You are viewing program68

August 2008   01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31
Profile w/text

Day 5 Zone L8 Over the bridge we go

Posted by not_teal on 2008.08.04 at 16:19
The storm has not let up one iota as the oxen pull their burden over the water-slicked bridge.

Having picked up who they can only hope is an ally for now and dropping off the other group, Tucker and company journey ever onward towards the place where this all began - blood-soaked Oregon.

No, wait - the school. They've got a package to drop off. Express Delivery.

There is purpose. There is resolve. There is the sound of Tucker humming P.I.M.P.

Comments:


hisazawa at 2008-08-04 09:35 (UTC) (Link)
There is no way in hell the plan is going to work. None at all. Sure, it'd be great if it did, but it won't. Really.

And there's New Guy. Hisa does not trust New Guy. He was, well, new. She's starting to wonder if her choice of group was such a good idea. At least the kid would have been easy to deal with... Oh well, she can't change it now. And she still has Tucker. She really likes Tucker. Probably not for the reasons he'd like...but still.
Henry Sherman-Townshend
unbroken at 2008-08-04 11:28 (UTC) (Link)
Henry, on the other hand, trusts everyone. They're all in this together, right? And this plan will work, because it makes so much sense! He's really starting to have hopes of getting out of here.

Tucker's still leading the oxen, so Henry's steadying the rocket launcher, trying to keep it from getting too wet. At least it's a little easier to maneuver in here. "So...uh, where do you think they would have put it on the school...? The roof?"
Reeves Bennington
mr_bennington at 2008-08-04 22:45 (UTC) (Link)
Reeves is quiet for the most part, having spent a little while just resting with his head back. Regaining his strength. He's stopped shivering by the time they've reached the bridge, the body heat in the packed wagon more than enough to chase the chill away.

If anyone looks closely, they might notice that his jumpsuit is indeed spattered with blood. It was probably difficult to see while he was drenched. Needless to say, he hasn't drawn attention to it.

He's been discreet about it, but he has looked his teammates over. Henry looked easy. He was too trusting and innocent. Hisa seemed a touch neurotic but that could work to his advantage. Possibly. Tucker... he wasn't sure about Tucker. Something told him Tucker would be his biggest problem.

But having heard the plan... there's some hope. It's not a bad plan. He can, possibly, afford to wait to see if it works. If it doesn't, he's in trouble. He'd have to kill all three of the people he's with, somehow make it to the other group of three and kill them, and find the last contestant. And kill him as well. All before time was up. All with nine bullets left. It didn't look promising.

Drop him into a building with a gun and tell him he has a few key people to eliminate. Sure. Drop him into a large valley and tell him he has a week to kill twenty people with a crowbar? Not so much.

Head still back against the side of the wagon, he shuts his eyes quietly.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-05 00:08 (UTC) (Link)
"Good place to start, if there's anything that looks like a transmitter," whatever one looks like... "We've got enough shells and I figured they'd want it high enough so if I knock on a few windows we're bound to hit something important."

Did he have doubts? No shit he did. If the building was constructed in a time any closer to his own he'd be lucky to put a crack in the walls. And if it didn't work, he'd be the one in an ugly situation and no ammo. He wasn't a spiritual man, but he hoped whoever up there he'd pissed off enough to get into this mess was willing to call it evens just for now.

The click-clicking quiets off as they leave the bridge and cross over onto slightly less-solid terrain. The oxen do their best to keep up the pace for a while despite the conditions.

Then there's the unpleasant squelching sound of a wheel loosing traction, and suddenly the wagon looses all forward momentum. After no amount of rein-flicking and swearing will urge the oxen forward any further he says "Shit. There might be a short delay, ladies and dudes..."

He hops down and circles around the wagon, seeing that indeed, one of the rear wheels has become pretty well-mired in the mud. He calls out, "Uh, guys? I think we're all gonna need to get out and push."
hisazawa at 2008-08-05 01:34 (UTC) (Link)
Hisa doesn't really understand the intricacies of rocket launchers, so she stays out of this one. She's heard of them...but that's about it. So instead of piping in, she keeps her eye on Reeves. She tries to be subtle about it, she really does...but like most things she tries, she fails at it.

And then the wagon stops moving.

"Shit, Scheisse, ach du heilige Scheisse!" Oh German, how fun you are to curse in. She leans out of the wagon and inspects the wheel from where she sits. Huh, yep, that'll have to be pushed.

...she's going to see if the others can do it first.
Henry Sherman-Townshend
unbroken at 2008-08-05 01:41 (UTC) (Link)
Henry gets out immediately and takes a look at how deep it is. He wonders about that. "Maybe we should just walk...? It's not much farther." And it would make less noise. He opens his map and looks at it for probably too long a time, considering how often he's done it. "We'll have to be careful about getting into the dead zone, anyway...uh, right?"
Reeves Bennington
mr_bennington at 2008-08-05 02:04 (UTC) (Link)
Reeves sighs quietly. It's far too soon to be going back out into the rain. He follows Henry out after a moment, taking his bag with him, to look at the wheel. Wonderful.

While Henry regards his map, Reeves's eyes wander. They eventually reach the nearby mountains. Just over those mountains is freedom. But there's no doubt in his mind that the collars would detonate if they attempted to climb them.

Just as his eyes wander to the top of it, lightening strikes across it, and there's something... something.

Something.

This is the sound of someone's brain breaking.

Reeves jerks suddenly, almost as if something's hit him, a rather ungodly sound, something of a shriek, escaping his lips as he goes down, dropping his bag to fling his arms tightly over his head.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-05 02:13 (UTC) (Link)
"We're gonna making a shitload of noise anyway. I just wanna do this in style!" He pats the stuck wheel with fading hope. "Maybe if we all give it one big push at the same time..."

Then Reeves decides to Divide By Zero. Tucker, looking over at him instead of whatever he was looking out at, asks, "Is he having a seizure? Does anyone see if he's wearing a Medilert bracelet?"

Hopefully someone knows what to do. First Aid isn't one his top skills.
hisazawa at 2008-08-05 02:21 (UTC) (Link)
"Holy shit!" Hisa screams as she falls out of the wagon face first. She did not expect that. The screaming, why with the screaming? She gropes around in the mud for her gun, and barely manages to get a hold of it.

Yeah, she's jerky, so what?

"Th'hell if I know!"
Henry Sherman-Townshend
unbroken at 2008-08-05 02:41 (UTC) (Link)
Henry stares down at the fallen man, trying to figure out if anything happened to him. What's going on? Maybe there was something in their collars to make them act like this....but that doesn't make any sort of sense.

He watches Reeves put his arms over his head, then glances towards the mountains. Nothing over there. Absolutely nothing.

"Hey....hey, are you okay?" he asks, kneeling down to get a better look at him. He won't know what to do if there really is something wrong, but he has to think he'd be able to help somehow. "No bracelet..." he murmurs, after checking for it. He doesn't think this is a seizure, but then again, he probably wouldn't know one if he saw one.

Edited at 2008-08-05 02:44 am (UTC)
Reeves Bennington
mr_bennington at 2008-08-05 02:52 (UTC) (Link)
And he starts to laugh. Just a moment. Just... just give him one moment. A moment please? One arm is reaching for his bag now, almost frantic, tearing at the zipper.

"DON'T LOOK!" He shrieks at Henry when the man looks mountainwards. "Don't... l-look at me. Don'tlook." And then he's tearing the gun out of his bag, aiming it at Henry, and firing.

PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-05 03:03 (UTC) (Link)
"Okay, okay, we're not looking... What are we not looking a-SONOFABITCH!"

He instinctively ducks next to the stricken wheel, looking between the new sheriff of Crazytown and Henry, who was within his line of sight. Henry can dodge bullets, right? Right?
hisazawa at 2008-08-05 03:07 (UTC) (Link)
And this is where Hisa runs like a bitch. Okay, she doesn't really, she just sprints over to where Tucker is.

She knew it. She fucking knew it. Somebody was going to go crazy and start shooting people.

She ducks behind Tucker in the most lovingly way possible.
Henry Sherman-Townshend
unbroken at 2008-08-05 03:34 (UTC) (Link)
Considering he's at point blank range, and also that he really didn't expect this man to do that, Henry catches the bullet in his lower torso, right side. He doesn't realize what's happened until he's hit the ground.

He rolls his eyes up to look at Reeves. "H-hey...it's okay, calm down. Please...?" he says, fighting the cough, the rush of blood in his throat as long as he can. He didn't want anyone else getting hurt. "Please..." He shifts his position, trying to sit up, but he can feel something inside him snap, and the pain travels immediately up and through him, stinging. It's unbearable, but it's soon replaced with a calm buzzing nothing.

Henry can't fight the cough anymore, and blood splatters the ground.
Reeves Bennington
mr_bennington at 2008-08-05 03:44 (UTC) (Link)
Reeves scrambles to his feet, swaying a bit before aiming the gun at Henry again and finishing him off with another shot.

He snaps the gun up to point it at where Tucker and Hisa are, firing twice more. And that's the last of the bullets in the gun. Despite his attempt to continue firing, the gun, predictably, does nothing.

He drops it and grabs the crowbar from his bag, coming towards them now.

He might very well be ranting about nonsense, some of it about mountains and impossible beings dwelling in them.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-05 03:55 (UTC) (Link)
Tucker watches Henry go down. Wow, conciliatory to the bitter end, huh?

"Henry! N-ohshit!" He barely manages to get around the wagon enough to stay out of Reeve's range as he fires. Anyone behind him would be wise to back up along with him or move to the side, but he's going to circle around to the front to get his backpack from the wagon, for something to hold him off with.

Maybe Hisa can delay their attacker somehow. Maybe the shotgun will do something!
hisazawa at 2008-08-06 00:07 (UTC) (Link)
She'd yell out Henry's name too, if she remembered it. By the time Tucker yells it out, he's already moving, and Reeves is already firing.

"KUSO!!"

Yep, Hisa is hit. Luckily, it's in the upper arm, but it still hurts like a bitch. She dives after Tucker, hand clutching her arm and shotgun sort-of-but-not-really held in between her two arms.

Oh, and she can't fire her gun anymore. Isn't that a bitch?

After that, she kind of just stumbles around the wagon and slumps against it, breathing heavy. The gun drops down into the mud, but she doesn't notice. She just got shot in the arm.
Reeves Bennington
mr_bennington at 2008-08-06 02:32 (UTC) (Link)
"Are you watching this, Rue!?" "Do you see thi-" The train of thought is lost in a fit of half-hysterical laughter that ends in coughing. It doesn't slow him down, though, as he tears after them around the wagon. He slides in the mud, nearly loosing his balance as he comes around it, eyes crazed as he swings for the closest person. Swings for their head.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-06 03:11 (UTC) (Link)
Okay, he doesn't know what Kuso means (but reminds himself to look it up later to see if it's a swear word) but that doesn't sound like someone unloading buckshot into another human. However by now he's already around at the front of the wagon and stretching upward to reach inside. "Shit...! Hold on..." His hand scrabbles in the darkness until it closes around the strap of a backpack one that heavy and clinking with the sound of six rocket shells inside.

He hops down and away from the wagon, hefting the makeshift weapon in his hand as Reeves starts to swing. Oh, that doesn't look good.
hisazawa at 2008-08-06 03:35 (UTC) (Link)
Her vision is hazy, so she doesn't really see him until it's too late. The end of the crowbar hits her right in the temple, and catches the skin. He rips out a chunk of flesh on the pull back, and proceeds to beat her repeatedly over the head.

There is blood, oh how there is blood.

She falls, and doesn't even scream, though there is some gurgling. Maybe some twitching. She doesn't even get to let out a final string of curses.

That will really piss her off when she wakes up in the Nexus.
Reeves Bennington
mr_bennington at 2008-08-06 03:44 (UTC) (Link)
Reeves quickly and repeatedly brings the crowbar to Hisa's skull, the cracks sickening and blood spraying slightly with each swing of the bar. It takes him a moment, even after she's gone quiet, to remember that Tucker is there as well. At that he pauses mid-swing, eyes snapping up to the other man.

Oh. Hello.

"Tucker." He smiles, stepping over Hisa's body carefully, eyeing the bag in the other man's hands. Put that down, Tucker. Put it down. "...I'm saving you." Just in case you couldn't tell.

He snaps the crowbar up, aiming for the side of the other man's head.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-06 04:00 (UTC) (Link)
Tucker moves forward to rush at Reeves, but the patch of earth that decides to swallow one of his feet has other ideas. He winces every time metal connects with bone and tissue, fighting to free himself until he pulls out with a gloop and minus a shoe.

Not a word now. He'll put down all right, down far enough to bring it back on the upswing, aiming at that soft squishy region in the midsection.

Now these are well-made rocket shells. They won't detonate if you drop one on the ground, and they should stay in good shape if you were to say, bunch them tightly together in canvas and swing them against the skull and torso of another person with as much force as you can muster.

As Tucker is now attempting to do.
Reeves Bennington
mr_bennington at 2008-08-06 04:11 (UTC) (Link)
Reeves is not a heavy guy. So when the bag of rocket shells hits his midsection, he goes down pretty hard. Breath knocked out of him, he stares at the sky for a moment, dazed, before rolling and trying to scramble back up. And he comes back swinging.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-06 04:37 (UTC) (Link)
He huffs as the bag hangs down against his upheld arm, which is lucky as it takes most of the force of the blow. Most of it, mind - he still feels a sharp painful jolt in the arm and a few ribs. He's going to feel that in the morning, if he makes it that long.

He's no expert at close quarters combat by any stretch, so all he can think of as his to try to push the crowbar arm away with the bag and to slam against his opponent with all of his body weight, one free arm raised to about throat height, also trying to get a knee in there somewhere.
Reeves Bennington
mr_bennington at 2008-08-06 04:38 (UTC) (Link)
Reeves is no expert at close quarters combat either. His lungs are on fire and his entire midsection feels like someone just hit it with a ton of bricks. But it doesn't stop him from pushing on and trying to crack Tucker with the crowbar.

Tucker's body weight is more than enough to take Reeves down again. He chokes as the arm hits his throat, a knee in his gut exacerbating the pain already there. He hits the ground again, wheezing, but this time he's got his eyes set on Hisa's fallen shotgun. He rolls towards it, stretching to reach for it with a hissy sounding laugh.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-06 04:59 (UTC) (Link)
He feels another blossoming star of white hot pain before managing to take the there guy down. It feels like something in his shoulder blade's cracked. He can't be sure, he's no medic.

Collapsing to his hands and knees he sees Reeves going for the one thing that will end this for either of them very quickly. Scrabbling along in the mud he reaches for the weapon at the same time as Reeves.

He struggles keep a firm grip, his only hope being to keep the business end away from him, at the same time battling for dominance of the trigger.

You know, he enjoys mud-wrestling as much as any other guy would, but this isn't really doing it for him.
Reeves Bennington
mr_bennington at 2008-08-06 05:10 (UTC) (Link)
Reeves releases the crowbar in favor of getting a good grip on the gun. But then, Tucker has a grip on it too. And Reeves is not very strong.

"Tucker." He hisses through his teeth. He dips his head down, laughing, thin fingers scrabbling for a hold. It's his. "You d-don't understand." A thin leg lashes out suddenly, trying to kick the other man in the side.

His grip is slipping as he tries to wrestle for control of the gun and he's whispering something under his breath. It's too fast to understand but Tucker might be able to hear 'please die' in there somewhere.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-06 05:24 (UTC) (Link)
"Yeah... what ...else is new?" he replies, joining in on the gritted teeth contest.

He grunts as the kick connects, his own feet start to slip and he comes very close to staring down the barrel.

He's starting to hurt in too many places now and his own strength won't last unless he acts quickly. It's nice that Reeves asked so nicely but Tucker's allergic to dying. It could be fatal.

He gives one last good push forward with the arm holding the barrel and slides his other slickened grip down, inching toward to trigger and pull pull pull godammit pull
Reeves Bennington
mr_bennington at 2008-08-06 05:30 (UTC) (Link)
And then it's Reeves staring down the barrel. He looks almost surprised, opening his mouth to say something... just as the gun goes off.

This is Reeves.

This is Reeves sans head.

Goodbye.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-06 05:48 (UTC) (Link)
Tucker falls back onto his ass with a squelch, ears ringing, clothes soaked and completely covered in mud, blood and brain.

And when he regains what sense he has left, when he realises not only is entire team dead and he'll have to walk the rest of the way, as well as take on the school by himself, well, no words can adequately describe his feelings.

"Well, FUUUCK!" Which isn't to say he doesn't try.

Hell, he's come this far, might as well get on with it, since the preferable choice of giving up and going home isn't an option right now.

He picks up the backpack and trudges over to the oxen, giving Harvey (Oxford) a pat on the back. "Well, buddies, looks like I'm on foot from h-" Just then the bovine duo decide to give it one more go and with strained moos, the wagon becomes and stuck, moving forward.

"...Figures." He climbs back on board and flicks the reins, and drives the wagon forward until he sees the school in the distance.
iheartfangs at 2008-08-08 04:42 (UTC) (Link)
Sri will not be running across the map again for at least a couple of weeks, or until this stupid field wears off. Every time he take a step he feels his rib shift and it hurts like a dumb bastard. Every time he take a breath it hurts. And then there's his arm. Even after he's waited a couple of hours and rebandanged it a couple of times - he's getting good at that, now - it's still bleeding a little. Not as much as it was, but even without bleeding it makes his hand virtually usually. That dumb kid must have torn through a muscle or something.

He knows, though, that he's running out of time. Today and tomorrow and everyone dies. There's still a couple of people left, too, as far as he knows, and he can't kill everyone like this. Hopefully some particularly maniacal bastard has killed everyone but himself but it took a huge toll on him. That would be ideal.

Well, ideal would be his enemy falls into the river and drowns or explodes in a dead zone. That would also be nice. Regardless, Sri moves south because he's explored the rest of the map, mostly, but he moves pretty slowly. He's still got his half-jumpsuit and cloth utility belt, only now he's also got a backpack over his good arm - the backpack has the gun and the pole sticking out of it, and in his hand is the rifle. In this condition, he doesn't have the luxury of hand-to-hand if he can avoid it, despite that it's his preferred fighting style.

He is delighted when he passes a bloodbath. There's corpses and, if the count is correct, there's one person left. He smiles and laps at blood and takes any weapons he can find. He keeps walking. His rib keeps aching. His arm keeps screaming.

Is that someone up there?
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-08 06:34 (UTC) (Link)

*Completely missed you being online, whoopsiedoodle*

There's a gun with no ammo and a crowbar in particular. Enjoy.

That is someone up there, as a matter of fact. It's Tucker, who I guess is technically someone. There's also somethings, namely a wagon drawn by two bovine creatures, and a long tube that he is at this moment standing upright while doing something with a marker pen to a smaller object which he then begins to insert into one end of the tube.

"...Don't know whatchu hear about me..." He does all this with his back turned to Sri, facing the school building and singing an odd little song. "-tches can't get a dolla outta me..."
iheartfangs at 2008-08-08 12:26 (UTC) (Link)
He takes the crowbar and forgets the gun. That'll replace his chair-leg, but the pole's still preferable because of its range.

What is that thing he's got and what's he doing with it? Sri wonders vaguely about it, but if he can just kill the guy right here and now that would be so very wonderful. He keeps moving, his pace a little faster despite the pain (if only he could bloodlust right now!) and he takes aim with the rifle. Tucker's head keeps moving, bobbing with the cart and the cows, and it's impossible to get a good shot with one hand and a moving target.

Sri hates guns because of all this. He will aim though, and he will fire.

And hopefully he hits.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-08 12:52 (UTC) (Link)
Tucker only becomes aware of company when he feels a chunk of flesh get torn from his left arm, near the shoulder. Needless to say it causes him some discomfort. "OWFUCK!" he declares as he turns around. Well shit, doesn't that beat all.

"Hey! Those are my bullets you're shooting me with!" He doesn't appreciate the irony, if that's what this is.

And since it's the closest thing on him he lifts up the tube and mounts it on his good shoulder. He had other plans for this but now it seems he's got something else to deal with.

His aim's a bit wobbly what with the fresh new agony on top of the older bits of pain, but he doesn't have time to steady it much apart from going down on one knee. Holding the launcher up as best as he can with both arms, he squeezes the trigger. Luckily for him, the rocket flies out in roughly the direction he's facing. It's doubtful he'll have time to reload.
iheartfangs at 2008-08-08 13:39 (UTC) (Link)
That....

is...

... a rocket launcher.

Sri flees the other way and momentarily forgets about his rule to stop running. Every step he can hear the grinding of bone on bone and he screams, and even when he runs backward the force still sends him tumbling, tearing open the wound on the back of his head, tearing open the gash on his arm, making his ear and nose bleed and jarring his broken bones even more. For a couple of moments - or maybe it's longer - he is totally helpless and vulnerable because his entire body hurts just too much for him concentrate around. He might as well be on fire.

And when he gets up again, bleeding from old wounds and scrapes from the dirt, the side of his face nearly rubbed off by his tumble, he is in pain and pissed off. He will not be defeated by some weakling with a rocket launcher. Every step is agony, but he manages to drop the backpack and shove the pole under his bad arm and hold his semi-automatic, the one he was given to begin with, with it's three precious bullets, and he comes back again. He can't reload the shotgun. He simply doesn't have the focus or the manual dexterity.

Even so, he can still shoot. He doesn't shoot yet - he can't afford to waste the ammo - but he moves forward and his vision swims as his wounds tear. As long as he can see Tucker, he's all right.

"How about these fucking bullets? They're mine.."
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-08 13:45 (UTC) (Link)
He lets the spent tube drop to the grass, coughing. Is it too much to ask that he got the fucker?

...Yep, looks like it is. He squelches as quickly as he can over to the wagon, no easy task with only one shoe, reaching down to the footrest at the front where he'd stowed his other means of defense - the Pancor Jackhammer.

Seven 12-gauge shells left, by his count, the last one spent on the guy who started that mess Sri passed by earlier, a couple used against himself much earlier in the week.

He spins around and props himself up against the wheel, raising the slightly-wavering barrel up to greet the approaching opponent. "Keep 'em."

It's accuracy and power are diminished at range, but what the hell. There's a bit of a jerk as he pulls the trigger, shooting from the hip at the other jerk.
iheartfangs at 2008-08-08 17:41 (UTC) (Link)
Congratulations, Tucker. You have now given Sri less arm than ever! As a matter of fact, Tucker has shot the jackhammer steadily enough to just about blow Sri's bad hand into swiss cheese, due to his not-even-vaguely nimble darting away from the bullets. There's even a couple that have scraped his hip, and screaming pain and more blood that probably means there's a bullet or two in his hip.

He is beyond pain right now. He's dying and he knows it, but at least he might be able to end this dumb bastard's life too. He runs and he can feel overbearing heat in his chest, in his side, in his arm and blood is trickling down his neck and back, and he's got maybe one good swing left in him. He puts the sturdy iron pole in his good hand and charges, every step nearly slipping, and he knows he once had enough strength to crack a skull and kill a man with a single blow to the head.

The question is, though, is this does this swing, aimed at the side of Tucker's head, the one he's pouring all his energy into - have that kind of strength behind it?
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-09 03:09 (UTC) (Link)
"For fuck's sake, hurry up and die, you prick!" It's like one of those slasher movies where the bad guy won't take a hint from anything less than being fed into a Cuisinart piece by piece. And his next two shot, go pathetically, embarrassingly, Church-With-A-Sniper-Rifle wide. Maybe it's the wounds, the fatigue and the bad weather fucking up his aim. Maybe his aim was never all that great in the first place.

When he does get a bead on Sri it's at a range where even he couldn't miss. Unfortunately it's also within the reach of that damn pole. It's cool to pull off something like this at the last second, but Tucker really should have timed this better.

His index finger tightens around the trigger as the pole connects with the side of his skull and he hears an unpleasant crack as well as a dull roar. Maybe that and the bright flash are from the shotgun going off and not connected to the sharp flash of pain blossoming inside his head. He's sure of one thing, though - that slurred "Ahsonofabitch..." he hears as his legs buckle underneath him and he goes down like a sack of heavy things - that's him, all right.
iheartfangs at 2008-08-09 03:19 (UTC) (Link)
Sri can't even see. He can hear, sure, can hear the blast and feel warmth. He swings the pole down, not even knowing if Tucker's still there, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't have the strength to stand up, to clutch a weapon. The pole falls limply to the ground, and his already-torn knees hit shortly after. There's got to be something - maybe - what's this - his gun. The gun he thought he dropped but maybe that was the crowbar or maybe the blowgun but he doesn't know. His breaths are ragged and they hurt more than ever and every one feels like he's breathing through a soaked rag. He's got a punctured lung but there's no way he can figure that kind of stuff out.

Just getting his finger through the trigger saps him of the pathetic bits of whatever he has left. Whatever's in this hazy thing that might have been his vision and that dull thud that might have been his hearing.

There's black, though. Black that might be Tucker's hair and if he can just get his index finger to move right under it, right at where skin must be that blends in with the dirt and the wagon and maybe he's just hallucinating the hair to begin with - then he can die.

Either way, he's probably not doing so hot right now.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-09 03:48 (UTC) (Link)
He lies there on the sodden ground, his breath shallow, limbs splayed uselessly, unable to defend himself. He has one last thing to say, though. "Take ... the oxen. You have ... to make it... to Oreg-" He doesn't have the strength to finish.

The bullet embeds itself in the mud, grazing the top of his head, drawing blood and sending tufts of black hair everywhere. Oh God, his do! It'll never be the same again.
iheartfangs at 2008-08-09 03:56 (UTC) (Link)
Sri drops the gun and lies there and thinks about the warmth and the light and lack of pain. The first time, dying was quick, but this is slow actually, it's all right. He's okay, though, with it. That human is as good as dead with a bleeding head and even he heard the cracking of his skull. At least he got that far.

The gun clatters to the ground. He smirks and it tastes like blood and he closes his eyes.
PFC L. Tucker
not_teal at 2008-08-09 22:25 (UTC) (Link)
Tucker continues to lie there as Sri dies, swimming in and out of consciousness. It's hard to appreciate a victory when your face is half-submerged in mud and everything is a blur of lights and colours and your brains have been scrambled.

A finger twitches. He blurbles incoherently a bit. Apparently dying like this takes longer than expected. Any minute now. Riiight abooooout... now? Is he dead yet?

Oh come the fuck o-

Blip.

GAME OVER
Previous Entry