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All's Fair; Private
Topic Started: Jan 2 2011, 07:24 PM (3,958 Views)
T-Fox
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N-Nopony! Ah was talkin' to nopony whatsoever!
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
((Colin Falcone continued from Stay Frosty.))

There had been gunfire.

Shitshitshit.

It was a few houses away, at least. But it was in the direction that Jacob had run. The slamming doors of his newfound friend's search had ceased right about when the gunfire had began too. That could mean one of two things. Either Jacob had been shot, or he was lying low, waiting for the fight to cease. It had to be right behind this house. He knew it, the gunfire was just too close.

Now, this left Colin with two options. Either he could go back to regret, fear, and despair, and leave Jacob to his fate. Or he could run in, and try and save his friend; assuming he needed saving.

Okay, the choice was clear. There was no way Colin was letting Jacob die. Not after everything they had gone through to save him. Not after what had happened to Tony in that tunnel. Not after everything he had said, and all the progress he had made.

He raised a hand from his position, pressed against the corner of the house. The motion he made resembled wild flailing, but he hoped it would get the message to Tim across. That message was "we need to get the hell over there and see what is happening." It was just like when he defended Tim on the first day. That detached feeling. That burning fire. That need to do something to help. However this time, there was a difference. Before, it was panic, and complete detachment. Now, now it was urgency, and Colin still felt in some modicum of control.

No, he wouldn't make the same mistake he had made before.

A deep breath.

Just before his foot tucked to round the corner, there was another bang. A loud one. His entire head seemed to split as the echo of the gunshot rang through the town. A soft thud, probably a body hitting the ground. Colin's head peaked around the corner of the building he was using to hide, just long enough to see Jacob's face before his hat covered it completely. Colin heard a pair of voices. One sobbing, a female voice. One cold. Calculating.

He suddenly felt himself break into a cold sweat. Now he was no longer the hero, rushing to save his friend. He was now just a voice to yell for justice, or maybe even a cleanup bri-

BANG

Instinctively, he immediately ducked behind the building again, his eyes filled with worry as he looked about for Tim. There wasn't a damned thing they could do for Jacob.

But what about the girl?

Why did he even care, for that matter? Since when had he become a white knight, charging headlong into violence to save the weak and the downtrodden? He was a pacifist, a folk singer, a guitarist. There wasn't likely a single thing he could do for her. And he was not going to ask Tim to fire that weapon of his.

A deep breath.

His voice was a whisper.

"Jesus Tim... What do we do now? J-Jacob's dead... There's two people in there."

The female voice had suddenly stopped crying. When did that happen? It now seemed to be ranting. Words his sensitive ears couldn't quite make out. Something about killing, something about art, something about pride. Following, there was a moment of silence. And then a thump. No accompanying gunshot, but there was a thud of a body hitting the ground. Colin's eyes went wide. He needed to make a decision now, whether he would try and save this girl too, or not.

He'd saved Tim from those girls. He'd saved Jacob from himself. He'd... he'd saved Tony the misery that was waiting him in the days to come.

Another deep breath.
Coming soon to a deathmatch near you:
Garry Brooks - Swave Countryboy
Jade Aurora - Tomboy Drummer
Jasmine Tolle - Pacifistiic Artist

Memories of those past:
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T-Fox
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N-Nopony! Ah was talkin' to nopony whatsoever!
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
((Completely my bad. I missed the private tag. Grim has given me permission to vacate without interacting with either other character.))

There was nothing he could do. That second gunshot had gone wild, nowhere near himself. Looking around, Tim was nowhere to be found; who had he just gestured to? Was he losing his mind? He couldn't be. Not now. Granted, there was so much stress pounding down on him right now. And he wouldn't be the only one. No one could blame him... Could they?

He listened. He listened to the breeze whistle between the buildings. He listened to the water of the distant fountain from where he had just fled. He listened to the sound of his own labored breathing, his pounding heart. But mostly, he listened to the silence with bated, agonizing breath. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes, and waited. Swearing he heard something else from that house, but to afraid to look. There was a cold blooded killer in there. There was at least one dead. Possibly two. Maybe even three. He had no idea. He would be useless in this type of a fight. His tunnel vision slowly returned, and the adrenaline wore off of him. His body broke into a cold sweat as that particular realization hit him. There was a killer a few feet away, and Tim was missing. The only ally... the only friend he had was missing in the vicinity of a killer. It felt like a bad B-Rated horror flick. The cheeky stuff some of his peers at the cafe loved to death for their irony.

He had never, never gotten that.

And for a few... hours? minutes? seconds? He sat in the beating summer sun of the tropical island on which they had been fated to lose their lives. His thoughts wandered to the patrons he graced so often with his talents. The halls of the school he took for granted for all but the past six days.

Wow. Six days. He had been on this island for a week already?

The fear and paranoia in this moment of clarity gave way to the painful hunger that had been trying to get his attention for the past three days. His body was nearing it's natural end from dehydration and hunger, yet his fear of death had made way to a new contender to take his life. What a pathetic way to go that would be, wouldn't it? But by giving a spectacle, wouldn't he be playing right into this organization's hands? Giving them exactly what they wanted out of him? One for the highlight reels, one to show the brutal, savage nature of humanity.

He'd already given them one like that. He really didn't want to give it to them twice. But starving to death seemed like such a waste. His preservation instincts argued with his rationale, and it was a winning battle. The gurgling stomach, the cramping muscles, the pain in his gut, all pushed him towards survival. Every instinct, reaction, feeling, pushed him towards survival.

He shook his head.

No need for that train of thought.

There was nothing he could do here.

After bowing his head, whispering a few brief words for Jacob, his fallen friend, he quickly moved back the way he came. He had to find Tim, before the same; or worse, befell his friend.

He was sure he would never see the streets of St. Paul again. A city which had nothing truly significant to his name, a city he had plans to leave behind some day when he finally made it big. Oh how he wished for that sweet, sweet pollution riddled air, her crowded streets and city lights once again.

"Until we meet again Jake."

((Colin Falcone continued in his curtain's call...))
Edited by T-Fox, Feb 4 2011, 01:50 AM.
Coming soon to a deathmatch near you:
Garry Brooks - Swave Countryboy
Jade Aurora - Tomboy Drummer
Jasmine Tolle - Pacifistiic Artist

Memories of those past:
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What is wrong with you people?!
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