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Wombo Combo; That ain't Falco. Day 5.
Topic Started: Feb 13 2017, 03:56 AM (767 Views)
dmboogie
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A Delicate Machine
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Even as Cass broke down, sobbing on the shoreline, the world didn't stop as it rightfully should. Jerry and Matt still continued to move and talk and breathe in the air of the Earth that would take no notice of one less human being, no matter how kind and brave. At that moment, Cass might have given up and sat still even with a gun to their head or a knife at their throat, but Matt's voice violently shook them from their fugue.

They were scavengers with full bellies, nevertheless stopping to experimentally tear the flesh off a fresh corpse just to see if it was to their liking, taking death in stride with a cold, businesslike manner; stamping the order of execution and forgetting about it before lunch. Nothing more than a mild disruption to their daily routine, and even then, something they could still benefit from.

Cass unsteadily rose to their feet. "You're not- not taking anything," they screamed at the two vultures, hiccuping and choking on tears that robbed their voice of any power it could have had. "Don't you fuh-fucking touch him!" It was still too soon to think of Trav as an it, too much to bear to voice the truth of his transition from a person to a lifeless thing.

Trav's bag was lying next to Cass's on the ground. It would be easy to grab them and run, to deny his killers at least some sanctification, but Cass stood their ground. They had been too late to save Trav's life, but they could still protect his memory. After everything, they owed him that much.
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MK Kilmarnock
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"Oh, cut it out," Jerry said bitterly, rummaging through his pack and producing the tin of crackers from it. The lid came off quite easily, and he tossed it into the back before jostling it back behind his shoulder. He dipped his finger into the tin and pulled out two crackers together, jamming the treats in his mouth. Chewing somewhat loudly, he didn't bother waiting to swallow all of the food in his mouth before talking, spitting out some crumbs as he did. "I'm ti-uhd of people puh-tendin' that I'm da bad guy."

Ugh, that even grossed him out. Jerry swallowed before continuing, but he had the next cracker ready between his thumb and forefinger.

"Trav would've killed me!" Jerry wiped his upper lip with his forearm again but that was already slimy, so he tucked his chin in close to his shoulder to use the top part of his sleeve. He kept an eye on Cass, just to make sure they didn't do anything too drastic. "Would you be pussing out like this if he killed me? Nah. Of course not. You don't give a shit."

Jerry munched on the cracker in his hand but didn't bother pulling out another. He just held the tin by its open top with his left hand, looking at Cass's feet. Looked like running away was probably a thing that was going to be happening soon but, unlike at the radio tower, it wasn't going to be him. "But Jerry, you might say to yourself!" Jerry still spat some crumb remnants tucked between his lips and teeth, but at least he had waited to swallow this time, a task that was a little easier when eating crackers one at a time. "You killed Toby! That's why he attacked you! You're the bad guy! You're an evil, bad bad evil guy!"

He dipped his hand into his pocket and started making motions towards Cass.

"I'm done waiting to be attacked! Leave the bags, or I'm fucking stabbing you! Don't think you can outrun me!"
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Matt felt as though he should be feeling sympathy for Cass. He wasn't feeling much - hungry, certainly - but emotionally he couldn't muster up anything. Trav attacked Jerry because Jerry couldn't talk his way out of a wet paper bag, which somehow made Trav more of a ratfuck meathead than Jerry. Trav tried to kill someone and he got the 9mm treatment as a reward. Matt wasn't unsympathetic to Trav and Cass because he gave much of a shit about Jerry - quite the opposite, what happened to Jerry at the end of the day was basically an inconvenience to him and he was only with him because it was preferable to being alone - he was unsympathetic because Trav wasn't the victim. It was self-defense.

He bent down to pick up the gun. Empty, but he could still point it at people or hit someone with it. And hey, having a gun, empty or not, made him feel powerful.

"Yeah, let it go. You're in the wrong here. Trav tried to fuckin' kill someone." spat Matt.
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dmboogie
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Cass watched, appalled, as Jerry stuffed his face with crackers; stunned into disgusted silence. He had killed a man (considerate and brave and the only thing that had let Cass keep themself together) and his first reaction after his friend loudly considered looting the body was to eat? Was murder, desperate and bloody, truly so easy on the appetite?

Or did Jerry not even consider it worth thinking about any longer? He was still alive, and that meant that he had obviously done the right thing, so everyone else had to just accept that, right? He didn't want to kill Trav, really; and wasn't that all that mattered? He had panicked. He didn't want to die. He wasn't evil, so that meant he didn't have to feel sorry, right? It was just Cass's fault for not just lying down and agreeing that their friend deserved to die, right?

He wasn't the bad guy, because he said he wasn't, so that meant he was perfectly justified to stab Cass for the capital crime of caring about someone other than themself, right?

There wasn't a goddamn trace of humanity in Jerry's eyes. As Cass stood there, still sniffling and with eyes puffy from crying; they decided that anything was worth the chance to shut him up, even for a second. Anything to make it clear that his life didn't matter more than anyone else's, that he couldn't always get his way just by virtue of being willing to stomp over anyone in his way.

Cass rushed towards Jerry as he drew his knife. They punched him in the fucking face, their knuckles impacting his nose with a satisfying (if painful, they belatedly realized they were probably doing it wrong) smack. He flailed, and Cass felt a burning agony in their left wrist as it was slashed by Jerry's blade. They cried out as they stumbled backwards, grasping their wrist. Thankfully, Jerry was too busy clutching his battered nose to chase after them.

((They quickly scooped up their bags and darted away, turning their back on Trav for the first and last time.))
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MK Kilmarnock
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"Oh so we're doing this, then!?" Jerry had shouted, retrieving the switchblade from his pocket as Cass made a bold approach. "Come and get some you cu-WAAAAAAAAAAUUUGH!"

Cass's fist crunching into Jerry's pre-broken nose (instant pain - just add fist!) sent the boy howling into an absolute fit. The switchblade caught something of Cass's but by whatever powers that be, it just wasn't enough of a trade to make it worth it. Screaming into the hand that cupped around his nose and mouth, Jerry fell to his knees and plunged the switchblade's end into the sand over and over.

After thoroughly killing the beach with his knife and screaming muffled obscenities into his blood-soaked fist for a solid twenty seconds, the boy finally had the wherewithal to rouse himself from the pangs of agony shooting up his nose directly into his brain, enough to throw his daypack open and scatter the contents onto the reddened sand. While one hand, white at the knuckles, squeezed the handle of the switchblade like it held off the weight of the world, he swatted at his pants with the other before opening the first aid kit.

The cotton balls were his target, and one had been ripped in half and shoved up each of his nostrils as fast as possible. "Where were you on that one, asshole!?" Jerry screamed, ostensibly at Matt but not really directed anywhere in his direction. "Fuck... do you know how to reset a nose? I do but..."

Man, he didn't want to have to do that. That shit hurt. It hurt like HELL.
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So Cass decided to do something for once. Matt didn't lift a finger. If you asked him, he'd probably say that she just moved too fast for him to react, but he'd be lying. He just didn't feel like attacking her - unlike Trav, she really hadn't done anything. And then she ran off, hopefully to somewhere to die so he'd never have to see her again. The idea of running into Cass a few days down the line was one that ran wild in his head - maybe she'd sneak up on him while he's asleep and stab him to death. Or maybe she'd shoot him in the dick. Or maybe she'd do a dozen other things, each one increasingly more brutal and unrealistic.

Matt shrugged at Jerry. "I, uh, shit. Sorry. Want me to run after her?" He looked over to the general direction Cass had ran off in. "Nah, she's.. gone. No point." Did he know how to reset a nose? Well, no, but he figured he could try. All he'd have to do was just put it back into place, right? To make sure it healed correctly. Not that Jerry was going to live that long, but still.

"Uh, yeah. Just stay still." Matt grabbed Jerry's nose and, for a moment before the moment of horrendous pain came, he spoke a bit. "Okay, uh, I'm gonna do this. You know it's gonna hurt but don't fuckin' stab me or nothing as a reaction, okay?"

Then he tried to reset Jerry's nose. Sure, it was straight, but fuck would it hurt.
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MK Kilmarnock
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"Just fuckin'- just DO it, dude!" Jerry screamed, face as red as a cherry tomato. His hands instinctively wormed around Matt's, trying to keep them away from the sore area and thus make his assigned task difficult, but after enough poking and prodding they had been brought to the wayside and Matt was able to do his job. In a service good enough for gub'ment work, Jerry's nose was straightened with a mighty crack.

Jerry, true to form, screamed like a little bitch.

"I'm gonna wear her skin as a goddamn coat, I swear!" the boy howled, stomping circles in the sand around Trav's body, jumping up and down to shake off the shock of the pain. "Stomp a hole in her ass until she's a slipper and then I'm gonna kick a field goal with her head! I'm gonna..."

Jerry wobbled.

"Fuck, dude. Let's find somewhere to lay down. I'm tired.

((Jerry Fury, continued elsewhere))
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Matt's eyes still darted around, nervously. They'd been here far too long after the gun had went off for his liking, so he was glad that Jerry finally decided it was high time to get the hell out.

"Fucking Trav." he mumbled. Piece of shit just wouldn't let Jerry talk.

"Yeah, let's go." He shoved the gun down the waist of his pants.

((Matt Moradi continued here.))
Edited by Privyet, Apr 21 2017, 02:01 PM.
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