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Prey Empathy; The mark is found.
Topic Started: May 1 2017, 09:29 PM (226 Views)
shotgunkid
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don't take no guff
[ * ]
((Wade Cartwright continued from Z3 ROADSTER FOR SALE.))

A while later, Wade was back out in the open. They'd both decided to try and fortify the location a little bit, but found it nearly impossible. Those shelves were too heavy, and he could swear they'd risked pulling hernias trying to get that counter nowhere fast. There were plenty of blankets and sheets around that they could use. Tonight would be their best night on the island so far. Nice and nestled. Eventually, the sun moved downward in the sky, became redder, and he'd quietly agreed with Ben to take a few looks outside, just in case.

The breeze wasn't too bad this time, and the notably cloud-free sky made all the colors pop. It wasn't quite a picturesque view, the rotting buildings almost everywhere made sure of that, but it was as good as it got on this island as far as views went, Wade supposed.

Calmly and without making a sound, check every bush, every corner, every remotely teenager-sized obstacle because it could conceal a hostile. Everything felt more relaxed. Maybe he was just becoming more accepting of fate and death, or more likely yet just getting weary after all that vigilance the other days. Everything except the island and his thoughts felt like a distant memory.

Wait. Stop.

He'd forgotten to check a few angles just behind himself. A few medium-size bushes, a boulder. Nothing major, but he still tried to turn around to see what was behind them as fast as possible. Curses, curses, a little corner of his mind yelled.

It wasn't really likely there was anything. He'd checked this area a couple times previously, and there wasn't anyone lying in ambush. Not a few minutes ago.

So what were the odds? Cautiously extending an arm toward a bush, he'd have an answer one way or the other.
Edited by shotgunkid, May 8 2017, 11:42 PM.
2015: V6 Incident
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shotgunkid
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don't take no guff
[ * ]
The minute - no, moment, no, the very instant he fully processed the rustling noise, the figure taking shape from behind that boulder he'd so dismissed moments earlier - Wade realized that he'd committed a grave error. A placid state of mind had been all it took to completely overlook a crucial error. He could've had the syringe drawn, he could've checked the boulder first and had the element of surprise and cover, he could've- and now a predator was-!!

CRACK

For another fleeting second, his world was pain and his mind a cacophony. Reality crashing down and his thoughts became one gruesomely mixed combination. It was like someone took a sledgehammer to one end of his collarbone. Hurt like hell... this was how it would be. He was mistaken all along.. couldn't move that arm, it was broken.

No time to reach for the syringe. Just deliver fast, hard blows with your still good arm but where?! It was all a mess! The reality of being utterly, physically outmatched drove itself further and further in. This is what it would really've been like. All the scenarios, all the stories, all the fleeting thoughts he'd had about that desire for revenge were crushed. Deep, throbbing pain. It was as though his arm had been nearly hacked off by a meat-cleaver. But he could still think.

And about how, exactly, he was wrong... to begin with - as prey he would never have any chance. None at all. Not as the most common ones, in any case.

On the ground, utterly prone, pull it together and try to reassess.. the pain is so much..
2015: V6 Incident
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shotgunkid
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don't take no guff
[ * ]

Spin, turn around, there the assailant would be.. given the weight of the previous hit they're moving in to deal a lethal blow don't let 'em..


He distinctly recalled now. The author.. hadn't he laid it out explicitly once? All the species that he represented there had, vaguely speaking, the same proportions, body weights, etcetera, among other qualities as they had in real life.

There they are! It's a he, definitely - lifting his arm to swing - move!

Tiffany and most of the main cast were tigers, lions, big cats and whatnot - and that translated into something around six, seven feet tall and massed - three to six hundred pounds apiece - definitely on the high end for the protagonist.

the arm.. It feels like every move is unhinging it!

--His train of thought paused for a second as he rolled out of the way of the attacker's next strike, judging from the sound of the hit, it could have crushed his ribs right there and then. But then again--

Get up move start GETTING HITS!

--it wasn't just about their mass, although it played a huge role especially during hand-to-hand combat. It was also about the shape, grain, density of their muscles, the tendons, bone structure, everything. Plus, there was the fact almost all of them lived active lifestyles in every sense. Their hunter's sense must have been among the keenest possible, leaving aside those gag strips - and exercise, too, even just going off their builds. Taking all that into account, it was no big surprise..

he's surprised jump him now please!

..that, in the end, resistance instead of fleeing by most prey species seemed to be utter suicide, perhaps even while armed.

Wade didn't run at or leap at or anything else at the opponent other than simply trying to use all his limbs - good arm and legs, then just the latter - to propel himself as fast as possible in that direction, good arm braced to start punching.
2015: V6 Incident
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shotgunkid
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don't take no guff
[ * ]
There was absolutely no hope. No hope to escape that grim fate in any way, no hope to change anything about their world short of a fully-armed uprising, and even that wouldn't have helped the really small folks (mice, skunks, otters, whatnot) unless they magically pulled three-dimensional maneuver gear out of their rectums somehow.

By pure accident of birth, every single herbivore (and no small amount of carnivores) who lived or chose to continue living were condemned to helplessly watch every minute, every day, every year, every generation, as their number were winnowed en masse, family, friends, perhaps even themselves - until they finally died, and that would be that.

Whoomp whoomp whap his hits land glancing. One strikes the painful arm and sends flares of throbbing agony to the brain again. Ignore it, rush--!

Perhaps they could console themselves with statistics and one in ten-type declarations, burying their fear and pain under a tidal wave of emotionless numbers. Maybe they conditioned themselves culturally to adapt somehow.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. In the end, the only remotely dignified way out Wade could see was suicide, and it had the same result as all the others, just a mask of angry defiance to distinguish it.

This next one is close. This next one is closer. ARGH!

He couldn't help but wonder about those who did try to rise up, his imaginary counterfactual counterparts (and there should've been, there are dissenters in every society and all that) They must have known the impossible odds, the sheer strength of their so-hated enemies. Why would they choose to take up arms in a losing battle? Knowing himself...

Ohcrapthisoneis-stop!

... they'd weighed their options, and realized: what else could they do?

Matt's pipe came down fast, unrelenting, undodgeable. In his heart, Wade knew it was a losing battle. From the very beginning, there was little nothing to do except kill himself or pass the time until something or someone else did the deed for him. Given the choice, why the latter?

A slim chance beat certain death. There was nothing else to do, and nothing else to it. All his regrets weren't much in total, faced with the bullets. Just his favorite moments with family, friends, and everything else. A faint desire to see them... only one last time.

That was that, and it just had to be enough. Because a moment after that

B038: WADE CARTWRIGHT

DECEASED


Matt's last and greatest blow struck his skull lengthwise, causing it to crack and cave in just enough that his frontal and prefrontal lobes alike were shredded beyond repair.
2015: V6 Incident
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