...
R.J. Lowe, you are my hero right now, and I could possibly need you more than anyone else on this god damn rock besides whoever got a Rocket Launcher and a good radar, but what the hell are you doing?
There he was, with the sword, about to cut a girl on a box into ribbons with said huge sword, while that girl he was hanging out with back at school stood right behind him, and that girl back at the caves who spoke like a cartoon character was now speaking to the crazy girl on the box...while she was about to get attacked. Yeah, that would end well.
The box...hmm. Aston's money was on that box being that weapon everyone was going after. So...huh, she could either go for the weapon, or get R.J. + girl he was with on her side after they were finished.
Hmm. Guaranteed weapon. Balanced against allies for her one goal.
Hmm. Aston needed to think. But she needed to watch as well.
Don't disappoint me, R.J., if you don't get out of whatever you're going to do I'll bring you back to life myself and kill you again for doing it wrong.
Well, look at that, 7 days gone and R.J. Lowe was still alive.
Now, who the hell would've thought that was even possible? Look, R.J. was a huge fucking guy, a really huge fucking guy. He had a great body, even someone who didn't give a crap about that sort of thing like Aston could admit that, so he wasn't just a weak little twig like that guy he saw walking around with the fedora. But...honestly, he couldn't speak. That was either a gamebreaker or the gamemaker.
But...somehow, he'd done it. He's survived. He'd killed two people, two people she didn't care about. And...
R.J. Lowe, you are my hero right now, and I could possibly need you more than anyone else on this god damn rock besides whoever got a Rocket Launcher and a good radar, but what the hell are you doing?
There he was, with the sword, about to cut a girl on a box into ribbons with said huge sword, while that girl he was hanging out with back at school stood right behind him, and that girl back at the caves who spoke like a cartoon character was now speaking to the crazy girl on the box...while she was about to get attacked. Yeah, that would end well.
The box...hmm. Aston's money was on that box being that weapon everyone was going after. So...huh, she could either go for the weapon, or get R.J. + girl he was with on her side after they were finished.
Hmm. Guaranteed weapon. Balanced against allies for her one goal.
Hmm. Aston needed to think. But she needed to watch as well.
Don't disappoint me, R.J., if you don't get out of whatever you're going to do I'll bring you back to life myself and kill you again for doing it wrong.
Abruptly, focus snapped into Kris's eyes. Crystal clear clarity. For once.
For the first time in ...quite a while, she actually saw. No filter, no obscuring mist, no justifications... no excuses. RJ was bearing down on her, sword raised above his head. Half of Kris felt like she deserved whatever he intended to do to her - which was pretty damn obvious. Part was wondering what the hell he was playing at, coming towards her so blatently; what, did he not think she had any capacity to harm him?
A good part though... froze up. This... was fear, genuine fear. Not fear of getting found out, like she'd had the first time she met R.J. Not fear of what she could do to somebody else, like had happened with Amber. This time, Kris was afraid because she didn't want to die.
The feeling came out of nowhere, yet for all that, wasn't entirely unfamiliar, like an old friend that left years back and then made a sudden dramatic entrance. The surprise was still there though, that brief moment of lacking comprehension... before the subtle changes could no longer hide what remained the same, and recognition clicked into place. This... this fear, that was how Kris had felt when holding the gun she'd pulled out of her pack, in those few moments where she was still innocent, still unsullied...
Still not a murderer.
Before she shot Reika.
Lucidity, of a kind. Seeing a replica of a destroyed painting no more restored the original than memories of the dead kept them alive.
With it... guilt. Crushing guilt. Reika. Kimberly (not dead, yet...). Amber. Albert. Janet - oh god what had she done to Janet? Everyone around was treated to the odd sight of Kris's gaze suddenly snapping to the ground, accompanied by an audible whimper.
With that... understanding. It was impossible to use reason, impossible to try to ally with anybody, to seek to be diplomatic. Perhaps, if she'd stuck with Etain, they could've... he might've- no... what happened was all that was ever going to happen. Kris should've forced him to go, ran away from him, the way she had done when he'd stumbled upon her in the swamp after Reika... He wouldn't have left her just because she asked, because... He loved her. The same way, Kris had come to realised, that she loved him.
Too late.
In any case, talking civilly was out.
Which left fighting... and that wouldn't end well for her.
And talking... not so civilly.
Kris held the detonator above her head, fist thrust towards RJ - instantaeously spawning a legion of 'clever' photoshopped screencaps of Nazi imagery. Her face was set.
"There is a block of C4 in my bag, RJ," Kris said matter-of-factly. "Either nobody dies or..." Kris caught sight of somebody not far behind RJ, and her eyes narrowed. "Or everyone. Turn around. Leave."
Was it a bluff?
Kris... wasn't sure.
For the first time in ...quite a while, she actually saw. No filter, no obscuring mist, no justifications... no excuses. RJ was bearing down on her, sword raised above his head. Half of Kris felt like she deserved whatever he intended to do to her - which was pretty damn obvious. Part was wondering what the hell he was playing at, coming towards her so blatently; what, did he not think she had any capacity to harm him?
A good part though... froze up. This... was fear, genuine fear. Not fear of getting found out, like she'd had the first time she met R.J. Not fear of what she could do to somebody else, like had happened with Amber. This time, Kris was afraid because she didn't want to die.
The feeling came out of nowhere, yet for all that, wasn't entirely unfamiliar, like an old friend that left years back and then made a sudden dramatic entrance. The surprise was still there though, that brief moment of lacking comprehension... before the subtle changes could no longer hide what remained the same, and recognition clicked into place. This... this fear, that was how Kris had felt when holding the gun she'd pulled out of her pack, in those few moments where she was still innocent, still unsullied...
Still not a murderer.
Before she shot Reika.
Lucidity, of a kind. Seeing a replica of a destroyed painting no more restored the original than memories of the dead kept them alive.
With it... guilt. Crushing guilt. Reika. Kimberly (not dead, yet...). Amber. Albert. Janet - oh god what had she done to Janet? Everyone around was treated to the odd sight of Kris's gaze suddenly snapping to the ground, accompanied by an audible whimper.
With that... understanding. It was impossible to use reason, impossible to try to ally with anybody, to seek to be diplomatic. Perhaps, if she'd stuck with Etain, they could've... he might've- no... what happened was all that was ever going to happen. Kris should've forced him to go, ran away from him, the way she had done when he'd stumbled upon her in the swamp after Reika... He wouldn't have left her just because she asked, because... He loved her. The same way, Kris had come to realised, that she loved him.
Too late.
In any case, talking civilly was out.
Which left fighting... and that wouldn't end well for her.
And talking... not so civilly.
Kris held the detonator above her head, fist thrust towards RJ - instantaeously spawning a legion of 'clever' photoshopped screencaps of Nazi imagery. Her face was set.
"There is a block of C4 in my bag, RJ," Kris said matter-of-factly. "Either nobody dies or..." Kris caught sight of somebody not far behind RJ, and her eyes narrowed. "Or everyone. Turn around. Leave."
Was it a bluff?
Kris... wasn't sure.
And with a little push, the massive blade came barreling down toward Kris Hartmann's face.
There is a block of C4 in my bag, R.J.
And with a mighty pull, the blade began to swerve to the left.
a block of C4 in my bag
And as the giant struggled to maintain his balance, the blade slammed into the cobblestones, shattering rock and denting steel.
block of C4
His eyes glazed over, staring silently at the girl in front of him. Was she bluffing? Was there a bomb in her bag? If so, would she really go through with blowing herself to smithereens?
Could he afford to risk it?
For a short while, he just stood there, frozen, blind and deaf to the world around himself and Kris. He never broke eye contact, his face betraying only an eerie calm. He was focused, weighing all his options, considering every possibility. Eternity passed by, in the space of a few seconds. Save a cool gust of wind, carrying with it some scattered dust and fallen leaves, all was stillness, until at long last, a bemused sigh broke the silence. R.J. returned to an upright stance, raising the sword up to rest on his shoulder. He acknowledged Kris with a nod and a smile. Almost as if to say, "I understand." Quietly, he turned back the way he came, back to Mary-Ann. It was a walk not thirty feet back to her, but it felt like an eternity. Time slowing down was fast becoming a theme, it seemed.
Three times, he had a chance to end it.
He knew what had to happen now.
He approached Mary-Ann, set the khanda aside, placed his hands on her cheeks, closed his eyes, and pulled his lips into hers. Just for a few seconds, the two of them stood there.
Yeah. There was a pattern, alright.
Slowly, he released her, a single tear dripping down his cheek, but a smile on his face all the same. Definitely worth the wait, he thought to himself. Shame we couldn't have done it sooner. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked the love of his life dead in the eye, and silently, his lips formed a single word.
Go.
He knew exactly what had to happen now. If Mary-Ann could live, he was ready to die.
If I fail, it won't be because I gave up.
A single bloodstained steel-toed shoe took its first step back toward Kristina Hartmann.
And with a little effort, the massive blade rose up from the ground.
There is a block of C4 in my bag, R.J.
And with a mighty pull, the blade began to swerve to the left.
a block of C4 in my bag
And as the giant struggled to maintain his balance, the blade slammed into the cobblestones, shattering rock and denting steel.
block of C4
His eyes glazed over, staring silently at the girl in front of him. Was she bluffing? Was there a bomb in her bag? If so, would she really go through with blowing herself to smithereens?
Could he afford to risk it?
For a short while, he just stood there, frozen, blind and deaf to the world around himself and Kris. He never broke eye contact, his face betraying only an eerie calm. He was focused, weighing all his options, considering every possibility. Eternity passed by, in the space of a few seconds. Save a cool gust of wind, carrying with it some scattered dust and fallen leaves, all was stillness, until at long last, a bemused sigh broke the silence. R.J. returned to an upright stance, raising the sword up to rest on his shoulder. He acknowledged Kris with a nod and a smile. Almost as if to say, "I understand." Quietly, he turned back the way he came, back to Mary-Ann. It was a walk not thirty feet back to her, but it felt like an eternity. Time slowing down was fast becoming a theme, it seemed.
Three times, he had a chance to end it.
He knew what had to happen now.
He approached Mary-Ann, set the khanda aside, placed his hands on her cheeks, closed his eyes, and pulled his lips into hers. Just for a few seconds, the two of them stood there.
Yeah. There was a pattern, alright.
Slowly, he released her, a single tear dripping down his cheek, but a smile on his face all the same. Definitely worth the wait, he thought to himself. Shame we couldn't have done it sooner. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked the love of his life dead in the eye, and silently, his lips formed a single word.
Go.
He knew exactly what had to happen now. If Mary-Ann could live, he was ready to die.
If I fail, it won't be because I gave up.
A single bloodstained steel-toed shoe took its first step back toward Kristina Hartmann.
And with a little effort, the massive blade rose up from the ground.
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-
Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
"Oh god," Mary-Ann couldn't watch this. She turned away as R.J. brought down the blade to meet Kris' head and squeezed her eyes shut. Everything was so quiet in that moment. Quiet until, to her surprise, she heard Kris shouting.
Mary-Ann looked up and let out the breath she'd been holding in. R.J. hadn't killed her. The girl was holding that item she'd seen earlier above her head like it was a magic shield or something. And it may as well have been too, as she announced that it was actually the detonator to a whole lot of explosives in her bag, not too far away. Mary-Ann scanned the scene, sure enough, there lay the bag. So harmless looking, just an ordinary bag, but if Kris was telling the truth it could end them all in the wink of an eye.
R.J. sighed and walked back to her.
Good. He's coming back. We can walk away and it can be like we never saw Kris. We can-
And before she could finish thinking she felt his hands on her cheeks on his lips firm on hers. She trembled a little in surprise. Her first kiss.
He was so warm. After the first few seconds of shock fizzled away she was enveloped in his warmth. Mary-Ann tilted her head just slightly to the right and pushed back against him. Her heart was ringing in her ears and her stomach was in her throat but it felt like......like they could be safe and happy together in that moment forever. Their kiss could pierce through death and survive as one perfect moment, crystallized in the privacy of their hearts.
And though that one moment may be everlasting, R.J. and Mary-Ann are finite. R.J. pulled away from her and a tear rolled down his face.
No.
"R.J...."
He took a step away from her, back towards Kris. He mouthed one word to her, very clearly, very slowly. He wanted her to go.
"R.J......You promised. You promised me that you'd never leave me again. You promised!" she nearly shouted. Mary-Ann could feel her own eyes start to well up in tears.
"You did. You told me you'd never leave. I'm not ready for you to leave. I'll never be ready." And now she was crying too.
"Stay."
Mary-Ann looked up and let out the breath she'd been holding in. R.J. hadn't killed her. The girl was holding that item she'd seen earlier above her head like it was a magic shield or something. And it may as well have been too, as she announced that it was actually the detonator to a whole lot of explosives in her bag, not too far away. Mary-Ann scanned the scene, sure enough, there lay the bag. So harmless looking, just an ordinary bag, but if Kris was telling the truth it could end them all in the wink of an eye.
R.J. sighed and walked back to her.
Good. He's coming back. We can walk away and it can be like we never saw Kris. We can-
And before she could finish thinking she felt his hands on her cheeks on his lips firm on hers. She trembled a little in surprise. Her first kiss.
He was so warm. After the first few seconds of shock fizzled away she was enveloped in his warmth. Mary-Ann tilted her head just slightly to the right and pushed back against him. Her heart was ringing in her ears and her stomach was in her throat but it felt like......like they could be safe and happy together in that moment forever. Their kiss could pierce through death and survive as one perfect moment, crystallized in the privacy of their hearts.
And though that one moment may be everlasting, R.J. and Mary-Ann are finite. R.J. pulled away from her and a tear rolled down his face.
No.
"R.J...."
He took a step away from her, back towards Kris. He mouthed one word to her, very clearly, very slowly. He wanted her to go.
"R.J......You promised. You promised me that you'd never leave me again. You promised!" she nearly shouted. Mary-Ann could feel her own eyes start to well up in tears.
"You did. You told me you'd never leave. I'm not ready for you to leave. I'll never be ready." And now she was crying too.
"Stay."
Well, that answered her question. Hartmann wasn't crazy enough to retard her survival instincts after all. All she needed was a sword barreling toward her face to get her to be attentive again. Now how would she deal with this, exactly?
Eiko got another answer to her question when Hartmann raised a fist to block the sword. Amazingly it actually worked; Lowe's sword veered out of the way mere inches from the fist and buried its point in the cobblestones between him and his target. The sound of the impact, of metal scraping against stone and a sharp edge squealing as it wore itself down, made Eiko cringe. She kept her sodegarami in front of her, as if it could shield her from the sound, or anything else in the game. She kept her eyes on the two of them, though, and heard every word Hartmann said after she survived.
"There is a block of C4 in my bag, RJ. Either nobody dies or... or everyone. Turn around. Leave."
A chill ran through Eiko's body, and before she could stop herself, a pathetic, mewling squeak escaped her lungs; if Hartmann hadn't sensed Eiko before, she sure as hell would now. Eiko looked for all the world like a feather about to collapse, her last, shining hope snatched away by a cruel spirit who only wanted to see her destroy herself. She'd gotten her hopes up so high for this sign of divine providence, and now she'd be thwarted, not by a hellish adversary who'd proven herself a diabolical scourge to be feared, but by this nobody, this punk girl who fell ass-first into possessing motherfucking explosives!
How dare she? How dare she?
Half-formed images and fantasies flickered through Eiko's mind, images of beating Hartmann to death with her sodegarami, of grabbing the gun in the box and shooting off that hand with the detonator in it, of firing every single bullet it came with into Hartmann's weaselly black guts. Those whiny, insecure thoughts about what other people would think, about what the employers of the world and her family would think, deserted her. Hadn't Mr. Kwong told her she shouldn't care what people think? The irony of that thought almost made her smile. Almost.
The only response she deigned to give Hartmann's cowardly little trick was taking a few steps backward. After all, she wasn't the main threat to Hartmann, now was she? That was Lowe, the one who attacked Hartmann in the first place! After taking a quick glance at Bennett to make sure she wasn't planning anything, she focused her attention back to him.
He wasn't going to back down either, it seemed. He gave Hartmann a long, hard look, then turned to his companion and gave her a kiss, a kiss he wanted to make sure would leave a lasting impression. It was meant to be the best - and last - kiss they would share. W-san realized it as well as Eiko did, and tried in vain to get Lowe to stay with her for just a little bit longer. Her words were heartfelt, desperate, moving, exactly the sort that would wring tears out of the audience, were they from an actress in a movie. But Lowe ignored her, and yanked his sword back out to take one more swing. Almost too late, Eiko remembered the threat of the C4, and took several more steps back, hoping that that measly distance would be enough to protect her from the blast radius.
Lowe and Hartmann were in it for the long haul, determined to play chicken for the highest of stakes. Perhaps Eiko would see her first death here after all.
Eiko got another answer to her question when Hartmann raised a fist to block the sword. Amazingly it actually worked; Lowe's sword veered out of the way mere inches from the fist and buried its point in the cobblestones between him and his target. The sound of the impact, of metal scraping against stone and a sharp edge squealing as it wore itself down, made Eiko cringe. She kept her sodegarami in front of her, as if it could shield her from the sound, or anything else in the game. She kept her eyes on the two of them, though, and heard every word Hartmann said after she survived.
"There is a block of C4 in my bag, RJ. Either nobody dies or... or everyone. Turn around. Leave."
A chill ran through Eiko's body, and before she could stop herself, a pathetic, mewling squeak escaped her lungs; if Hartmann hadn't sensed Eiko before, she sure as hell would now. Eiko looked for all the world like a feather about to collapse, her last, shining hope snatched away by a cruel spirit who only wanted to see her destroy herself. She'd gotten her hopes up so high for this sign of divine providence, and now she'd be thwarted, not by a hellish adversary who'd proven herself a diabolical scourge to be feared, but by this nobody, this punk girl who fell ass-first into possessing motherfucking explosives!
How dare she? How dare she?
Half-formed images and fantasies flickered through Eiko's mind, images of beating Hartmann to death with her sodegarami, of grabbing the gun in the box and shooting off that hand with the detonator in it, of firing every single bullet it came with into Hartmann's weaselly black guts. Those whiny, insecure thoughts about what other people would think, about what the employers of the world and her family would think, deserted her. Hadn't Mr. Kwong told her she shouldn't care what people think? The irony of that thought almost made her smile. Almost.
The only response she deigned to give Hartmann's cowardly little trick was taking a few steps backward. After all, she wasn't the main threat to Hartmann, now was she? That was Lowe, the one who attacked Hartmann in the first place! After taking a quick glance at Bennett to make sure she wasn't planning anything, she focused her attention back to him.
He wasn't going to back down either, it seemed. He gave Hartmann a long, hard look, then turned to his companion and gave her a kiss, a kiss he wanted to make sure would leave a lasting impression. It was meant to be the best - and last - kiss they would share. W-san realized it as well as Eiko did, and tried in vain to get Lowe to stay with her for just a little bit longer. Her words were heartfelt, desperate, moving, exactly the sort that would wring tears out of the audience, were they from an actress in a movie. But Lowe ignored her, and yanked his sword back out to take one more swing. Almost too late, Eiko remembered the threat of the C4, and took several more steps back, hoping that that measly distance would be enough to protect her from the blast radius.
Lowe and Hartmann were in it for the long haul, determined to play chicken for the highest of stakes. Perhaps Eiko would see her first death here after all.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((crappy post, sorry, I'm rather busy atm 
)
This wasn't good.
That Hartmann bitch was armed and primed.
What the hell can you do when you're in a situation like this? Well, besides doing what Aston does best and just standing there and analysing the situation? Nothing, really. You're glued to the spot, just fearful for your life. Of course, the thing was, Aston thought it over, and decided that she wasn't going to die today.
For starters, she remembered reading somewhere that a single block of C4 had a blast radius of approximately 15 feet. She was more than far enough away to escape unharmed, even if she just pulled out her gun and shot that girl right there. She'd still get a shock from the blast, but really, nothing else.
The other main important point about the entire situation was that Kris Hartman seemed to have no idea she was on the scene in the first place.
Aston watched. The crazy girl's eyes slid from RJ, to his girl, to the girl from the caves, but not. her. This was good, it meant that she was what they called an unfactored variable. Something you can't take into account when making a rational or a rash decision.
So...what was the plan then?
Aston thought this over, several times, don't think she chose this lightly, and then...she decided what to do. RJ needed to live. His girl, cave girl, they needed to get out of here alive. Aston needed to get out of here alive, and doing what she was about to do was not a step towards that.
She started edging around the circumference of the centre.
Aston was far enough away that she could do this discreetly, but her movements had to be small. No point getting her drawing attention to herself when the point here was to remain an unfactor.
It took a while, a while of developments and a while of edging, but she made it. RJ had kissed his girl, she was begging for him not to do anything, and the girl from the caves was scanning the area. Okay, she needed to do this quick. If she gave her away, it was all over.
She made it so that she was directly behind Kris...only in terms of her field of vision.
Aston knew that she was now visible to everyone in the area.
No time to waste.
She removed her shoes, almost like they were engulfed in hot fire, and she stepped forward onto the cobblestone.
A silent step. Good.
Another silent step. Even better.
I need to get this bag and I need to do this quick.
)This wasn't good.
That Hartmann bitch was armed and primed.
What the hell can you do when you're in a situation like this? Well, besides doing what Aston does best and just standing there and analysing the situation? Nothing, really. You're glued to the spot, just fearful for your life. Of course, the thing was, Aston thought it over, and decided that she wasn't going to die today.
For starters, she remembered reading somewhere that a single block of C4 had a blast radius of approximately 15 feet. She was more than far enough away to escape unharmed, even if she just pulled out her gun and shot that girl right there. She'd still get a shock from the blast, but really, nothing else.
The other main important point about the entire situation was that Kris Hartman seemed to have no idea she was on the scene in the first place.
Aston watched. The crazy girl's eyes slid from RJ, to his girl, to the girl from the caves, but not. her. This was good, it meant that she was what they called an unfactored variable. Something you can't take into account when making a rational or a rash decision.
So...what was the plan then?
Aston thought this over, several times, don't think she chose this lightly, and then...she decided what to do. RJ needed to live. His girl, cave girl, they needed to get out of here alive. Aston needed to get out of here alive, and doing what she was about to do was not a step towards that.
She started edging around the circumference of the centre.
Aston was far enough away that she could do this discreetly, but her movements had to be small. No point getting her drawing attention to herself when the point here was to remain an unfactor.
It took a while, a while of developments and a while of edging, but she made it. RJ had kissed his girl, she was begging for him not to do anything, and the girl from the caves was scanning the area. Okay, she needed to do this quick. If she gave her away, it was all over.
She made it so that she was directly behind Kris...only in terms of her field of vision.
Aston knew that she was now visible to everyone in the area.
No time to waste.
She removed her shoes, almost like they were engulfed in hot fire, and she stepped forward onto the cobblestone.
A silent step. Good.
Another silent step. Even better.
I need to get this bag and I need to do this quick.