"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
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((Slight godmodding of Quincy approved by the guys and gals in the sky))
((Also, sorry for the general crappiness of the post, but...Maf's needed somewhere else, and I'm about 1 hour away from inactivity, so...))

It was tense, you could cut the overall static and tense nature of the scene with a knife. Quincy was only a weed's whisper away from killing both Maf and Nathan, and Jason seemed intent on taking him out. He didn't know what to think, did Jason even know they were there before he started shooting?

It wasn't time to think of that now. Right now, things were getting too close for comfort. Someone had to do something, someone had to stop anyone else from getting hurt. Someone was already dead, so it was up to...up to someone to make sure that no one else here died.

For the first time now, Maf could see clearly. Jason was outside, taking cover after letting loose a shot at Quincy, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. He saw what was going on in there, he saw Nathan sprawled on the ground, possibly unconcious, possibly just keeping low. Maf himself saw Quincy spin around, reacting to the shot from Jason, rifle poised to kill.

And yet, every little bit of common sense Maf had told him now was the time to do something. Every little bit of common sense told him that it was up to him to make sure that no one else died. But he couldn't, could he? A lone gunman, dangerous, this wasn't going to end with a few words and pleas. This needed force.

Of course, the moment Quincy turned his head towards their friend, the shooter, Maf was on his feet. Everything was blazing through at a billions miles a second, and before he knew it, Maf, the brick shithouse of the Bayview Football Team, was barrelling towards the similarly built, but ultimately not up to scruff, boxer.

Maf caught him around the waist, and the two went flying through the air, albeit only for a minimally short time. Just like that, the gun was spinning across the cement floor, and the Fijian boy got his wish. Quincy was down.

But every instinct came rushing back behind him, and in a matter of seconds, he was back on his feet again, shocked, no, scared at what he'd done.

No, no I-I shouldn't have done that...

That was how the most important, scarring event of his natural life started. A tackle.

Not again.

Not. Again. No way. If there was one mistep in that, one little thing out of line, then it was that same disaster all over again, all caused by him, again.

In those sparse few seconds he had between Quincy having the ability to get up, and him being floored, Maf made his decision. His feet absentmindedly shifted backwards, not of his own will. His breath grew silent. He turned his head, looking around at the people there, people watching. Jason, that girl with the look in her eyes of sheer horror, or something like that, Nathan as well. The dead girl with her shocked face and eyes just...just staring out at him, watching him, looking at him, judging him.

He...no, he couldn't...he couldn't deal with this, not at all. Not again.

Not.

Again.

Maf's eyes flew to the exit, and his feet quickly followed suit, dragging him along for the ride. He had to get away. Away from all of them.

Before he knew it, the air was no longer stale and stagnant, but the wind flew by viciously, as the Fijian ran as far as he could make it.

((Ma'afu Tuigamala continues elsewhere))
I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Legoland Empire · The Warehouse