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Stagecoach, and other vehicles; A cowboy and a convict; Delroy's tagged, open thread.
Topic Started: Jun 4 2013, 09:42 AM (1,794 Views)
NotAFlyingToy
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the bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Hansel Williams, Far Below Par))

By the time Hansel arrived to the central grounds of the amusement park, he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his left arm little more than useless to him. The park itself was a ghost town of debris and trash, empty amusement rides with cute characatures of animals and closed booths containing stuffed animals surrounding a large, open space. A yellow ferris wheel dominated the landscape, stretching into the sky and dwarfing Hansel in it's shadow as he took a moment to stop, treating himself to a gulp of water from his stolen bottle, let his arm relax from the constant strain of toting a rifle around.

After the brief stop, mindful of how vulnerable he was in the open, Hansel made his way to a ring-toss game, the rusted metal and dusty bottles rattling slightly as he climbed over the bannister, ducking down to cover most of his torso. He set the FAMAS down, laying it overtop the glass bottles as he unzipped his bag.

When his medkit was out, and his gun was within arm's reach, he took a closer look at the wound he had hastily patched, unwrapping it cautiously.

It was getting worse, though the blood had crawled to an ooze. The skin around the chunk missing in his shoulder was an angry red, and any movement caused the area to sing with pain. He let out a hiss of breath from between his teeth, staring at the wound that he'd gotten on the first day - hell, the opening minutes - of this game.

Fucking Theo.

Without much more fanfare, Hansel ripped at the sleeve of his shirt, tearing at it until the entire arm was exposed. He flipped open the top of his medkit, moved his gun to beside where he was working, and reached for some supplies.

Just like a dog, Hansel. Clean the wound, disinfect it, bandage it back up. I need stitching. Where the hell am I going to find stitching?
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Delroy
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[ *  *  * ]
[Travis Webster continued from First Page - Planning]

She tried to fucking shoot him with a crossbow. Holy fucking shit. He'd never thought she would actually do it. FUCK. He'd decided to run instead of hurt others, and it could very well had gotten him killed! Being pragmatic and staying under the radar was all fine and dandy, but what use was it if he got FUCKING KILLED IN THE PROCESS!

He'd run far. No telling HOW far. God, he kept making rookie-mistakes. He didn't even know where he was on the map. How would he avoid danger zones?! He sighed. No point in worrying yet. He would patch himself up, calm himself, and try to figure out where he was.

He'd followed the road for quite some time. The wound was pulsing, but he knew it wasn't dangerous. It was just a flesh wound. It could wait until he'd gotten away from the very very angry High School President with a very legitimate grudge against him, a crossbow, and the temper to use it. But man... running with a chainsaw was not easy. Especially not with this arm.

He needed to clean it and bandage it. Sure, it wasn't lethal, but an infected arm was NOT how he wanted to start this competition. Getting a fever was death on this island.

In the distance he saw an... a Ferris Wheel? What the fuck? This island had an amusement park? Perfect. He'd hide in one of the stands, bandage, calm down, eat a little and then locate where he was. He couldn't immediately jump into action again. That would just burn him out, and that was total stupidity. Hopefully he'd be alone in the park, or at least able to avoid anyone dangerous.

When he reached the park, he was covered in sweat. Blood was trickling down his arm. He let the chainsaw drag along behind him (it wouldn't dull that many of the blades anyway) as he stumbled forward, gasping and panting. He was totally beat.

However, as he entered the central grounds, despite the day's events so far, he couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't Disneyland, but hey... it was something.
V5 characters:

Travis Webster - Whistling party animal with a roguish smile, quick wit, and without a care in the world.
Spoiler: click to toggle

Pregame: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

Island: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Back home: The Webster Household, and their reactions....
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Grim Wolf
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(Tyler Lucas continued from Will Alone)

Tyler was used to long practice, and even off-season he worked to keep himself in shape, lifting weights. He couldn't run particularly fast, but he could run for a long-ass time. He was a bit out of breath as he surged through the woods with the sun almost above him.

He stopped on catching sight of the roller coast, cocking his head to one side. Then he resumed running.

He slowed to a walk as he reached the edge of a long series of stalls. Spied a boy ripping the sleeve from his arm, a rifle nearby.

Froze. Stared. Glanced back and forth between the boy and the nearby stalls. Crouched low for a second.

Then charged.
Edited by Grim Wolf, Jun 5 2013, 07:45 PM.
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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NotAFlyingToy
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the bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
With the sleeve off, Hansel fingered through the open medical kit, frowning at the supplies he had available. He was just about to reach for some disinfectant when the sound of feet on pavement had him snapping his head around, eyes zeroing in on Tyler, taking off towards him at a dead sprint.

Closing fast.

He had mere seconds as his right hand slapped down on the FAMAS, wrapping around the handle of the gun. He tensed up, locked eyes with the other boy, narrowed them.

Waited.

When Tyler was close - nice and close - Hansel threw the open medkit towards the other boy’s face, accompanied by a small grunt of pain as his shoulder screamed with the effort. Without waiting to see how effective the attack was, he dove backwards and out of one of the open sides of the booth, making a swipe at his pack and missing. He landed awkwardly, stumbling forwards while maintaining his grip on the rifle, and made to turn -

It was there that he saw Travis, dragging a hedge trimmer behind him.

Fuck

Hansel pulled the FAMAS around, mounting the butt on his shoulder and gripping the front of the gun with his bad arm, adrenaline dulling the shriek of pain he felt, backing away from Tyler while trying to keep Travis in his peripheral vision. The second boy’s presence made him uneasy, a feeling that coiled together with hatred in his gut.

His finger twitched, a snick sounded, the FAMAS was set to automatic fire.

Hansel was ready for war.
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Delroy
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[ *  *  * ]
Sounds. Noices. There were people here, and they weren't being friendly.

Fuck. Shit! And here I thought I'd get some rest and patch up!

Maybe he could sneak away without anyone noticing. Hide in one of the many booths and just hope for the others to kill each other.

Just as he was about to do so, Hansel came flying out towards him. With a really... really... big gun.

A mixture of fear and hatred filled him. On one hand, Hansel was a total asshole. There were very few people on this island worth breaking his "stay under the radar"-rule for, but Hansel was probably one of them. The cowboy from Texas. The goody-twoshoe christian who's every opinion was the complete opposite of Travis' own.

On the other hand, he had a fuckin' Famas in his hand. That was really bad. Travis even recognized the bloody thing from playing Counter Strike. It scared the living fuck out of him. What use was a bloody chainsaw if people were running around with automatic rifles!?

Not only that, Hansel was bleeding, just like he was. Meaning the kid had been fighting, and was probably as desperate as Trav was feeling right now. And, just like Trav, he was probably willing to use his weapon. Only... his weapon was a bloody AUTOMATIC RIFLE.

That was when he saw the second boy. Well... If you could call him that. Tyler Lucas could hardly be called a "boy". A mountain of a man, muscular and terrifying. Much taller and wider than himself. And man... those arms!

Trav might be lean and mean, but Tyler was just... BIG.

So on one hand, he had one of his least favorite people (who felt just as strongly about Trav) in all of Aurora with a bloody Famas in his grasp, and on the other hand he had a giant of a football player to worry about. Fucking fantastic.

He couldn't show weakness, though. He needed to try and find a way to get out, but he couldn't just turn and run. As such, Travis grinned and lifted up the trimmer in his hands, ignoring the pain from his bleeding arm. At least he wasn't entirely defenseless, even if "his" weapon wouldn't do much good against Hansel. He'd make some noice, then run for it. Let Tyler and Hansel solve this by themselves.

"Hansel... Tyler.... Good to see you both."

He started it. The sound of the motor was extremely satisfying to hear. He felt... dangerous.
V5 characters:

Travis Webster - Whistling party animal with a roguish smile, quick wit, and without a care in the world.
Spoiler: click to toggle

Pregame: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

Island: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Back home: The Webster Household, and their reactions....
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Grim Wolf
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Med-kit in his face, but Tyler's quick hands caught it. Supplies were scattered as Tyler flung it aside. Hansel rolled over the edge of the stall, grabbed for his gun.

A new voice. The sound of a motor. A look of fear on Hansel's face. Tyler glanced over, his eyes flickering over Trav and his weapon.

Then he grabbed the bag Hansel had missed, and flung it at him, following it with his eyes narrowed in concentration.
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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NotAFlyingToy
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the bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The attack pressed on; what little hope of having the click of a disengaged safety disheartening the attacking boy faded immediately as Tyler caught the med-kit, and effortlessly tossed it aside. Hansel’s feet kept moving, backpedaling as the other boy closed in once more. His bag suddenly was sailing towards his head, half-closed, the water and nutrient bars rattling inside of it. Hansel batted it down with the but of the rifle, grunted in effort, and got Tyler back into his sights. Somewhere behind him, the bag landed with a dull thud, the muffled sound accompanied by Travis’ hollering, the roar of a hedge trimmer, blending and blurring into a cacophony that he ignored for the bigger, more immediate threat.

There wasn't a med-kit to toss in Tyler’s face. There weren't any other distractions, any tricks up Hansel’s sleeve that he could try and entice the taller and broader boy into second thoughts. All there was was the moment. All there was was reaction.

Bracing the butt of the rifle into his shoulder, he narrowed his eyes, centered the charging boy as quickly as he could, and squeezed the trigger.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
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Delroy
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The other two seemed more than happy to keep assaulting each other. Travis really didn't mind.

When he noticed he wasn't the intended target of either boy, he quickly turned off the trimmer and jumped into a nearby stand. As he lept over the counter, the shooting began.

"Shit! FUCK! FUCKING SHIT! GODDAMNIT!", he shouted as he dived towards the floor to avoid any stray bullets.

Better stay hidden until this blew over. He'd keep the trimmer close, though. You never knew, he might catch the winner of this little bout unaware. Score himself a gun and supplies while he was at it, if he got really lucky.
V5 characters:

Travis Webster - Whistling party animal with a roguish smile, quick wit, and without a care in the world.
Spoiler: click to toggle

Pregame: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

Island: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Back home: The Webster Household, and their reactions....
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Grim Wolf
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Hansel's equally quick hands smashed the supply bag aside, and all too soon that gun was trained back on him.

But Tyler hadn't hesitated--he'd already been in motion when the bag had flung through the air, and though Hansel had managed to keep himself standing and strong he still had thrown Hansel's sights. By the time the gun was firing Tyler had closed the gap between them.

And then burst past.

As the gunfire went off, Tyler was already bursting though a narrow gap in the back of the stall and rolling to one side. He kept rolling as soon as he hit the dust, keeping low and bullets went whizzing above.
Edited by Grim Wolf, Jul 4 2013, 04:36 AM.
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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NotAFlyingToy
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the bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Hansel whirled as Tyler charged past him, the FAMAS brought to bear on the other boy, his shoulder screaming with the effort of keeping Tyler in his sights, coupled with that short burst that rattled against his good arm. As he pivoted, his foot snagged the discarded bag, causing him to stumble backwards, disrupting his aim for a moment.

Not wanting to give up the advantage and realizing the need to keep the larger, faster boy in cover, he fired another short burst towards the stall where Tyler had taken cover, gritting his teeth against the trembling weapon.

“You fuh-fucking psycho!” he roared, crouching to swipe at the fallen bag with his bad hand, missing the first and catching it on the second. He shifted the bag around his neck, returned his left hand to cradle the gun, and fired again.

The bullets were high, smashing into wood and metal, but he wasn’t aiming to kill. He just needed to keep Tyler down, keep him away. As he fired a fourth burst, he began to retreat, the bag around his neck choking him slightly, steps wavery and sluggish.

He’d lost track of Travis in the scuffle, but that worry was forced to the back of his mind. Tyler was the threat, he figured, as his path took him right past the stand where Travis was hidden, eyes solely on the spot where Tyler had disappeared behind.
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Delroy
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[ *  *  * ]
Travis heard the boy running past, and he readied himself. DAMN. This chainsaw was not made for fast ambushes. He supposed he would construct some sort of knife with the duct tape later on, if he somehow managed to live through this.

Despite the clumsy weapon he had, Travis was primed to jump out and decapitate anyone who tried to enter.
V5 characters:

Travis Webster - Whistling party animal with a roguish smile, quick wit, and without a care in the world.
Spoiler: click to toggle

Pregame: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

Island: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Back home: The Webster Household, and their reactions....
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NotAFlyingToy
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the bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Hansel’s retreat continued, his steps carrying him past the booth he was outside and towards the exit to the park, sweat dripping from his forehead. He fired another short burst in Tyler’s direction, and heard the sudden jerking click of the weapon’s magazine running dry.

His hands were vibrating, his shoulder ached, and his jaw was hurting from his clenching teeth. Turning on his heel, bag around his neck banging against his back and the gun in his hand dropping to be held by his right hand, Hansel broke into a run.

He ran from Tyler, Travis, the island, fear, anger, wounds, and gunshots.

He ran with the sound of the FAMAS rattling in his brain, the pain of a bullet wound in his shoulder, and Theo’s face filling his mind.

He ran.

((Hansel Williams, Ain't no more cowboys, just men with violent hearts))
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Grim Wolf
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(Fine by me. Wasn't really anything to say.)

At the dry clicking of the gun, Tyler jerked up his head and rolled into the open. But there was Travis, hurtling away with the bag bouncing on his neck. Tyler hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.

He made his precarious way towards the sound of the revving engine, hesitated, then sidled over to one side, giving the source of the sound a wide berth.

"Hey," he said, lifting his hands (including the one with bitemarks in it). "Ain't here to fight." He jerked his head the way Hansel had gone. "Couldn't resist that gun. You can keep your Evil Dead shit."
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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Delroy
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JESUS FUCK!

The fighting was over. Nobody had died, but... WHAT THE FUCK! Potshots, stray bullets and idiocy had quickly become the new trend at Aurora, it would seem...

And yet, despite his aching arm and pounding heart, was glad to have seen this. Now he knew what he was up against, in all it's automatic bullet-firing glory. No mere chainsaw would be enough for Travis if he faced off against Hansel. No... He needed something better...

As the other kid approached, now all intent on peace and junk, Travis began moving the trimmer around, ready to strike at any time.

C'mon now, Ty-ty? Really? Did you think this is how it works? You just go "sorry" and I trust you? Sod off...

"I do find it FANTASTIC how you can charge a man with that much killing intent..."

Travis smiled and cracked his neck.

"... and then go 'ooo hooo nooou, ain't here to fight ya, mate'... I mean, holy shit..."

He covered half his face with his palm and shook his head, laughing in disbelief. The saw was still steadily resting in his other arm, ready to be thrown in the face of any aggressor.

"My god, bro... Ahahah, you really are fucking psycho, aren't you? I mean, Hansel had an automatic rifle! And you just.... ATTACKED, ahahah!"

Better keep his guard up. This giant had attacked a guy armed with a bloody FAMAS, and could probably squish Travis in a fair fight. Couldn't hurt to be careful, even if he wasn't too concerned. After all, he did have some advantages, weapon and all. As long as he had this dumb garden equipment he could still kill the man, despite his size and strength.

"But I can sympathize with the desire to get a working weapon, I suppose. Just not the... fuckin' abrasive seizing-style you got going there..."

He carefully studied the boy.

"Still, I can't trust you worth shit now, can I, dude? Not with our little introduction just now. Which is why..."

He lifted the chainsaw up, clearly showing his intent to use it if some sort of threat was detected.

"... I think we should both just... head separate directions. Maybe you can go and... y'know, chase after our..."

His eyes shifted in the direction Hansel had run off to. If Tyler killed Hansel, he'd be rid of an enemy. If Hansel killed Tyler, he'd be rid of one of the most physically imposing people on the island. Win - Win had never been spelled out so clearly.

"... Mutual friend."

He grinned at Tyler. He could always patch himself up later. His heart was pounding too hard right now.
V5 characters:

Travis Webster - Whistling party animal with a roguish smile, quick wit, and without a care in the world.
Spoiler: click to toggle

Pregame: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

Island: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Back home: The Webster Household, and their reactions....
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Grim Wolf
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Tyler stared at Travis for exactly five seconds.

"I'm not pursuing someone with a fucking assault rifle," Tyler said. "I ain't fuckin' suicidal." He took two steps towards Trav, his eyes narrowed, his fists clenched. "And don't go thinking your fucking saw means shit. Did you see his gun?" His eyes were narrowed into a glare.

"If I didn't think that saw'd be a fuckin' liability I'd pry it off you and use it to cut you in fuckin' half."

Dangerously close. A single lunging attack on Trav's part could end everything.

"People are armed like him," Tyler said. "People are that dangerous. You get the drop on someone, don't waste it. You want to die, hide in a fuckin' corner while the real men do the real work, and then deal with you when they have the fuckin' time."

He spat to one side and turned to go.
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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