((Karen Ruiz continued from The Price of Freedom))
The second announcement had come and gone, while Karen was busily sorting through her newly acquired weapons, checking, reloading, figuring out roughly how they worked. The rifles were bulky and unwieldy compared to her Glock, but she liked the idea of being able to empty thirty-two rounds at a go, even if only in a pinch. Besides, the machine gun didn't use the same ammunition as her Glock, so there was no real point rationing. The other gun, the one that looked like something a mobster would use, apparently only fired single shots, so she could be more careful with that one. It, too, used a completely different type of bullet. She'd made sure to keep them separated. No accidents.
She'd paused her inventorying to listen to the announcement. It was, after all, important to judge the mood of the others. There had been more kills this time, unsurprisingly. She'd been specifically called out, her team allegiance leaked to the the rest of the island. That was inconvenient. It meant she'd be more likely to be shot on sight, meant her collection of bandannas might not stall opponents as long as she had hoped. It didn't matter. They still served an important function as a psychological weapon. She'd manage. She'd just have to be more careful.
One of her other teammates had killed too. She had no idea who. Surely not one of those she had fired upon. The final mystery member, then? Not knowing names had become something of a problem. She had heard one that had caught her attention, though: Vincent Sullivan. She'd heard he was involved with fights, maybe, or other unsavory behavior. That he was here was a worry, doubly so since he had killed. She couldn't quite match a face to the name, though, just a very sketchy fragment of an idea. One to watch out for.
She had also noticed that the order of deaths was not being reported exactly faithfully. She had killed the second boy as the first announcement cut through the air. It was doubtful someone else had also killed at exactly that moment. Presumably, they were editing to match the broadcast order, to maximize the students' fear, or otherwise to spur the game along. She would have been worried that only one of the eliminations she had been responsible for had been mentioned, would have feared that a badly-injured-but-somehow-still-breathing other killer was out there somewhere, thirsting for revenge, but they called her at having three eliminations to her name overall. They were probably just stretching things for drama. Still, she would watch her back.
The mention of the ten kill rule also gave her pause. They wanted her to take that route, she knew. It made for the best viewing, made for maximum carnage. It was still nearly impossible. Things had changed a little, of course. She had more weapons now, nearly more than she knew what to do with. She had three marks by her name, and she'd not been hurt too badly. Severe bruises, but they would heal. They didn't impair her functionality too seriously. The audience members, the viewers back home, were waiting right now, she knew, waiting and watching and wondering what she'd do next.
Let them wonder. This wasn't about them. She wasn't here to titillate them, to sate their thirst for violence. She was going to live. If seven more opponents offered themselves up to her on silver platters, yeah, she'd take the opportunity. She wasn't going hunting, though. That way led to overconfidence, to death. She had to kill exactly one more person to live: the runner up.
But still, that siren song: seven more. It hadn't been easy, oh no, but it hadn't exactly been insurmountably difficult so far either.
No. Stay smart.
She'd eaten all the food in the girl's pack, had drunk all but one of her remaining sodas, slowly this time. She'd need energy to burn, and less weight eased mobility. She hadn't been hungry in the slightest, but she'd forced it all down, mushy mouthfuls of bread cut with the chemical sweet of Coca Cola and the biting salt of jerky. What a horrible last meal this would make.
She'd kept the cans.
And the whole time she had kept her Glock in hand, had scanned the area for intruders. She could barely blink without fear that someone would sneak up on her. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She had her two opponents, no, she had more. She was supposed to be safe. She had to be better, more careful. That was why she was at the lake.
She was digging through the cabins, searching for something, something very specific, something that would probably be here. She'd first planned to check the hotel, but these cabins had distracted her from that goal. They seemed more promising anyways. Less chance of having to deal with a mob of opponents.
It took some time, but she finally found it: a tackle box, full of lures and weights hooks and line. Next to it, a fishing pole. She grabbed some of the sharper hooks, maybe a dozen, and took three spools of line. It was perfect. Exactly what she needed to be just that little bit safer.
She repacked again, adding these items to a small pocket on her backpack, arranging her armament as she did so. She held the machine gun, set to fully automatic. She had five clips, one loaded into the gun. The other rifle had four. They hadn't skimped on ammo this season. Her Glock was reloaded, too. The box of bullets was looking a little bit empty now, but it wouldn't be a problem, not anymore. She kept the pistol in the right hand pocket of her coat, the spare clip in the left. The other gun was stuffed rather awkwardly into her pack. She was considering getting rid of the spares, just throwing them into the lake or something, but their potential as bait kept her from taking that route so easily. Besides, she had put a little work into them, creating impromptu straps for the rifles by tearing up one of the t-shirts she'd had.
It was baking hot again, unfortunately, and she was sweating, always sweating. She was going through the supplied water at a pretty quick rate, not really bothering to ration yet. She was pretty sure she'd be able to find more later, or, if she had to, eliminate another opponent and take theirs.
All of this minutiae was wonderful for distracting herself. It was better this way, keeping her mind on the process of surviving rather than allowing it to drift to past necessities. She wasn't happy about what she'd done, wasn't proud, but she couldn't let that cripple her. There would be time to consider it all later, but only if she did her job well.
This was her frame of mind when she stepped out of the cabin. She was still being cautious, still checking around her. She still hadn't quite learned how not to stoop, how not to move like she was constantly afraid.
Chain of Sorrow
May contain death, PM to enter please
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
[[Tiffany Dexter Continued From: Finders Keepers.]]
Note to self. Sleep during day, travel during night. It would have been much cooler and pleasant!
The noon sun was beating down horribly which made Tiffany's search rather uncomfortable. At least she spent her entire day under the shade of trees in that rainforest yesterday, hiding her easily burnt skin from the sun. Today, she didn't have that luxury being that she and Vincent had walked through the sunny beach, inland to the sunny and open plains.
Perhaps it really would have been smarter for her to travel when it got dark, and resting during the day? Others would have been at rest, meaning less danger to encounter. With Vincent around, it would be less likely for anyone at night to want to surprise them. Alone she was just some girl to an attacker. With an armed partner, she had numbers and intimidation and fire power on her side. It was why the group dynamic would be most beneficial for them.
That was why they needed to find their other team mates. They'd likely be scattered and not all at one place, which was why she and Vincent had traveled inland. To the Inland Lake, to be precise. It was the closest landmark area, in land, that wasn't that huge rainforest. Plus with the cabins and the cold water after their little hike, it looked to be a great rest stop as well.
If they were pit stopping here, the possibility of someone else resting near this lake was quite likely. Hopefully there would be one of their own team mates who'd decided to do just that.
Tiffany picked up her pace as soon as she saw the clear and inviting cold water. She sat on one of the smallest docks nearby, hidden amongst a few of the lakeside greenery and put her bag down as well. Her hands immediately went into the water, which she splashed over her face and neck with a delighted sigh. Rubbing the refreshing coldness of the water against her skin felt like heaven.
As she waited for Vincent, Tiffany decided to look for something in her bag to dry her face with. Maybe one of the extra clothes? There was quite a few. An Orange t-shirt representing her team, some brand named clothing and... What is this?!
A low cut, skimpy black dress with lace, an apron, a little hat and also included: a... a - feathered duster? You've got to be kidding me. A French Maid outfit?
She held it out, hoping for some hidden camera to capture it.
"Really... Really?" Tiffany shook her head and used the apron to dry her face.
Note to self. Sleep during day, travel during night. It would have been much cooler and pleasant!
The noon sun was beating down horribly which made Tiffany's search rather uncomfortable. At least she spent her entire day under the shade of trees in that rainforest yesterday, hiding her easily burnt skin from the sun. Today, she didn't have that luxury being that she and Vincent had walked through the sunny beach, inland to the sunny and open plains.
Perhaps it really would have been smarter for her to travel when it got dark, and resting during the day? Others would have been at rest, meaning less danger to encounter. With Vincent around, it would be less likely for anyone at night to want to surprise them. Alone she was just some girl to an attacker. With an armed partner, she had numbers and intimidation and fire power on her side. It was why the group dynamic would be most beneficial for them.
That was why they needed to find their other team mates. They'd likely be scattered and not all at one place, which was why she and Vincent had traveled inland. To the Inland Lake, to be precise. It was the closest landmark area, in land, that wasn't that huge rainforest. Plus with the cabins and the cold water after their little hike, it looked to be a great rest stop as well.
If they were pit stopping here, the possibility of someone else resting near this lake was quite likely. Hopefully there would be one of their own team mates who'd decided to do just that.
Tiffany picked up her pace as soon as she saw the clear and inviting cold water. She sat on one of the smallest docks nearby, hidden amongst a few of the lakeside greenery and put her bag down as well. Her hands immediately went into the water, which she splashed over her face and neck with a delighted sigh. Rubbing the refreshing coldness of the water against her skin felt like heaven.
As she waited for Vincent, Tiffany decided to look for something in her bag to dry her face with. Maybe one of the extra clothes? There was quite a few. An Orange t-shirt representing her team, some brand named clothing and... What is this?!
A low cut, skimpy black dress with lace, an apron, a little hat and also included: a... a - feathered duster? You've got to be kidding me. A French Maid outfit?
She held it out, hoping for some hidden camera to capture it.
"Really... Really?" Tiffany shook her head and used the apron to dry her face.
(Vincent Sullivan continued from Finders Keepers)
Like Tiffany, Vincent had been able to avoid the sun for the majority of the first day – spending most of it aboard the Cruise Ship – and as such was hit twice as hard by it now. The heat was certainly not making the trek any easier and the fact that they were travelling to a water source where they could cool off upon arrival was one of the only things stopping him from just taking a break right now; that and he really was determined to make this ‘turn Orange team into an army plan’ work and part of that was sticking with Tiffany. Though that didn’t stop him from letting the girl get fairly far ahead of him; she was surprisingly athletic for someone so… bookish, something Vincent was decidedly not despite his workouts and in the end useless sports training.
When Vincent made it to the lake and caught up Tiffany she was holding something up in the air and complaining to something about it. Her face and neck were wet, presumably with water from the lake since she was kneeling by its edge, and wiped herself off with something from her pack. A closer look told him that she had apparently found – and wasn’t very happy with – her fanservice outfit; he couldn’t tell what the black material was supposed to be at first but after seeing the apron in his hands it clicked. A French maid outfit? A bit of a cliché, but I guess you can’t beat the classics.
“You know, you’d probably look pretty good in that”, hopefully the semi-teasing smirk would be enough to keep her from grilling him over that remark, but just in case he decided to quickly change the subject anyway. “We should probably check out these cabins before we relax too much. If I got here first that’s where I’d go.”
Like Tiffany, Vincent had been able to avoid the sun for the majority of the first day – spending most of it aboard the Cruise Ship – and as such was hit twice as hard by it now. The heat was certainly not making the trek any easier and the fact that they were travelling to a water source where they could cool off upon arrival was one of the only things stopping him from just taking a break right now; that and he really was determined to make this ‘turn Orange team into an army plan’ work and part of that was sticking with Tiffany. Though that didn’t stop him from letting the girl get fairly far ahead of him; she was surprisingly athletic for someone so… bookish, something Vincent was decidedly not despite his workouts and in the end useless sports training.
When Vincent made it to the lake and caught up Tiffany she was holding something up in the air and complaining to something about it. Her face and neck were wet, presumably with water from the lake since she was kneeling by its edge, and wiped herself off with something from her pack. A closer look told him that she had apparently found – and wasn’t very happy with – her fanservice outfit; he couldn’t tell what the black material was supposed to be at first but after seeing the apron in his hands it clicked. A French maid outfit? A bit of a cliché, but I guess you can’t beat the classics.
“You know, you’d probably look pretty good in that”, hopefully the semi-teasing smirk would be enough to keep her from grilling him over that remark, but just in case he decided to quickly change the subject anyway. “We should probably check out these cabins before we relax too much. If I got here first that’s where I’d go.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Karen's hearing was pretty good. She'd always been able to catch people getting too close to her by sound. Maybe it wasn't even an innate ability; maybe she was just more aware than most people. Either way, it helped her here, as she immediately noticed that something was off. There was less ambient noise than before, just a little. More than that, there were hints of voices.
Run. She should go, get away, get clear. She should find somewhere less inviting, camp there until the end.
No. No, that was exactly the wrong thing to do. These people would probably leave soon. There still wasn't great cover here. She'd be making herself vulnerable. What she had to do was a lot more simple: figure out what the people were doing, who they were, then evade them. There were several cabins. Most people probably wouldn't bother checking all of them. She could figure out where they were going, find a different hiding place, and just ride their visit out. That was probably the best way to approach this.
So she edged around the cabin, trying to see who it was.
She saw. They were closer than she expected. Maybe she'd been overestimating her senses. That was bad. Any arrogance that had managed to seep into her had to be purged if she was to survive. She could never, ever get cocky. That way led straight to death. She'd play this smart. Melt away. Vanish.
Only, there was one little problem. The figures were close enough for her to recognize, just a little. They were from her school. Karen had pretty much only run into people from Detroit Central. The strangers were out there, somewhere, and she might have shot at them once or twice, but everyone she had really engaged, everyone she had actually killed, had been from her school, had been one of her former classmates. She didn't know how she felt about that. A little relieved, perhaps.
But that didn't matter, because suddenly the boy clicked. His presence brought an instinctual edge of fear to Karen. Something about him was scaring her, warning her to run. She knew him. Oh no. Who was he? Names. Why was she having so much trouble with—Vincent Sullivan.
Click.
A killer. A predator. Whoever was with him, surely another one. This changed things. This made them complicated. They were looking at the lake and each other, though, not at her. Had they noticed her? They'd kill her. No way they wouldn't. They were opponents now, and she'd be a good target for a killer out to set up their reputation.
The assault rifle was raised, was pointed, but her hands were shaking so badly. She had to calm down. They wouldn't notice her. It'd be like before, like the second boy. Just a squeeze of the trigger. She just had to focus. To steady her hands.
She took a few deep breaths, willing herself to calm, to focus.
Run. She should go, get away, get clear. She should find somewhere less inviting, camp there until the end.
No. No, that was exactly the wrong thing to do. These people would probably leave soon. There still wasn't great cover here. She'd be making herself vulnerable. What she had to do was a lot more simple: figure out what the people were doing, who they were, then evade them. There were several cabins. Most people probably wouldn't bother checking all of them. She could figure out where they were going, find a different hiding place, and just ride their visit out. That was probably the best way to approach this.
So she edged around the cabin, trying to see who it was.
She saw. They were closer than she expected. Maybe she'd been overestimating her senses. That was bad. Any arrogance that had managed to seep into her had to be purged if she was to survive. She could never, ever get cocky. That way led straight to death. She'd play this smart. Melt away. Vanish.
Only, there was one little problem. The figures were close enough for her to recognize, just a little. They were from her school. Karen had pretty much only run into people from Detroit Central. The strangers were out there, somewhere, and she might have shot at them once or twice, but everyone she had really engaged, everyone she had actually killed, had been from her school, had been one of her former classmates. She didn't know how she felt about that. A little relieved, perhaps.
But that didn't matter, because suddenly the boy clicked. His presence brought an instinctual edge of fear to Karen. Something about him was scaring her, warning her to run. She knew him. Oh no. Who was he? Names. Why was she having so much trouble with—Vincent Sullivan.
Click.
A killer. A predator. Whoever was with him, surely another one. This changed things. This made them complicated. They were looking at the lake and each other, though, not at her. Had they noticed her? They'd kill her. No way they wouldn't. They were opponents now, and she'd be a good target for a killer out to set up their reputation.
The assault rifle was raised, was pointed, but her hands were shaking so badly. She had to calm down. They wouldn't notice her. It'd be like before, like the second boy. Just a squeeze of the trigger. She just had to focus. To steady her hands.
She took a few deep breaths, willing herself to calm, to focus.
Tiffany's cheeks went pink at Vincent's unexpected comment. She didn't know if it was because she was flattered, embarrassed or angry about it. Maid costumes represented every degrading thing toward females, that Tiffany stood against, yet she took it as a compliment, but she didn't really know how to react. Her first instinct was to verbally grill him on it like she always did to boys who'd make such comments. Fortunately Vincent changed the subject before Tiffany could speak her mind. It was a good thing too, as really it was actually a somewhat nice thing to say and Vincent was her teammate after all. No need to get all prissy about something as minor as that, not here at least. It wasn't Detroit High School.
"Good idea Vincent." She said in response to his plan to check the cabins.
She pulled out her walkie talkie, a sharp plate piece and hid her bag beneath the bushes next to her. It would be easier to search around the lake and it's cabins without the thing holding her down. Tiffany had already been lugging the bag through the open plains and she wasn't in the mood to start carrying her pack around so soon after resting a bit. She and Vincent knew where to find her bag, when they needed it. Aside from the items she pulled out, her magnum was the only thing she needed for now.
"So here's what we're going to do: We'll circle around the cabins. You go around the right and I'll go around the left side." Tiffany turned the knob to the on position of her walkie-talkie as she tested it out, waiting for Vincent to do the same. She spoke through it. "If we find anything, we let the other know, ok?"
Tiffany stopped herself briefly, during her quick scan toward the cabins. It was a slight blur, but she thought she saw someone. Could be paranoia. Though, it wouldn't hurt to be extra cautious. Tiffany turned to Vincent and slowly, in between talking to him, she put her palm to the handle of her gun, pulling it out carefully, but still keeping her arm down. The gun pointed south rather than forward. If there was someone there, they didn't need to make it obvious that they were alerted about his or her presence. Her voice was kept purposefully low as she continued talking.
"I thought I saw something... No don't look. If you do, whoever might be there will know we saw them. If I wasn't just imagining things. Anyhow! We should be cautious, just in case. If there are people and they aren't orange team, then we get them from both sides, you know? So they can't escape. A gun from the left and right - front and back. If possible, we push them toward the lake, so they're trapped..."
Quacking ducks on the lake surface interrupted the tense moment briefly. It was a bit funny to hear that in the background, considering the subject matter they were discussing. It made Tiffany laugh a little, which she quickly lowered to an amused giggle.
"Sorry. Ducks." Well that was awkward. Vincent perhaps thought she was a little "off" after that.
"Ehem! Anyway... If we find someone dangerous. Even better. We get rid of a threat and also competition. The only people that get to be dangerous is us and whoever else has one of these." She pointed to the orange cloth in her front pocket. "Understand?"
She waited to see if Vincent understood. If he did they'd get moving immediately.
"Good idea Vincent." She said in response to his plan to check the cabins.
She pulled out her walkie talkie, a sharp plate piece and hid her bag beneath the bushes next to her. It would be easier to search around the lake and it's cabins without the thing holding her down. Tiffany had already been lugging the bag through the open plains and she wasn't in the mood to start carrying her pack around so soon after resting a bit. She and Vincent knew where to find her bag, when they needed it. Aside from the items she pulled out, her magnum was the only thing she needed for now.
"So here's what we're going to do: We'll circle around the cabins. You go around the right and I'll go around the left side." Tiffany turned the knob to the on position of her walkie-talkie as she tested it out, waiting for Vincent to do the same. She spoke through it. "If we find anything, we let the other know, ok?"
Tiffany stopped herself briefly, during her quick scan toward the cabins. It was a slight blur, but she thought she saw someone. Could be paranoia. Though, it wouldn't hurt to be extra cautious. Tiffany turned to Vincent and slowly, in between talking to him, she put her palm to the handle of her gun, pulling it out carefully, but still keeping her arm down. The gun pointed south rather than forward. If there was someone there, they didn't need to make it obvious that they were alerted about his or her presence. Her voice was kept purposefully low as she continued talking.
"I thought I saw something... No don't look. If you do, whoever might be there will know we saw them. If I wasn't just imagining things. Anyhow! We should be cautious, just in case. If there are people and they aren't orange team, then we get them from both sides, you know? So they can't escape. A gun from the left and right - front and back. If possible, we push them toward the lake, so they're trapped..."
Quacking ducks on the lake surface interrupted the tense moment briefly. It was a bit funny to hear that in the background, considering the subject matter they were discussing. It made Tiffany laugh a little, which she quickly lowered to an amused giggle.
"Sorry. Ducks." Well that was awkward. Vincent perhaps thought she was a little "off" after that.
"Ehem! Anyway... If we find someone dangerous. Even better. We get rid of a threat and also competition. The only people that get to be dangerous is us and whoever else has one of these." She pointed to the orange cloth in her front pocket. "Understand?"
She waited to see if Vincent understood. If he did they'd get moving immediately.
Vincent wasn’t so unobservant as to not notice Tiffany’s blush from his comment, even though he couldn’t tell whether her expression meant she was flattered by it or just wanted to hit him; probably a mix of both. It was kind of fun to tease her, to make a person who seemed so together normally break their composure. It would be interesting to see how far he could push his comments without incurring a penalty; making her blush was a bonus too.
He probably shouldn’t have been wasting his attention on such things when there could be a potential threat out there, but he needed to distract himself a little from the tension of the current situation. Not knowing who, how or what was going to attack you at any given moment could easily drive you insane if you let your mind think about it for too long.
He listened carefully to Tiffany’s plan for searching the cabins, simple as it was, and pulled out his own walkie-talkie and turning it on before clipping it to his belt. He had already been carrying the wooden oar on the way here so the makeshift weapon was already in his hands and he was about to reach for his Desert Eagle just in case when Tiffany caught his attention again.
"I thought I saw something... No don't look.” He wasn’t going to but thanks for the memo. “If you do, whoever might be there will know we saw them. If I wasn't just imagining things. Anyhow! We should be cautious, just in case. If there are people and they aren't orange team, then we get them from both sides, you know? So they can't escape. A gun from the left and right - front and back. If possible, we push them toward the lake, so they're trapped..."
He’d prefer to face them fairly, stupid as that may sound but he just wanted a clean shot at whoever might be targeting them rather than all this sneaking around shit. Tiffany laughed suddenly which made Vincent quirk an eyebrow again. Apparently the ducks on the lake were the cause and it became apparent that he wasn’t the only one who needed to fight the tension a little bit.
"Ehem! Anyway... If we find someone dangerous. Even better. We get rid of a threat and also competition. The only people that get to be dangerous is us and whoever else has one of these. Understand?"
Pointing to his own Orange bandana tied around his right bicep, Vincent began to turn away from Tiffany so that he could walk around the lake like she said. “If they aren’t wearing Orange, shoot them. Got it”
He probably shouldn’t have been wasting his attention on such things when there could be a potential threat out there, but he needed to distract himself a little from the tension of the current situation. Not knowing who, how or what was going to attack you at any given moment could easily drive you insane if you let your mind think about it for too long.
He listened carefully to Tiffany’s plan for searching the cabins, simple as it was, and pulled out his own walkie-talkie and turning it on before clipping it to his belt. He had already been carrying the wooden oar on the way here so the makeshift weapon was already in his hands and he was about to reach for his Desert Eagle just in case when Tiffany caught his attention again.
"I thought I saw something... No don't look.” He wasn’t going to but thanks for the memo. “If you do, whoever might be there will know we saw them. If I wasn't just imagining things. Anyhow! We should be cautious, just in case. If there are people and they aren't orange team, then we get them from both sides, you know? So they can't escape. A gun from the left and right - front and back. If possible, we push them toward the lake, so they're trapped..."
He’d prefer to face them fairly, stupid as that may sound but he just wanted a clean shot at whoever might be targeting them rather than all this sneaking around shit. Tiffany laughed suddenly which made Vincent quirk an eyebrow again. Apparently the ducks on the lake were the cause and it became apparent that he wasn’t the only one who needed to fight the tension a little bit.
"Ehem! Anyway... If we find someone dangerous. Even better. We get rid of a threat and also competition. The only people that get to be dangerous is us and whoever else has one of these. Understand?"
Pointing to his own Orange bandana tied around his right bicep, Vincent began to turn away from Tiffany so that he could walk around the lake like she said. “If they aren’t wearing Orange, shoot them. Got it”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Shaking. Her hands were shaking so badly, even with the breaths she'd taken. She wasn't calm, wasn't cool, wasn't collected. She was sweating again. This was like before. It was just like before, like when she'd shot that last girl, the other killer. The difference was, she now knew what she was up against. She knew she could win, but she also knew she could lose, knew she could lose so easily, could die in a second if she made a single wrong move. The other girl, she hadn't done anything stupid, hadn't done anything fatal. She'd just not been as good as Karen, no, not had luck on her side as much as Karen had.
Still time to turn. Still time to walk away.
But she'd always be watching her back. She knew they were hostile. She knew they were dangerous. She knew they were not on her team. This was a calculated risk, one that would leave her more likely to survive in the long run. It was worth it.
They were starting to move, starting to split apart. They had exchanged words, but Karen's hearing wasn't finely-tuned enough to pick out the meanings. She'd probably been damaging the sense with all the gunfire. That was a side effect she hadn't considered before. So many variables in this equation, so many factors she couldn't keep track of. She felt lost, alone, scared. She couldn't turn to anyone, couldn't ask anyone for advice. She just wanted her aunt. Someone to talk to, to share with, to confide in.
Of course, by now her family would hate her. Karen harbored no illusions as to her future. She would never set foot in Detroit again. Her family would disown her. They were good people, forgiving people, but they would not be able to understand her reasons. They would not be able to let her rejoin them, not after what had happened to her brother. She was doing this for herself, only for herself.
Her hands were as steady as they were going to get. The distance was fairly large, but she had good cover here. She could duck back around the cabin. They weren't expecting it. She sighted along the assault rifle. The plan was simple: a quick burst, full automatic, sweep it across both of them. Get in cover and wait to see how it had worked.
One more breath.
She squeezed the trigger.
It turned out this gun was a whole lot harder to manage than her pistol. The first few shots flew in the direction of her opponents, she thought. The gun fired for a full two seconds before she released the trigger, though, spraying bullets wildly in their rough direction, mostly entirely unaimed.
She didn't know if she'd hit anything. At the moment, she didn't care. She jerked into cover, dropping the rifle to hang by her side by its improvised strap, pulling her Glock from her pocket. She needed something reliable. There was a chance this was about to get a whole lot worse.
Still time to turn. Still time to walk away.
But she'd always be watching her back. She knew they were hostile. She knew they were dangerous. She knew they were not on her team. This was a calculated risk, one that would leave her more likely to survive in the long run. It was worth it.
They were starting to move, starting to split apart. They had exchanged words, but Karen's hearing wasn't finely-tuned enough to pick out the meanings. She'd probably been damaging the sense with all the gunfire. That was a side effect she hadn't considered before. So many variables in this equation, so many factors she couldn't keep track of. She felt lost, alone, scared. She couldn't turn to anyone, couldn't ask anyone for advice. She just wanted her aunt. Someone to talk to, to share with, to confide in.
Of course, by now her family would hate her. Karen harbored no illusions as to her future. She would never set foot in Detroit again. Her family would disown her. They were good people, forgiving people, but they would not be able to understand her reasons. They would not be able to let her rejoin them, not after what had happened to her brother. She was doing this for herself, only for herself.
Her hands were as steady as they were going to get. The distance was fairly large, but she had good cover here. She could duck back around the cabin. They weren't expecting it. She sighted along the assault rifle. The plan was simple: a quick burst, full automatic, sweep it across both of them. Get in cover and wait to see how it had worked.
One more breath.
She squeezed the trigger.
It turned out this gun was a whole lot harder to manage than her pistol. The first few shots flew in the direction of her opponents, she thought. The gun fired for a full two seconds before she released the trigger, though, spraying bullets wildly in their rough direction, mostly entirely unaimed.
She didn't know if she'd hit anything. At the moment, she didn't care. She jerked into cover, dropping the rifle to hang by her side by its improvised strap, pulling her Glock from her pocket. She needed something reliable. There was a chance this was about to get a whole lot worse.
"Holy Shit!"
A spray of bullets erupted out of nowhere, flying through the air around Tiffany and the ground below her. In a panic Tiffany dodged the hail of seemingly unaimed and inaccurate bullets and took cover behind a cabin. There really was someone hiding here and whoever it is, was well armed. It was just her luck, that Vincent and herself had separated, with him going through the safe direction and she was directly in the cross hairs of her attacker.
Tiffany peeked behind the cabin carefully to see where the bullets had come from and who it was that had been shooting them. She didn't see a person, but she did see the edge of a big gun, behind a cabin about four houses down. The sound from the gun earlier and the sight of the gun itself sounded quite familiar. It was her!
"Marvia you fucking bitch!"
She was back, Marvia fucking Jones and her many guns. Except this time, with Harold Smythe dead, it was Tiffany who had an advantage now. She was the one with the ally and he was heading in the other direction. She quickly flicked her walkie-talkie on and spoke through it.
"Vincent! Did you hear those shots? Someone just fucking shot at me! I think it's Marvia. I know the sound of that gun. I even saw it. Listen. Keep moving your direction, and I'll keep moving mine. We can close in on her from both sides. Then take her out." She waited for confirmation before signing off.
Tiffany only had six bullets in her gun so she had to be smart with them. She couldn't just fire willy nilly. So she moved forward while continuing to keep cover behind the cabins. If she was going to use any of her bullets, she would make sure it would count.
A spray of bullets erupted out of nowhere, flying through the air around Tiffany and the ground below her. In a panic Tiffany dodged the hail of seemingly unaimed and inaccurate bullets and took cover behind a cabin. There really was someone hiding here and whoever it is, was well armed. It was just her luck, that Vincent and herself had separated, with him going through the safe direction and she was directly in the cross hairs of her attacker.
Tiffany peeked behind the cabin carefully to see where the bullets had come from and who it was that had been shooting them. She didn't see a person, but she did see the edge of a big gun, behind a cabin about four houses down. The sound from the gun earlier and the sight of the gun itself sounded quite familiar. It was her!
"Marvia you fucking bitch!"
She was back, Marvia fucking Jones and her many guns. Except this time, with Harold Smythe dead, it was Tiffany who had an advantage now. She was the one with the ally and he was heading in the other direction. She quickly flicked her walkie-talkie on and spoke through it.
"Vincent! Did you hear those shots? Someone just fucking shot at me! I think it's Marvia. I know the sound of that gun. I even saw it. Listen. Keep moving your direction, and I'll keep moving mine. We can close in on her from both sides. Then take her out." She waited for confirmation before signing off.
Tiffany only had six bullets in her gun so she had to be smart with them. She couldn't just fire willy nilly. So she moved forward while continuing to keep cover behind the cabins. If she was going to use any of her bullets, she would make sure it would count.
Vincent stayed close to the cabins while he walked his side of the lake, using the wooden structures for cover while moving carefully between them. He held his boat oar in both hands and kept his pistol in his jeans for now, close enough to reach but still hidden; staying close to the buildings meant that any encounter would probably be a close quarter’s one where he could use his weapon to disarm them without having to shoot them.
If whoever it was saw he had a gun they would either run or bring out their gun; walk around with a big stick like this and they might underestimate him and try to get close instead. He was confident enough in his ability to take care of them quickly if that happened.
The gunshots snapping through the air from the other side of the lake told him that wasn’t a very good idea though; this person was using their gun either way. The quiet, but still recognisable, shout from across the water let him know that Tiffany was still alive at least and as the radio sounded out from his belt he was already running and bringing his Desert Eagle out into his free hand.
He didn’t bother to confirm what Tiffany said over the radio and instead focused on running; the lake was quiet a big place and if he wanted to flank Marvia rather than just end up in the line of fire like his teammate he would need to run all the way around it to get behind her. He just hoped Tiffany didn’t get her first.
If whoever it was saw he had a gun they would either run or bring out their gun; walk around with a big stick like this and they might underestimate him and try to get close instead. He was confident enough in his ability to take care of them quickly if that happened.
The gunshots snapping through the air from the other side of the lake told him that wasn’t a very good idea though; this person was using their gun either way. The quiet, but still recognisable, shout from across the water let him know that Tiffany was still alive at least and as the radio sounded out from his belt he was already running and bringing his Desert Eagle out into his free hand.
He didn’t bother to confirm what Tiffany said over the radio and instead focused on running; the lake was quiet a big place and if he wanted to flank Marvia rather than just end up in the line of fire like his teammate he would need to run all the way around it to get behind her. He just hoped Tiffany didn’t get her first.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
She hadn't hit them. She hadn't eliminated them. She hadn't done anything except compromise her own position and reveal her armament. This was bad. She'd made a mistake. This was how people got killed. One wrong move. One poor decision. She should have tested the other gun before using it in actual combat.
Ruminations on the flaws of her past actions were pointless, another waste of time, another mistake. She held her Glock in both hands, forcing her breathing back to normal, listening. They were moving, not fleeing, but heading towards her. Closing in for the kill. She glanced out from her hiding place, just the briefest of looks. They'd split up. Why? She'd figure it out later. What mattered now was that the girl was heading towards her. More bad news. Getting close was a great equalizer. Mêlée combat was the best choice against a better equipped opponent. For a second, she considered going for the sword. That was idiotic, though. It was a last ditch option. She needed to buy space, space and time.
She looked around. More cabins dotted the area, each offering cover. She had to get moving now, before the girl closed in more.
Karen took a quick breath. The boy was off to the other side, out of her line of sight, plotting something, but not immediately in her hair. She had a clear shot. She just had to move quickly and carefully. She started to count to three, gave up a second in, and ran, the rifle bouncing against her side. The second or two she spent out of cover were among the most terrifying of her life. She didn't die, though. She wasn't sure what, if anything, the other girl had seen. It was quite possible that her identity was now known. That would be bad. Against peaceful people, sure, Karen could swing some intimidation. Here, though, it just said that she was weak, that she struck from ambush, that she couldn't go toe-to-toe with real killers. They'd find her and kill her. Use it as a boost to their reputations.
She kept moving. The girl would know where she was, so she passed on to the next cabin, being sure to keep low. She kept her Glock in her hands, but she didn't fire. She wouldn't be getting out of this easily. Her chances would be a lot better, though, if she was smart about things. Just keep moving. Don't let them control the situation.
Ruminations on the flaws of her past actions were pointless, another waste of time, another mistake. She held her Glock in both hands, forcing her breathing back to normal, listening. They were moving, not fleeing, but heading towards her. Closing in for the kill. She glanced out from her hiding place, just the briefest of looks. They'd split up. Why? She'd figure it out later. What mattered now was that the girl was heading towards her. More bad news. Getting close was a great equalizer. Mêlée combat was the best choice against a better equipped opponent. For a second, she considered going for the sword. That was idiotic, though. It was a last ditch option. She needed to buy space, space and time.
She looked around. More cabins dotted the area, each offering cover. She had to get moving now, before the girl closed in more.
Karen took a quick breath. The boy was off to the other side, out of her line of sight, plotting something, but not immediately in her hair. She had a clear shot. She just had to move quickly and carefully. She started to count to three, gave up a second in, and ran, the rifle bouncing against her side. The second or two she spent out of cover were among the most terrifying of her life. She didn't die, though. She wasn't sure what, if anything, the other girl had seen. It was quite possible that her identity was now known. That would be bad. Against peaceful people, sure, Karen could swing some intimidation. Here, though, it just said that she was weak, that she struck from ambush, that she couldn't go toe-to-toe with real killers. They'd find her and kill her. Use it as a boost to their reputations.
She kept moving. The girl would know where she was, so she passed on to the next cabin, being sure to keep low. She kept her Glock in her hands, but she didn't fire. She wouldn't be getting out of this easily. Her chances would be a lot better, though, if she was smart about things. Just keep moving. Don't let them control the situation.
As Tiffany had approached, the girl made an dash for a further cabin, perhaps trying to keep a distance between them both. She was in moderately clear sight and range, a great opportunity for Tiffany to start shooting, but the identity of the attacker kept her mind occupied in surprise. Tiffany's attacker, wasn't Marvia Jones after all. She wasn't black like Marvia -no- she looked Mexican. Sure, she was right about the rifle being Marvia's but it's holder was another girl. That girl happened to be Detroit's resident loner and now the islands' number one killer.
"Oh my goodness... it's Karen Ruiz."
By the time Tiffany was ready to shoot Karen, she had already hidden behind another cabin.
"Dammit!" Tiffany cursed under her breath.
Seeing someone like Karen should have been frightening. Karen had "somehow" taken the guns off Marvia's hands after all, which means she was dangerous. But it didn't seem that way. The girl was retreating with every foot Tiffany moved closer. It seemed like she was more frightened of Tiffany then Tiffany was of her.
Still it was a good sign, in an odd way. Karen was a notable killer from the announcements now. She was a dangerous threat and competition for what Tiffany had planned and the sooner Orange team got rid of her, the better. Tiffany just needed to keep pushing forward, bide time for Vincent to make some ground on his side, while taking cover and then keep moving forward again. She did exactly that; continuing to maneuver Karen into proper position, taking cover again should Karen fire more shots at her.
It was a highly irritating procedure, but it came with a high reward - something Tiffany was used to, being that she had planned to endure four years in Detroit Central before eventually graduating and moving on to bigger and better things before this show "casted" her. Sooner or later Karen would be trapped between two of team Orange and there would be no where to run. Except the lake. She wouldn't even need to use a single bullet till then.
"Oh my goodness... it's Karen Ruiz."
By the time Tiffany was ready to shoot Karen, she had already hidden behind another cabin.
"Dammit!" Tiffany cursed under her breath.
Seeing someone like Karen should have been frightening. Karen had "somehow" taken the guns off Marvia's hands after all, which means she was dangerous. But it didn't seem that way. The girl was retreating with every foot Tiffany moved closer. It seemed like she was more frightened of Tiffany then Tiffany was of her.
Still it was a good sign, in an odd way. Karen was a notable killer from the announcements now. She was a dangerous threat and competition for what Tiffany had planned and the sooner Orange team got rid of her, the better. Tiffany just needed to keep pushing forward, bide time for Vincent to make some ground on his side, while taking cover and then keep moving forward again. She did exactly that; continuing to maneuver Karen into proper position, taking cover again should Karen fire more shots at her.
It was a highly irritating procedure, but it came with a high reward - something Tiffany was used to, being that she had planned to endure four years in Detroit Central before eventually graduating and moving on to bigger and better things before this show "casted" her. Sooner or later Karen would be trapped between two of team Orange and there would be no where to run. Except the lake. She wouldn't even need to use a single bullet till then.
This was starting to get on his nerves now; there was just too much ground to cover around the lake, too much open and exposed space between cabins that meant he had to wait until he thought it was safe and then dash between buildings. Basically, Vincent was moving much too slowly for his own liking and he just knew that he as going to end up being too late.
Too late for what he didn’t want to think about; it had been too quiet since those first shots and the call from Tiffany, he had no idea what was going on with his teammate and their opponent right now and it was making him more nervous than he was willing to admit.
Fuck playing it safe. Vincent reached back and pulled the pistol from his jeans, the weapon settling easily into his right hand while he moved his other weapon entirely to his left. Marvia – or whoever it was – already knew he was here and since she had already fired she obviously thought they were a threat; trying to be stealthy was ridiculous under those circumstances and it was just slowing him down. When he next reached the edge of a cabin he quickly poked his head round the side before pulling it back and when there were no shots in return he stepped out and ran for the next piece of cover. Now he was making progress.
Too late for what he didn’t want to think about; it had been too quiet since those first shots and the call from Tiffany, he had no idea what was going on with his teammate and their opponent right now and it was making him more nervous than he was willing to admit.
Fuck playing it safe. Vincent reached back and pulled the pistol from his jeans, the weapon settling easily into his right hand while he moved his other weapon entirely to his left. Marvia – or whoever it was – already knew he was here and since she had already fired she obviously thought they were a threat; trying to be stealthy was ridiculous under those circumstances and it was just slowing him down. When he next reached the edge of a cabin he quickly poked his head round the side before pulling it back and when there were no shots in return he stepped out and ran for the next piece of cover. Now he was making progress.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Slowly but surely, they were driving Karen back, boxing her in. She'd be trapped, soon, forced to flee across the plains, presenting an excellent and easy target; into the cabins, where there would be no escape or hope of survival; or towards the lake, where her mobility would be severely restricted. This was bad. This wasn't a shootout with another killer, or an ambush of some unsuspecting classmate. This was a pair, a group functioning exactly as they were supposed to in the team setting, using their numbers and trust to their advantage. It was frustrating. It was nearly driving her to tears, as she made her way to her next point of cover. Why didn't they get it? Why couldn't they see that they were being tricked? They'd never both survive. They'd turn on each other if they made it to the end of this, no doubts about it.
For now, though, they had a powerful advantage. She was going to have to be very good to make it out of this. She had to stop making mistakes.
First step was regaining control. She'd fallen back on her old habits. She was running, hiding, scared. What confidence she had developed was gone. She was back to being a victim, just because she'd missed a shot. No, even before that. She'd become weak the second she saw Vincent. She'd let him get to her. She should've fired from closer in. She should've made sure not to miss.
Time to make a call on her route. The plains were out. Too exposed. No chance of escape, and whether or not she could win a straight firefight, she couldn't survive with serious wounds. She'd have to kill them both, and do so quickly and cleanly. Not a chance.
The cabins were just as bad. She'd have to strike from ambush, but without knowing the layout, it'd be a complete gamble. Her opponents would also have to be idiotic to give her the chance to kill them both in one go. Whoever survived would have her trapped, and, given her reputation, anyone passing by would probably leap on the opportunity to help finish her off. She might be able to force a draw, to kill them as she died, but that was not her goal. She wanted to live. Any death and destruction was entirely incidental.
The lake, then. That was where she had to go. They were closing from both sides. They'd be after her before too long, but she could make a fighting retreat by the lake shore, through the scrub that grew there. She had her Glock. She could fire the rifle if she had to, too, but it was no precision weapon. It would be for buying time, for forcing them to reconsider following her.
A deep breath. A quick check: clear.
She ran.
No one shot her. She reached the lake, near the docks, and ducked down, behind a bush. Not the best cover, but it was something. At the least, it hid her from view. She'd wait, now, see where they went, what they did. Maybe this would be the end of it.
But, in case it wasn't, she held her pistol close. If her opponents caused her trouble, she was more than willing to eliminate them.
For now, though, they had a powerful advantage. She was going to have to be very good to make it out of this. She had to stop making mistakes.
First step was regaining control. She'd fallen back on her old habits. She was running, hiding, scared. What confidence she had developed was gone. She was back to being a victim, just because she'd missed a shot. No, even before that. She'd become weak the second she saw Vincent. She'd let him get to her. She should've fired from closer in. She should've made sure not to miss.
Time to make a call on her route. The plains were out. Too exposed. No chance of escape, and whether or not she could win a straight firefight, she couldn't survive with serious wounds. She'd have to kill them both, and do so quickly and cleanly. Not a chance.
The cabins were just as bad. She'd have to strike from ambush, but without knowing the layout, it'd be a complete gamble. Her opponents would also have to be idiotic to give her the chance to kill them both in one go. Whoever survived would have her trapped, and, given her reputation, anyone passing by would probably leap on the opportunity to help finish her off. She might be able to force a draw, to kill them as she died, but that was not her goal. She wanted to live. Any death and destruction was entirely incidental.
The lake, then. That was where she had to go. They were closing from both sides. They'd be after her before too long, but she could make a fighting retreat by the lake shore, through the scrub that grew there. She had her Glock. She could fire the rifle if she had to, too, but it was no precision weapon. It would be for buying time, for forcing them to reconsider following her.
A deep breath. A quick check: clear.
She ran.
No one shot her. She reached the lake, near the docks, and ducked down, behind a bush. Not the best cover, but it was something. At the least, it hid her from view. She'd wait, now, see where they went, what they did. Maybe this would be the end of it.
But, in case it wasn't, she held her pistol close. If her opponents caused her trouble, she was more than willing to eliminate them.
After a moment's silence, Karen Ruiz had fled from behind her hiding spot without warning and toward the lake.
Perfect.
Tiffany stepped out from behind her own hiding spot and aimed her gun at the fleeing girl, an easy target out in the open.
"Bye Bye Karen."
chnk.
What.
Was her gun jammed or something? Why was it not working?
Again.
chnk.
Nothing!
She stepped back behind the cabin to hide and popped her bullet chamber open. There were bullets inside! What the hell was going on? Tiffany dropped the bullets onto the ground and replaced them. Then she noticed it.
She hadn't pulled the hammer.
Oh my god. I could have gotten killed due to my own stupidity!
She pulled it back and stepped out into the open again, but by now Karen had gone missing. Tiffany walked closer to the lake's shore and looked around. Quiet. She had either run away, or was hiding somewhere around the area, but where?
Movement! Near some of the bushes!
BANG!
Feathers, as it's inhabitants flew off.
Ducks. Fucking ducks.
Tiffany stepped onto the docks, her gun still at ready. She was taking the chance with it, to use herself as bait to lure Karen out. Tiffany figured by the way Karen had attacked her, that Karen was the type to kill using the method of surprise. So here she was. The perfect opportunity for Karen to do another sneak attack. Then Tiffany would know where she was.
But there was no shots. A minute or two and still no shots. Tiffany stood in the middle of the dock and spread her arms as if willing Karen to shoot at her. Still no shots.
She was starting to get quite impatient.
"Karen you little bitch! Why don't you come out and shoot me? Come on, I dare you! If you don't come out, I guess my partner and I will have to look for you then!"
Wait, Vincent. She needed to fill him in on it all too. She lowered her gun and pulled out the walkie-talkies.
"Vincent: The shooter is not Marvia, it's Karen Ruiz. I think she killed Marvia and took her gun. She's hiding near some docks. Listen, I can hear that you're near. Head over and we'll look for-"
Something impacted against Tiffany's torso. Then several more.
Her walkie-talkie dropped from her hand onto the wood of the dock. Her other hand fired crookedly at the bushes from where they came from, as her body tipped over the edge of the dock and onto the surface of the now blood stained shallow water.
Docks. Fucking docks.
Perfect.
Tiffany stepped out from behind her own hiding spot and aimed her gun at the fleeing girl, an easy target out in the open.
"Bye Bye Karen."
chnk.
What.
Was her gun jammed or something? Why was it not working?
Again.
chnk.
Nothing!
She stepped back behind the cabin to hide and popped her bullet chamber open. There were bullets inside! What the hell was going on? Tiffany dropped the bullets onto the ground and replaced them. Then she noticed it.
She hadn't pulled the hammer.
Oh my god. I could have gotten killed due to my own stupidity!
She pulled it back and stepped out into the open again, but by now Karen had gone missing. Tiffany walked closer to the lake's shore and looked around. Quiet. She had either run away, or was hiding somewhere around the area, but where?
Movement! Near some of the bushes!
BANG!
Feathers, as it's inhabitants flew off.
Ducks. Fucking ducks.
Tiffany stepped onto the docks, her gun still at ready. She was taking the chance with it, to use herself as bait to lure Karen out. Tiffany figured by the way Karen had attacked her, that Karen was the type to kill using the method of surprise. So here she was. The perfect opportunity for Karen to do another sneak attack. Then Tiffany would know where she was.
But there was no shots. A minute or two and still no shots. Tiffany stood in the middle of the dock and spread her arms as if willing Karen to shoot at her. Still no shots.
She was starting to get quite impatient.
"Karen you little bitch! Why don't you come out and shoot me? Come on, I dare you! If you don't come out, I guess my partner and I will have to look for you then!"
Wait, Vincent. She needed to fill him in on it all too. She lowered her gun and pulled out the walkie-talkies.
"Vincent: The shooter is not Marvia, it's Karen Ruiz. I think she killed Marvia and took her gun. She's hiding near some docks. Listen, I can hear that you're near. Head over and we'll look for-"
Something impacted against Tiffany's torso. Then several more.
Her walkie-talkie dropped from her hand onto the wood of the dock. Her other hand fired crookedly at the bushes from where they came from, as her body tipped over the edge of the dock and onto the surface of the now blood stained shallow water.
Docks. Fucking docks.
Another shot rang out while Vincent was passing behind another cabin, the lake itself hidden from his sight. This one was different from those earlier; for one there was only one, not several and it was louder, deeper than those that Marvia had fired before. Sounded like Tiffany was finally getting a chance to use her revolver, which meant that the actual shoot out was about to start without him.
He pushed himself to go faster but he was still a minute or so away from clearing the buildings and making it to the docks on the far side of the lake when his walkie-talkie went off again.
"Vincent: The shooter is not Marvia, it's Karen Ruiz. I think she killed Marvia and took her gun. She's hiding near some docks. Listen, I can hear that you're near. Head over and we'll look for-"
Before the reveal of the real identity of their target could settle into his brain, several small, short pops echoed through the air and even through the radio itself meaning that Marvia – sorry, Karen – must have fired on Tiffany again. This wouldn’t have bothered him so much if the shots weren’t followed by the sound of something clattering against wood coming through the walkie-talkie, yet another loud, deep gunshot and a splash.
He rounded the corner a moment later, seeing nothing ahead but an empty lakeside and an unoccupied dock. He could see something small and black on the wooden planks that might have been the matching radio to his own but other than that there was nothing that he could see.
Stepping back towards the cabin, Vincent took cover near to the building while pointing his gun out towards the docks. If what he thought had occurred was indeed what had happened then Karen would be coming out any second now to claim her prize before leaving. If she hadn’t seen him she would assume he was still on his way and would hurry to collect Tiffany’s weapons before he arrived; she would be rushing and sloppy he would have a chance to ambush her this time around. It was just a matter of waiting her out.
He pushed himself to go faster but he was still a minute or so away from clearing the buildings and making it to the docks on the far side of the lake when his walkie-talkie went off again.
"Vincent: The shooter is not Marvia, it's Karen Ruiz. I think she killed Marvia and took her gun. She's hiding near some docks. Listen, I can hear that you're near. Head over and we'll look for-"
Before the reveal of the real identity of their target could settle into his brain, several small, short pops echoed through the air and even through the radio itself meaning that Marvia – sorry, Karen – must have fired on Tiffany again. This wouldn’t have bothered him so much if the shots weren’t followed by the sound of something clattering against wood coming through the walkie-talkie, yet another loud, deep gunshot and a splash.
He rounded the corner a moment later, seeing nothing ahead but an empty lakeside and an unoccupied dock. He could see something small and black on the wooden planks that might have been the matching radio to his own but other than that there was nothing that he could see.
Stepping back towards the cabin, Vincent took cover near to the building while pointing his gun out towards the docks. If what he thought had occurred was indeed what had happened then Karen would be coming out any second now to claim her prize before leaving. If she hadn’t seen him she would assume he was still on his way and would hurry to collect Tiffany’s weapons before he arrived; she would be rushing and sloppy he would have a chance to ambush her this time around. It was just a matter of waiting her out.