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Bloodgarden; An endless dedication... (CONTENT WARNING)
Topic Started: Dec 24 2010, 06:47 PM (11,680 Views)
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?
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Nathan Choultard continued from Never Take Friendship Personal))

Nathan's heart sunk when he first heard the announcement. The escape had failed. Everyone that had made it onto the boats, had died. Feelings of relief, and fear mixed in within his mind. He had survived, if only by sheer luck because he followed Jason. But now, they were going towards the belly of the beast.

And now, there was no escape to run back to.

It had finally occured to him that his body was aching. Running for miles upon miles was taking it's toll on his legs. He felt as if for the past week and a half had aged him considerably. He still looked eighteen, but inside he felt like an old man. His feet were throbbing and they struggled to gain footing on the slick grass.

Jason was a few steps ahead of him, apparently he still had the energy to keep going. Either that or he had decided that Brook may provide a way to end it all. At this point, Nathan just didn't know what to think of that.

So why was he still searching for Brook? Was it a death wish? The thought made Nathan's face twist in a grimace. Maybe it was.

And yet still he followed.

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was almost in the halls of celebrity in which all the killers of the island found themselves. If he wasn't a terrible shot, Jason would have end up dead. And then Jason had forgiven him. Somehow, he found it in himself to forgive him.

Maybe he still had a debt to repay.

Nathan heard a voice in the distance. It was still fuzzy, but it was a man's voice, that much he knew. Jason had quickly pulled up his gun and pushed on. Nathan gulped and skulked through the forest towards the voice. As he stepped closer, his nostrils were assaulted with a foul cocktail of smells. Blood, piss, shit, and a million other disgusting scents he couldn't describe snuck into his nose and stalled his movement. It took every fibre in his body to restrain his gag reflex.

He draped his hands over his mouth and nose, but even that couldn't stem the tide of smells. A gunshot rung out and instinct took over, Nathan rushed over to the nearest tree to hide. There was a clearing behind the tree and curiosity had taken over. He shuffled his head, to get a quick glimpse.

He wished he hadn't. All he could see was bodies. Pools of blood staining the green grass, and scattered corpses littering the forest floor.

Nathan whiped back into hiding and prayed that he wasn't seen. Even if it wasn't Brook that did all that. They were in the prescence of a killer.

They shouldn't have come.
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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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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?
[ *  *  *  * ]
Nathan was chilled by the scream that rang out in the empty forest. The sheer mirth of that yell was so out of place and yet it was here. It wasn't Brook's voice either. It belonged to someone else.

"Nath"

It took effort for him to not blow their cover when Jason spoke. He had moved silently and swiftly through the forest and had even caught Nathan off guard. His eyes followed the guidance of Jason's hand and towards his backpack. The gun. The gun he had almost killed Jason with, the gun he had almost died by.

"Whatever it takes."

Nathan gulped and said nothing. Jason's eyes bore through him, the graveness of the request clearly evident in the stare. They were coming up against a monster. That monster was their friend.

Jason was tasking the two of them to slay that monster if they couldn't tame it...

Nathan found himself nodding, "Alright."

He fished the pistol from his back pack and used the tree to guid himself up to a standing position. His body felt stiff with tension, as if he was preparing for another race. Normally, that would mean it was time to stretch, to prepare, to get in the zone. There was no time for that.

He wanted to look away from the carnage that was displayed before him, but it was impossible for him to do so. It was sheer chaos, bodies strewn about like ragdolls haphazzardly tossed across a playpen. Blood was scattered across the green grass and onto the wood of the surrounding trees in the grove.

Brook's voice made Nathan pause. The voice was his, yet the language was childlike to him. It sounded as if he was a mere alien, there was a human aspect to his voice, but it was slightly off kilter. Out of place.

Jason kept moving forwards gentley easing Brook into conversation. It was then that Brook appeared into Nathan's vision and he couldn't help but let his jaw go slack. Brook looked liked something that belonged inside a slasher film. Blood coated his face and stained his clothing little droplets had run down to the tips of his fingers before gently plumetting to the earth below. His hair was mussed up in a disorganized shamble, looking as tangled as some of the plants that his friend took care of back home.

"Brook mate. It's over. We've come to take you home."


Nathan couldn't help but flinch back a half step. Looking at the situation right now, this didn't look like a successful attempt in the making. He couldn't help but feel like they were making a huge mistake.
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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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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?
[ *  *  *  * ]
Nathan heard a pop and then there was a blank space. He blinked twice. He had fallen onto his back and found himself staring up at a canopy of green leaves. His breathing was heavy and his gut felt like...

Nathan moved his hands over his chest. It was damp, like some sort of syurp had been poured on him. He tried to bend up to a siting position, but there was a stinging pain protesting that he should not move up anymore. He lay back down and moved his hand up into his vision. His hand was stained with crimson.


Like he had been shot.


Nathan tried again to raise his head up, craning his neck to do so. He saw the gun in Brook's hands. Jason's head turned to Nathan. He said something, but his ears wouldn't stop ringing. Gravity forced Nathan's head back down to the ground.

Brook had shot him. Nathan grimaced, even though he knew Brook had snapped, he followed the trail to find him. Jason's hope had been infectious it seemed. Now he was paying for it. What was one more mistake to the pile?

He could hear the sounds of a scuffle taking place. Was it Jason and Brook fighting? He cursed his inability to make sense of the muted noises he was hearing.

Nathan's hands twitched and it dawned on him. His pistol was gone! Wait, not gone, nearby. It must have fallen when Brook shot him. His arms moved all around his body, groping in the dark to find his weapon.

This wasn't Jason's fault. It was his own for not speaking out against this plan. Jason did not deserve to die because of him. He needed to survive this. If Nathan was going to die. The least he could do for his friend is take out the man that was trying to kill him.

Despite his feverish searching, Nathan came up cold. It must be behind him, right behind his head or something. To reach it though, he had to turn himself around.

Breathing was becoming harder, more sporatic. Time was running out. He rocked back and forth as gently as he could. The pain in his gut was screaming at him, warning him that he would likely die faster.

So what, I'm a dead man anyways...

With a loud groan, Nathan flopped onto his belly the tingle of grass on his open wound shooting flashes of discomfort. The pistol was there, about an arm and a half out of reach. Nathan coughed, sending red spit to fly out into the forest floor. So he would have to crawl to get to it.

Fine...

Nathan stretched out his arms and used his legs to push him on. He was moving up an inch with every push. It was taking too long. He wasn't going to be able to save Jason.

"God damn it legs work!"

His arm reached out to the pistol, straining, hoping to touch the handle.

"I'm running out of time damn it!"
v5 characters
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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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?
[ *  *  *  * ]
Reach. All Nathan wanted to do was reach. Fingers tapped the handle, taunting his efforts to defend Jason.

I've fucking failed all my life. I'm not going to fail now.

Nathan pushed himself an inch forwards. The sounds of the scuffle behind him an ever present hiss in his ears.

Not now...

He clutched the handle and brought it closer to his face. He blinked and then, in spite of himself, he laughed. It was a mear chuckle and it only lasted for a few short seconds before he coughed up a fresh spray of blood, but Nathan couldn't help but laugh. He lay there for a few seconds, sucking in as much air as he possibly could.

Now he just needed to turn around and fire.

In his head, Nathan thought that the act would be simple to do, even in spite of his current situation. Yet the simple act of turning ones body around when you were loosing feeling in your legs was an unexpected complication. He had to use his arms to spin himself around, like a hand on a clock. Every move came with a low grunt of pain and a loud weeze.

Can't fail. Not now.

Seconds seemed like minutes as they passed by. He strained his head upwards to look, but could really only see the legs of Brook and Jason. This seemed to set a fresh fire from within him and with a renewed haste, Nathan kept shifting.

One more push. That's all I need.

His legs had gone completely numb now, it seemed like death was prone to a sense of humour. All that time wasted on trying to meet expectations. And now, they were useless. He grimaced, feeling the sticky blood pooling up against his teeth. Hillarious.

Nathan lifted his head and saw now that Jason was loosing this battle. He had to do something. He had to do it now!

His arms stretched outwards, fingers tightly gripping the handle of his weapon. They were heavy now taking all the effort he could to bring the pistol up to the melee. His hands were shaking. Were they shaking because dying. Or were they shaking because he was about to shoot? He was telling his body to stop. But it seemed like it had ceased to listen to his silent orders.

"Shoot him Nath! Shoot him!"

Nathan's hand pulled on the trigger.


The gun had fallen out of his hands from the sheer force of it firing and it fell to the grassy floor like it had been dropped fifty stories. Nathan found himself staring down at the grass grasping for air. His vision had become hazy, but he had to know. He gently strained his head up to where he had fired the gun. His eyes narrowed at this point there were mere shadows floating off in the distance. There was one still standing, and one that had fallen on the ground.


He blinked...



and then he heard a voice...



It was Jason's.



That meant...




Nathan's head crashed down to the forest floor. For once, breathing was easy for him. Funny that dying was able to give you such peace. So he shot Brook after all. Jason was safe.


Nathan coughed up a fresh splash of blood and grimaced.

Well look at that Mom, Dad. You're son was actually good for something after all. Guess I get the last laugh now don't I? Geoffrey...


Nathan closed his eyes.

You take care of yourself...


B057 Nathan Choultard - Deceased
v5 characters
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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