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The Cavalry Arrives; See Midmonths
Topic Started: May 18 2011, 06:37 PM (11,509 Views)
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^This is not what a Laz looks like^
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Cisco Vasquez continued from ...Because I Can't Make It On My Own))

((GMing by staff permitted. At least that's how I think it goes.))


Surviving Classmates.

Soldiers that didn't resemble the ones that abducted him and more than 200 others off a bus.

The goddamn horizon.

Any one or combination of these things witnessed by Cisco Vasquez as he stumbled out of nature emaciated, gaunt and more delusional than usual into open daylight could have filled him with a sort of inexplicably religious sort of joy. As it turned out, it wasn't so much those as it was the fact that for the first time he felt as if he was finally escaping Death's clutches in regards to death by any number of means apart from old age. Hours-old bloodstains trickled down his side from his tattered upper clothing as he feebly advanced toward what he damn well hoped wasn't a mirage.

It had never completely occurred to him exactly how many times Death could have had his way with the boy and then left a $20 on his corpse for good measure. This wasn't just counting all the people he met after running into Joe "Grim Reaper" Rios, but the ones he had encountered from the moment he woke up on the back of a flatbed truck with an item that could have actually played sweet music instead of the circular sawblade that later gained the moniker.

George Leidman could have killed him while he was asleep, and then left some obsolete currency on his corpse. For good measure.

Joe Rios could have reaped him for disobeying his orders, or even while he was helpless and vulnerable from the dynamite explosion that first introduced him to his sweet music.

And speaking of that, whoever threw that dynamite could have thrown it a bit stronger and gibbed him where he stood.

Mike Maszer, well, he didn't know what his arch-nemesis had up his sleeve. That the rivalry was finally settled with his death provided only token relief.

Teo Weinstock could have reloaded his crossbow with another bolt and nailed Cisco to the dirt.

~*PANDORA BLACK*~ could have given him the Light Treatment. Okay, maybe that was a little too much fantasy.

Jessica Pentangeli could have shot him with an animal-strength tranquilizer from a $200 rifle accurate to 40 yards, putting him to sleep quickly like a small, wounded animal.

And Joseé Tremblay...well...Joseé Tremblay had come all this way with him. It wasn't over until it was really over, and to him it wasn't over until he either won, died or escaped (and probably died when the terrorists sank their boat.) She had dutifully followed him all this way despite losing her brother, but it might as well have been just like in the movies where the best friend always had the last laugh and the last shot.

After all that, there whatever nature could have done with him. Bugs, infections, simple accidents or acts of a deity he never found a reason to believe in (and probably would not despite the joy.)

The last thing he would have seen was his own death announcement in bright red letters before fading into oblivion.


Yet despite all that, despite all the paranoia justified and re-established over nine long days of journeying, that wasn't what he saw. He saw a beach, with boats and soldiers removing collars from students and the horizon.

And despite all that and his joy, he knew it wasn't quite over. Technically speaking, it wouldn't be over until he was dead though that was an inevitability. And he certainly did not have Katelyn Wescott's probably vengeful parents - leta alone his own adoptive ones - at the top of his mind.

Still, he only had a few more steps to take before he could at least find something close to a good night's sleep. And if this really did turn out to be a rescue party that did not want him dead for being one of the island's killers, then it was a thought he could savor.

Yet it was a few steps before reaching the back of the line when he suddenly realized that somewhere along the way his mind had wandered from its fatigue and possibly blood loss, that he had finally lost his circular sawblade somewhere along the way here. Perhaps he had gotten used to its constant presence with him that he couldn't feel the weight (and pain from its serrated edges) finally lifted from his arms. And surely he had no reason to miss it when the results of all his love and care were blatantly manifested on the hideous wounds scabbing over on his upper chest.

If his mind had somehow found any solace in the journey here it was swiftly lost as he started to look around for the very same sweet music that had backstabbed him from the front. But by now his body was working much slower than his mind, and to the casual onlooker, it was like he was either a weary traveller wondering if he was looking at a mirage or some kind of zombie looking for flesh.

B140, Cisco Vasquez: ELIMINATED
Edited by laZardo, May 29 2011, 09:04 AM.

Unfucked: Cisco Vasquez (V4)
Proper Fucked: Harris Van Allen (The Program), Rashid Hassan (V4)
Fucked Soon: Carlos Lazaro and Eliza Patton
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^This is not what a Laz looks like^
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"You're safe now Cisco, I promised that I'd keep you safe."

Your breath, hot upon my cheek and we crossed that line...
You made me strong, when I was feeling weak and we crossed, that one time...

The last time Cisco Vasquez saw Joseé Trembley was right as he had been picked up and shuffled through the crowd. The last time he heard her, she was already fading away, back into the wilderness from whence they came. And just as she suddenly came into his life, she was gone.

Screaming stop signs, staring wild eyes keep on flashing, flashing by...

They worked swiftly on that collar around his neck, freeing his jugular from another one of Death's nasty surprises. He had barely noticed that thing wrapped so snugly around his neck that he was actually surprised that it hadn't just messily sheared his head off his shoulders with one reflexive throb of a vein during any particular panic attack. From there, time ran almost nonexistent where it was already running thin, and the hands of the once-dead swiftly shuffled him into the boat that would give him respite from the hunt.

Curling up somewhere close to the boat's transom, he clung to the side railing and watched the island with increasingly blurry sight and a chest still aching from its wounds as it began to make its way off into the distance. He had never gotten used to being in a moving vehicle, let alone one that could be torpedoed at a moment's notice.

But perhaps there was a first time for anything. A first time for hellos, and a first time for a goodbye.

"Joseé...I'm sorry...I should...should have..."

And a thanks for helping him through. Too late, if anything.

There was something to be said about reading one's own obituary, however frighteningly brief it was, and wondering what went through the minds of their family and friends.

The devil grins from ear to ear when he sees the hand he's dealt us,
Points at your flaming hair and then we're playing hide and seek,

Whether it was due to lack of strength or will, there were no words to the fact that the freak whose green hair dye had rubbed or washed off over the days to reveal an almost mundane shade of black underneath would be reading them alone. Promises be damned, he was here because he couldn't elude death on his own. That would be the first chapter of the story of the rest of his life, however little paper was left.

Lights. Exit stage right.

I can't breathe easy here less our trail goes cold behind us,
Telling the john mirror you stare at yourself grown cold and weak...


And we keep driving into the night, it's a late goodbye, such a late goodbye...

Unfucked: Cisco Vasquez (V4)
Proper Fucked: Harris Van Allen (The Program), Rashid Hassan (V4)
Fucked Soon: Carlos Lazaro and Eliza Patton
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