Marco barely had the time to mouth ‘Oh shi-‘ before Wyatt’s forehead collided with Marco’s filing his vision with stars before Wyatt added a fist to that vision. Marco was sent stumbling back, the taste and scent of iron filling his senses as he barely caught himself from falling onto his ass with a yelp that sounded more... sensual than it should have. Those were some good hits. This was a good start!
Marco shook himself off as he shot up standing, grinning ear to ear, pacing back and forth in excitement. “YEEEAH MOTHERFUCKER!” Marco slapped himself in the face. “HIT ME IN THE FACE MOTHERFUCKER, HIT ME, HIT ME, FUCKIN-“ Marco grabbed the strap of his backpack as he lurched forwards. “HIT ME!” He finished, as he swung the bag, fire extinguisher inside with the meaty thunk of impact upon shoulder.
Now we’re fucking talking. We’re playing with the power glove here. We’re cooking with fire. Marcus Volker was duking it out with Wyatt Carter. When would he have ever had a chance of doing this back home, let alone have a chance at winning? Marco laughed with a wonder and childlike glee as he pushed forward in his assault.
He swung again, causing Wyatt to stumble back, only for Marco to swing and miss. Wyatt used the opportunity to swing back on him, and hit his mark, knocking Volker back.
Marco stepped forward then stopped in place as he spun with the weighted bag outstretched in his arms, hoping to catch Wyatt on the roundabout.
You Are Already Dead
Things have happened.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
The initial reaction to seeing somebody get pounded and then bounce back up, seemingly enjoying it, was one of disgust. Wyatt's disgusted expression cracked to reveal a smirk of amusement. The smirk became a grin, because this kid just could not be real. Of all the people to square off against, he had to get the masochist. But in that moment, it seemed like they understood each other in their own little demented way, prepared to play the game in order to climb to the top. Just when you think you know yourself and you've got all the answers, life has a funny way of changing the questions around on you.
In obliging Marco's request, Wyatt closed the distance. His opponent swung off his backpack in what seemed like a bid to lighten the load, so it came as quite the surprise when Marco swung it as a weapon. It came as a greater surprise when, deciding to just accept the brunt of the force to his shoulder, something cracked it and knocked Wyatt off his step.
What the hell was in that thing, a cinderblock!?
Wyatt stepped back, and the next wild swing missed. Dangerous, but predictable. Marco was starting to become predictable. Wyatt popped him in the shoulder in return, but the kid came back with another wild, spinning swing. Well shit guy, Wyatt thought, if he wanted to have a full-on hardcore brawl then let's fucking go.
Using the slow speed of the swing as his opening, Wyatt bent his entire upper half forward and let his weight start the momentum ball a-rollin'. A rush of air over the back of his head told him where the bag was, or had been, without him needing to look at anything beyond Marco's feet. His hands raised to become the highest thing on his body. This was no gridiron, no need to worry about the facemask penalty he'd definitely be incurring back at GHHS. Marco's head found a home firmly between his palms, much to Wyatt's glee as he stood up to his full height once more. It took only a second of preparation to heave, lifting Marco straight up off the ground just by his head; Marco was forced to clutch onto Wyatt's arms like an organic chin-up bar to avoid a visit from the hangman, writhing and squirming and most likely unprepared for what was about to happen to him.
Wyatt took off with a shot, hurtling full-barrel for the very tree Marco and Adonis had been sitting against when he first arrived. Ten yards was more than enough to build up the speed needed for a satisfying impact, slamming Marco back-first against the tree and releasing him, smiling the gritted ear-to-ear grin that usually followed a sack. This was fun. This skinny little shithead was making things fun for him - for the both of them, if his ravings were genuine. Wyatt even let out a short out-of-breath chuckle through reddened eyes and a sore shoulder. The pain didn't do anything to mitigate the pleasure.
What am I doing?
The smile on Wyatt's face faded. This wasn't the plan. This wasn't the goal. He'd let himself be caught up in his own short-sighted hedonism, his urge to just have a little fun before it all went to shit. It didn't seem right that he could be blamed for such a thing too easily; happiness was a valuable commodity in short supply these past few days, and Marco had managed to ignite a spark in something he thought might have been dead. But if he continued doing this, then everything Bret had done to get them this far would be a waste.
"Where's my gun..." he uttered under his breath, not really intending to voice the thought aloud but impulse was impulse. This needed to be over quickly, but he hadn't the slightest idea where it'd been knocked. The chainsaw still rumbled and growled on the ground, and Adonis...
Where the fuck did that guy go?
Wyatt spun around.
In obliging Marco's request, Wyatt closed the distance. His opponent swung off his backpack in what seemed like a bid to lighten the load, so it came as quite the surprise when Marco swung it as a weapon. It came as a greater surprise when, deciding to just accept the brunt of the force to his shoulder, something cracked it and knocked Wyatt off his step.
What the hell was in that thing, a cinderblock!?
Wyatt stepped back, and the next wild swing missed. Dangerous, but predictable. Marco was starting to become predictable. Wyatt popped him in the shoulder in return, but the kid came back with another wild, spinning swing. Well shit guy, Wyatt thought, if he wanted to have a full-on hardcore brawl then let's fucking go.
Using the slow speed of the swing as his opening, Wyatt bent his entire upper half forward and let his weight start the momentum ball a-rollin'. A rush of air over the back of his head told him where the bag was, or had been, without him needing to look at anything beyond Marco's feet. His hands raised to become the highest thing on his body. This was no gridiron, no need to worry about the facemask penalty he'd definitely be incurring back at GHHS. Marco's head found a home firmly between his palms, much to Wyatt's glee as he stood up to his full height once more. It took only a second of preparation to heave, lifting Marco straight up off the ground just by his head; Marco was forced to clutch onto Wyatt's arms like an organic chin-up bar to avoid a visit from the hangman, writhing and squirming and most likely unprepared for what was about to happen to him.
Wyatt took off with a shot, hurtling full-barrel for the very tree Marco and Adonis had been sitting against when he first arrived. Ten yards was more than enough to build up the speed needed for a satisfying impact, slamming Marco back-first against the tree and releasing him, smiling the gritted ear-to-ear grin that usually followed a sack. This was fun. This skinny little shithead was making things fun for him - for the both of them, if his ravings were genuine. Wyatt even let out a short out-of-breath chuckle through reddened eyes and a sore shoulder. The pain didn't do anything to mitigate the pleasure.
What am I doing?
The smile on Wyatt's face faded. This wasn't the plan. This wasn't the goal. He'd let himself be caught up in his own short-sighted hedonism, his urge to just have a little fun before it all went to shit. It didn't seem right that he could be blamed for such a thing too easily; happiness was a valuable commodity in short supply these past few days, and Marco had managed to ignite a spark in something he thought might have been dead. But if he continued doing this, then everything Bret had done to get them this far would be a waste.
"Where's my gun..." he uttered under his breath, not really intending to voice the thought aloud but impulse was impulse. This needed to be over quickly, but he hadn't the slightest idea where it'd been knocked. The chainsaw still rumbled and growled on the ground, and Adonis...
Where the fuck did that guy go?
Wyatt spun around.
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Primrosette
- Posts: 1033
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:58 am
- Location: In the Dark Abyss
Adonis had been in a state of shock when Wyatt had fired the gun for a few seconds and then he found himself moving away from the tree on instinct. It felt like he was in some cheesy action movie as he was seeing the carnage of Marco and Wyatt's fight and he noticed that the gun and chainsaw falling out of their hands at some point. The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun...!
Pick it up, you coward!
Adonis edged his way closer to the gun and he felt himself holding it in his grasp. It felt so strange for him to actually have one in his hand and he knew that he couldn't continue to stare at it in wonder and awe. He leaned himself back up and he ignored the hurt from his cracked ribs, focusing back on the fight once more. However, Wyatt had just thrown Marco against the tree that the both of them had been at and Adonis almost let out a scream in outrage. But he bite down on his tongue and he forced himself to focus on the huge form of Wyatt.
Focus, Adonis. Stop him from doing more damage. Do it, do it now!
Adonis raised the gun and he levelled it on Wyatt's body. He then watched as Wyatt was turning his body around and he fires off about two or three shots in Wyatt's direction. A deep cry of anger came out of his mouth after what he had done and his hands were shaking a little. He really pulled the trigger on a gun-
Pick it up, you coward!
Adonis edged his way closer to the gun and he felt himself holding it in his grasp. It felt so strange for him to actually have one in his hand and he knew that he couldn't continue to stare at it in wonder and awe. He leaned himself back up and he ignored the hurt from his cracked ribs, focusing back on the fight once more. However, Wyatt had just thrown Marco against the tree that the both of them had been at and Adonis almost let out a scream in outrage. But he bite down on his tongue and he forced himself to focus on the huge form of Wyatt.
Focus, Adonis. Stop him from doing more damage. Do it, do it now!
Adonis raised the gun and he levelled it on Wyatt's body. He then watched as Wyatt was turning his body around and he fires off about two or three shots in Wyatt's direction. A deep cry of anger came out of his mouth after what he had done and his hands were shaking a little. He really pulled the trigger on a gun-
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
"NNN-MM-NNNNGH!"
Wyatt's back felt like it'd been punched twice. Hard. Fuck punched, it had been walloped with a sledgehammer. By touch and the sense of pain alone, that's how his body interpreted it. His other senses helpfully filled in the blanks for him with a trio of gunshots still crackling out over the ocean that served as their backdrop. He lurched forward and braced his knees, locking them and staggering, because if he fell down now, he was going to die.
So this is what getting shot felt like. Turns out it fucking sucks.
Craning his neck around, Wyatt stared on through bloodshot eyes as Adonis stood there, trembling, holding a weapon that looked oddly familiar.
You cowardly little pussy.
His foot dragged a little when he turned, but it stuck with him and planted, letting him put his weight on it to face Adonis. His back felt damp and it didn't take a genius to figure out that it wasn't just sweat running down his asscrack. Wyatt sized up the perpetrator through an incandescent glare. If the air hadn't been knocked out of his lungs, refusing to re-inflate, he would have said something to Adonis. Determined to get the message across, Wyatt mouthed it instead.
Got another one in ya?
He managed a half breath. It worked better if it came in through his nose, then forced out through his mouth like he was blowing a bubble. The tension in his lumbar region wasn't going away, but mercifully it seemed he wasn't lung-shot... a death sentence to be sure.
"Thought so..." Wyatt growled, just before he charged at Adonis and threw his right arm and shoulder into a shove toward the embankment.
Wyatt's back felt like it'd been punched twice. Hard. Fuck punched, it had been walloped with a sledgehammer. By touch and the sense of pain alone, that's how his body interpreted it. His other senses helpfully filled in the blanks for him with a trio of gunshots still crackling out over the ocean that served as their backdrop. He lurched forward and braced his knees, locking them and staggering, because if he fell down now, he was going to die.
So this is what getting shot felt like. Turns out it fucking sucks.
Craning his neck around, Wyatt stared on through bloodshot eyes as Adonis stood there, trembling, holding a weapon that looked oddly familiar.
You cowardly little pussy.
His foot dragged a little when he turned, but it stuck with him and planted, letting him put his weight on it to face Adonis. His back felt damp and it didn't take a genius to figure out that it wasn't just sweat running down his asscrack. Wyatt sized up the perpetrator through an incandescent glare. If the air hadn't been knocked out of his lungs, refusing to re-inflate, he would have said something to Adonis. Determined to get the message across, Wyatt mouthed it instead.
Got another one in ya?
He managed a half breath. It worked better if it came in through his nose, then forced out through his mouth like he was blowing a bubble. The tension in his lumbar region wasn't going away, but mercifully it seemed he wasn't lung-shot... a death sentence to be sure.
"Thought so..." Wyatt growled, just before he charged at Adonis and threw his right arm and shoulder into a shove toward the embankment.
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Primrosette
- Posts: 1033
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:58 am
- Location: In the Dark Abyss
Adonis didn't really have a chance to think things through as he really had just shot Wyatt Carter and he couldn't get over in his slow-minded thoughts. Wyatt was mouthing something at him and Adonis felt his moment of anger suddenly dissolve like a fading flame of fire. Was Wyatt trying to make him react more? Adonis didn't know until Wyatt said his next words and then Wyatt came at him at a sudden speed.
Adonis pulled the trigger once again out of fright and he had no idea if he had hit Wyatt in a more fatal area. He was shoved backwards with a strong force and he stumbled on his unsteady feet. He suddenly felt himself falling-
Oh crap.... I should have checked my surroundings...!
-and he was now rolling down the embankment against his will. His body was not reacting well to his roll downwards and he let out sounds of grunts and groans of agony from the toll on his sensitive, torn body. He had let go of the gun at some point and he assumed that it had fallen down with him. He then felt his face connecting with cold water and he embraced it.
His mind only thought of one thing in that moment.
Marco....
Adonis pulled the trigger once again out of fright and he had no idea if he had hit Wyatt in a more fatal area. He was shoved backwards with a strong force and he stumbled on his unsteady feet. He suddenly felt himself falling-
Oh crap.... I should have checked my surroundings...!
-and he was now rolling down the embankment against his will. His body was not reacting well to his roll downwards and he let out sounds of grunts and groans of agony from the toll on his sensitive, torn body. He had let go of the gun at some point and he assumed that it had fallen down with him. He then felt his face connecting with cold water and he embraced it.
His mind only thought of one thing in that moment.
Marco....
Marco felt the wind get knocked out of him as Wyatt fucking choke slammed him against a tree. This was something, this was really something! This right here was what he was looking for! This was the David and Goliath of his story! This was the crucible to his path to glory or his crash and burn!
Even with his breath squeezed out of him, Marco cracked a smile at Wyatt as he was sure the man cracked a rib or two of his and-
Adonis? “Adonis what in the fuck are you doing?!” Okay yeah, Marco can appreciate him trying to help but Marco was still in the line of fire too, the dumb motherfucker had as much chance of hitting him as he did Wyatt! “DON’T-“
Too late.
Bullets cracked out and Marco could feel the impacts as Wyatt spasmed and writhed from the bullets hitting black. Marco fell to the ground and nearly curled up with each pop of the pistol. When he looked up he saw the bullet ridden Wyatt turn his attention to Adonis. He looked down at the ground to hide his smile as Adonis went over the edge. Adonis could have killed him doing that, fucking moron. Suppose he owed it to him to save his life didn’t he? After all it was the thought that counts, even if there was little to no thought behind that.
Marco peeled himself off the ground and stumbled over to his chainsaw, picking it back up. He would take his time and let Wyatt beat the shit out of him a bit to teach him a lesson in watching his fire, but Wyatt seemed like the type to just finish it with a quick curb stomp, and as much as Adonis deserved the ass beating for such a stupid mistake, he didn’t deserve to die for a mistake. Tough love, but it was still love.
Props to Wyatt though. He weren’t no bitch. Filled with bullets, still fighting. Marco revved his chainsaw to grab his attention. Wyatt was an example to follow if he’d seen one. Marco felt honored to be able to fight against such a warrior. Wyatt deserved that title.
“Your brother would be proud of you.” Marco took a deep breath, he smiled. Chainsaw groaned. It hummed.. “I’ll kill the Jesus freak for you once this is over. Let’s finish this.”
The chainsaw screamed. Marco was silent as he charged.
Even with his breath squeezed out of him, Marco cracked a smile at Wyatt as he was sure the man cracked a rib or two of his and-
Adonis? “Adonis what in the fuck are you doing?!” Okay yeah, Marco can appreciate him trying to help but Marco was still in the line of fire too, the dumb motherfucker had as much chance of hitting him as he did Wyatt! “DON’T-“
Too late.
Bullets cracked out and Marco could feel the impacts as Wyatt spasmed and writhed from the bullets hitting black. Marco fell to the ground and nearly curled up with each pop of the pistol. When he looked up he saw the bullet ridden Wyatt turn his attention to Adonis. He looked down at the ground to hide his smile as Adonis went over the edge. Adonis could have killed him doing that, fucking moron. Suppose he owed it to him to save his life didn’t he? After all it was the thought that counts, even if there was little to no thought behind that.
Marco peeled himself off the ground and stumbled over to his chainsaw, picking it back up. He would take his time and let Wyatt beat the shit out of him a bit to teach him a lesson in watching his fire, but Wyatt seemed like the type to just finish it with a quick curb stomp, and as much as Adonis deserved the ass beating for such a stupid mistake, he didn’t deserve to die for a mistake. Tough love, but it was still love.
Props to Wyatt though. He weren’t no bitch. Filled with bullets, still fighting. Marco revved his chainsaw to grab his attention. Wyatt was an example to follow if he’d seen one. Marco felt honored to be able to fight against such a warrior. Wyatt deserved that title.
“Your brother would be proud of you.” Marco took a deep breath, he smiled. Chainsaw groaned. It hummed.. “I’ll kill the Jesus freak for you once this is over. Let’s finish this.”
The chainsaw screamed. Marco was silent as he charged.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
With primadonn-is out of the way (Wyatt chuckled at his own pun, and regretted it as laughing brought him only pain), the ragged giant of George Hunter High focused on breathing. In, out. In, out. Just like that. Most kids out there, kids who only got close to being an athlete when playing the latest EA sports game on the fucking couch like a slob, took breathing for granted because they never understood how ridiculously laborious it could become under difficult situations. And 'full of two, now three bullets' was about as difficult as they became. Wyatt didn't look down at his stomach. He didn't have to, because he knew he'd been shot somewhere, probably in the intestines.
Nothing was going his way anymore, a fact underlined and dotted with a fucking exclamation point when he heard the revving of a chainsaw behind him. Marco recovered more quickly than Wyatt had expected, so he first thought, but there was no telling how long it had taken him to sort out his breathing. And with that engine roaring, Wyatt reluctantly admitted to himself that all of his hard work was probably about to become undone.
"I appreciate the sentiment," Wyatt said gravelly, "but I'm the kind of guy who likes to get shit done himself."
He was almost thankful when Marco charged silently rather than picking up on the setup for an across-the-plate masturbation joke, because the last thing Wyatt needed before possibly dying was to get upstaged in a dirty humor contest. He pulled the alligator hook sword off of his belt, never noticing he snapped one of his belt loops as he swung for the fences.
Nothing was going his way anymore, a fact underlined and dotted with a fucking exclamation point when he heard the revving of a chainsaw behind him. Marco recovered more quickly than Wyatt had expected, so he first thought, but there was no telling how long it had taken him to sort out his breathing. And with that engine roaring, Wyatt reluctantly admitted to himself that all of his hard work was probably about to become undone.
"I appreciate the sentiment," Wyatt said gravelly, "but I'm the kind of guy who likes to get shit done himself."
He was almost thankful when Marco charged silently rather than picking up on the setup for an across-the-plate masturbation joke, because the last thing Wyatt needed before possibly dying was to get upstaged in a dirty humor contest. He pulled the alligator hook sword off of his belt, never noticing he snapped one of his belt loops as he swung for the fences.
Sparks flew as the blades collided. Marco stumbled forward as Wyatt turned around behind him and swung again. Blades caught again, and Marco only had about a second or two to feel the sparks hopping along his bare flesh like raindrops before Wyatt sparta-kicked him backwards, almost sending him over the edge with Adonis. Marco sprinted forwards again, blades colliding, as some teeth were knocked away from the sword and Marco found himself behind Wyatt now, turning to swing and catch him in the hip. Wyatt turned and blocked the strike, but Marco continued his assault, going into a frenzy and swinging his chainsaw into Wyatt's sword over and over again, teeth clinking off the blade. Their blades locked once again, and Marco brought his face close to Wyatt's. He let out a guttural war cry in his face, before Wyatt punched him in the jaw.
Marco stumbled back as Wyatt sent in a vertical swing with his sword, knocking Marco's chainsaw from a two handed grip to a one handed one. Wyatt followed up with a horizontal swing, before Marco leaned back, blade inches away from his face, as he brought the chainsaw one handed down onto Wyatt's sword. They went back and forth, tit for tat, riposte for riposte as neither could gain ground and get the hit that would decide everything. They were in such a frenzy that neither paid attention to how the blades clashed. Many times, the blunt ends smashed into each other dramatically, but ineffectively.
Somewhere along the way, Marco regained his two handed grip, and swung down, the blade catching once again on Wyatt's. His sword looked like it couldn't take much more, with a good chunk of the teeth knocked away on one side. Marco anticipated this, and sent up a kick between Wyatt's legs, before following up with another to the nose as he doubled over. With Wyatt stumbling back, Marco saw his opening, and took it, swinging downwards vertically to split him in two.
Marco stumbled back as Wyatt sent in a vertical swing with his sword, knocking Marco's chainsaw from a two handed grip to a one handed one. Wyatt followed up with a horizontal swing, before Marco leaned back, blade inches away from his face, as he brought the chainsaw one handed down onto Wyatt's sword. They went back and forth, tit for tat, riposte for riposte as neither could gain ground and get the hit that would decide everything. They were in such a frenzy that neither paid attention to how the blades clashed. Many times, the blunt ends smashed into each other dramatically, but ineffectively.
Somewhere along the way, Marco regained his two handed grip, and swung down, the blade catching once again on Wyatt's. His sword looked like it couldn't take much more, with a good chunk of the teeth knocked away on one side. Marco anticipated this, and sent up a kick between Wyatt's legs, before following up with another to the nose as he doubled over. With Wyatt stumbling back, Marco saw his opening, and took it, swinging downwards vertically to split him in two.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
It was only a second.
Marco caught Wyatt standing too split-legged, saw an opportunity and took it. Couldn't blame the kid; all was fair in love and war, and this was war of the most primal kind. Neither of them had to condone the other's actions to understand them. They didn't have to speak to communicate their ideas. That was the most glorious and pure thing about their fight, if it could ever be called either. It was only a second that Wyatt doubled over. Half of the pain of a low-blow was immediate and half of it lingered. The lingering pain could be ignored as long as the adrenaline and hype lasted.
Chainsaws had a way of prolonging that. They made for shit weapons, Wyatt adamantly maintained, but they were intimidating as all hell, and he wasn't exactly fighting in tip-top shape anymore. He stood up, Marco's boot to the nose helping to accelerate that little process. It probably broke, but Wyatt switched over to mouthbreathing anyway. Sierra probably referred to him as a mouthbreather anyway... if only she was here to see this, see all the damage and the carnage and the chaos and neither of them giving a shit about it.
Wyatt was forced to make another decision. His sword was ruined and cracked, the wooden construction unable to hold up to the chainsaw's ravenous teeth. If he blocked, the saw would rip it, and him, in half. There was no telling how much blood he'd lost by this point and...
He didn't want to finish that thought. He couldn't finish that thought, because Marco was already mid-swing.
Cowabunga it is.
Throwing the very idea of defense to the wind, Wyatt hunkered up and leaned into a swing that Marco couldn't possibly defend, as Marco bore down on him. The jagged teeth of the alligator sword that still remained found their mark in Marco's abdomen, and so Wyatt pulled.
It was a nice idea to think he might have been able to duck underneath the chainsaw, get close enough so the motor block rested on his shoulder. It was a nice idea indeed, but his spatial awareness hadn't accounted for the sheer size and bulk of his shoulders. Ice shot through his neck and shoulder area, icy hot jaws ripping and tearing up and down his trapeziums, chipping his collarbone, throwing skin and muscle strands and blood wayward. So Wyatt screamed, howling his war cry and possibly his swan song. He tried to turn his body away from the chainsaw, positioned perpendicularly to Marco to back away but keep his position tearing out his fucking guts. Marco would likewise not be deterred, because the chainsaw skipped a path down Wyatt's chest, carving a two-inch gash across his left pec and part of his sternum. The mark diagonally down and to the right of his sternum would not be so shallow. The chainsaw made a sick 'rrrgh-rrrgh-rrrrgh' noise and rocked as it was forced to cut unsuitable chainsawing materials that were abdominal wall and probably a bit of intestine.
They parted ways, Marco taking a chunk of the alligator tooth sword with him to the tune of roughly a third of the blade. Wyatt stumbled back and felt weight betraying him, set to land on his ass. He dropped the ruined remains of his sword instead, desperate to catch his fall and turn. His knees never touched the ground. Live ball.
"You sunuva..." Wyatt panted. Shock was setting in. If he let it settle in all the way, he was a dead man. If he let himself lay down he was a dead man, right here. "This..." Wyatt swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and fumbled up to his feet, catching himself on a tree. He clung to it for dear life, praying to a god he hadn't spoken to in a long time not to let him fall just yet. He dared to look down, just to survey the damage... and it looked about as raw as he'd expected. His top was more orange and red than chartreuse now.
"This was my favorite shirt," Wyatt managed to croak, digging his fingers into the bark.
Marco caught Wyatt standing too split-legged, saw an opportunity and took it. Couldn't blame the kid; all was fair in love and war, and this was war of the most primal kind. Neither of them had to condone the other's actions to understand them. They didn't have to speak to communicate their ideas. That was the most glorious and pure thing about their fight, if it could ever be called either. It was only a second that Wyatt doubled over. Half of the pain of a low-blow was immediate and half of it lingered. The lingering pain could be ignored as long as the adrenaline and hype lasted.
Chainsaws had a way of prolonging that. They made for shit weapons, Wyatt adamantly maintained, but they were intimidating as all hell, and he wasn't exactly fighting in tip-top shape anymore. He stood up, Marco's boot to the nose helping to accelerate that little process. It probably broke, but Wyatt switched over to mouthbreathing anyway. Sierra probably referred to him as a mouthbreather anyway... if only she was here to see this, see all the damage and the carnage and the chaos and neither of them giving a shit about it.
Wyatt was forced to make another decision. His sword was ruined and cracked, the wooden construction unable to hold up to the chainsaw's ravenous teeth. If he blocked, the saw would rip it, and him, in half. There was no telling how much blood he'd lost by this point and...
He didn't want to finish that thought. He couldn't finish that thought, because Marco was already mid-swing.
Cowabunga it is.
Throwing the very idea of defense to the wind, Wyatt hunkered up and leaned into a swing that Marco couldn't possibly defend, as Marco bore down on him. The jagged teeth of the alligator sword that still remained found their mark in Marco's abdomen, and so Wyatt pulled.
It was a nice idea to think he might have been able to duck underneath the chainsaw, get close enough so the motor block rested on his shoulder. It was a nice idea indeed, but his spatial awareness hadn't accounted for the sheer size and bulk of his shoulders. Ice shot through his neck and shoulder area, icy hot jaws ripping and tearing up and down his trapeziums, chipping his collarbone, throwing skin and muscle strands and blood wayward. So Wyatt screamed, howling his war cry and possibly his swan song. He tried to turn his body away from the chainsaw, positioned perpendicularly to Marco to back away but keep his position tearing out his fucking guts. Marco would likewise not be deterred, because the chainsaw skipped a path down Wyatt's chest, carving a two-inch gash across his left pec and part of his sternum. The mark diagonally down and to the right of his sternum would not be so shallow. The chainsaw made a sick 'rrrgh-rrrgh-rrrrgh' noise and rocked as it was forced to cut unsuitable chainsawing materials that were abdominal wall and probably a bit of intestine.
They parted ways, Marco taking a chunk of the alligator tooth sword with him to the tune of roughly a third of the blade. Wyatt stumbled back and felt weight betraying him, set to land on his ass. He dropped the ruined remains of his sword instead, desperate to catch his fall and turn. His knees never touched the ground. Live ball.
"You sunuva..." Wyatt panted. Shock was setting in. If he let it settle in all the way, he was a dead man. If he let himself lay down he was a dead man, right here. "This..." Wyatt swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and fumbled up to his feet, catching himself on a tree. He clung to it for dear life, praying to a god he hadn't spoken to in a long time not to let him fall just yet. He dared to look down, just to survey the damage... and it looked about as raw as he'd expected. His top was more orange and red than chartreuse now.
"This was my favorite shirt," Wyatt managed to croak, digging his fingers into the bark.
Marco drug the saw down into Wyatt. This fight was over, Marco won. Marco had won and he was unscathed and- Hellfire! He felt great! He screamed as the saw worked its way along Wyatt’s ribs into his guts before Wyatt drug himself back. As Wyatt fell, Marco could’ve swore he felt something himself, as if someone had attached a zipper to his body and unzipped it. Didn’t hurt, kinda tickled. Felt weird, but it didn’t hurt. Wyatt must’ve just cut his vest, so Marco paid no attention to it as he watched Wyatt hold on to the tree.
Honestly, it was a damn shame about the Carters. All that potential, that strength, that pure unadulterated Bloodlust! Claude would have been doomed if Wyatt came across him. Back home, Marco would have given his right nut to see Wyatt fail, to see him get his ass beaten and dropped a notch or nine, but on this island, he related to him a lot more than he’d care to admit. Adonis had already killed Wyatt in the end. He doomed him to a slow death with those bullets, and all Marco accomplished was speeding up the process of the dead man passing on. Yet Wyatt fought on. A dead man clinging to life through sheer willpower, refusing to give up because he wasn’t done yet and Marco could only sit there, inspired as Wyatt had the strength to joke about his coming demise.
In the end, this game wasn’t about who can slaughter the most people, or lasting longer than the person next to you. It was all about imposing your will, and leaving the biggest imprint. Wyatt’s sin wasn’t that he was aggressive starting a fight he couldn’t win. He very much could have won this fight, we’re it anyone else. His only sin was coming across Marco, whom had the same goals. There was nobody you could call the hero or the villain in this one. Just opposing wills, and who’s willpower was strongest. In the end, Marco was fated to win, having lived in the shit longer than Wyatt. Quoting Bane was the closest he could get to describing their situations. Wyatt adopted the Dark, but Marco was molded and reformed into it because the Dark was all he knew. Marco lamented the loss of Wyatt because a man like that could have done real damage, and Marco could only wish he could go out fighting like that, for there was a no better way to die, than to die standing and proud.
Marco breathed a ragged breath, eyes on Wyatt. “Did good... Anyone else; you’d, y-you’da won.” Marco tasted blood. He felt wet. Cold. “Adonis!” Marco called out, still looking at Wyatt. “Adonis you okay? We gotta go now, there’s nothing le-“
Volker spasmed as blood lept from his mouth into a pool on the ground. As Marco looked down to see the lake of red he just expelled, he saw the sea of red it began to meet, and the cause of it all. A piece of Wyatt’s sword was lodged deep in Marco’s abdomen. He was sure his ribs could jut out farther than it if he took a deep breath. He grabbed the blade by the teeth, and wrenched it out of him, a cascade of blood and pain following through. It clattered to the ground as Marco could do nothing but stand and stare, his body having turned into a statue.
Another torrent found its way out of his mouth, and the gash. He looked at the pool of red below him, then slowly looked up back at Wyatt. He laughed. “Huh-huh huh... You got me. You got me pretty go-“ Marco didn’t have a chance to think about who won in the end before he passed out. If he could’ve, he’d have realized that it was neither, and that they both lost.
...
For a short while after he woke up, there was a bit of hope that Marco thought he would live. Adonis had sewn him back up and Marco thought to himself that maybe it wasn’t as deep as it looked. Only 30 minutes later and he realized it was a fools game. He tried to drink some water, but it didn’t stay down. When he stumbled outside to vomit, he was sure he could hear the remains of his insides mixed with his blood jostling and sloshing around inside him like a gallon of liquid. The black oily liquid that came back up confirmed that he was doomed.
Marco was doomed to puke away his literal guts until he withered away. After everything that happened, he would just fade away like that? Inconceivable. Not him. Not like this.
“Adonis!”
Wyatt Carter didn’t die alone. Now Marco was set on a course for death too.
Honestly, it was a damn shame about the Carters. All that potential, that strength, that pure unadulterated Bloodlust! Claude would have been doomed if Wyatt came across him. Back home, Marco would have given his right nut to see Wyatt fail, to see him get his ass beaten and dropped a notch or nine, but on this island, he related to him a lot more than he’d care to admit. Adonis had already killed Wyatt in the end. He doomed him to a slow death with those bullets, and all Marco accomplished was speeding up the process of the dead man passing on. Yet Wyatt fought on. A dead man clinging to life through sheer willpower, refusing to give up because he wasn’t done yet and Marco could only sit there, inspired as Wyatt had the strength to joke about his coming demise.
In the end, this game wasn’t about who can slaughter the most people, or lasting longer than the person next to you. It was all about imposing your will, and leaving the biggest imprint. Wyatt’s sin wasn’t that he was aggressive starting a fight he couldn’t win. He very much could have won this fight, we’re it anyone else. His only sin was coming across Marco, whom had the same goals. There was nobody you could call the hero or the villain in this one. Just opposing wills, and who’s willpower was strongest. In the end, Marco was fated to win, having lived in the shit longer than Wyatt. Quoting Bane was the closest he could get to describing their situations. Wyatt adopted the Dark, but Marco was molded and reformed into it because the Dark was all he knew. Marco lamented the loss of Wyatt because a man like that could have done real damage, and Marco could only wish he could go out fighting like that, for there was a no better way to die, than to die standing and proud.
Marco breathed a ragged breath, eyes on Wyatt. “Did good... Anyone else; you’d, y-you’da won.” Marco tasted blood. He felt wet. Cold. “Adonis!” Marco called out, still looking at Wyatt. “Adonis you okay? We gotta go now, there’s nothing le-“
Volker spasmed as blood lept from his mouth into a pool on the ground. As Marco looked down to see the lake of red he just expelled, he saw the sea of red it began to meet, and the cause of it all. A piece of Wyatt’s sword was lodged deep in Marco’s abdomen. He was sure his ribs could jut out farther than it if he took a deep breath. He grabbed the blade by the teeth, and wrenched it out of him, a cascade of blood and pain following through. It clattered to the ground as Marco could do nothing but stand and stare, his body having turned into a statue.
Another torrent found its way out of his mouth, and the gash. He looked at the pool of red below him, then slowly looked up back at Wyatt. He laughed. “Huh-huh huh... You got me. You got me pretty go-“ Marco didn’t have a chance to think about who won in the end before he passed out. If he could’ve, he’d have realized that it was neither, and that they both lost.
...
For a short while after he woke up, there was a bit of hope that Marco thought he would live. Adonis had sewn him back up and Marco thought to himself that maybe it wasn’t as deep as it looked. Only 30 minutes later and he realized it was a fools game. He tried to drink some water, but it didn’t stay down. When he stumbled outside to vomit, he was sure he could hear the remains of his insides mixed with his blood jostling and sloshing around inside him like a gallon of liquid. The black oily liquid that came back up confirmed that he was doomed.
Marco was doomed to puke away his literal guts until he withered away. After everything that happened, he would just fade away like that? Inconceivable. Not him. Not like this.
“Adonis!”
Wyatt Carter didn’t die alone. Now Marco was set on a course for death too.
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Primrosette
- Posts: 1033
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:58 am
- Location: In the Dark Abyss
Adonis had heard Marco's voice calling for him and he felt like he had failed the other boy. He had never been good at stitching wounds up and he had tried his best when Marco had been unconscious. He had carried Marco to the lighthouse after he had emerged from the water and crawled his way back up to the top of the embankment with some difficulty. Shooting Wyatt had been a mistake. He had just wanted to get rid of Wyatt before he could have hurt Marco more....
…
What a fucking joke.
Adonis was thankfully on his feet and he made his way outside, smelling blood and vomit mixed in the air. He knew what was coming and all he could do was just stay by Marco's side. He would let Marco decide what they would have to do next and Adonis was not going to cry. Not yet, not... yet...
"Marco. I'm.... here." He said as he approached Marco carefully and he stopped right in front of him, feeling the heaviness of the situation. "....What.... What do you want to do now...?"
…
What a fucking joke.
Adonis was thankfully on his feet and he made his way outside, smelling blood and vomit mixed in the air. He knew what was coming and all he could do was just stay by Marco's side. He would let Marco decide what they would have to do next and Adonis was not going to cry. Not yet, not... yet...
"Marco. I'm.... here." He said as he approached Marco carefully and he stopped right in front of him, feeling the heaviness of the situation. "....What.... What do you want to do now...?"
“Not much left to do. I’m fuckin’ dead man.” He wiped his mouth and pushed himself off the wall. “I want... I want you to listen, one last time.” It couldn’t end like this. It wouldn’t. “I want you to look at me. This is what’s gonna happen to you too.” Marco put his hands on Adonis’ shoulders. It took every ounce of willpower to not puke on him. “If this is really you, and this is the path you’re taking, be ready for it.”
He thought of Wyatt, and the way he went down swinging. “Don’t blame Wyatt for this. Shit would’ve happened eventually. Least I lost to him and not some weak little shit like Emmett. Wyatt went down swinging, and... I’m going to go down swinging.” Marco smiled at Adonis.
“You wanna join in on the fun? Merry Christmas, you get my chainsaw. You’re bigger than I am, so by the end of this I expect you to have a higher kill count than me. I’m at four now, so you got three more to catch up.” Marco stepped away from the light house to pick up the fire extinguisher. That bag was all he needed for this. No point in letting his chainsaw go to the enemy once he died.
He opened the bag inside to pull out what little he needed left to do this. He looked back at Adonis.
“Anything else you need before I go?”
He thought of Wyatt, and the way he went down swinging. “Don’t blame Wyatt for this. Shit would’ve happened eventually. Least I lost to him and not some weak little shit like Emmett. Wyatt went down swinging, and... I’m going to go down swinging.” Marco smiled at Adonis.
“You wanna join in on the fun? Merry Christmas, you get my chainsaw. You’re bigger than I am, so by the end of this I expect you to have a higher kill count than me. I’m at four now, so you got three more to catch up.” Marco stepped away from the light house to pick up the fire extinguisher. That bag was all he needed for this. No point in letting his chainsaw go to the enemy once he died.
He opened the bag inside to pull out what little he needed left to do this. He looked back at Adonis.
“Anything else you need before I go?”
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Primrosette
- Posts: 1033
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:58 am
- Location: In the Dark Abyss
Adonis couldn't help but laugh a little at how Marco seemed like himself even if he was dying and they both had to deal with it when it happened. Well, no.... Adonis would have to deal with the aftermath. He knew that he had to make Marco proud of him after he was gone and Adonis felt himself wiping a bit of blood off of his own lips. God, he did feel like crap. But he had to push himself through it and he needed to be stronger and braver.
"I knew that this was going to happen at some point. Just not this soon...." Adonis let out a sad sigh and he stepped closer to Marco, smiling down at him sincerely. "You and Wyatt.... You were both so strong in your own ways. Now I just need to be better. I need to get rid of some people who don't deserve to go home and maybe... just maybe I can find someone worthy to fight too. Ha, ha, ha..."
Adonis still couldn't help a single tear from rolling down his cheek and he cursed under his breath. He didn't want Marco to see him like that and he wiped the tear away quickly. He then cleared his throat and he continued to look at Marco, feeling his heart being swallowed by the darkness of an abyss of despair.
Be brave, Adonis, be brave.... Be a warrior for Marco! Don't break down now...!
"Yeah. I need to give you something."
He pulled Marco closer to him by tugging his arm gently and he leaned down to kiss him on the lips, not caring if he was tasting a bit of vomit and blood. He just needed to do it. One last kiss....
God. He was being too cheesy for his own good.
"I knew that this was going to happen at some point. Just not this soon...." Adonis let out a sad sigh and he stepped closer to Marco, smiling down at him sincerely. "You and Wyatt.... You were both so strong in your own ways. Now I just need to be better. I need to get rid of some people who don't deserve to go home and maybe... just maybe I can find someone worthy to fight too. Ha, ha, ha..."
Adonis still couldn't help a single tear from rolling down his cheek and he cursed under his breath. He didn't want Marco to see him like that and he wiped the tear away quickly. He then cleared his throat and he continued to look at Marco, feeling his heart being swallowed by the darkness of an abyss of despair.
Be brave, Adonis, be brave.... Be a warrior for Marco! Don't break down now...!
"Yeah. I need to give you something."
He pulled Marco closer to him by tugging his arm gently and he leaned down to kiss him on the lips, not caring if he was tasting a bit of vomit and blood. He just needed to do it. One last kiss....
God. He was being too cheesy for his own good.
Oh no, Adonis, don't do this after I puked up literal guts, that's just nast- AWWWWW AWWWW HEEELLLL NAWW THATS JUST NAAAAAASTAYYY, ADONIS WHAT IN THE FUCK?! AWWWW EUUUUGH. Marco was gonna be sick Marco was gonna be sick Marco was gonna be sick-
"BLUEUGH!"
"Sorry about that."
"BLUEUGH!"
"Sorry about that."
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Primrosette
- Posts: 1033
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:58 am
- Location: In the Dark Abyss
"Ughh… Eww...." Adonis spat some of Marco's vomit out of his mouth and he couldn't help it. He laughed like a crazy person and then he was wheezing after a minute or so. "D-Damn. Didn't think I would get a pukey kiss as a goodbye kiss. Sorry, sorry. Hehehe...."
Adonis wiped his face with the back of his hand and this time he just planted a soft kiss to Marco's forehead. He really wished that there was more that he could do for Marco and he knew that he only could continue to survive for as long as he could. He guessed he could try to give Marco some encouraging words and Adonis was trying to just focus all of his attention on the boy in front of him.
"You better die like a badass."
He felt a smile broaden across his face more.
"Don't die like a bitch."
Adonis wiped his face with the back of his hand and this time he just planted a soft kiss to Marco's forehead. He really wished that there was more that he could do for Marco and he knew that he only could continue to survive for as long as he could. He guessed he could try to give Marco some encouraging words and Adonis was trying to just focus all of his attention on the boy in front of him.
"You better die like a badass."
He felt a smile broaden across his face more.
"Don't die like a bitch."