He heard their muffled voices from within, but couldn’t quite hear what they were saying. Fisk reached a hand into his vest pocket, and pulled out the Coke bag. He poured a big line along his thumb, spilling a bit as the bass vibrated the powder. Pocketed the bag. Did his line.
B-E-H-A-V-E nevermore~
Truthfully, he didn’t care if they said they were coming out, he gave them until the beat dropped. They weren’t outside yet. He turned and smiled at his crew. “It’s time!”
YOU GAVE UP BEING GOOD WHEN YOU DECLARED A STATE OF WAR~
“LIGHT EM UP!”
As the rounds began to fire off behind Fisk, he kicked his foot up and caught the hook staff as he danced forward, twirling it all the while like a marching band’s maestro. Fisk himself twirled, moonwalking his way up the docks as wood splintered and windows shattered.
He twirled again, doing some weird hybrid of Irish rain dancing and cyber goth underneath overpass flailing as he made his way to the door. He stopped to wink at the camera just outside it before kicking his way in.
“REJOICE!” Fisk bellowed, as he gently set the boom box down beside him. “For we are here to kill you now!” He grinned as he swung his hook up into a nearby table of spoons, flipping it with all the grace of David Bowie tossing a tray of cookies.
Feeble Cursed One!
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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DerArknight
- Posts: 686
- Joined: Thu Feb 18, 2021 9:47 pm
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
When Fisk ordered them to fire, Sofia did nothing. After all, she had no gun. Her newest weapon was the sword James had given her. Seeing how a sword was better than a shiv or a narwhale tusk, she had been grateful.
Then Fisk started his odd dance towards the restaurant. The audience saw this probably as quirky and funny, but Sofia just rolled her eyes. They were about to fight against a group almost as big as them. The time to do something funny for the audience would be afterwards, when the danger was over. She followed him with some space to avoid getting the wildly spinning hook in the face.
And then they went inside. As it turned out, Stokes had done good on her claim. There was a counter with lot of wares. Some appeared to be scavenged from the kitchen or elsewhere, while other stuff was content from the daypacks everyone had. Speaking of Stokes, she was behind the counter together with Junji and Chris, each one in different stages of panic.
Seeing Fisk destroying a table, Sofia felt the need to contribute. Without slowing down, she grabbed the tablecloth of the nearest table and pulled. The magic trick failed resulting in a lot of silverware clattering to the ground.
Then Fisk started his odd dance towards the restaurant. The audience saw this probably as quirky and funny, but Sofia just rolled her eyes. They were about to fight against a group almost as big as them. The time to do something funny for the audience would be afterwards, when the danger was over. She followed him with some space to avoid getting the wildly spinning hook in the face.
And then they went inside. As it turned out, Stokes had done good on her claim. There was a counter with lot of wares. Some appeared to be scavenged from the kitchen or elsewhere, while other stuff was content from the daypacks everyone had. Speaking of Stokes, she was behind the counter together with Junji and Chris, each one in different stages of panic.
Seeing Fisk destroying a table, Sofia felt the need to contribute. Without slowing down, she grabbed the tablecloth of the nearest table and pulled. The magic trick failed resulting in a lot of silverware clattering to the ground.
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Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
Woah, woah, woah!
Chris stopped his show for a little break, and stared ahead at the entrance. He stood directly at the entrance when the fun started. At first, he cupped his ears together to try and get rid of that trashy pop song, fearing for the slightest moment it was coming from his own head. But no, no, Chris wasn't that insane. If he had a song to go crazy to, he could probably just open up his 'POV: You're an edgy teenage girl ruining good music' playlist and play some villain song or something.
Still, Chris stared ahead, his eyes unclear. It wasn't obvious if he was was spacing out, or if he was staring ahead. (And frankly, he wasn't either. GRIMES' music isn't exactly a song to arrange your thoughts to. He wondered if the noisiness was messing with Fisk's head as well, but to be honest, Chris thought that even Barbie music was enough to screw up the weirdo's head for good!)
Finally, after moving past the whole Fisk screaming bloody murder in the horizon, he finally made it back to shore, back to the main topic.
Take paid leave, find some allies, become a star, say hello to pops etc, etc, all that important stuff. If he hide, or managed to get to another boat, he wouldn't need to deal with the normie business of being shot up.
Shot up.
Chris slowly but stylishly turned back, and it turned into a messy stumble back to Stokes. He put away a cringy one-liner about Fisk trying too hard to be the Joker or whatever the hell Fisk was trying to be. Now was not the time.
"Ha-, Well, w-we're sitting on an entire kitchen, that has forks and spoons. Should work!"
Chris looked rapidly at Stokes and Junji, wildly swinging his axe up and down. His strange widened eyes matched his laugh.
"Of course we fucking don't, you di-"
As the gunfire started, Chris ducked underneath the counter, catching Junji in the process, which, by the way, was a favour! He needed to get his fat ass on the floor before a bullet ended up in his fifth layer of tub. Or something. He tried to ignore them both as he looked at the entrance to the kitchen.
"H-hey, S-stokes get down!" He kept his axe tightly on hand, tighter around his hand's blood vessels then it had ever been, even as he began to sweat. "I swe-swear to C-Christ-Jes-, eh...God, you better have a secret protocol w-when this was go-going to happen!"
Chris stopped his show for a little break, and stared ahead at the entrance. He stood directly at the entrance when the fun started. At first, he cupped his ears together to try and get rid of that trashy pop song, fearing for the slightest moment it was coming from his own head. But no, no, Chris wasn't that insane. If he had a song to go crazy to, he could probably just open up his 'POV: You're an edgy teenage girl ruining good music' playlist and play some villain song or something.
Still, Chris stared ahead, his eyes unclear. It wasn't obvious if he was was spacing out, or if he was staring ahead. (And frankly, he wasn't either. GRIMES' music isn't exactly a song to arrange your thoughts to. He wondered if the noisiness was messing with Fisk's head as well, but to be honest, Chris thought that even Barbie music was enough to screw up the weirdo's head for good!)
Finally, after moving past the whole Fisk screaming bloody murder in the horizon, he finally made it back to shore, back to the main topic.
Take paid leave, find some allies, become a star, say hello to pops etc, etc, all that important stuff. If he hide, or managed to get to another boat, he wouldn't need to deal with the normie business of being shot up.
Shot up.
Chris slowly but stylishly turned back, and it turned into a messy stumble back to Stokes. He put away a cringy one-liner about Fisk trying too hard to be the Joker or whatever the hell Fisk was trying to be. Now was not the time.
"Ha-, Well, w-we're sitting on an entire kitchen, that has forks and spoons. Should work!"
Chris looked rapidly at Stokes and Junji, wildly swinging his axe up and down. His strange widened eyes matched his laugh.
"Of course we fucking don't, you di-"
As the gunfire started, Chris ducked underneath the counter, catching Junji in the process, which, by the way, was a favour! He needed to get his fat ass on the floor before a bullet ended up in his fifth layer of tub. Or something. He tried to ignore them both as he looked at the entrance to the kitchen.
"H-hey, S-stokes get down!" He kept his axe tightly on hand, tighter around his hand's blood vessels then it had ever been, even as he began to sweat. "I swe-swear to C-Christ-Jes-, eh...God, you better have a secret protocol w-when this was go-going to happen!"
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
Fisk gave the order to fire and James did so, aiming high as he pulled the trigger, hoping to scare the people inside out rather than actually hit them. However, James hadn’t actually fired the machine gun before, and he felt the recoil of the shots reverberate across his arms and over the rest of his body.
Gritting his teeth and feeling some frustrated grunt rise in his throat, James stopped firing, only to watch Fisk just traipse on into the restaurant himself, acting like more of a madman than James would’ve expected.
But Sofia followed after him, and he needed to keep an eye on her, particularly in a situation like this, where the only weapon she had was that awful sword he’d felt obligated to pass on to a her when she clearly needed some weapon.
Following them both inside, he saw how Sofia mimicked Fisk’s destructive behavior, and once again felt some unfortunate mix of discomfort and guilt that had come first when Sofia killed Lucille.
“Hey! Just come out! Okay?” James shouted, but the words were drowned out as he fired another spray of bullets, this one aimed for the ceiling.
Gritting his teeth and feeling some frustrated grunt rise in his throat, James stopped firing, only to watch Fisk just traipse on into the restaurant himself, acting like more of a madman than James would’ve expected.
But Sofia followed after him, and he needed to keep an eye on her, particularly in a situation like this, where the only weapon she had was that awful sword he’d felt obligated to pass on to a her when she clearly needed some weapon.
Following them both inside, he saw how Sofia mimicked Fisk’s destructive behavior, and once again felt some unfortunate mix of discomfort and guilt that had come first when Sofia killed Lucille.
“Hey! Just come out! Okay?” James shouted, but the words were drowned out as he fired another spray of bullets, this one aimed for the ceiling.
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1257
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
Turned out Verity didn’t even have to fire the gun. James took on that responsibility. Applied the pressure. Put the fear of God into whoever was inside. Made sure everyone around knew that the Respects were here and that they meant business. Which was fine. Meant she didn’t have to waste the bullets doing it herself. Meant that she could take a backseat in what was inevitably going to happen. Didn’t exactly really mean she was blameless, but… but she’d done so much already. Wasn’t exactly a matter of whether she could blame herself or not, not anymore. But if there was something she could put on the ‘slightly more blameless’ pile then…
Then she’d take that backseat. Do the bare minimum. Enough to pull her weight, nothing more.
She put her gun away and picked up the trident. Covered the distance between outside-the-boat to the boat. Stayed outside while everyone else went in. Moved over to one of the other entrances. If someone tried to leave through here, then…
Well. They weren’t going to leave through here. That’s what was going to happen.
Then she’d take that backseat. Do the bare minimum. Enough to pull her weight, nothing more.
She put her gun away and picked up the trident. Covered the distance between outside-the-boat to the boat. Stayed outside while everyone else went in. Moved over to one of the other entrances. If someone tried to leave through here, then…
Well. They weren’t going to leave through here. That’s what was going to happen.
There was no chance to argue; Junji was already being dragged to the floor moments after the first shot. His arm flailed out and caught a chair on his way down, but it didn't stop him hitting the floor with a heavy thud. He might’ve thanked Chris for pulling him out of harm’s way if he was a nicer person, or if he wasn’t in the middle of shitting his pants.
He cupped his hands over his ears as bullets tore through the entrance, fixated on the sight he’d seen in plenty of movies and games, but never for real. So far, in the real world of SOTF-TV, he’d only been behind a gun, his little peashooter that didn’t make much more than a Pop, and he'd never seen this many shots at once. It was an entirely different experience when you were the one being shot at, it turned out.
He tried to will himself to move, but he found himself frozen in fear while the bullets rattled. Only when they stopped did he find himself able to scramble, but it was interrupted by the entrance of Fisk and his crew. Within moments, the sound of the carefully arranged display that Junji had taken the care not to move out of place being thrown across the floor clattered out, and it was clear from the scene that this was just the warm up.
If this really were a movie or a game, Junji might’ve taken a stand, might have tried to cap Fisk right between the eyes with his little peashooter that had one bullet left, and been the baddest motherfucker there. But Junji knew the score from his glance outside: there were more guns here that weren’t being held by Fisk, and they would shoot back with something fully automatic. He’d be starting a firefight without the ammo for more than a single shot, and that was suicide.
Junji didn't feel like dying today.
They couldn’t just stay there, or they’d be fucked in no time. They had to regroup and get their shit together. Junji saw the same kitchen entrance Chris had been eyeballing. Close, but not so close they could reach it without exposing themselves at all. They needed a distraction.
Junji looked around for something to use, seeing the chair he had brought down in the first place. Without any better ideas, and without giving time for Stokes to stop him, Junji grabbed it, stood up, and hurled it in Fisk’s direction.
He cupped his hands over his ears as bullets tore through the entrance, fixated on the sight he’d seen in plenty of movies and games, but never for real. So far, in the real world of SOTF-TV, he’d only been behind a gun, his little peashooter that didn’t make much more than a Pop, and he'd never seen this many shots at once. It was an entirely different experience when you were the one being shot at, it turned out.
He tried to will himself to move, but he found himself frozen in fear while the bullets rattled. Only when they stopped did he find himself able to scramble, but it was interrupted by the entrance of Fisk and his crew. Within moments, the sound of the carefully arranged display that Junji had taken the care not to move out of place being thrown across the floor clattered out, and it was clear from the scene that this was just the warm up.
If this really were a movie or a game, Junji might’ve taken a stand, might have tried to cap Fisk right between the eyes with his little peashooter that had one bullet left, and been the baddest motherfucker there. But Junji knew the score from his glance outside: there were more guns here that weren’t being held by Fisk, and they would shoot back with something fully automatic. He’d be starting a firefight without the ammo for more than a single shot, and that was suicide.
Junji didn't feel like dying today.
They couldn’t just stay there, or they’d be fucked in no time. They had to regroup and get their shit together. Junji saw the same kitchen entrance Chris had been eyeballing. Close, but not so close they could reach it without exposing themselves at all. They needed a distraction.
Junji looked around for something to use, seeing the chair he had brought down in the first place. Without any better ideas, and without giving time for Stokes to stop him, Junji grabbed it, stood up, and hurled it in Fisk’s direction.
Only three of them? Doesn't look like they got shit for weapons neither. This shit was gonna be a massacre. Fisk beamed.
Oh~ho ho! They were scared, now!
Good. They should be.
Fisk laughed and took a bow. "Bet you're regretting that shit you were talking earlier, eh?" He trotted up to another stand of 'merchandise' if you could call this pitiful display merchandise. "Mouth's been writing a LOT of checks you fucks can't cash! Now me and the IRS are here to grab our debts!" He raised his hook staff- "So get ready motherfuckers!" He brought it down, splitting the table in two- "TO! PAY! YOUR! RESPECTS!"
He swept the trash from another table and jumped on top of it, squatting down, arms outstretched, to laugh in the faces of his next victims. "HA-HAAAAAAAAA~"
Junji threw a chair at him. The hit knocked him off balance, sending him rolling off the table as it rocked and fell over facing away from him. Fisk landed on his back, and rolled backwards from the momentum in a sitting up position. "You motherfu-" He wiped his nose. Mixed in with the makeup was blood. Motherfu-
"James!" He turned to his crew.
"Ventilate the lard-ass! NOW!"
Oh~ho ho! They were scared, now!
Good. They should be.
Fisk laughed and took a bow. "Bet you're regretting that shit you were talking earlier, eh?" He trotted up to another stand of 'merchandise' if you could call this pitiful display merchandise. "Mouth's been writing a LOT of checks you fucks can't cash! Now me and the IRS are here to grab our debts!" He raised his hook staff- "So get ready motherfuckers!" He brought it down, splitting the table in two- "TO! PAY! YOUR! RESPECTS!"
He swept the trash from another table and jumped on top of it, squatting down, arms outstretched, to laugh in the faces of his next victims. "HA-HAAAAAAAAA~"
Junji threw a chair at him. The hit knocked him off balance, sending him rolling off the table as it rocked and fell over facing away from him. Fisk landed on his back, and rolled backwards from the momentum in a sitting up position. "You motherfu-" He wiped his nose. Mixed in with the makeup was blood. Motherfu-
"James!" He turned to his crew.
"Ventilate the lard-ass! NOW!"
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Full-auto bandits at the door. Really was the worst case situation. Fuck, if junior hadn't pulled her down. If they'd been a better shot. What kind of a barricade was fucking tables, against bullets?
What could they do. It was over, the store was done, she was fucked, after all the time and work she'd put into this, she was gonna get burned to the ground before she could even try—
Hold up. Cool your shit.
Flip out and she was dead for sure.
"FISK YOU CARTOON-ASS MOTHERFUCKER!"
Yelling didn't count. Venting was healthy.
The bullets were flying. Stokes took a breath. Out. Breath. Out. Alright. Alright. Alright. She got this. She got this.
Stokes launch up from the ground and took off for the kitchen.
What could they do. It was over, the store was done, she was fucked, after all the time and work she'd put into this, she was gonna get burned to the ground before she could even try—
Hold up. Cool your shit.
Flip out and she was dead for sure.
"FISK YOU CARTOON-ASS MOTHERFUCKER!"
Yelling didn't count. Venting was healthy.
The bullets were flying. Stokes took a breath. Out. Breath. Out. Alright. Alright. Alright. She got this. She got this.
Stokes launch up from the ground and took off for the kitchen.
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
James had hoped this would be over quickly, that those inside would scatter at the sight of the Respects as a united front, but they had instead seemingly split on their decision. Most distressingly, Junji (who James was fairly certain had come up on the announcements) had tried to start something with Fisk.
Now James was being called in to play the equalizer.
He brought his aim lower and began to rain bullets down upon Junji’s position, closing his eyes while he did so. However, he had attempted to keep his aim just a bit wide, trying his best to herd Junji away with the tools he’d been given.
But James wasn’t much of a shot, and he had difficulty simply holding the gun straight, let alone trying to convincingly manage a close miss on Junji.
Now James was being called in to play the equalizer.
He brought his aim lower and began to rain bullets down upon Junji’s position, closing his eyes while he did so. However, he had attempted to keep his aim just a bit wide, trying his best to herd Junji away with the tools he’d been given.
But James wasn’t much of a shot, and he had difficulty simply holding the gun straight, let alone trying to convincingly manage a close miss on Junji.
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Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
How the actual hell did anything of them miss!? Okay, okay, Junji was on the ground, but he's a fatass AND an asshole, so Chris was seriously getting to the point of....of...something, something jokey.
(Maybe the bullets did hit something metaphorically. Chris felt wet with adrenaline, anemic even. That sense of humor had bled out sometime ago.)
As he heard Stokes yell her heart out, some thought flew through his head, one sooooo stupid, like something levels of stupid. 'That isn't going to help.' Yelling stuff at their shooter wasn't productive, no one smart did that. Who would be venting out emotions, or talking, or cracking jokes internally at this time?
Seeing the other run for the kitchen exit, Chris was about to run after. He didn't. Speaking straightforwardly, because straightforward was all he had left in his body, he would be bleeding out for real if he ran after Stokes. Fisk, after his very inefficient speech was done, was probably going to come for the shopkeeper.
He ran instead, upstairs, in the flurry of tension and bullets. The Respects were going to be focused on Stokes and Junji.
Chris was going to live. Stokes could die for all he cared.
He couldn't explain why then, as he rapidly searched for the other set of stairs, he pushed over a table over the stairs entrance.
Why he let the glass round part of the table crash onto the ground floor in a...(hm...)spotlight-stealing rattle. Stupid.
(Maybe the bullets did hit something metaphorically. Chris felt wet with adrenaline, anemic even. That sense of humor had bled out sometime ago.)
As he heard Stokes yell her heart out, some thought flew through his head, one sooooo stupid, like something levels of stupid. 'That isn't going to help.' Yelling stuff at their shooter wasn't productive, no one smart did that. Who would be venting out emotions, or talking, or cracking jokes internally at this time?
Seeing the other run for the kitchen exit, Chris was about to run after. He didn't. Speaking straightforwardly, because straightforward was all he had left in his body, he would be bleeding out for real if he ran after Stokes. Fisk, after his very inefficient speech was done, was probably going to come for the shopkeeper.
He ran instead, upstairs, in the flurry of tension and bullets. The Respects were going to be focused on Stokes and Junji.
Chris was going to live. Stokes could die for all he cared.
He couldn't explain why then, as he rapidly searched for the other set of stairs, he pushed over a table over the stairs entrance.
Why he let the glass round part of the table crash onto the ground floor in a...(hm...)spotlight-stealing rattle. Stupid.
Junji was already moving before Fitz was back on his feet, as much as he would’ve loved to savour watching the results of his Chair-Fu. They had to move if they wanted to stay alive, and fortunately Chris and Stokes were already in motion. It wasn’t difficult to decide who to follow.
He saw his day pack nearby, but there was no time to grab it. ‘Everyone hold on, gotta grab my shit’ would not fly right with people who were, in their own words, about to ‘ventilate the lard-ass’.
Online, or even back at school, Junji probably would’ve turned around and yelled something badass to put them in their place. Might’ve even marched back up to them and given them a good ass-whooping to prove his point. Don’t fuck with Junji Yamada. But you’d have to be a fucking moron, or suicidal, to stop and pose when heavily armed attackers were targeting you, and Junji was neither of those things. If he’d been better equipped, it might’ve been different, but now was the time for a tactical run-for-your-fucking-life.
It didn’t matter. The second round of bullets did not miss such a huge target that could only move so fast, even with James half-hearted effort.
Junji had been stung by a wasp once. When he was about six or so, and had been eating a chocolate ice cream. He was outside a drug store, or something like that. The wasp had been buzzing around him, so he had tried to swat it. Big mistake.
This was a million times worse than a fucking wasp sting.
It was like something had jammed a bunch of nails right into his right arm and shoulder blade, and were twisting them as he moved. He cried out, inarticulate and agonised. No witty quips, no badass defiance, just a high schooler screaming out in pain as assailants were shooting at him.
But he kept moving. For a moment he thought his legs would buckle, but they persevered, uninjured. The shock just reinforced the flight instinct, and without even realising it, he was inside the kitchen. He slumped against the wall, using the left side to avoid aggravating the pain, trying desperately to stay on his feet. If he passed out here, he’d be fucked for real. He grasped at his wounds with his heavy hands, only to antagonise the injury with a defiant burst of agony. He reeled his hand back, and it was naturally covered in blood.
“Fuck, Stokes, fuck this hurts!” he cried out, looking at her with pleading eyes.
He saw his day pack nearby, but there was no time to grab it. ‘Everyone hold on, gotta grab my shit’ would not fly right with people who were, in their own words, about to ‘ventilate the lard-ass’.
Online, or even back at school, Junji probably would’ve turned around and yelled something badass to put them in their place. Might’ve even marched back up to them and given them a good ass-whooping to prove his point. Don’t fuck with Junji Yamada. But you’d have to be a fucking moron, or suicidal, to stop and pose when heavily armed attackers were targeting you, and Junji was neither of those things. If he’d been better equipped, it might’ve been different, but now was the time for a tactical run-for-your-fucking-life.
It didn’t matter. The second round of bullets did not miss such a huge target that could only move so fast, even with James half-hearted effort.
Junji had been stung by a wasp once. When he was about six or so, and had been eating a chocolate ice cream. He was outside a drug store, or something like that. The wasp had been buzzing around him, so he had tried to swat it. Big mistake.
This was a million times worse than a fucking wasp sting.
It was like something had jammed a bunch of nails right into his right arm and shoulder blade, and were twisting them as he moved. He cried out, inarticulate and agonised. No witty quips, no badass defiance, just a high schooler screaming out in pain as assailants were shooting at him.
But he kept moving. For a moment he thought his legs would buckle, but they persevered, uninjured. The shock just reinforced the flight instinct, and without even realising it, he was inside the kitchen. He slumped against the wall, using the left side to avoid aggravating the pain, trying desperately to stay on his feet. If he passed out here, he’d be fucked for real. He grasped at his wounds with his heavy hands, only to antagonise the injury with a defiant burst of agony. He reeled his hand back, and it was naturally covered in blood.
“Fuck, Stokes, fuck this hurts!” he cried out, looking at her with pleading eyes.
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DerArknight
- Posts: 686
- Joined: Thu Feb 18, 2021 9:47 pm
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
It didn't take long until the restaurant was filled with chaos.
Sofia made sure to step out of the line of fire. She stopped her rampage for a moment to see what happened on the other side of the room. She believed to saw Junji being hit before taking cover behind the counter.
While the gunfire persisted, the kitchen door was opened. But since the counter blocked the lower half of the door from view, it was impossible to say who or how many fleed into the room.
Much clearer was the sight of Chris hurrying up a stairwell to the right.
He disappeared out of Sofia's field of view. Then a loud clattering implied that he had blocked the stairwell with something. Unfortunately for him there was a second stairwell only a few meters to Sofia's left.
She made a quick choice. Seeing how Chris had apparently stuck with Stokes for the whole game, he surely wouldn't abandon her like that. If they ignored him now, he surely would fall them in their backs.
"Let's split up!" She declared to her two companions. "I will go upstairs and take Chris."
With that, she was already ascending the stairs, brandishing James' sword.
Sofia made sure to step out of the line of fire. She stopped her rampage for a moment to see what happened on the other side of the room. She believed to saw Junji being hit before taking cover behind the counter.
While the gunfire persisted, the kitchen door was opened. But since the counter blocked the lower half of the door from view, it was impossible to say who or how many fleed into the room.
Much clearer was the sight of Chris hurrying up a stairwell to the right.
He disappeared out of Sofia's field of view. Then a loud clattering implied that he had blocked the stairwell with something. Unfortunately for him there was a second stairwell only a few meters to Sofia's left.
She made a quick choice. Seeing how Chris had apparently stuck with Stokes for the whole game, he surely wouldn't abandon her like that. If they ignored him now, he surely would fall them in their backs.
"Let's split up!" She declared to her two companions. "I will go upstairs and take Chris."
With that, she was already ascending the stairs, brandishing James' sword.
"Sucks," said Stokes, leaving a smear down the surface of a fridge door as she slid to the floor.
"Should prolly bandage that. after. stitches? butterfly strip things at least."
It did hurt, just sort of in this way where the weight of it all crushed down the actual pain.
Bullets were flying around. Fisk had screamed to shoot Junji. Stokes didn't know if it was bad aim or a ricochet or what.
She lifted her hand away from her abdomen and it came away plastered in blood. Hey. Check it out. They matched.
Game over.
Stokes pushed herself back up into seated position.
"Look, Junji. Man. You gotta go. 'kay? You gotta be gone."
"Should prolly bandage that. after. stitches? butterfly strip things at least."
It did hurt, just sort of in this way where the weight of it all crushed down the actual pain.
Bullets were flying around. Fisk had screamed to shoot Junji. Stokes didn't know if it was bad aim or a ricochet or what.
She lifted her hand away from her abdomen and it came away plastered in blood. Hey. Check it out. They matched.
Game over.
Stokes pushed herself back up into seated position.
"Look, Junji. Man. You gotta go. 'kay? You gotta be gone."
“What?! Fuck that! Stokes! Come on!”
Turns out seeing that your best friend had been hit a lot worse than you had did a lot of things. It made the godawful pain in your shoulder seem like nothing compared to the wrenching agony of your gut. It made the panic you’d been experiencing seconds before somehow simultaneously grow even stronger and kindly go sit in the corner while you sorted this shit out. It made everything that might have ever seemed cool about SOTF-TV, long before it had actually started, crack in half to reveal the festering shit inside.
He lumbered over to her, the irrelevant pain in his arm still hurting like a fresh motherfucker, but nothing changed. He didn’t know what to do in this situation, and moving over to her side dramatically didn’t suddenly give him the idea of what to say, or the knowledge of how to treat this wound, or the energy to hoist her out of there and make a heroic escape. If he wasn’t so fixated on her, the only person he’d ever gave a damn about, then maybe he would’ve scanned the kitchen for resources. Knives, or guns, or a box of grenades to blow their way out of this. But who gave a shit about that at a time like this?
“Stokes, fuck, it can’t end like this!” he yelled down at her, rearranging the few words his brain could summon. He was still stood up straight, because he couldn’t get his legs to bend down. That would imply that they couldn’t keep moving, or that this was it. Kneel down besides them, the only person you ever loved, as they left this mortal coil. That was way too much like a fucking stupid piece of shit anime or video game. Stokes wasn’t a piece of shit anime or video game character, she was his best friend, for fucks sake!
Of course he was crying at this point, but never mind that. Not even Junji realised how the tears were running down his face, as he struggled for an idea of what to do next. Even with so many bullets inside of him, blood still running down his tank top that carried the show's logo, and people outside ready to add a whole lot more, nothing mattered more to him right now than his best friend not dying here like a fucking cliché.
Turns out seeing that your best friend had been hit a lot worse than you had did a lot of things. It made the godawful pain in your shoulder seem like nothing compared to the wrenching agony of your gut. It made the panic you’d been experiencing seconds before somehow simultaneously grow even stronger and kindly go sit in the corner while you sorted this shit out. It made everything that might have ever seemed cool about SOTF-TV, long before it had actually started, crack in half to reveal the festering shit inside.
He lumbered over to her, the irrelevant pain in his arm still hurting like a fresh motherfucker, but nothing changed. He didn’t know what to do in this situation, and moving over to her side dramatically didn’t suddenly give him the idea of what to say, or the knowledge of how to treat this wound, or the energy to hoist her out of there and make a heroic escape. If he wasn’t so fixated on her, the only person he’d ever gave a damn about, then maybe he would’ve scanned the kitchen for resources. Knives, or guns, or a box of grenades to blow their way out of this. But who gave a shit about that at a time like this?
“Stokes, fuck, it can’t end like this!” he yelled down at her, rearranging the few words his brain could summon. He was still stood up straight, because he couldn’t get his legs to bend down. That would imply that they couldn’t keep moving, or that this was it. Kneel down besides them, the only person you ever loved, as they left this mortal coil. That was way too much like a fucking stupid piece of shit anime or video game. Stokes wasn’t a piece of shit anime or video game character, she was his best friend, for fucks sake!
Of course he was crying at this point, but never mind that. Not even Junji realised how the tears were running down his face, as he struggled for an idea of what to do next. Even with so many bullets inside of him, blood still running down his tank top that carried the show's logo, and people outside ready to add a whole lot more, nothing mattered more to him right now than his best friend not dying here like a fucking cliché.
Fisk sat up as the two disappeared into the kitchen, leaving a trail of blood behind them. He’d actually got them. James had shot them both! He... He had a chance. James actually could make it to the end.
Fisk was proud of him. Like a father witnessing his kid ride a bike without training wheels for the first time. Fisk witnessed James do the first real damage to these bastards with minimum pressure. Sure, they weren’t dead, yet, but they weren’t gonna make it now.
Fisk stood up. In their state, he could take them alone. “James. Good shit dude. Good fucking shit!” He beamed to him. “We got em cornered now! Ima go finish them off and we’re outta here!”
He walked his way towards the kitchen and stopped halfway. Still grinning he turned and pointed at James. “Don’t worry man, I’ll save you one. We’ll pop that killer cherry tonight if it kills me!”
Fisk was proud of him. Like a father witnessing his kid ride a bike without training wheels for the first time. Fisk witnessed James do the first real damage to these bastards with minimum pressure. Sure, they weren’t dead, yet, but they weren’t gonna make it now.
Fisk stood up. In their state, he could take them alone. “James. Good shit dude. Good fucking shit!” He beamed to him. “We got em cornered now! Ima go finish them off and we’re outta here!”
He walked his way towards the kitchen and stopped halfway. Still grinning he turned and pointed at James. “Don’t worry man, I’ll save you one. We’ll pop that killer cherry tonight if it kills me!”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.