Serenity watched with tired eyes as Brad volunteered himself to leave the relative safety of the area they had been occupying. Serenity didn't know exactly what was going on, but she could easily put the pieces together. Even with the pounding in her skull, and the nauseating feeling in her gut, she knew full well what was happening.
They were under attack.
Serenity soon found herself alone in the room with Terrie. No sign of either Ianto or Brad. She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. It made a thump as it hit, sending even more pain through her head. She looked at Terrie for a moment. The reason Terrie couldn't leave here... the reason that Brad and her couldn't attempt to make a run for it. It was because Serenity was too weak. She was holding them back. She was undoubtedly going to get them all killed. She couldn't handle that. No... She couldn't let that happen. Not because of her.
'Kara... I'm so sorry I couldn't save you... but maybe I can save them... I'll only get them killed... I can barely move my arm, and My stomach... it feels like flames are inside me... I'm a burden... They don't need me here...'
"Terrie..." Serenity uttered slowly, her head turning to the other girl.
"I want you to do something for me... It's going to be something you probably won't want to do... can you deal with that?" She asked.
"I want you to shoot me... Please..." She said, and the tears began falling.
"I'm in so much pain... it's unbearable... I can't even move on my own anymore... I'll just get you all killed if I stay... Please just finish what that boy started... Shoot me... End all of this... I can't handle it anymore... I want you and Brad and Ianto to survive... I'm an obsolete member of this group..." She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip.
"Please Terrie. You know it's the right thing to do... I don't want some crazy to kill me... I want it to be someone I trust..."
Sadist
Worship that?
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Were... Terrie and Serenity going to be alright back there?
...
Brad figured they would. Terrie was a smart girl, she wouldn't do anything stupid while she was back there. And Serenity... well, she really wasn't in the condition to do anything other than lay down and rest, so what was she going to do? Seemed kinda pointless for Brad to be worrying about their safety... unless he himself got killed while he was outside, then they'd really be in trouble. What were the chances of anything bad happening to him anyway? Pretty good, but Brad saw it completely differently. The way he saw it, there was no reason to fret. He had come this far, survived longer that - what, fifty other people? His chances looked very good when in truth they weren't at all.
But that's not something he should be worrying about. What he SHOULD be worrying about is chasing away whoever the hell was out there. Who was that anyway? He didn't even get a chance to get a good look at the bastard before he duck back into the kitchen with Serenity in tow. Maybe he was being too foolish in going out of the kitchen althogether, and it was certainly too late for him to go back. He was walking down the lunch line and there was no way in hell that he was going to turn back.
Course, when he reached the end of the line... he happened to see someone slide across the floor and duck under one of the tables.
"... what the fuck was that?"
Brad seemed confused. Was that the killer that was taking potshots at us? I don't doubt it, but I just can't go assuming that. There really wasn't any time to vertify his suspicions and, taking a huge chance, slowly slides his body out of the opening to the lunchline, trying his best not to make any unwanted noise. C'mon Brad... don't get so scared. alright? If you sneak up on the bastard, maybe you can get that gun out of his hands. Yeah... that would be perfect. Simple and easy.
Then, of course, the figure had to roll onto the other side of the table.
Oy vey... why the hell does EVERYTHING have to change midway? Just to annoy me? Man, everyone just wants to piss me off, huh?
...
Ehh. What the hell? What have I got to lose? My life? Yeah...
Without any foresight (which may or may not have been a good thing), Brad ran full force toward the table and leapt like a tiger over the counter, aimed right for the figure... which looked alot like Bobby Jacks? Damn it, this was perfect. The bastard killed three people, he kinda deserved someone like Brad tackling him to the ground and beating the everloving shit out of him. Yep. That was the plan. Bobby might've been a boxer, and he (Brad) might be a complete beginner as far as fighting is concerned, but what did he care? He was fighting for Terrie, Serenity and himself (and Ianto, to an extent), and that was reason enough to attack someone like him.
What the hell. He was going to take his chances.
...
Brad figured they would. Terrie was a smart girl, she wouldn't do anything stupid while she was back there. And Serenity... well, she really wasn't in the condition to do anything other than lay down and rest, so what was she going to do? Seemed kinda pointless for Brad to be worrying about their safety... unless he himself got killed while he was outside, then they'd really be in trouble. What were the chances of anything bad happening to him anyway? Pretty good, but Brad saw it completely differently. The way he saw it, there was no reason to fret. He had come this far, survived longer that - what, fifty other people? His chances looked very good when in truth they weren't at all.
But that's not something he should be worrying about. What he SHOULD be worrying about is chasing away whoever the hell was out there. Who was that anyway? He didn't even get a chance to get a good look at the bastard before he duck back into the kitchen with Serenity in tow. Maybe he was being too foolish in going out of the kitchen althogether, and it was certainly too late for him to go back. He was walking down the lunch line and there was no way in hell that he was going to turn back.
Course, when he reached the end of the line... he happened to see someone slide across the floor and duck under one of the tables.
"... what the fuck was that?"
Brad seemed confused. Was that the killer that was taking potshots at us? I don't doubt it, but I just can't go assuming that. There really wasn't any time to vertify his suspicions and, taking a huge chance, slowly slides his body out of the opening to the lunchline, trying his best not to make any unwanted noise. C'mon Brad... don't get so scared. alright? If you sneak up on the bastard, maybe you can get that gun out of his hands. Yeah... that would be perfect. Simple and easy.
Then, of course, the figure had to roll onto the other side of the table.
Oy vey... why the hell does EVERYTHING have to change midway? Just to annoy me? Man, everyone just wants to piss me off, huh?
...
Ehh. What the hell? What have I got to lose? My life? Yeah...
Without any foresight (which may or may not have been a good thing), Brad ran full force toward the table and leapt like a tiger over the counter, aimed right for the figure... which looked alot like Bobby Jacks? Damn it, this was perfect. The bastard killed three people, he kinda deserved someone like Brad tackling him to the ground and beating the everloving shit out of him. Yep. That was the plan. Bobby might've been a boxer, and he (Brad) might be a complete beginner as far as fighting is concerned, but what did he care? He was fighting for Terrie, Serenity and himself (and Ianto, to an extent), and that was reason enough to attack someone like him.
What the hell. He was going to take his chances.
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It felt hard to breath.
Ianto wasn't too sure just why, but in these moments it went like this horrible pressure was pushing down on his chest that he just couldn't get any relief from. Then again it wasn't like in his years of life he had been in something like this, a damn gun fight of all things; this wasn't anything he had ever dreamed of getting involved in. Shooting at someone who had already shot someone and was apparently interested in trying to hurt his friends, finding himself trying to breathe as he clenched the rifle in his hands and listened for any movement of where the other guy had vanished behind after he had fired. Trying to bring some calm to his body and mind, trying to get everything together so he'd be able to actually do something.
But before he had much of a chance to do anything he heard the familiar crackle of the intercom system starting up over the howling wind of the apparent oncoming storm, swallowing and listening—not to sure or not if the lack of deaths compared to the days before was a good or bad thing. Listening though and thankful that the area like the last didn't become a danger zone, though at the same time maybe that could have been used to their advantage to drive this shooter away that he still wasn't even sure just who it was. Once again though, nature seemed against him as it began to rain, shaking his head and almost smirking at how movie-ish this was starting to become.
Expect lives were on the line, and at the end of the day it wasn't like they were going to be leaving the set all laughing and chuckling about it between one another. Shaking his head of the thoughts though he sifted where he stood to glance out beyond the heavy rain and trees and try and spot any movement from the person he currently found himself faced off against. Though instead of spotting small amounts of movements, he instead witnessed the figure leaping out from where he had been hiding and making a mad dash toward the mess hall's open doorway. Cursing lightly as he rose his rifle and fried off another shot, though managed to weakly witness the bullet lodge into the floor of the mess hall instead of in the actual person.
Tisking he moved back against the tree because now he needed to get close to the mess hall without having his head blown off, breathing lightly he glanced toward his left at the underbrush that to his side. Frowning at the thought of trying to move through that, but he breathed in and pushed off and away from his spot and figured at this point with him having the front it would probably be best to try and locate another way into the mess hall.
Ianto wasn't too sure just why, but in these moments it went like this horrible pressure was pushing down on his chest that he just couldn't get any relief from. Then again it wasn't like in his years of life he had been in something like this, a damn gun fight of all things; this wasn't anything he had ever dreamed of getting involved in. Shooting at someone who had already shot someone and was apparently interested in trying to hurt his friends, finding himself trying to breathe as he clenched the rifle in his hands and listened for any movement of where the other guy had vanished behind after he had fired. Trying to bring some calm to his body and mind, trying to get everything together so he'd be able to actually do something.
But before he had much of a chance to do anything he heard the familiar crackle of the intercom system starting up over the howling wind of the apparent oncoming storm, swallowing and listening—not to sure or not if the lack of deaths compared to the days before was a good or bad thing. Listening though and thankful that the area like the last didn't become a danger zone, though at the same time maybe that could have been used to their advantage to drive this shooter away that he still wasn't even sure just who it was. Once again though, nature seemed against him as it began to rain, shaking his head and almost smirking at how movie-ish this was starting to become.
Expect lives were on the line, and at the end of the day it wasn't like they were going to be leaving the set all laughing and chuckling about it between one another. Shaking his head of the thoughts though he sifted where he stood to glance out beyond the heavy rain and trees and try and spot any movement from the person he currently found himself faced off against. Though instead of spotting small amounts of movements, he instead witnessed the figure leaping out from where he had been hiding and making a mad dash toward the mess hall's open doorway. Cursing lightly as he rose his rifle and fried off another shot, though managed to weakly witness the bullet lodge into the floor of the mess hall instead of in the actual person.
Tisking he moved back against the tree because now he needed to get close to the mess hall without having his head blown off, breathing lightly he glanced toward his left at the underbrush that to his side. Frowning at the thought of trying to move through that, but he breathed in and pushed off and away from his spot and figured at this point with him having the front it would probably be best to try and locate another way into the mess hall.
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Prepared though he was for an attack, Bobby didn't expect to be set upon quite as quickly as he had been. It was an unfortunate coincidence, because he knew there was no way the guy could have been waiting for him - he'd moved too quickly for that. Still... sometimes your luck was in, and sometimes it wasn't. Quale could have easily have shot him in the head rather than his protected torso, it just hadn't happened like that.
The guy leaping towards him wasn't somebody Bobby recognised, but that was hardly a remarkable distinction. His own, somewhat antisocial school life was responsible for that. However, Bobby didn't have much benefit in anonymity. For one thing, plenty enough people would have seen him around campus, and with his name being on three of the last four announcements, he would be somebody that stuck in your mind. More importantly though, he did lay claim to something of a local celebrity status. It wasn't as if boxing was huge in Highland beach, but when a guy Bobby's age was having professional fights, people sat up and took notice.
Rather fortuitously, Bobby had been on guard as he entered the room, and had immediately started looking around to check if he was in any immediate danger. Brad lunging towards him qualified. Although the attack was far too quick to be readily dodged, Bobby knew he could quite easily get in a pre-emptive strike of his own. The boxer was a little wary of the sword his attacker was holding, but it looked altogether too slender to be an effective weapon, at least in the hands of somebody not well-versed in its use.
From his crouched position, Bobby rose up, using his legs to give the motion some extra propulsion rather than just standing. As he moved, he shifted his grip on the armalon slightly, swinging around to aim a clubbing blow – utilising the stock of the weapon, squarely at Brad's jaw. There would be little his oncoming peer could do to counter the attack, since he was already jumping towards Bobby. Of course, he would take an impact too – he doubted he could change Brad's momentum in midair, but the bite would be taken out of the attempted tackle.
Even as he threw the blow though, Bobby couldn't help but wonder to himself. There was no way Brad could have dodged out of the way, his armalon was loaded, why the hell hadn't he just shot him? A simple pull of the trigger, bang, one less kid running around the island to worry about. He'd said time and time again that he had no qualms about killing... but was that really true? When it came right down to it, was Bobby Jacks a cold blooded murderer?
What are you, stupid? Bobby thought to himself cynically. I've killed three people, and I'm somehow wondering if I'm not a killer? But... urgh. A momentary lapse. If I get a chance like this again, he's dead, anybody whom the cross-hairs happen to fall upon... dead.
...
I'm all kinds of fucked up.
The guy leaping towards him wasn't somebody Bobby recognised, but that was hardly a remarkable distinction. His own, somewhat antisocial school life was responsible for that. However, Bobby didn't have much benefit in anonymity. For one thing, plenty enough people would have seen him around campus, and with his name being on three of the last four announcements, he would be somebody that stuck in your mind. More importantly though, he did lay claim to something of a local celebrity status. It wasn't as if boxing was huge in Highland beach, but when a guy Bobby's age was having professional fights, people sat up and took notice.
Rather fortuitously, Bobby had been on guard as he entered the room, and had immediately started looking around to check if he was in any immediate danger. Brad lunging towards him qualified. Although the attack was far too quick to be readily dodged, Bobby knew he could quite easily get in a pre-emptive strike of his own. The boxer was a little wary of the sword his attacker was holding, but it looked altogether too slender to be an effective weapon, at least in the hands of somebody not well-versed in its use.
From his crouched position, Bobby rose up, using his legs to give the motion some extra propulsion rather than just standing. As he moved, he shifted his grip on the armalon slightly, swinging around to aim a clubbing blow – utilising the stock of the weapon, squarely at Brad's jaw. There would be little his oncoming peer could do to counter the attack, since he was already jumping towards Bobby. Of course, he would take an impact too – he doubted he could change Brad's momentum in midair, but the bite would be taken out of the attempted tackle.
Even as he threw the blow though, Bobby couldn't help but wonder to himself. There was no way Brad could have dodged out of the way, his armalon was loaded, why the hell hadn't he just shot him? A simple pull of the trigger, bang, one less kid running around the island to worry about. He'd said time and time again that he had no qualms about killing... but was that really true? When it came right down to it, was Bobby Jacks a cold blooded murderer?
What are you, stupid? Bobby thought to himself cynically. I've killed three people, and I'm somehow wondering if I'm not a killer? But... urgh. A momentary lapse. If I get a chance like this again, he's dead, anybody whom the cross-hairs happen to fall upon... dead.
...
I'm all kinds of fucked up.
(Won't be around this week to post, so I thought it might be best if I continue the fight anyway.)
Brad was an overall lucky bastard. First of all, Bobby had a gun and if the barrel of that thing had been pointed at Brad's head then the fight would be over much quicker than he wanted it to. Second, if this guy really was Bobby Jacks then Brad was liable to get pummeled, but Brad's attack overall was sudden and unavoidable. Lastly, the swing that Bobby sent using his armalon didn't hit Brad squarely in the jaw but just along the bridge. Sure, it hurt like a bitch but if it really did hit higher then Brad would have been knocked out before he collided. Lucky indeed. Very lucky.
He knew exactly what needed to be done. The gun, whatever that thing was, had to be taken care of first. If it wasn't, then there was a fairly good chance that it was going to be used against him and that was the last thing he wanted. And while Brad really wished Ianto could just teleport into the room and headshot the fucker, he kinda knew deep down that no one was going to come in and take down his opponent. Unless divine intervention occurred, but if that shit actually worked then it would have happened several days ago when all of this started. Divine intervention did not work, in fact, God was probably enjoying Brad's suffering.
Back to the matter at hand. This guy's gotta go down. He's playing this fucking game.
Funny. While Bobby looked the type to be a cold-blooded killer, Brad never imagined him being the sort who'd attack another (unless in a boxing ring, obviously). The both of them weren't exactly best pals, but Brad knew the name Bobby Jacks. He knew it just as well as anyone else on this godforsaken island. Bobby had killed quite a few people. He wasn't friendly and Brad couldn't let his guard down for one second. Not one.
Without muttering a single word (a pain-filled groan was not considered a word sadly), Brad brought Bobby down to the ground. As soon as they both collapsed against the ground Brad set to work, wrapping both of his arms around the gun with one of his hands wrapping around the trigger (as if this was going to prevent Bobby from using it). Shifting his weight onto the boxer Brad forced his hands up in an attempt to wrench the whole rifle out of Bobby's hands entirely. Brad didn't think he needed to attack so quickly: after all, if he did somehow manage to grab a hold of the gun by pure chance, then there wouldn't be much of a point in continuing the fight. Brad would have already one. However, he was going to make damn sure that his guard was still as high as can be if Bobby were to attack him suddenly.
Brad was an overall lucky bastard. First of all, Bobby had a gun and if the barrel of that thing had been pointed at Brad's head then the fight would be over much quicker than he wanted it to. Second, if this guy really was Bobby Jacks then Brad was liable to get pummeled, but Brad's attack overall was sudden and unavoidable. Lastly, the swing that Bobby sent using his armalon didn't hit Brad squarely in the jaw but just along the bridge. Sure, it hurt like a bitch but if it really did hit higher then Brad would have been knocked out before he collided. Lucky indeed. Very lucky.
He knew exactly what needed to be done. The gun, whatever that thing was, had to be taken care of first. If it wasn't, then there was a fairly good chance that it was going to be used against him and that was the last thing he wanted. And while Brad really wished Ianto could just teleport into the room and headshot the fucker, he kinda knew deep down that no one was going to come in and take down his opponent. Unless divine intervention occurred, but if that shit actually worked then it would have happened several days ago when all of this started. Divine intervention did not work, in fact, God was probably enjoying Brad's suffering.
Back to the matter at hand. This guy's gotta go down. He's playing this fucking game.
Funny. While Bobby looked the type to be a cold-blooded killer, Brad never imagined him being the sort who'd attack another (unless in a boxing ring, obviously). The both of them weren't exactly best pals, but Brad knew the name Bobby Jacks. He knew it just as well as anyone else on this godforsaken island. Bobby had killed quite a few people. He wasn't friendly and Brad couldn't let his guard down for one second. Not one.
Without muttering a single word (a pain-filled groan was not considered a word sadly), Brad brought Bobby down to the ground. As soon as they both collapsed against the ground Brad set to work, wrapping both of his arms around the gun with one of his hands wrapping around the trigger (as if this was going to prevent Bobby from using it). Shifting his weight onto the boxer Brad forced his hands up in an attempt to wrench the whole rifle out of Bobby's hands entirely. Brad didn't think he needed to attack so quickly: after all, if he did somehow manage to grab a hold of the gun by pure chance, then there wouldn't be much of a point in continuing the fight. Brad would have already one. However, he was going to make damn sure that his guard was still as high as can be if Bobby were to attack him suddenly.
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The attack didn't quite connect properly, but it had been a good hit. Still, as Bobby had anticipated, Brad's momentum carried him forward and was enough to knock him clean off his feet. However, unfortunately for Brad, Bobby had been pretty much counting on this. Rather than bracing himslef against the blow, Bobby moved with it. Of course, he still absorbed some of the impact, but a lot of the force was converted to movement as Bobby rolled straight through the tackle, reversing the situation abruptly.
He had to finish this up quickly. The gunman outside (who had taken a second potshot at Bobby even as he entered the mess) was probably already on his way, and Bobby had no way of knowing whether there were any others in the building than Brad. Cynic that he was, Bobby was predicting a worse case scenario and attempting to formulate some means of getting out of it. First and foremost in any kind of plan was, of course, getting rid of Brad.
The quickest way, would obviously be via use of the gun.
Bobby would have to time his attack well. While he still had some sort of possession over the weapon's trigger, Brad was holding onto the weapon too. Although Bobby was pretty sure he was stronger than his opponent, any kind of pressure, tugging the armalon one way or the other, would be enough to throw off his aim. Thinking carefully, Bobby simultaneously pushed the muzzle of the carbine towards Brad, an action which would be made easier by his own pull, whilst hauling the stock end towards himself. The effect would be to bring the gun's muzzle to bear on Brad, but it wouldn't work if it wasn't done quickly, since brad would quickly cotton on to what was happening.
I'd ask you to forgive me if I thought I deserved it.
Bobby pulled the trigger, both hoping for and dreading the success of his attack.
He had to finish this up quickly. The gunman outside (who had taken a second potshot at Bobby even as he entered the mess) was probably already on his way, and Bobby had no way of knowing whether there were any others in the building than Brad. Cynic that he was, Bobby was predicting a worse case scenario and attempting to formulate some means of getting out of it. First and foremost in any kind of plan was, of course, getting rid of Brad.
The quickest way, would obviously be via use of the gun.
Bobby would have to time his attack well. While he still had some sort of possession over the weapon's trigger, Brad was holding onto the weapon too. Although Bobby was pretty sure he was stronger than his opponent, any kind of pressure, tugging the armalon one way or the other, would be enough to throw off his aim. Thinking carefully, Bobby simultaneously pushed the muzzle of the carbine towards Brad, an action which would be made easier by his own pull, whilst hauling the stock end towards himself. The effect would be to bring the gun's muzzle to bear on Brad, but it wouldn't work if it wasn't done quickly, since brad would quickly cotton on to what was happening.
I'd ask you to forgive me if I thought I deserved it.
Bobby pulled the trigger, both hoping for and dreading the success of his attack.
Wait, no! This isn't how this is supposed to end! This guy can't-
Brad couldn't even begin to stop the onslaught that was brewing from the muzzle, and even if he knew what to do it was way too late. The bullet that came from the muzzle seemed to go right through Brad's head as though it were made of jelly. A small dent was made in his forehead, and while the pain from such a devastating blow was literally ripping his whole body in half, his suffering couldn't have been even quicker. A second after the bullet went through one end of his head and out the other, Brad whole body became numb... and his whole world turned to white, right before his eyes.
...
No...
Inside his mind, he could feel a shred of relief. He was... content. His time on the island was finally over. His death had been quick, so quick that he didn't see it coming. And he went out being a hero. When he thought about it at that moment, Brad was proud that he died so he could save others. It was exactly how he intended to go out, after all...
But, deep inside, he knew that his death had been empty. Bobby was still free, or at least free enough to walk into the kitchen and kill...
and kill...
and kill...
and kill.
While Brad felt like he was a hero, the contrary was true. He was no hero at all... in fact, his death had been a pitiful way to go out. The heroes of the story, Adam Dood, Paul Smith, Keith Jackson, all of those types would have fought and scratched their way out of the tight bind. They would have taken down Bobby with a little amount of fuss... but Brad, oh no, Brad wasn't like those. A few months in jail did not change Brad in the slightest, and while he was a smart kid at heart, he was still hesitant to hurt others. Very hesitant. And that was his mistake all along. He was a weakling. A fucking weakling. A nerd through and through.
And Victoria...
He could feel the noose tightening around her neck.
He had failed her. He had failed everyone who had been counting on him, and all he got out of his troubles was a bulletmark in his head. Very sad.
With all his might... Brad moved his head towards his side, looking out of the door.
He could see Ianto... or, at least he thought he saw him. It could have just been a mirage for all he knew. After all, a sharp piece of metal had just been shot into his head.
Brad smiled as much as he could, as though he wanted to say "Oh, thank god you're here. Terrie and Serenity are waiting for you. Go help them... they're all alone. I've done all I can...". However, what came out of Brad's mouth was completely different. It was an apology, sent towards no one in particular. To all of the people, all of his friends, his family who were brave enough to watch. And to Victoria, whom would have been the most heartbroken by his tragic death, and he had her image in her mind. Most of all... he was apologizing to Terrie, Serenity, Ianto and all the rest, because they were the ones he was fighting for all this time. Never had he even put himself before anyone else while playing the game.
And that was when Brad Kavanagh, Male Student no. 14, felt a cold rush run through his body and fell limp.
MALE STUDENT NO. 14 - BRAD KAVANAGH - DECEASED
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If Brad hadn't changed during the course of the five days he had been on the island, he probably would have taken the bullet to the head and died silently. However, the thing that Bobby didn't realize was that Brad was a much tougher fucker than the Brad Kavanagh from Highland Beach. These two Brads were completely different from each other. This Brad, it seemed, didn't like the fact that there was a gun currently pointed out at the center of his head and showed his dissatisfaction with a loud snarl.
"Go to hell!"
With the strength that he himself never knew he had, Brad forced the muzzle away from his head just in time to send the bullet flying in a completely different direction. It hit one of the walls where Brad had figured that were centered around the kitchen, but didn't even contemplate whether Terrie or Serenity were alright. Instead, like a wild animal, Brad went on the offensive so quickly that no one (Bobby included) would see it coming.
Forcefully, Brad brought his knee up into the air and sent it right back down aimed right in between his legs. Before the enemy could make heads or tails of what exactly was happening, Brad pulled his head back and sent right for Bobby's forehead. Both of his arms were still clamped down onto the gun tightly in a desperate attempt to wrench it away.
Brad couldn't even begin to stop the onslaught that was brewing from the muzzle, and even if he knew what to do it was way too late. The bullet that came from the muzzle seemed to go right through Brad's head as though it were made of jelly. A small dent was made in his forehead, and while the pain from such a devastating blow was literally ripping his whole body in half, his suffering couldn't have been even quicker. A second after the bullet went through one end of his head and out the other, Brad whole body became numb... and his whole world turned to white, right before his eyes.
...
No...
Inside his mind, he could feel a shred of relief. He was... content. His time on the island was finally over. His death had been quick, so quick that he didn't see it coming. And he went out being a hero. When he thought about it at that moment, Brad was proud that he died so he could save others. It was exactly how he intended to go out, after all...
But, deep inside, he knew that his death had been empty. Bobby was still free, or at least free enough to walk into the kitchen and kill...
and kill...
and kill...
and kill.
While Brad felt like he was a hero, the contrary was true. He was no hero at all... in fact, his death had been a pitiful way to go out. The heroes of the story, Adam Dood, Paul Smith, Keith Jackson, all of those types would have fought and scratched their way out of the tight bind. They would have taken down Bobby with a little amount of fuss... but Brad, oh no, Brad wasn't like those. A few months in jail did not change Brad in the slightest, and while he was a smart kid at heart, he was still hesitant to hurt others. Very hesitant. And that was his mistake all along. He was a weakling. A fucking weakling. A nerd through and through.
And Victoria...
He could feel the noose tightening around her neck.
He had failed her. He had failed everyone who had been counting on him, and all he got out of his troubles was a bulletmark in his head. Very sad.
With all his might... Brad moved his head towards his side, looking out of the door.
He could see Ianto... or, at least he thought he saw him. It could have just been a mirage for all he knew. After all, a sharp piece of metal had just been shot into his head.
Brad smiled as much as he could, as though he wanted to say "Oh, thank god you're here. Terrie and Serenity are waiting for you. Go help them... they're all alone. I've done all I can...". However, what came out of Brad's mouth was completely different. It was an apology, sent towards no one in particular. To all of the people, all of his friends, his family who were brave enough to watch. And to Victoria, whom would have been the most heartbroken by his tragic death, and he had her image in her mind. Most of all... he was apologizing to Terrie, Serenity, Ianto and all the rest, because they were the ones he was fighting for all this time. Never had he even put himself before anyone else while playing the game.
And that was when Brad Kavanagh, Male Student no. 14, felt a cold rush run through his body and fell limp.
MALE STUDENT NO. 14 - BRAD KAVANAGH - DECEASED
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If Brad hadn't changed during the course of the five days he had been on the island, he probably would have taken the bullet to the head and died silently. However, the thing that Bobby didn't realize was that Brad was a much tougher fucker than the Brad Kavanagh from Highland Beach. These two Brads were completely different from each other. This Brad, it seemed, didn't like the fact that there was a gun currently pointed out at the center of his head and showed his dissatisfaction with a loud snarl.
"Go to hell!"
With the strength that he himself never knew he had, Brad forced the muzzle away from his head just in time to send the bullet flying in a completely different direction. It hit one of the walls where Brad had figured that were centered around the kitchen, but didn't even contemplate whether Terrie or Serenity were alright. Instead, like a wild animal, Brad went on the offensive so quickly that no one (Bobby included) would see it coming.
Forcefully, Brad brought his knee up into the air and sent it right back down aimed right in between his legs. Before the enemy could make heads or tails of what exactly was happening, Brad pulled his head back and sent right for Bobby's forehead. Both of his arms were still clamped down onto the gun tightly in a desperate attempt to wrench it away.
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((SLight GM - picking Brad up, was run by Ci))
Dammit!
Brad had managed to wrest the armalon around to the point where the bullet didn't even come close to hitting him, which was frustrating. Bobby had been gifted a chance to end it all in one fell swoop and had managed to screw it up. In fact, if he'd just pulled the trigger earlier he wouldn't even be in this mess. It was unlikely he would now get sufficient room – and time to work the bolt of the carbine and chamber another round. It looked as though he would have to do this the old fashioned way...
Bobby knew that he lacked much grappling ability, so getting up off the ground was imperative. He was just starting to stand from his straddling position when Brad jerked his knee up in attack. Fortunately for the most sensitive part of Bobby's anatomy, his own movement meant the knee only glanced off his thigh. At a vertical base again, the boxer once again tried to regain possession of his weapon, hauling on it with all of strength. Brad clung on with such tenacity though, that all Bobby succeeded in doing was pulling him up onto his feet too!
This guy is determined, but who wouldn't be if they were fighting for their life? ... What the fuck am I doing? Grasping for every next second of life I get, why do I have to keep on playing? I could sit back and take everything as it's presented to me, I could be passive I could... no. This is the path I've chosen, I can't dive off it. There's no junction. But... there should be.
Caught up in thinking, Bobby only just caught the signs of an attack. Brad was drawing his head back – that could mean just about one thing in a fight. There wasn't much Bobby could do but... Smiling grimly, Bobby mimicked the movement, and thrust his own head forward, directing the blow at Brad's nose. The forehead was one of the hardest parts of the body, all that would achieve would be to dizzy the both of them
Crunch time.
Dammit!
Brad had managed to wrest the armalon around to the point where the bullet didn't even come close to hitting him, which was frustrating. Bobby had been gifted a chance to end it all in one fell swoop and had managed to screw it up. In fact, if he'd just pulled the trigger earlier he wouldn't even be in this mess. It was unlikely he would now get sufficient room – and time to work the bolt of the carbine and chamber another round. It looked as though he would have to do this the old fashioned way...
Bobby knew that he lacked much grappling ability, so getting up off the ground was imperative. He was just starting to stand from his straddling position when Brad jerked his knee up in attack. Fortunately for the most sensitive part of Bobby's anatomy, his own movement meant the knee only glanced off his thigh. At a vertical base again, the boxer once again tried to regain possession of his weapon, hauling on it with all of strength. Brad clung on with such tenacity though, that all Bobby succeeded in doing was pulling him up onto his feet too!
This guy is determined, but who wouldn't be if they were fighting for their life? ... What the fuck am I doing? Grasping for every next second of life I get, why do I have to keep on playing? I could sit back and take everything as it's presented to me, I could be passive I could... no. This is the path I've chosen, I can't dive off it. There's no junction. But... there should be.
Caught up in thinking, Bobby only just caught the signs of an attack. Brad was drawing his head back – that could mean just about one thing in a fight. There wasn't much Bobby could do but... Smiling grimly, Bobby mimicked the movement, and thrust his own head forward, directing the blow at Brad's nose. The forehead was one of the hardest parts of the body, all that would achieve would be to dizzy the both of them
Crunch time.
A quiet thunk echoed off the wall as Serenity's head impacted lightly against it. The noise barely caught Terrie's attention though. Instead, she was focused on the ongoing fight outside. A sole gunshot rang out from a large distance away, indicating that either the shooter was still standing in the doorway or someone else had joined the party. She silently prayed the calvalry had come, but given their luck during the past few days, it was probably another killer.
The silence that followed could mean one of two things. The shot had missed, or whoever the gunman's intended target was was now dead. Terrie couldn't see anything from her current vantage point, and she didn't dare come out of the kitchen for fear that she might give away her position. She was starting to worry about Brad. Taking a sword into a gunfight was practically suicide.
Before their current situation could fully register in her mind, though, Serenity's voice broke the silence, causing Terrie to turn around and look at the injured cheerleader. The sound of gravity and seriousness in Serenity's voice made Terrie more than a little nervous as she started talking, and even before Serenity could finish explaining the "favor" she wanted from Terrie, a feeling of nausea had started to well up in the pit of her stomach.
And then Serenity said it, and the words seemed to hit her like a ton of bricks.
'I want you to shoot me.'
It was something that sounded so simple, at least in theory. Point, click. But... this was Serenity Halos, co-captain of the cheerleading squad. One of the most popular girls in school. Most importantly, this was one of the three people that Terrie had been travelling with for the majority of her time on the island. Terrie's line of vision fell on Serenity, and she couldn't help but look at the other girl in sheer disbelief.
Terrie was about to adamantly refuse, but before she could get a word in edgewise, Serenity continued. Tears were pouring from the other girl's eyes as she spoke, and Terrie could feel those tears begin to form in the corners of her own eyes as well. She knew that Serenity was in pain... it was a blatantly obvious fact to anyone who could see her. Still, all this time, Terrie had been holding on to some sort of hope that they would be saved and Serenity's wounds could be treated.
Serenity continued on and on, begging and pleading with Terrie to kill her. The more Serenity begged, the more guilty Terrie felt. She wasn't thinking about herself. She was thinking about Terrie's safety, and about Ianto's and Brad's. Of course, Serenity was absolutely right. Continuing to haul her around the island with them would only prolong her inevitable death and quite possibly give rise to their own.
That didn't make it any easier to oblige Serenity's request.
"Serenity..." Terrie whispered quietly, tears forcing their way down her cheeks.
As much as Terrie wanted to refuse, she couldn't bring herself to tell Serenity no. There was something about refusing the request of someone in so much anguish that didn't set well with Terrie. Still... she couldn't bring herself to kill Serenity, no matter how much the other girl begged and pleaded with her to do it. Why couldn't she just hang on a little longer? This game had gone on for three years now, surely they'd be rescued this time... Serenity just needed to hold on.
'It's the right thing to do...'
Terrie felt sick. She just kept begging and pleading... crying for a release from the sheer amount of pain her body was in. In a way, killing her seemed like the right thing to do. Still, it was such a burden, and even the thought of turning her gun on her friend dropped a heavy weight on her shoulders. With her gun, she had the power to chose whether Serenity would live or die... and it was a power Terrie wished she had never had.
"Serenity, I can't..." Terrie uttered quietly, her hands shaking violently as she spoke, "You just have to hang on... just a little bit longer. Someone'll come for us, I know they will... and then they can make you better. But... you can't die... and I can't... I just can't..."
Just hang on, Serenity. Please, please just hang on.
The silence that followed could mean one of two things. The shot had missed, or whoever the gunman's intended target was was now dead. Terrie couldn't see anything from her current vantage point, and she didn't dare come out of the kitchen for fear that she might give away her position. She was starting to worry about Brad. Taking a sword into a gunfight was practically suicide.
Before their current situation could fully register in her mind, though, Serenity's voice broke the silence, causing Terrie to turn around and look at the injured cheerleader. The sound of gravity and seriousness in Serenity's voice made Terrie more than a little nervous as she started talking, and even before Serenity could finish explaining the "favor" she wanted from Terrie, a feeling of nausea had started to well up in the pit of her stomach.
And then Serenity said it, and the words seemed to hit her like a ton of bricks.
'I want you to shoot me.'
It was something that sounded so simple, at least in theory. Point, click. But... this was Serenity Halos, co-captain of the cheerleading squad. One of the most popular girls in school. Most importantly, this was one of the three people that Terrie had been travelling with for the majority of her time on the island. Terrie's line of vision fell on Serenity, and she couldn't help but look at the other girl in sheer disbelief.
Terrie was about to adamantly refuse, but before she could get a word in edgewise, Serenity continued. Tears were pouring from the other girl's eyes as she spoke, and Terrie could feel those tears begin to form in the corners of her own eyes as well. She knew that Serenity was in pain... it was a blatantly obvious fact to anyone who could see her. Still, all this time, Terrie had been holding on to some sort of hope that they would be saved and Serenity's wounds could be treated.
Serenity continued on and on, begging and pleading with Terrie to kill her. The more Serenity begged, the more guilty Terrie felt. She wasn't thinking about herself. She was thinking about Terrie's safety, and about Ianto's and Brad's. Of course, Serenity was absolutely right. Continuing to haul her around the island with them would only prolong her inevitable death and quite possibly give rise to their own.
That didn't make it any easier to oblige Serenity's request.
"Serenity..." Terrie whispered quietly, tears forcing their way down her cheeks.
As much as Terrie wanted to refuse, she couldn't bring herself to tell Serenity no. There was something about refusing the request of someone in so much anguish that didn't set well with Terrie. Still... she couldn't bring herself to kill Serenity, no matter how much the other girl begged and pleaded with her to do it. Why couldn't she just hang on a little longer? This game had gone on for three years now, surely they'd be rescued this time... Serenity just needed to hold on.
'It's the right thing to do...'
Terrie felt sick. She just kept begging and pleading... crying for a release from the sheer amount of pain her body was in. In a way, killing her seemed like the right thing to do. Still, it was such a burden, and even the thought of turning her gun on her friend dropped a heavy weight on her shoulders. With her gun, she had the power to chose whether Serenity would live or die... and it was a power Terrie wished she had never had.
"Serenity, I can't..." Terrie uttered quietly, her hands shaking violently as she spoke, "You just have to hang on... just a little bit longer. Someone'll come for us, I know they will... and then they can make you better. But... you can't die... and I can't... I just can't..."
Just hang on, Serenity. Please, please just hang on.
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Brad was nearly knocked off his feet by the blow to his nose. Frankly, he didn't see the hit coming at all but if he had he would have jumped out of the way. He would have dodged the blow if he could have, but he was just too damn headstrong. Brad had thought again and again that he would never feel anything more painful than getting hit by a bullet, but that was before Bobby decided to headbutt the fucking hell out of Brad's nose. Oh... Brad had no idea what pain was.
He screamed loudly, as though Bobby had just stabbed him in the gut.
"SHIT!" he squealed, reeling away from Bobby and letting go completely of the gun, clenching his bloodied nose in pain. He let out a loud sob, tears starting to fill in his eyes as the pain shocked through his face. He grit his teeth, letting his hands leave his nose and another shock of pain coursed through his nose. Hell, his nose not only felt like it was bent outright, it felt completely broken inwards. Finding it very difficult to breathe, he choked back another loud sob and tried to push the pain into the back of his head. That was when he realized.
He had let go of the gun.
But he didn't care. Brad was fucking pissed off, and he didn't give a shit about any fucking guns.
"YOU FUCKING CUNT!" Brad growled loudly, lunging forward without any reason, without any other purpose other than full-blown anger and vengance. Like a ram, Brad slammed his whole body against Bobby with his elbow outstretched, his head heading straight for Bobby's adam apple. Blood was dripping from his nose, his whole body staggering forward... but at this point, he couldn't run away. He couldn't run away. He had to fight. He had to take this sick fuck down, or who else would?
He screamed loudly, as though Bobby had just stabbed him in the gut.
"SHIT!" he squealed, reeling away from Bobby and letting go completely of the gun, clenching his bloodied nose in pain. He let out a loud sob, tears starting to fill in his eyes as the pain shocked through his face. He grit his teeth, letting his hands leave his nose and another shock of pain coursed through his nose. Hell, his nose not only felt like it was bent outright, it felt completely broken inwards. Finding it very difficult to breathe, he choked back another loud sob and tried to push the pain into the back of his head. That was when he realized.
He had let go of the gun.
But he didn't care. Brad was fucking pissed off, and he didn't give a shit about any fucking guns.
"YOU FUCKING CUNT!" Brad growled loudly, lunging forward without any reason, without any other purpose other than full-blown anger and vengance. Like a ram, Brad slammed his whole body against Bobby with his elbow outstretched, his head heading straight for Bobby's adam apple. Blood was dripping from his nose, his whole body staggering forward... but at this point, he couldn't run away. He couldn't run away. He had to fight. He had to take this sick fuck down, or who else would?
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Bobby staggered back a little from the impact, but from the sound of things, Brad had taken a worse hit than him. Glancing up, he grinned as he saw blood spurting from Brad's nose. Skull trumps face. Brad had attempted to use that tactic, but... it hadn't quite gone to plan. Now that Brad was hurt, Bobby had the advantage. Looking at his injured opponent, Bobby realised something very important. Brad's hands were to his face, which meant...
Lock and load.
The boxer swiftly chambered the next round in the magazine, but before he could bring the weapon to bear, Brad was already charging towards him again. Bobby's eyes narrowed, and as Brad was about to hit him, he sharply brought his knee up, directly at Brad's head. Bobby was taller than Brad, and this would make raising his knee to the level of his opponent's head somewhat easier.
Been here longer than I thought... seems like its almost morning... I wonder if the rain will stop.
Lock and load.
The boxer swiftly chambered the next round in the magazine, but before he could bring the weapon to bear, Brad was already charging towards him again. Bobby's eyes narrowed, and as Brad was about to hit him, he sharply brought his knee up, directly at Brad's head. Bobby was taller than Brad, and this would make raising his knee to the level of his opponent's head somewhat easier.
Been here longer than I thought... seems like its almost morning... I wonder if the rain will stop.
Serenity smiled weakly at Terrie. It must have been painful, to have someone ask you such a thing. But... Serenity knew that if she allowed herself to live, she'd only end up getting these people, the people she'd been with for most of her time on this island that god had abandoned... she'd only get them killed like Kara and Kristen. She couldn't let that happened. She was dead weight. She was of no use. Her death... her death would only lead one step closer to the others' survival. That was the reason she had to die, right here, right now.
"Terrie..." She said calmly, "It's alright... it's all okay." Her warm smile graced the beautiful hispanic features. "I'm not afraid. No... I'm ready." She touched the other girl's face with her good hand.
"Listen to me. I need this from you. Terrie, you have a chance. You have to survive. It's all I ask. You, Brad, Ianto... Survive together. Live, and don't ever give in to the game... They're all here... everyone who's died. They're watching over us. Trying their best to protect us. Don't you see? I'll be here to protect you too!" She smiled. The tears stained her colorless cheeks. She touched the hand that held the gun.
"Do it... please... I don't want to get you all killed!" She closed her eyes. "Kara... Kristen... I got them killed. No more! This time... this time I decide." She looked into the other girl's eyes. "Kill me... I'm not afriad of death... I embrace it. You see... I need to die. It's the only way for you to escape."
'Where did I come from? Where will I go when I die? I suppose I'll soon find that out, won't I?'
"Kill me Terrie. Now. I'm ready to die."
"Terrie..." She said calmly, "It's alright... it's all okay." Her warm smile graced the beautiful hispanic features. "I'm not afraid. No... I'm ready." She touched the other girl's face with her good hand.
"Listen to me. I need this from you. Terrie, you have a chance. You have to survive. It's all I ask. You, Brad, Ianto... Survive together. Live, and don't ever give in to the game... They're all here... everyone who's died. They're watching over us. Trying their best to protect us. Don't you see? I'll be here to protect you too!" She smiled. The tears stained her colorless cheeks. She touched the hand that held the gun.
"Do it... please... I don't want to get you all killed!" She closed her eyes. "Kara... Kristen... I got them killed. No more! This time... this time I decide." She looked into the other girl's eyes. "Kill me... I'm not afriad of death... I embrace it. You see... I need to die. It's the only way for you to escape."
'Where did I come from? Where will I go when I die? I suppose I'll soon find that out, won't I?'
"Kill me Terrie. Now. I'm ready to die."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Mitsuko2. 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.
(Note: I got Clueless' permission to gm this hit, just so you guys know. I'm really braindead right now. x.x)
Brad brought his elbow into Bobby's chest, His body was exhausted, but certainly not enough to let the blow weaken. He had hit the boxer with all the energy that he had, which he would imagine would be very painful. Luckily for Brad the knee that had been raised up didn't hit him as hard as one would expect, and it only seemed to slightly daze him. Then again, after he hit Bobby his legs seemed to give away for a precious second and Brad stumbled back to regain his balance.
He knew this was a mistake, a very horrible mistake, but he had to stumble away. He couldn't stay close to Bobby the whole time. The next order of business: Find a place to duck. And luckily, there were a bunch of tables close by. Brad stumbled under the closest table he could get behind.
Brad brought his elbow into Bobby's chest, His body was exhausted, but certainly not enough to let the blow weaken. He had hit the boxer with all the energy that he had, which he would imagine would be very painful. Luckily for Brad the knee that had been raised up didn't hit him as hard as one would expect, and it only seemed to slightly daze him. Then again, after he hit Bobby his legs seemed to give away for a precious second and Brad stumbled back to regain his balance.
He knew this was a mistake, a very horrible mistake, but he had to stumble away. He couldn't stay close to Bobby the whole time. The next order of business: Find a place to duck. And luckily, there were a bunch of tables close by. Brad stumbled under the closest table he could get behind.
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Bobby had been planning to knock Brad back with his knee, so when his opponent kept on coming after the blow, he was entirely unprepared for the hit that he took. Brad, clearly, had thrown everything he had into the attack, and it badly rocked him, causing him to stumble back. Unfortunately, due to the wet puddle on the floor - the origin of which was the water which had been drenching Bobby, he slipped.
Fuck
His face went smashing into the corner of one of the mess tables, and immediately, all four of the cuts on his cheek re-opened in a spattering of blood.
Even through the sounds of the fighting, Bobby could hear talking from next door - two voices, meaning at least three other people he had to contend with than Brad. The little scrap was dragging on far too long for his liking. It wouldn't be much time before the cavalry arrived, in which case Bobby would be so screwed they would have to scrap him off the ground and cart off the remains in a bucket.
Bobby picked himself up off the ground, blood streaming from the wounds. He didn't flinch at the pain - he welcomed it. He had cut himself for a reason - some modicum of redemption. The pain was just a little sample of the penance he would go through. Stration... he had about paid for, the tattoo on his back had been a agonising experience.
It was time to leave, but first...
Bobby threw himself to the ground, bringing the carbine to his shoulder. Under the tables, he could about make out the shape of Brad.
"You'll have to forgive me, but it's about time I was leaving," Bobby fired and stood, not waiting to see if he had hit Brad.
Forgive me? I don't deserve understanding/
Bobby sprinted for the door, diving out of the building just as he had made his way in. Rolling to his feet, he sprinted off into the jungle.
((Continued in: Battle Of Epic Proportions))
Fuck
His face went smashing into the corner of one of the mess tables, and immediately, all four of the cuts on his cheek re-opened in a spattering of blood.
Even through the sounds of the fighting, Bobby could hear talking from next door - two voices, meaning at least three other people he had to contend with than Brad. The little scrap was dragging on far too long for his liking. It wouldn't be much time before the cavalry arrived, in which case Bobby would be so screwed they would have to scrap him off the ground and cart off the remains in a bucket.
Bobby picked himself up off the ground, blood streaming from the wounds. He didn't flinch at the pain - he welcomed it. He had cut himself for a reason - some modicum of redemption. The pain was just a little sample of the penance he would go through. Stration... he had about paid for, the tattoo on his back had been a agonising experience.
It was time to leave, but first...
Bobby threw himself to the ground, bringing the carbine to his shoulder. Under the tables, he could about make out the shape of Brad.
"You'll have to forgive me, but it's about time I was leaving," Bobby fired and stood, not waiting to see if he had hit Brad.
Forgive me? I don't deserve understanding/
Bobby sprinted for the door, diving out of the building just as he had made his way in. Rolling to his feet, he sprinted off into the jungle.
((Continued in: Battle Of Epic Proportions))
((Steve continued from Blood, Sweat, and Tears))
Gabe where are you? Dammit. Stupid stupid bastard. Wandering off for vengeance. You can't do that in this game. You take your vengeance when you can, not go looking for it.
Steve had broken into a near run for the last 20 minutes as he frantically searched through the forestation for his lost comrade. Bursting through the bushes, Steve reached another building, in time to see Bobby Jacks booking it out the front door. Steve didn't even bother to raise his gun since from the distance he was, the accuracy factor was not worth a round of his ammo.
Cautiously Steve made his way toward the building. He decided to circle once around the building, since a back door might be safer seeing how fast Bobby had booked it out of this place. Steve made his way to one side of the building, glancing cautiously through a window, all he could see was chairs, and tables. It looked like a cafeteria. Slumping down, Steve quickly opened his pack and pulled out his map. His map was showing this was indeed a mess hall. Stuffing the map back in bag, Steve raised himself back to a crouching position, and made his way to the rear of the building.
No dice at the rear of the building for a door. Continuing his path, Steve saw that there was another window to take a peek through. Steve pressed his back to the wall of building and glanced in. From the angle he had, he could see it was the mess hall kitchen, and a pair of feet.
Dammit, not another one.
Steve slouched under the window, and pressed his back to the wall on the other side to see if he could make out who the body on the ground was. When he glaned inside all Steve felt was weight.
"Serenity..." Steve gasped.
Serentity was there lying on the ground, but she wasn't dead. She looked terrible, but he could see her lips moving.
She's still alive.
Steve cranked his neck to more of an angle, and saw that Terrie Brightwell was in the room with Serenity with a gun.
"Fuck..."
Steve turned and ran to the front door of the building. As he made the turn to enter though, he could make out the shape of someone under a nearby table. Torn between leaving this possible threat and getting to Serenity, Steve realized he wouldn't be much good to Serenity if this guy shot him in the back as he made his way to the kitchen.
Turning his rifle to the table, Steve hollered, "Who the fuck are you?"
Gabe where are you? Dammit. Stupid stupid bastard. Wandering off for vengeance. You can't do that in this game. You take your vengeance when you can, not go looking for it.
Steve had broken into a near run for the last 20 minutes as he frantically searched through the forestation for his lost comrade. Bursting through the bushes, Steve reached another building, in time to see Bobby Jacks booking it out the front door. Steve didn't even bother to raise his gun since from the distance he was, the accuracy factor was not worth a round of his ammo.
Cautiously Steve made his way toward the building. He decided to circle once around the building, since a back door might be safer seeing how fast Bobby had booked it out of this place. Steve made his way to one side of the building, glancing cautiously through a window, all he could see was chairs, and tables. It looked like a cafeteria. Slumping down, Steve quickly opened his pack and pulled out his map. His map was showing this was indeed a mess hall. Stuffing the map back in bag, Steve raised himself back to a crouching position, and made his way to the rear of the building.
No dice at the rear of the building for a door. Continuing his path, Steve saw that there was another window to take a peek through. Steve pressed his back to the wall of building and glanced in. From the angle he had, he could see it was the mess hall kitchen, and a pair of feet.
Dammit, not another one.
Steve slouched under the window, and pressed his back to the wall on the other side to see if he could make out who the body on the ground was. When he glaned inside all Steve felt was weight.
"Serenity..." Steve gasped.
Serentity was there lying on the ground, but she wasn't dead. She looked terrible, but he could see her lips moving.
She's still alive.
Steve cranked his neck to more of an angle, and saw that Terrie Brightwell was in the room with Serenity with a gun.
"Fuck..."
Steve turned and ran to the front door of the building. As he made the turn to enter though, he could make out the shape of someone under a nearby table. Torn between leaving this possible threat and getting to Serenity, Steve realized he wouldn't be much good to Serenity if this guy shot him in the back as he made his way to the kitchen.
Turning his rifle to the table, Steve hollered, "Who the fuck are you?"
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.