Thin RED Line

[MK Kilmarnock]

((Cody Patton continued from Catus Carnival))

Sometimes in life, it became much harder to count your blessings and easier to see what you had lost.

Cody had just lost a close friend, an ex-girlfriend, and any sort of stability within his sister. These things were only what he had witnessed losing first-hand. The ubiquitous announcements, disembodied voices bearing bad news, told him so much more to have lost.

Adonis was dead.

Mike W. was dead.

Dave... Dave didn't last long.

Mark didn't make it.

Joey... didn't make it.

Didn't make it... didn't make it... didn't make it...

In the struggle to recall name after name of friends and acquaintances from sports teams that he had once played alongside in school, Cody traversed the island almost subliminally. Sights and sounds from the past few hours or even the past day were a blur, not mattering once they were out of the infinitely small amount of time that composed the present. His only constant in the world right now was Cooper, a hollow but honest replacement for Rose and Mike.

The previous day had been nothing but walking through the woods, trying to use the cover of the trees against the rain. It didn't seem to help; Cody had become soaked to the bone, and had to completely change his clothes from shirt to shoes. The wet clothes were all bundled together in a towel within his bag. Half of him was waiting for the opportunity at which point he could dry them all, but the other half of him wasn't sure if he cared. He didn't know if he cared to see the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that.

That was because this morning, the announcements had left an unpleasant surprise for him. When Rose's death had gone un-announced the previous morning Cody was confused. She was definitely gone; she stopped breathing practically under his nose. This morning brought the late confirmation that Rose was finally gone from this hell... but it brought with it another bit of news.

Mike Eastmund was dead, and the force of Cody swinging the rifle was what did him in. Cody was a murderer now, just like his sister. He wasn't entirely sure if that's what people meant by 'family resemblance.'

Cody began paying attention to the world around him a few hours after receiving the news, noticing that he and Cooper had come to some battered wooden docks. Judging from the gas pumps and the scale of things, they didn't exactly indicate the kind of place where somebody would come to fish or swim. These were practically commercial ship docks, the kind like his father would dock at in Alaska. To think he'd find another reminder of home or family in a place like this, aside from his sister or the greenhouse, was something that never before crossed Cody's mind.

It was enough to make him sit down and stare at the ocean for a while. Seemed just as good an activity as any.

[Grim Wolf]

(Tyler Lucas continued from Every Success Involves Insanity)

As morning turned into afternoon, Tyler stumbled north, panting.  His left arm was ringed in a crust of brackish dried blood, and hung limply by his side.  The slender-stocked SMG was braced against his right, and his rough back hung over his shoulder.

Golden rays poked their head through cloudy skies as he found an office building near the ocean.  He stumbled inside, and collapsed against a wall, simply breathing with his eyes closed for several minutes.  Then he rose, and started searching around.

He searched through desks, found paper clips, staplers, floppy disks.  In what looked like the manager's office, he found an old bottle of scotch in a bottom drawer.  He opened the bottle, sniffed it, and took an experimental sip.  Then he put the cap back on, and went wandering through the office with bottle in hand.  At last he found a thorough first-aid kit under a desk labeled "Hannah", including a large bottle of rubbing alcohol.  He peeled back the sleeve on his t-shirt, revealing a shallow gash running along his arm--a winging shot from the bullet RJ had fired--and then poured about a third of the bottle into his injury.  He grit his teeth in a savage grimace, but made no sound.

Then he finished, and wrapped bandages and wrapping over the wound, until he had a decent dressing on it.  Slowly fished the ammo from his damp back, and studied the ammunition, tapping it experimentally.  He grabbed the bag and slung it out a nearby window, closing the window on the strap.  Then he sat bag against his wall, opened the bottle, and started drinking.  As afternoon rays shifted into dusk, he drifted into drunken sleep.  

He woke up with the Announcements next morning.  Listened to the names.  Paused and swiveled his head to stare at a speaker.  Then took another belt of scotch and drifted back to sleep.  

He came to again a few hours later, when there was more daylight in the world.  Grabbed his dried bag, put his ammo and bottle away, grabbed some of the medical supplies (and a roll of duct tape) and put those away in the half bag, too.  Then he wandered out, and north along the coast.  Until he stumbled upon a dock, and saw a figure standing at its end.  He stared at him for a long few seconds, and then started moving towards him, making as much noise as possible.

[BetaKnight]

((Cooper Komorowski continued from Catus Carnival))

Cooper had trailed along in Cody's wake, trying to be stoic but still supportive.  They had just sort of wandered aimlessly, getting pretty drenched in the process.  A few times he thought about trying to talk to Cody and figure out what their next move would be, but since he didn't really have anything solid to offer in terms of ideas, he decided against it.

He wasn't really sure what to say to Cody.  Anything he thought of sounded pretty trite and meaningless.  Or worse than meaningless.  'Sorry you sister is a fucking psycho bitch?'  'Don't sweat it, bro.  At least Rose went quickly?'  'Hey, no, man.  Mike totally had it coming.  Nobody can blame you for killing him?'  Things like that wouldn't help Cody.  In fact, if people said shit like that to him, Cooper would have swung on them.  

That was the last thing he wanted, to upset Cody further.  If he upset Cody, Cody might leave him alone.  All alone.  Cooper shuddered.  The very last thing in the whole world he wanted was to be alone here.  So he followed Cody, even though he didn't think either one had a clue where they were going.

Eventually, without a word, Cody sat down on the dock and stared out at the sea.  Cooper could barely begin to understand what Cody was going through, so he did his best to hang back and give him some space.  Let the man have some time to put his thoughts in order.  When Cody gave no indication of moving in the near future, Cooper decided that now was just as good as any other time to take care of some basic necessities.  Things should be fine for the few minutes he was gone.

Except as he rounded the corner of the building, adjusting the hang of his pants, there was some guy advancing on Cody.  His heart began to beat in triple time.  He couldn't let this guy just roll up on Cody and attack him.  He just couldn't.

Looking around frantically, Cooper spotted a rock.  With a lunge, he picked it up and cocked his arm in a throwing position.  "Hey, yo, fucker!  Who the fuck are you, bro?!"

[MK Kilmarnock]

Footsteps. The footsteps were loud enough to shake Cody from his lull on the waves, putting his mind to more comprehensive thought. There were a few things he wanted to ask his little walking buddy. Things that couldn't really stand to wait.

"Hey, Cooper..." Cody turned his head over his shoulder.

That wasn't Cooper.

Cody swung his feet under him and turned to stand, glaring at the face of one Tyler Lucas, somebody Cody hadn't seen since shortly after waking up on this rocky hellhole. It wasn't a second later that he could hear Cooper just a short distance away, holding a rock and calling out their new visitor. Cody was just as welcoming, clutching the rifle at his side.

"Look," Cody began. "I'm really not in the mood for any of your shit. I've had a bad, BAD fucking week." The rifle snapped up to his hip, supported by his other hand. It was the closest he had come to actually aiming a gun at somebody in a long while. This wasn't like Edgar, though. Tyler didn't strike him as the type to beg for his life and be harmless. Far from it.

"So why don't you just fuck off, huh?"

[Grim Wolf]

Tyler stopped advancing when Cody turned to face him, and snapped his gun up when Cody did the same.  There was another boy shouting somewhere nearby, and Tyler spared him a glance before his face unfolded into a slow grin.

"Nah," Tyler said, still grinning.  "Heard you found the balls to actually play this fucking game.  Just like your sister."  His grin widened.  "Danya didn't say anything about you shooting him, though.  What the fuck happened?  Beating his head in just easier for ya?"

[MK Kilmarnock]

Cody quickly contemplated saying a few things. Most of what he wanted to say revolved around how every single bit of Tyler was wrong. His words, his actions, his very thoughts, whatever they may have been. They were all wrong to Cody, an affront to what had happened.

He wanted to say that Tyler had no right to be making assumptions about him having broken down or, in his words, 'growing some balls' to play the game rather than being forced to do what he had to do. He wanted to bring up that Eliza's actions were her own, and even he could not speak for her attempts to survive the hellish situation thrust upon her.

He wanted to throw out his arms and scream, scream that he did all he could to pacify the situation with Mike and Rose, and nobody outside the situation could understand the pain of having somebody die in your arms while accidentally killing an old friend because of that.

See, Cody wanted to say all of that. The pain of it all, that was a couple days ago. That was two dawns in the past. Now, Tyler had the gall to come here, the idiocy to say such things he knew jack shit about and the audacity to point a gun?

Yeah.

No.

Fuck you.

Anguish and rage from two days ago resurfaced inside him, and Cody found himself squeezing the trigger with the barrel of his gun pointed at Tyler. For whatever brief a moment it was, he most assuredly wanted him dead.

[BetaKnight]

Cooper had the rock cocked back, ready to fly, until he realized who the fuck had just strolled up on them like he owned the place.  

Son of a fucking whore! It was god-damned Tyler Lucas!  

His pre-island rep was enough to make Cooper falter for a moment. Of all the fucking people to show up....  

The rock in Cooper's hand felt slippery, which made sense since he realized had just broken out in a cold sweat.  If it had been almost anyone else, he would have chucked that rock as hard as he could.  But Tyler wasn't someone you wanted to fuck with.

That crazy son of a bitch had been to jail.  Fucking actual JAIL.

Sure, he and Paulo and the rest of the guys acted like bad-asses and put some swagger in their steps but not like Tyler.  Tyler was like a rabid wolverine on a leash.  At school, Coach Lomelli held Tyler's leash and the coach sure as fuck wasn't here now.

Fuck fuck fuck FUCK! There were guns moving!  Why the fuck were there guns moving?!

Cooper hesitated again, jerking forward before pulling himself back as an idea struck him. His knife!  Why was he standing here, holding a rock when he had a knife?  

He dropped the rock and reached for the sheath on his belt, only to have his fingers brush the waistband of his pants.  Slapping his hand desperately against the sheath, Cooper glanced down in shock.  It was empty?  Why the fuck was it empty?!  Where the fuck did his knife go?

The answer was immediate as he pictured the knife in Mike's hand, bloody from his attack on Rose.

Shit.  Right.  He had never bothered to look for it after the confrontation with Eliza.  They had just taken off.  For a fraction of a second, Cooper wondered if Eliza had bothered with recovering it or if she had ignored it in lieu of her more powerful weapon.

He bent to retrieve the palm-sized rock as Cody opened fire.  With a less-than-macho squeal, Cooper dropped into a crouch and lunged for his pitiful defensive edge.  His breathing came in short, sharp bursts as his mind raced.  

What the fuck was he supposed to be doing?

[Grim Wolf]

The gunshot rang out, fired from the hip, and in the aftermath of that gunshot there was a grin on Tyler's face, and a mad laugh breaking past his lips.  He was leaning forward into the start of a charge, his gun still fixed on Cody.

He burst fowards, zigzagging in bounding steps as he hurtled across the rickety dock.  And on that first step he pulled the trigger on his SMG and let loose a spray of hellfire in Cody's direction.

[MK Kilmarnock]

What was wrong with this guy? Seriously, what was wrong with him? The bulky form of Tyler presented a pretty damn big target, yet with the way he was bounding back and forth down the dock like a damn psycho, Cody's shot appeared to have missed.

Whether you called it panic or called it adrenaline, Cody used the emotion he was feeling to pull back the bolt, lock it, and fire again. Tyler's SMG fired, though with not much care, bullets peppering the docks and whizzing by. Cody pulled the bolt back, locked it, fired, all through the sudden cold feeling appearing in his hip. He wondered if he had been shot. He thought there'd be more pain though, a searing agony when all he really felt was a strange cold sting. Was it the adrenaline, like it could be on the field when suffering a big hit and not feeling it until after the game?

Tyler's bounding, awkward zig-zag steps that would have been amusing to see if they weren't accompanied by gunfire put him too close to Cody. He took a step back, then another, then another...

And fell right off the damn dock.

Cody splashed into the water, and pushed up with his hands so he'd stay there.

[BetaKnight]

Shit!  Shit shit shit!  Cooper put his hands on his head, lightly hitting himself in the process, as the duo on the dock exchanged fire.  He squeezed his arms over his ears in an attempt to muffle the sounds.

Craning his head awkwardly, he watched Tyler's insane surge forward and Cody's disappearance.  Shocked into action, Cooper leaped to his feet, howling the word 'no'.  

Despite the chaos unfolding around him, the only sound filling Cooper's ears was the beating of his own heart.  Time seemed to stretch and slow down as he looked at the spot where Cody once stood. His legs began to move, propelling him forward towards that spot, as if his arrival there would somehow undo the previous events.   Without conscious thought, he once again drew back his rock, readying it for use.

The freezing terror that had been simmering under the surface for the past few days began to roll and boil, shifting from fear to a burning anger.  With a roar, the flung the rock as hard as he could, his own body following in its wake.   Someone had to pay for the loss of his friend.

Tyler would have to pay for the loss of his friend.

[Grim Wolf]

He skidded to a halt on the edge of the dock, gun pointed down at Cody's fallen form bobbing in the water.

"Move and die!" he shouted, still grinning that ridiculous grin as blood trickled down his face.  There was a ragged cut along his left cheek, and blood was oozing down his face, coating the collar of his threadbare undershirt.  And even as the blood ran down, he was still grinning.

"Good, yeah?" he said.  "It's good.  It's real.  No fuckin' games no tricks no doubt, just a good fuckin' fight."  

A rock whipped out of the noon air, and struck him in between his shoulder blades.  He pitched forward, wheeling his arms madly to keep his balance, teetering on the edge of collapse into the water himself.

Then he caught himself, and half-fell backwards, onto the safety of the dock.  He turned, roaring out a laughing challenge, and went charging after Cooper.  But he didn't fire his gun.  Didn't even aim it.

[MK Kilmarnock]

Cody stayed under the water for as long as he could, knowing there was a very good chance for Tyler being positioned right on the edge of the dock over him. Bullets had trouble penetrating the surface of the water, right? He thought he saw something like that on Mythbusters confirming it as long as the caliber of the weapon wasn't too large or whatever.

He tried to assess the situation further, but the pain in his hip was magnifying at a steady rate. It had become abundantly clear that somewhere in that haphazard spray of gunfire, one of the bullets had got him and it got him good. The saltwater of the ocean probably wasn't doing him any favors either. Cody grit his teeth behind his clamped lips, wondering how much longer he could stay beneath the waves.

He got his answer in the form of his body rising on its down despite his best efforts to stay under. He gasped for air and quickly snapped his gaze upwards, expecting to see Tyler standing there with the gun aimed and ready. Instead, he heard the tail end of some demented laughter, and heard more loud footsteps pounding down the dock.

Fuck. Cooper was up there!

Cody groaned and reached a hand up to the dock. The slick, wet wood had an almost slimy feel to it that diminished his grasp somewhat, but he dug into it and kicked his legs furiously in the water to support him. He needed to get his other hand... and the rifle... up on that dock.

The pain was getting even worse, and Cody was sure if he looked down he'd be seeing some red right about now.

[BetaKnight]

((Cue the Star Trek: The Original Series fight music!  GMing rights have been extended to the two combatants for the duration of the fight.  Grim, if this doesn't work for you, let me know and I'll edit.))

The sight of Tyler, who towered over Cooper and outweighed him by a ton, charging at him did not slow him down.  Cooper did the only thing that made sense to him.  In the second before he and Tyler collided, he dropped low and went for a shoot on Tyler's legs.  Driving his shoulder in and up towards Tyler's groin, Cooper hoped to surprise the much larger boy and use that momentum to gain the upper hand.

The subsequent impact knocked the duo back a step and sent them both crashing to the ground.  Almost on instinct, Cooper pushed his advantage and tried to go for a full mount of his prone opponent.  Frantically scrambling, he threw himself across Tyler's chest, hopping on Tyler's diaphragm in the process.

Screaming with pent-up rage, Cooper rained down hammer fists on Tyler's neck, head, and shoulders.  For the first time in his life, he used what he had learned training with Paulo and the guys to purposefully and willfully hurt someone.  

This wasn't a game anymore.  This was serious.  He wanted to hurt Tyler.  

He wanted to hurt Tyler like the loss of his friends was hurting him.  Someone had to pay.  Someone was responsible.  And since the terrorists who forced them into this weren't here, Tyler would take the pounding on their behalf.

Only a handful of seconds ticked by but it felt like an eternity.  His hands throbbed and his shoulders burned. The familiar sensation of gassing out crept over him. Taking a big, gasping breath, Cooper landed one, final solid right cross to Tyler's chin before Tyler returned the favor.

Oh shit.

[Grim Wolf]

(Same to ya!)

Tyler was half-laughing as he crashed into Cooper, but that laugh vanished as soon as the other boy swept up and into him, nearly knocking him off his feet and sending his gun skittering a few feet away.  That faint grin never faded entirely, even as Cooper flipped around and pinned him, raining down a hail of hammering blows.  And Tyler couldn't quite get free.

Cooper dropped one final, beautiful blow across Tyler's chin, snapping his head to one side and throwing out a little spray of bloody spittle.  But they were tightly entangled, and before Cooper could quite pull away Tyler had snapped his head back again, and thrust his forehead right at Copper's head, headbutting him with terrific force.  Then all at once Tyler was rising, his right hand wrapping around Cooper's shirt even as his legs twisted, bucked, forced Cooper off but a few inches, and that was enough, that gave him all the wiggle room he needed as he rose slowly, relentlessly, inevitably back to his feet.

In their twisting, shifting scuffle Cooper ended up with his back to the ocean, and Cooper was still struggling, still had the upper hand right up until Tyler sank a knee deep into his stomach.  And then it was a beating--Cooper's flailing blows knocked aside as Tyler slammed into him, dropped punch upon punch everywhere he could reach, even throwing out a few blows with his injured left arm.  His nose was foutaining blood so that his whole face was slick with it, but still that grin glistened through the macabre display.  

Tyler ducked low, then pulled high into a resounding uppercut, sending Cooper sprawling back onto the creaking dock.

[MK Kilmarnock]

The experience of having your entire body wracked with pain and needing to continue onward at full performance, lest you let somebody down, is one felt by many an athlete on the field or court. It was something Cody had felt time and time again, whether it was a nasty wayward fastball that struck him in the knee or a sack that caught him behind the line and nearly blew out his shoulder. Nobody should have realistically expected somebody to stay at one hundred percent after taking an injury like that - after all, you're hurt. Yet, they did. In the wacky world of sports, you better be able to take that shit and keep on ticking.

Here, the spirit was the same but the stakes were much higher. The injury was a bullet still lodged somewhere in Cody's leg. He wasn't sure if he could feel the offending object still nice and tucked in there, or he was feeling the hole it left behind, or just the blood caking it. He dared not look to see just how badly he was bleeding; feeling the biting sting of the shot was its own hell. But if he didn't get up, if he didn't hoist himself onto the dock and get rid of Tyler, Cooper was fucked. He would probably be next.

"F-Fucking psycho..." Cody muttered under his breath. "Get up... get up... get up..." he repeated over and over, psyching himself up as he threw his right arm onto the dock, both it and the rifle landing with a resounding 'thunk'. The kicking of his legs to aid him was both tiring him out and exacerbating the pain in his shot leg, leading him to rely entirely on his arms for this next bit.

With an almost furious groan, Cody began to use his arms to pull the rest of his body upward out of the water. The more of him that left the sea, the heavier it got. The only motivation he needed to complete this task, however, was right in front of him as the two wailed away at each other. Almost there. Almost ready to prevent yet another person from dying.

Cody hissed in pain as something, most likely the edge of the dock, caught his leg right where the hole must have been but he dared not see. He simply forced his legs under him and gave a loud, hoarse scream as he picked himself up the rest of the way, gun dripping but leveled.

God, he hoped this thing could still fire. It wasn't a fucking powder musket, it probably would, but still.

"You wanna fuck with me some more!?" Cody screamed, knuckles white. "Let's go! Let's fucking go!"