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Greg The Anti-Viking
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On the left is a mod, on the right is a pre-made psycho...get the picture?
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Nathan felt the time slowing down. In spite of this, his heart kept beating away. The only sense that he was able to recognize at the time. He felt his chest, padding himself back up and down.

Nothing. A relief. A minimal relief, but a relief none the less.

His body slid down the wall until he was splayed down on the floor. The dim glow of the hanging light causing him to squint.

What now?

He shifted his head to his side and saw his pistol staring back at him. His hand strained out to clutch the handle. He placed the pistol on his chest, letting it rise and fall with every breath.

He was going to do something stupid. He was going to go up, and he was going to point his empty gun at the attacker and he was going to look like a fool. But they had to get out of here. There was no choice. Nathan glanced up to Maf, and opened his mouth to speak.

He never got to speak, Maf gave him a look and then ran out the door. Nathan bolted up to his feet and turned to see what happened. He couldn't believe it. Maf beat him to it. The Fijian tackled their assailant and as quick as he had done so, he ran

Nathan couldn't wait any longer. If he did, it'd be back to square one. He grabed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He went to the door and froze for a moment, taking a glance at Jason.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His hands tightened around the backpack strap and Nathan followed the Fijian.

If Jason followed him, so be it. But he still had to give out answers.

That is, If Nathan didn't just give him a target to shoot at.

((Nathan Choultard continued elsewhere))
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B054:Oscar Trig-Smoker, Artist, Film Buff

Please, message me if you have ideas, I sure don't!

Fall down seven times...
Stand up eight...
Japanese Proverb
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Legoland Empire · The Warehouse